The moment Jack’s left arm touched the skeletal hand. His power core reacted in a way he’d never experienced releasing a soft vibrational hum as it pulsed in anticipation for something Jack couldn’t understand. The crystal within the creature’s chest pulsed as well. His eyes widened when a notification appeared in his vision directly under the crystal.

[World Core identified]

The Twilight Key

• Maturation Level: 6
• Time Until Collapse: 360:17:28

[Begin Harmonic Convergence? Y/N]

What is this? He thought in his state of lucid calm. He had never felt stranger than at that moment. The calm, the pleasant thrum of his core, and the terrifying visage of the unliving giant holding his arm blended into a situation which, somehow, felt right. The floating skull that had appeared after the woman called Rovena drifted closer to Jack though it stayed out of arm’s reach. Its glowing red eyes appraised him for a moment before addressing the skeletal entity.

“No doubt about it, boss. The signal’s coming from this guy, but it’s weaker than I expected.” It looked Jack over again then added, “My memory might be failing me but aren’t flesh bags normally supposed to be more pink than blue? Also, what’s with that mark on his head?”

In response, it, or he based on the way the others addressed him, tightened his grip on Jack’s arm. The king was incredibly strong despite having no muscle mass jerking him forward with the ease of an adult manhandling a child— not too far off given their size difference. Oddly, Jack didn’t smell rot or decay from any of the creatures, only a sweet, musky scent like that of an ancient tome. Through his arm, he felt the flow of foreign energy crossing into his body from the creature’s skeletal hand. It was like ice in his veins burning horribly, but he didn’t scream. That said, he did try to break the creature’s grasp though he failed utterly, not so much as even budging the hand. The energy traced through his body pausing at his chest where it tentatively probed at the area around his power core before moving to his head. The entire process was extremely invasive causing Jack a fair amount of bodily and emotional discomfort. The emotions were suppressed by the Sigil of Tranquility; however, he knew his memory of the experience wouldn’t be a positive one.

The energy withdrew from his body and the boss spoke, “It appears the mark is a spell which inhibits the subject’s emotions. It is no doubt the work of the lightweaver.” He reached for Jack’s head with his other skeletal hand. As it closed in on him, it occurred to Jack that he might die though the Sigil of Tranquility subdued any feeling he may have had on the matter. With his mind trapped in a state of calm, Jack processed the events with cold logic. He didn’t know what the creature was going to do to the Sigil of Tranquility; nonetheless, he could infer the boss would likely disrupt the Sigil which would leave Jack at the mercy of the Aura of Terror and his other emotions. With that in mind, he saw no reason not to initiate the “Harmonic Convergence”. If death, emotional paralysis, or both were his alternatives, what did he have to lose? He selected yes in the prompt and all sensation disappeared as a powerful memory flooded his mind.

He needed to hurry. The inquisitors would be arriving soon for the inspection and he had to be sure everything was ready. The inspections were getting more frequent even in small farming villages like his and many people in the village had already been taken away. He pushed down his anger at the situation. His people didn’t follow the church’s doctrine, yet they were being judged by its law. Before the rise of the new pope, the church had left the simple folk alone to worship the Chthonian Trinity as their ancestors had done for generations. However, the new pope brought an iron-fisted regime to all the people of the land, not just those in the cities and large towns. A year ago, the pope began sending out inquisitions to ensure the populace abided by the church’s doctrine. Those who were found wanting were taken and never heard from again.

He finished his cleaning. The simple shack he called home wasn’t much, but he did his best to make it presentable, removing and hiding any signs of his Chthonian worship. A fist pounded on his door.

The door creaked as he opened it. He greeted the well-dressed man and woman at the door, “Hello, Please—”

They ignored him and barged into his home pushing him aside in the process. The man looked at a scroll in his hand and gave him a once over with a scowl. “You are Arcen Corran?”

The man’s voice was harsh and nasally while his tone was impatient and condescending. The way they acted fanned the flames of Arcen’s anger, but he was merely a farmer. He knew either of these inquisitors could strike him down if he caused trouble and there would be no justice for him. He also couldn’t leave his wife with no one to care for her. She would not last. So instead of being angry, he bowed his head and replied, “Yes, m’lord”

“You will address him as Your Excellency,” the woman said sternly while the man scanned the sparsely furnished room. Arcen nodded obediently and bowed his head again to the man.

“Yes. My apologies, Your Excellency. I am not a smart man and did not mean offense,” he said, swallowing his pride. The man barely spared a glance in his direction. He walked over to the far side of the room and stopped before the modest altar that Arcen had set up to the Eternal Light. He placed his hand on it eliciting a faint light which passed from the altar to him. When he pulled away, the glow faded. Arcen looked on in stunned silence.

He had heard that the church’s servants could produce minor miracles, but he had not believed it until now. His heart skipped a beat in fear and awe. The man aimed his withering gaze at Arcen and asked, “You reside with your wife, correct?”

“Y-yes, Your Excellency,” he answered.

“Then, why do I only feel the prayers of one within your altar? Which of you does not deign to pray to the Eternal Light?”

Arcen’s eyes widened at the implications behind the man’s icy tone. He stammered to clarify. “I-It is not so. M-my wife is sickly. She is too weak to pray”

“We will be the judge of that,” the man said. His gaze shifted to the only other door aside from the one at the entrance. With a nod from the man, the woman barged over to the door pulling it open. Her face wrinkled from the smell within. Arcen stepped forward, his outrage flaring at the thought of the woman trouncing about in the space he shared with his wife. Unfortunately, he had no power in the situation as the man was quick to remind him. “Be still! You will stay here while she searches the room.”

“But, You Excellency, my wife she—,” he began, but was interrupted once again.

“Silence! You are fortunate I am humoring you instead of hauling you both away for neglecting your holy duty.”

A few tense minutes passed followed by the sound of a brief struggle. Arcen felt his blood boil when the woman reentered the room. She marched out dragging his wife by her hair. His wife, weak and defenseless, moaned incoherently as she was hauled into the main room. Arcen could take no more.

“Unhand her! I told you she is sick,” he shouted marching forward to free his wife from the woman’s clutches. Suddenly, a light flashed and he felt stiff. Golden chains wrapped around his body binding him in place and sending him to the floor mid-stride.

The woman who had ignored him completely spoke, “Your Excellency, she is a heretic.” With no regard for his wife’s dignity, the woman ripped the thin tunic she wore exposing part of her chest and pointed to the trinity of tattoos inked along and above her breasts. It was the symbol of the Chthonic Trinity, a hand holding a lump of metal, a multicolored crystal and sprout emerging from the earth all arranged in a pyramid. She had had the tattoos since they were both young, long before this madness began. The man laughed somewhere behind Arcen.

Arcen started to speak but the man’s boot pressed against the side of his head causing him to cry out. “You heathens never learn. The taint of your heretical worship will never escape discovery by those illuminated by the Eternal Light.”

His wife noticed him from her position where the woman had let her crumple to the ground. She smiled at him. She always did. Because of her condition, she didn’t understand what was going on, but no matter what, she always smiled when she saw him. His heart broke.

The man addressed the woman standing over his wife. “Both of these heathens will be sentenced to—”

The memory grew distorted like Jack was suddenly underwater. He couldn’t hear the inquisitor’s sentence. An excruciating headache jarred his senses further and his consciousness began to fade as though he were drowning. A notification broke through the encroaching oblivion catching his attention just before he lost all awareness.

[Warning: Harmonic Convergence has been rejected. System will now reboot to avoid overload]

***

Kafkë sensed another signal emitted from the man in front of it then sensed a reaction from the Twilight Key. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. It turned to the boss to ask what he had felt but was stunned into silence. The boss’s eyes had gone dark leaving only empty sockets as though the force animating him had suddenly ceased.

“Boss?” Kafkë asked after a moment. The Twilight King’s hand was frozen in place, just in front of the bluish man’s head. It turned to the boss’s honor guard who stood silently behind their lord. “Hey! Something’s wrong with the boss. Get him away from the flesh bag!”

Bachor was the first to move. The death knight stomped forward cracking the ground with each step of his massive frame which was shorter than the boss’s but much stouter. He reached out a hand to break the grip the boss had on the man; however, at that moment, the Twilight King’s eyes rekindled and the man collapsed in his grasp.

Bachor hesitated as the dead king moved. The boss looked back at Kafkë and the knight. “I am fine.” He raised the hand holding onto the unconscious man and said, “It would appear this one’s name is Jack. We will take him back with us. I wish to know more of this “power core” as he calls it.”

“Are you sure about that, boss?” Kafkë said. “He could be dangerous. I mean, whatever he did took you out of commission. It might have been brief but what if it isn’t next time?”

“He merely tried to connect directly with the Twilight Key. It wasn’t difficult to stop him,” the boss responded. “If he tries again, it will not work now that I know to expect it.”

Kafkë wasn’t convinced but it knew better than to argue once the boss made up his mind. Just then, Rovena crashed into the ground nearby drawing the gaze of the assembled undead. Her armor was dented and cracked in dozens of places and her face was twisted in intense concentration. The lightweaver strode forward. His golden robes were tarnished by dark spots where Rovena’s attacks had likely grazed him although, from the looks of it, she hadn’t inflicted any significant damage.

The floating skull whistled. “She must be losing her touch if she’s getting thrown around by a lightweaver.”

Rovena must have heard its word because she aimed a murderous glare at Kafkë. The Twilight King appraised the lightweaver as he approached and Rovena recovered.

For the first time, the blonde-haired man spoke, “Release the man you hold, creature.”

Kafkë was surprised the man spoke their language. Had this “Jack” understood them as well? For not the first time, it wondered where this wasteland was exactly. Since the boss had opened a portal similar to those the pope’s goons left, it had assumed they had stepped into one of the planes of light. However, the cracked wasteland reminded it of the places destroyed by the pope after he became the Avatar of the Eternal Light. Kafkë even saw dark crystal spires in the distance that looked suspiciously like chthonic crystal. Many questions flitted through its mind. Could they still be in their world? Were these people survivors? What the heck were those huge metal carriages the other flesh bags were running to?

The boss tapped a bony hand against his chin in contemplation then responded, “I refuse.”

As the lightweaver leapt at the boss with incredible speed, the Twilight King raised his finger to point at the man. “Greater Destruction.”

A ray of corrosive energy struck the lightweaver head-on interrupting his movement and pushing him backward. Incredibly, he endured the boss’s attack staggering away from them step by step. His golden robes were destroyed completely though some the clothing under them endured.

Who the heck is this guy? He has to be on the level of a Justicar to take that, Kafkë thought to itself. Rovena took advantage of the opportunity provided by the boss’s attack and pounced. She ruthlessly cut at the man’s neck which caught him unaware. Her blade sank into his neck severing it partially and the ray of destruction blasted his body back like a ragdoll sending it hurtling into one of the metal carriages.

The boss lowered his hand and scanned the area. His eyes stopped on a white-haired woman and a silver-haired man who were staring dumbstruck at the blonde-haired man’s corpse. Addressing his honor guard and Rovena who had just made it back, the boss said, “Ackan, Rikor. Collect those two, they are related to this Jack and the lightweaver.” Ackan nodded beneath his cowl. He and the smaller knight next to Bachor took off toward the pair. The Twilight King paused to scan the area once more, then added to Rovena, “There is a man.” He pointed to another flesh bag who was helping people onto the metal carriage farthest from them. “His name is Cordan and he is supposedly in charge of this area. See if you can acquire him. I would have answers to this strange riddle before me.”

“Rovena bowed her head, “It will be done, my king.”

Before she stepped away, he added, “If he proves as dangerous as the lightweaver withdraw. I do not wish to risk losing you.”

Rovena’s features were inscrutable as she turned away from the boss. Oh, I bet she liked hearing that, Kafkë chuckled inwardly.

***

Raina wrestled with Julian who was proving much harder to dissuade than she had hoped. She’d learned two things after catching up to him. The first was that Julian was actually an elf, not a human, and, secondly, he was determined to die, or at least, he couldn’t see that trying to save Atlas was a lost cause.

Her voice was a hiss as she tried to appeal to him. “Julian, stop! Please. It’s too late! It’s too late for him!”

“Let me go, Raina!” he said angrily. Anger didn’t fit his gentle features but it twisted on his face nonetheless. Thankfully, the elf knew well enough to keep his voice down though she suspected he only did so in order to surprise the undead waiting at the gate. By some miracle, they still hadn’t noticed the duo. Julian tried to execute a couple of gestures, but Raina smacked his hands aside. He glared at her, “You have no right to interfere! You do not know me or my friend or the ordeals we have endured together. Our bond is not so frail that I would abandon him, so unhand me!”

“No, I won’t let you die for nothing. That boss is too strong. If you draw its attention, you’ll die and probably doom us all,” she responded heatedly. She gripped the elf up and dragged him bodily away as he struggled. Due to Combat Surge which she’d been forced to reactivate, the mage couldn’t match her strength even with her low base Might. She glimpsed the skeletal giant as it raised Atlas’s limp body into the air. Julian must have seen it too because he stopped struggling.

“No…” The despair in his voice broke Raina’s heart, but she didn’t question her decision. She knew life could be cruel and unfair, but at least, Julian would live another day.

A boom echoed across the staging area as Ciel appeared not far from the boss. The woman he’d been fighting was kneeling nearby; her armor was battered and her face strained. The small light of hope remaining in her gained strength at the sight of her benefactor who looked a bit ruffled, but not injured.

Ciel addressed the entity holding Atlas, “Release the man you hold, creature.”

Both Raina and Julian watched the exchange wide-eyed as the skeletal figure appeared to consider Ciel’s demand. Raina’s heart fluttered then dropped when it spoke.

“I refuse” Ciel blurred launching an immediate attack. His opponent raised a skeletal hand and said, “Greater Destruction.”

A ray of energy burned through the air colliding with Ciel mid-attack. Much to Raina’s delight, he wasn’t annihilated by the blast. Instead, it destroyed his robes while he fought against it. She worried when she saw that the energy was pushing Ciel back step by step. As she foolishly considered trying to help, the armored woman appeared beside Ciel and savagely chopped into his neck. She watched Ciel’s body get blown back by the blast and land next to the bus behind them. The bit of hope flickered out. She wanted to scream and cry but she couldn’t stop staring at Ciel’s body. His head had been almost completely severed leaving only a thin strip of flesh to anchor it and his eyes were still open. A piteous, strangled cry escaped her encompassing the hopelessness and disbelief she felt. She stayed that way for what felt like hours though it was likely only a few seconds. The sole reason she snapped out of it was because of Julian who called out a warning to her.

“Raina!”

She jerked her eyes away from Ciel toward Julian. She saw two of the undead from the gate closing in on them. Without another thought, she activated the Relic on her finger. The ring let loose a pure peel of sound and emitted a wall of force which grew as it traveled to meet the undead. While the wall bought them time, she grabbed Julian pulling him away. Thankfully, he didn’t resist this time.

They made it no more than three steps before a soul-crushing notification sounded in Raina’s mind.

[The Wall of Arthis has been broken.]

Pain lanced through her hand and she looked down to see the beautiful white ring fall to the ground. Behind her, something dark overshadowed the already dim staging area. She looked back to see a wave of shifting darkness coming down on them. The last thing she heard was Julian cry out.

***

Cordan pushed a shivering woman onto the bus. He saw the guild’s client get eviscerate but he continued to work getting two more people onto the bus. He knew they wouldn’t get away, but he would be damned if he’d wait for death to take him. Sarah looked at him from the driver’s seat and shouted, “Cordan, get on! Fuck whoever is left!”

She’s right if we don’t go now. We won’t get a chance. He stepped onto the bus; however, someone grabbed his arm startling him. His surprise turned to horror when he saw the face of the armored woman who’d fought Ciel holding his forearm in a grip of steel.

“You will come with me,” she said. Cordan’s first instinct was to assault her with his strongest attack, but he didn’t. He had a support-oriented mage designation. Even his best offensive skill would likely be nothing but an annoyance to someone as strong as this woman. Additionally, the woman appeared wary. The fact that she chose to speak instead of subduing him spoke volumes. Did she believe he was more dangerous than he actually was? Perhaps Ciel’s performance had weakened her more than he realized? Either way, if he attacked, she would become hostile and the entire bus might get caught up in it. He glanced at Sarah who was barely holding herself together thanks to his mindlink.

“Alright, I’ll go as long as you allow those here to leave in peace,” Cordan said. He didn’t get his hopes up but he figured it was worth a try. As a show of false confidence, he stepped off of the bus coming face to face with the woman and staring into her horrific black eyes.

To his utter shock, she said, “Very well. They may go if you come peacefully.”

He exchanged a look with Sarah. She had heard the conversation. Her jaw tensed and her knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel. He knew she would do the right thing. Although a rank below him, Sarah was a professional; she wouldn’t let her emotions get in the way. He pulled out his access-point keycard and tossed it at Sarah. She caught it and he said, “Take care of my place while I’m gone.”

She took a deep, steadying breath and nodded at him with a face full of emotion. Without another word, she pressed a button on the console in front of her which closed the doors. The bus pulled off as he turned away toward the portal, not waiting for the woman to force the matter. As his mindlink teetered due to distance, he poured his feeling for Sarah into it.

It was selfish of him and the feelings would be experienced by all in his mindlink, but it didn’t matter. She would know.

At the portal, he glimpsed one of the undead carrying Ciel’s companion and an elf he didn’t recognize. Atlas was draped over the boss’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes which was almost comical at that moment. The creature turned its gaze on Cordan and were it not for his high Willpower, he likely would have turned tail right then. As it was, he met the deathly entity’s eyes, unblinking.

It didn’t say anything, just stared until it finally turned away and walked back into the portal. The woman followed, still holding his arm, while the other three fell in step behind them. Cordan prayed to his god as the Remnant Gate engulfed him.

***

When the monsters disappeared and the Remnant Gate closed, so too did the boss’s fear aura. A long while later, Renner who’d been left behind crept off the bus, shaking from the residual terror. He yelped when he exited to see Ciel’s corpse laying on the ground. The blonde-haired man’s body had made quite a dent in the bus’s exterior. Renner cursed his companions who had run off into the Spire Wasteland after the boss appeared. He’d been too scared to move the entire time. Since he didn’t know how to operate any of the buses, he decided to wait a little bit in the hopes that Roa or someone else would come back. He also just needed some time to collect himself after the horror show he had just witnessed.

As he sat on the last step at the bus’s entrance, Ciel’s corpse moaned. He screamed attempting to run but tripping over himself in the process. His face hit the ground hard though his Ethos absorbed the damage. He untangled his limbs from each other in time to see Ciel’s nearly headless body stand up. His fear returned and he backpedaled on his hands like a crab. Ciel’s arm grasped his head and pushed it back into place. In seconds, the wound was gone and Ciel cracked his neck with a particularly displeased look on his face.

“Well, this is turning out to be quite the adventure,” he said seemingly to himself. He looked over at Renner who, frankly, couldn’t take anymore and fainted.