Streamer in the Omniverse-[Title at the end.] (17) (SITO – 159)
22 days without posting anything… Well, it wasn’t entirely my fault this time. A lot of problems came up at home. Honestly, it’s becoming inconvenient; I wish I could just focus on writing. I’ve actually grown to really enjoy being a writer.
Anyway, I managed to stockpile 2 chapters: this one and another. So the next one is already set to drop on the 10th.
I’ll use these three days to write as much as I can. I want to speed things up and move on to the next arc, which should be easier to write.
As an apology, this is the longest chapter I’ve ever written. I also consider it one of my best — if not
the
best.
Wishing you all a great
Day
and an enjoyable read!
[...]---[...]
Far from the kingdom, the human faced '
The Eye'
.
With a furrowed brow and blood seeping from his ears, he ignored the bizarre screams echoing from every direction.
Like a hallucination born from a schizophrenic mind, his body—wrapped in the Remnant of the Deerclops—moved erratically. Sometimes to the right, then spinning through the air before shooting forward; sometimes to the left, then leaping and soaring into the sky.
His body twitched randomly, like the static of an old television, before returning to normal.
Time no longer mattered.
Up, down, left, right — his arms moved wildly, striking at ‘nothing’ without purpose.
Distance and space ceased to exist.
The Relic of Destruction in his right hand glowed with the purple of Shadowflame — deep flames that made the surrounding air boil and ripple every time the blade sliced.
The Ice Blade in his left hand swallowed the light around it — a different shade of purple, darker and more deranged. With each swing, it left frost in its wake, freezing the air.
Neither fire nor ice — both purple — ever hit anything other than ‘nothing’.
Like two suns pulled by a third gravitational force, the human’s orange eyes blazed beneath the Bone Helm, darting in every direction — no pattern, no blinking, no target.
Staring into the ‘nothing’, his left eye bled. The ‘nothing’ stared back.
The blood dripped like tears — then exploded midair.
Wherever he went, the surroundings grew strange.
Trees twisted and warped as if edited in a computer program. The green leaves withered and froze, caught between a sticky red and a violet ice. Cruel, malevolent eyes clashed with insane, ravenous ones.
The brown trunks burned with purple flames, until the fire was snuffed out by blood-tears falling from nonexistent clouds — and the land was bathed in a crimson moonlight.
The ground at times burned violet; at times ran with blood; at times froze; at times blinked with eyes that opened on their own; at times darkened with shadow; at times resembled a Starless Sky.
The world’s mana rewrote itself under an orange mist, as the air filled with deranged, maddening whispers.
The world’s mana bled under the light of a bloody crimson moon, while the air collapsed into a single alien scream of transformation.
Like a dull, hollow mirror, the faded Blood Moon battled above with the weakened False Sun in the Starless Sky...
[…]
Above the kingdom’s southwestern wall.
Robyn swallowed hard as the sky above filled with demon eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the red tide rushing toward the walls.
Flexing her fingers, her claws extended. Her fur bristled even more, sharp and rigid. Her tail moved slowly, stiffly. A growl forced its way from her throat, escaping through her muzzle.
Claws for weapons, fur for armor. I must be the only idiot fighting in short shorts and a tank top… All I need now is for my clothes to rip…
If I’d known this transformation would make my body grow so much, I would've asked for flexible armor or something — mine doesn’t even fit anymore… At least I removed the plug…
Pay attention to the fox-woman who might end up naked, or to the bloodthirsty monsters ahead — wonder what the nearby soldiers are gonna choose…
Mocking herself mentally, Robyn leaned forward into a predatory stance, arms close to her body, claws bared. Beside her, Gilbert and Selina drew their weapons.
The merchant raised his bow and nocked an arrow, holding two more between his fingers.
The steampunker powered up her exosuit and cracked her fists together as copper-colored valves hissed steam.
There was no warning. No war cry.
The wall’s matrices began firing at the distant red tide. The archers let loose. The sky filled with projectiles flying toward the demon eyes swarming toward the soldiers on the wall and the city below.
The last of them—at least the ones that survived—quickly changed direction when the rain of green leaves fell over the city, vaporizing them instantly with a pale green glow.
Alalia’s reach extended across the entire kingdom, even reaching the walls — though at that distance, the effect of the leaf rain was much weaker.
Robyn reacted before Selina and Gilbert as several demon eyes charged toward the three. Her senses and instincts flared like boiling blood.
Launching forward with only the tips of her toes, she shot ahead. Like a spear, her right arm — fingers pointed — impaled the first demon eye and tore it in half.
Fighting off the shiver of disgust as her gaze, involuntarily, drifted toward the enemy’s torn pupil, Robyn grabbed one half and hurled it into another demon eye, while her left arm slammed into a third.
Letting instinct take over, she moved like a wild animal as she attacked...
Arrow after arrow, Gilbert’s fingers never stopped moving. His eyes — serious, yet worried — flicked between something in the distance, where the earring on his left ear swayed, and his daughter, fighting beside him.
He scanned the sky. He hardly needed to aim, but his focus was on the demon eyes closest to Robyn, Selina, and himself — especially the ones coming from blind spots, below and to the left.
The left eye of every enemy — a target, a weakness, a possible threat.
Selina launched herself using a burst of steam. Slamming forward, she punched through the eyes near Robyn. Their teamwork wasn’t the best — could barely be called “good” — but it was more than enough for the moment.
Powering the matrix on her right shoulder, Selina raised her right arm, palm open. The tubes along her arm filled with gel, flowing from the tank on her back to her hand.
The gel ignited the moment it exited the nozzle at the center of her palm, scorching the air and the demon eyes above.
The battle raged on all around them. Archers shot skyward at the demon eyes, while soldiers with spears and swords guarded them from those getting too close.
When the red tide hit the wall, breaking through the barrage of spells, arrows, and bullets, they began to climb it like ants up a surface.
Zombies upon zombies. Corrupted animals atop corrupted animals. Creatures made of amalgamated living beings, fused into fleshy grotesque bodies.
The second climbed the first. The third climbed the second. The fourth climbed the third… The thousandth climbed the—
As the mountain of bodies ascended toward the top of the wall and the city beyond, Helena, observing from above — floating atop a circular bluish metal platform etched with glowing sapphire Mystic Symbols — gave the order:
“Energize the walls!”
The EchoMirror on her wrist caught her words, and moments later, that entire stretch of the southwestern wall lit up with a web of yellow lightning.
The smell of ozone filled the air for a few seconds, overtaking the stench of blood and rot rising from the bodies — until it was smothered by a new odor: burnt, rotting flesh, saturating the air like a disease.
Robyn, whose senses were sharper than anyone’s, was the first to smell it. She had to cover her nose to avoid vomiting — almost getting hit from behind if Gilbert hadn’t knocked a demon eye down with one of his arrows.
She wasn’t the only one. All across that section, soldiers grimaced at the foul stench; some vomited, others saw their vision waver, dizzy from the putrid reek.
Watching the chaos unfold, Helena frowned. Her brown eyes searched the horizon for something. Finding nothing, she commanded the metal platform forward and raised her arms in front of her.
With fluid movements, her fingers began to move as if playing the keys of a piano only she could see.
In front of her, sapphire-blue Mystic Symbols started forming in the air, organizing themselves into arrays. Some had circular patterns, others square, some triangular.
Regardless of shape, the arrays glowed deep blue, contrasting sharply with the crimson tide below.
One of them, circular, rotated counterclockwise. The air around it mirrored the motion gently, as the stench of rot and burned flesh began to fade.
Two others, triangular, fused into a hollow pyramid. Spinning like a drill, the pyramid pointed downward. From its tip, a concentrated beam shot out steadily, searing and tearing through the enemies below.
Ahead, a square array rose into the sky. From it, a barrier about fifty square meters wide shimmered, dragging the demon eyes from that area with it—until they collided with another square barrier descending from above, crushing them into a bloody paste.
Beneath the metal platform, several hexagonal arrays appeared. Aimed toward the top of the wall, they pulsed with a steady rhythm.
Those beneath the arrays felt their bodies surge with energy, their mana resonating with the same beat as the mystical structures.
Their confidence rose as their fear faded. Their senses felt sharper.
"The enemies aren’t so terrifying after all..."
— that was the thought of many.
“We have the Duchess of Symbols on our side!”
— and more than one shouted it.
Above, Helena’s fingers continued to move slowly through the air, as her invisible piano composed a melody whose notes could be seen forming all around.
“I’d heard stories, but seeing it is something else. Aunt Helena really is strong, huh? I think she could hold this side of the wall on her own…” Selina said beside Robyn.
Dylan and Melissa really take after her. Especially the small leader. Aunt Helena’s innate magic is only slightly less bizarre than Dylan’s... I’d call them monsters, if that title hadn’t already been claimed by the man who created a fucking Sun...
She used the brief pause Helena had created to catch her breath and reload her Mana Stones and the gel in her exoskeleton. She also checked her body and blinked her left eye a few times.
“So this is what a Gem-ranked contractor is like?... Impressive,” Robyn muttered, then couldn’t help but think:
But still lacking compared to Devas… Seriously lacking. Why is it that the more I learn, the less sense that guy makes?!
Is he even human? Knowledge about ‘The Eye’ is dangerous and anything about Devas just gives me a headache…
Shaking the blood from her claws and fur, Robyn looked around. Her eyes briefly scanned everyone — their faces now more confident — before rising toward the hexagonal arrays.
It’s fake… I’m not actually stronger, but I felt like I was. My senses haven’t improved. My mana is being guided by those pulsing arrays...
I can feel the tiara on my forehead resisting it, just as it does the madness from the Blood Moon… Is confidence a kind of madness too?...
It’s like a subtle hypnosis in a battlefield... I wouldn’t even have noticed it if not for the tiara… How terrifying...
“Father, Selina, be careful not to—” Robyn choked and brought a hand to her nose.
Robyn’s words were drowned out by the sudden wave of salty, rotting fish stench that engulfed the air.
She couldn’t name that exact blend of smells, but Gilbert could — and it was familiar: sea breeze.
The merchant moved instinctively. Turning his arms toward where the Angler Earring dangled, Gilbert charged the arrays on his bow for the first time in the battle and fired an arrow without even looking.
The arrow soared swiftly, its tip glowing with mana.
At the same time, a massive shadow engulfed them all. Quicker than Gilbert’s arrow, the shadow vanished an instant later, flying upward — toward Helena.
From the mouth of the Dreadnautilus’s shell, its tentacles shot out like spears toward the duchess.
Reacting swiftly, Helena’s fingers danced through the air with precision.
On the underside of the bluish metal platform, an array lit up in dark blue just before a circular barrier covered both the platform and Helena.
The Dreadnautilus’s tentacles slammed against the barrier, leaving small cracks that quickly sealed themselves. But even without breaking through, the impact was enough to hurl the entire platform — and Helena with it — far away.
Leaving a trail of bloody slime dripping from its shell like rain, the Dreadnautilus ignored everyone else and lunged after Helena, who was now flying through the air.
The strange liquid rained down over the area, affecting those it touched in two ways: corroding the metal of their armor — like the hull of a ship long lost at sea — or making their skin burn and bubble for a moment, before the Purification Powder on their bodies began to neutralize and cleanse the substance.
Acting fast, Selina brought both wrists together with open palms and fired flamethrowers from both hands, scorching the liquid above before it could reach those around her.
Unfazed by the flames overhead or the massive mollusk swimming through the air behind Helena, Gilbert placed two more arrows on his bowstring. The Mystical Symbols on his bow arrays glowed as he fired again in the same direction.
Like the one before, the arrows flew fast and true — and like before, they struck gooey tentacles made of bloody flesh, failing to reach the real target.
Sitting atop the Blood Squid with three tentacles raised in front of his body — all pierced by Gilbert’s arrows — Simon smiled almost nostalgically at the merchant.
His deathly pale skin stood in stark contrast to the red around him.
“A good shot... as always... I guess...” The former angler’s voice came out wet and sluggish. “Gilbert... old friend…”
To Simon’s left and right, two more Blood Squids floated. To the right, carrying the Hemogoblin Shark; to the left, the Zombie Merman.
Made of what looked like blood, chunks of flesh, and exposed muscle, the Blood Squids had heads about five feet tall and three feet wide, while their tentacles — lazily swaying as if underwater — reached lengths of five to six meters.
Embedded in their fleshy bodies were numerous demon eyes, spinning erratically, scanning those nearby.
Anyone who met the gaze of those particular eyes felt a salty taste coat their tongue, while the despair and hopelessness reflected in each pupil made them feel like they were on a sinking ship.
Simon’s two eyes locked onto Gilbert for a moment, orbiting around the former angler’s head. Then they shifted — the right eye turning toward the Hemogoblin Shark, the left locking onto the Zombie Merman.
The instant they were seen, both creatures moved.
The Zombie Merman leapt from the Blood Squid like a corroded copper statue, landing right in front of Selina and Robyn without even bending its knees — the crash loud from its apparent massive weight.
With a sound like slabs of stone grinding against each other, the Zombie Merman charged toward them in a heavy gait.
On the other side, far more aggressively and savagely, the Hemogoblin Shark howled at the sky and practically launched itself at a group of soldiers.
“GRAAAAAH!”
Snatching the one in front — not with its hands, but with its gaping jaws — the first soldier had his left arm, shoulder, and part of his chest torn off in a single bite.
Chewing and swallowing the armored arm whole, the Hemogoblin Shark's muscles swelled. Punching the unconscious soldier away with its right hand, the creature grabbed another by the head with its left, while its tail snapped like a whip toward a third target.
With no time to think amidst the carnage unfolding to the right—thanks to the massive creature charging their way—Robyn and Selina attacked the Zombie Merman almost simultaneously.
Robyn rolled across the ground to dodge a slow, telegraphed punch—one that, despite missing, struck the ground with a boom, causing the glowing Mystic Symbols reinforcing the wall’s terrain to flash bright green.
Slashing at the creature’s right leg as she came out of the roll, Robyn’s claws scraped against the hard shell that made up the Zombie Merman’s skin, making a sound like stone being struck and sending pain shooting through her fingers.
Selina, taking advantage of the Zombie Merman being crouched from missing Robyn, launched a punch forward, powered by the steam venting from her exoskeleton.
Avoiding the creature’s head due to the massive, half-open mouth located there, her metal-gloved fist landed on its torso, producing a crack and a sharp snap from the impact.
“Tsk. Of course you didn’t even stagger…” Selina barely had time to mutter before she threw herself sideways, narrowly dodging the creature’s left hand as it tried to close around her head.
Farther to the right, Gilbert had no time to assist Robyn or Selina—even if he’d wanted to. The moment the Zombie Merman and the Hemogoblin Shark leapt into battle, Simon did the same, commanding the three Blood Squids to attack the nearby soldiers.
The former angler lashed out with his blood-red fishing rod, sending the heavy hook flying along with the line straight toward Gilbert’s center of mass.
Gilbert knocked the hook aside with the side of his bow, stepped to the side, and fired an arrow at Simon—who dodged nimbly, ducking just as the fishing line, glowing with a sickly green mana, whizzed over his head.
“Nostalgic… isn’t it…” Simon asked, pausing. “Just like… the old days…”
“No. The man I once called a friend didn’t have eyes floating around his head,” Gilbert growled. Glancing around before loosing another series of arrows, he added, “You isolated me. Why?”
“Let the creatures I’ve caught… handle everyone else… but you…” Simon replied, twisting his wrist. The blood-red fishing line spun in a wide arc, slicing through Gilbert’s arrows midair.
“You… old friend…” Simon’s eyes locked onto Gilbert as he pointed with his free hand. “Your fate… changed… my master… showed me…”
“You were supposed to… die months ago…” Simon lunged forward, forcing Gilbert to roll away, then yanked the line back to block another incoming arrow.
“Jille…”
Gilbert muttered under his breath.
Even spoken low, Simon seemed to hear it—and nodded.
“Yes. Village Jille… You should’ve… died there…”
“But no… something changed…
nine months
ago… something blinded my master’s… vision… blinded… still blinds…”
A strange smile formed on Simon’s cracked lips. Showing off his slightly yellowed teeth, he pointed at Gilbert, while the two orbiting eyes fixed their gaze on the merchant.
“But I’m thankful for that… Thankful to whoever did it… Because now I get to have my old friend… right by my side…”
He paused. And when he spoke again, Simon’s voice was eerily clear—stripped of its usual drowning, dragging tone:
“I’ll kill you, Gilbert. And I’ll bring your body to my master so he can bless you… the way he blessed me.”
[...]
On the eastern side of the kingdom…
The goblin army marched with speed. After the collision with the red tide of monsters, their pace had only quickened.
Around them, zombies, demon eyes, and corrupted animals simply ignored their presence—treating the goblins as kin while snarling and charging toward the walls.
At around two thousand meters from the wall—well beyond the reach of the Terrarian archers and magical artillery—the goblins halted and began moving in coordinated fashion.
Making space within the ranks, several massive, eyeless ogres carried heavy crates on their backs. Perched on their shoulders, small goblins cut the ropes, dropping the crates with a thud onto the blood-soaked grass.
Dozens of goblins rushed in, pried the crates open, and began pulling out parts. Clad in mage robes, the goblins shouted commands to larger ones, directing them to begin assembling the dark gray metallic pieces in an orderly fashion.
Thick chains, rods, bases, massive screws, threaded bolts—every kind of component was pulled out and assembled at a rapid pace.
Taking advantage of the chaos caused by the zombies and demon eyes—fewer in this area than at the front lines—the goblins pressed on, constructing the metallic devices.
Though the Terrarian army could clearly see what was happening, they were powerless to intervene. Leaving the safety of the walls would be a costly mistake, given the monsters assaulting them.
And losing their defensive advantage could prove fatal. So the order was given: wait and respond to whatever the goblins might attempt.
Given the kingdom’s dire state, it was an understandable order—yet one that proved disastrously wrong the moment the goblins finished their assembly.
In the heart of the goblin forces, large dark-gray metal catapults were rapidly raised. Beside them stood five enormous cylindrical devices with metal bases and hollow cores, all pointed squarely at the kingdom walls.
Heavily armored goblins wearing waxen masks moved swiftly. On their backs, sacks filled with football-sized metal spheres clinked together—each one enchanted and etched with glowing Mystic Symbols.
The metal spheres were loaded into the catapults as the robed goblins energized the magical matrices at the base of each weapon. After about a minute, the Mystic Symbols on each catapult began to glow a sickly greenish-gray.
A shout echoed through the goblin ranks:
“Fire the Spiky Balls!”
On cue, the catapults launched. The Spiky Balls soared through the air, crossing the two-thousand-meter distance in mere seconds.
None of them flew over the wall into the city—as if that had never been the intention. Upon hitting the metal-reinforced stone walls, the Spiky Balls sprouted hollow-tipped spikes and began dripping a thick, black, sticky liquid, adhering tightly to the surface.
For one long second, nothing happened. Then, each Spiky Ball erupted into a splash of green, poisonous-looking fluid.
The explosion and liquid barely scratched the wall—but somehow, the matrices of Mystic Symbols in the blast radius began to fail, blinking out one by one.
Only the runes embedded
within
the walls remained active—though even they seemed destabilized, their mana flickering and wild.
As the Spiky Balls hit their mark, the goblins kept moving.
Near the cylindrical devices, a group of about forty goblins carried five massive, barbed arrows made of dark gray metal—each about fifteen meters long, with enormous chains attached to their bases. These arrows were coated in copper-hued metallic Mystic Symbols.
With twenty goblins on each side, they moved in synchronized formation, slotting the arrows into the five cylinders.
Once loaded, the cylinders began to spin rapidly. At their silver bases, pulsing violet orbs filled with life force and mana lit up. Inside the spinning cylinders, the barbed arrows hovered in place—unaffected by the rotation.
When the spinning became so fast that the direction could no longer be discerned, another command was heard:
“Fire the harpoons!”
Shooting out like missiles, followed by a supersonic boom, the five harpoons vanished from inside the cylinders, soaring toward the kingdom walls as the chains attached to them twisted wildly in the air.
Without the magical matrices reinforcing the wall’s durability, the harpoons had no trouble piercing through.
With the Mystic Symbols glowing in a copper hue along their long metallic shafts, the harpoons tore into the walls, locking in place the moment their tips passed through to the other side, just below the top.
At the same time, the Mystic Symbols etched along the five chains connected to the harpoons began to glow in a dull gray.
Spread roughly two hundred meters apart, the mana within the Mystic Symbols began to resonate. A moment later, a wide gray barrier started forming, using the five chains as anchor points, extending from one to the other.
The barrier stretched nearly a kilometer wide, reaching all the way to the kingdom’s walls.
Then, a third command rang out:
“Goblins, attack!”
Splitting into two groups, part of the goblin army ran beneath the barrier, using its protection to move swiftly and reach the wall.
The other half advanced across the top of the barrier, using it as a massive bridge. As the primary target of Terrarian defense, the goblins crossing above were larger and carried heavy shields, raising them overhead, forward, and to the sides, forming a protective shell.
Each goblin wore a wax helmet as they marched toward the kingdom.
[...]
On the other side of the kingdom, in the west, something similar was unfolding.
Unlike the eastern side, at the head of the goblin army crossing the western barrier marched a tall goblin clad in long purple robes.
His robes trailed behind him on the gray barrier. Hanging from the belt around his waist, six straw dolls swayed with each step — each one adorned with different-colored jewels for eyes and with their arms and legs impaled from within by small brown stakes. No hands or feet, only frayed strands of straw.
Wearing the same type of wax helmet, though his had a stitched mouth like a doll’s, the goblin Warlock held his right arm outstretched, gripping one of the dolls — the one with amethyst eyes.
With its amethyst eyes glowing like fire in a dull purple hue, a deep, echoing sound like a hollow tube resonated from the doll’s head, while the ends of its limbs burned with pale, murky purple flames.
A barrier of faint, pale purple fire — the Shadowflame — surrounded the Warlock and the goblins behind him, shielding them from incoming arrows and spells.
As if mere enchanted arrows and Terrarian magic could pierce through Shadowflame.
The Warlock's mocking thought nearly escaped his wax helmet as a low growl.
Raising his other hand to his waist, he grabbed another doll — this one with topaz eyes and a stitched mouth — and held it upside down.
The straw doll’s eyes shone a deep yellow before a thunderous scream erupted from its mouth, blasting forward and blowing away arrows, magic, and any Terrarian soldiers rushing toward the goblin army.
Those hit directly by the topaz-eyed doll’s scream were hurled backward. Even those farther away dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, ears bleeding.
Returning both the topaz- and amethyst-eyed dolls to his waist, the goblin Warlock’s body suddenly went rigid. At his waist, a doll with diamond eyes began trembling, its head jerking back and forth rapidly.
Bathed in a crystalline white glow, the goblin Warlock’s body vanished in the blink of an eye.
Translucent and nearly imperceptible, the air shimmered where the Warlock had just stood.
Following that shimmer, a thin, faint line traced itself across the entire kilometer of the gray barrier, slicing through where the Warlock had been and advancing toward the goblins behind him.
Like barley being harvested, the first goblins didn’t even have time to react before their bodies were sliced clean in half.
Those farther back, witnessing their comrades being effortlessly carved apart by something invisible — something that ignored both shields and armor — threw themselves toward the sides of the gray platform. Some jumped, others dove in desperation to escape the unseen blade.
In a single second, the goblin army had descended into chaos.
Roughly two thousand meters ahead, beyond the reach of the translucent line, the Warlock’s body reappeared mid-air, still glowing with a crystalline white light.
Swiftly reaching to his waist with his left hand, he grabbed another straw doll — this time with amber eyes and a dusty appearance — and shook it like a rattle.
From where the doll’s hands and feet would be, sand began to pour rapidly like a miniature waterfall. Falling just a few centimeters before freezing in the air, the grains of sand started moving unnaturally.
Floating and drifting toward the Warlock’s wrists, ankles, and chest, the grains spun around him. Around his limbs, the sand formed four small rings; at his chest, a larger one, resembling a tiny basket.
The sand quickly supported his falling body, lifting him to hover mid-air.
Without pausing, the goblin Warlock placed the amber-eyed doll into the sandy basket on his chest. Fixing his gaze on the distant goblin army, he reached for another doll with his free hand.
Have they gone mad?! Why are they flinging themselves around like that?! There’s nothing there!
…No, it must be an illusion from that damned Terrarian mage. Even with our preparations, the anti-illusion matrix was completely ineffective?!
Growling inwardly, the goblin Warlock hurled the doll he had grabbed into the air before him.
The emerald-eyed doll didn’t fall as expected. Instead, it hovered in place, as if suspended by invisible strings, its head bowed low.
The center of the straw doll’s chest split open with a vertical tear, from which dozens — perhaps hundreds — of green threads spilled forth. Twisting chaotically around the doll, the threads exploded outward in every direction.
Far to the right of where the Warlock had hovered, about a hundred meters away, the threads that flew in that direction surged ahead as if chasing something unseen.
They zipped forward about twenty meters before veering sharply to the left, then downward, then right again.
This went on for roughly two seconds, until the goblin Warlock shouted in a slightly high-pitched voice:
“Your illusions and tricks are worthless, Terrarian mage! Stop hiding like the pathetic being your entire race is made of, and at least try to fight me before you die!”
Even as he taunted, the Warlock remained alert. Eyes locked on the green threads as they continued to pursue whatever was hidden, he reached to his waist and clutched the diamond-eyed doll with his left hand, squeezing it slightly in concern.
With his right, he grabbed yet another straw doll — this one with ruby eyes and dark blood-red stains splattered across its entire body.
Holding the diamond-eyed doll close to his chest, he pointed the ruby-eyed one in the direction the green threads were moving, calmly tracking their path.
“Pathetic? How curious... It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me something like that... Strange to hear that word again.” An aged voice rose behind him, making the goblin warlock’s body tremble for a moment.
Almost turning around as Hirael’s voice shifted, now coming from right beside his ear, the goblin warlock forced himself to stay focused on the green threads, convinced they were following the mage.
“These dolls with colored eyes... I can't sense any Mystic Symbol in them. Quite the curious kind of magic. Is it your innate magic, or some form of goblin craft...?”
"Each one seems to have a different function. Let me guess: protection and teleportation for the one with what I assume are diamond eyes. It probably has a limited number of uses... Hard to say how many, but I imagine the cost depends on factors like distance..."
"Control over sand — or maybe dust in general — for the one with amber or topaz eyes..."
“Forgive me, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Both are yellow, and I can’t quite tell which is which... Heh, maybe it’s a different gemstone altogether and I’m entirely mistaken…”
“Well, whatever it is, the other one must deal with sound. But I did sense the mana spark right after the scream, so maybe electricity is involved too…”
“As for the emerald-eyed one... something tied to mana constructs, perhaps? These green threads are quite fascinating — they seem to follow me. Not my mana, otherwise they’d have missed their mark by now… Curious. How does that work?...”
“It was made specifically for me, wasn’t it? You really did prepare to deal with this old man. I’m flattered.”
The voice echoed from all directions. Sometimes just behind his neck, sometimes beneath his feet, sometimes like thunder in the distance.
Despite trying his best to stay composed, the goblin warlock’s hands were shaking. His eyes never stopped trailing the green threads weaving about in pursuit of something invisible.
He couldn’t help but recall the words his king once spoke:
“If the Terrarians fight back, there are only two you need to worry about: the Duchess of Symbols, Helena, and the Royal Wizard, Hirael.”
“Helena won’t be our problem; one of the cultists will handle her. But Hirael will strike one of our armies. If that happens, remember this: do not underestimate him for any reason.”
“Hirael is old. Very old. There’s a reason to fear someone who has survived in a profession where most die young.”
My king truly is wise. If not for the preparations he gave me, I doubt I could even counterattack before being killed…
Quickly collecting his thoughts, the goblin warlock answered Hirael’s words with a slightly shrill voice:
“Incredible. You managed to state the obvious! Is that the level of your kingdom’s mages? Say basic things with a confident tone? I literally used more than half the dolls you mentioned right in front of you!”
“Want me to explain what the others do, since you clearly don’t know?!”
Receiving only silence in return, the goblin warlock was about to speak again when Hirael’s voice seemed to come from within the straw doll with ruby eyes in his right hand.
The doll’s head twisted, its eyes turned black, and a wide grin was carved across the straw.
“I’m far too old for provocations. Please, have some class. This is a duel between mages, not a tavern brawl.” The doll’s mouth moved as the words came out.
“As for the remaining dolls, I was just getting to them.”
The goblin warlock had to stop himself from flinging the doll away. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t dispel Hirael’s illusion.
“Well, the ruby-eyed doll… I get the feeling it’s tied to blood. Or maybe healing — vitality in general is a decent guess. But given the twisted theme of this bloody night, I’d wager the obvious: blood.”
“A voodoo doll, perhaps? Truly nasty magic, but incredibly useful. That’s what the green threads are for, right? Just one cut, and I’m dead?”
The goblin warlock’s slight muscle tension was all the answer Hirael needed.
“That makes five. Two left. The sapphire-eyed doll… judging by the mana, I’d say wind or ice. A blizzard? Something tied to cold weather, maybe... Though there seems to be a healing aspect as well. That one’s the most complicated, in my opinion.”
“And finally, the amethyst-eyed doll… I’ll admit, I’d just call it fire magic and be done with it, if I didn’t know the truth... What was the name that young man told me again? Ah, yes…”
“…Shadowflame.”
The goblin warlock froze completely at the word, just before his body was enveloped in a white crystalline glow and vanished — reappearing a hundred meters to the right.
In the place where he once stood, the air shimmered with a faint breeze.
Still pursued by the green threads, Hirael — concealed from sight — didn’t stop his assault.
The wind around them began to spin, sharp and swift. Moisture in the air condensed into droplets, then froze into needle-like shards. The ground below surged upward in jagged spikes.
Just recovering from teleporting, the goblin warlock quickly stashed away the ruby-eyed doll and grabbed the amethyst-eyed one.
With a flick of his wrist, he let it fall.
Tethered to his fingers, strings made of that same pale, opaque purple flame supported the doll. Moving his fingers like a puppeteer, he made the doll’s arms and legs dance in a bizarre and eerie motion.
The doll’s eyes glowed with that same pale, smoky fire the moment it was caught. Around them, matching flames shot out toward the incoming attacks.
Some struck true — blades of air lost form, consumed by the fire. Ice needles melted and vanished mid-flight. The earth erupted into magma, halting its upward charge.
Others, however, passed harmlessly through — mere illusions.
Looking toward where Hirael was, the goblin warlock saw a colossal fireball. Nearly ten meters wide, it came barreling toward him.
Noticing that the diamond-eyed doll in his left hand hadn’t activated on its own, the goblin warlock felt a little less alarmed. He moved his right-hand fingers, guiding the amethyst-eyed doll.
The doll brought its limbs together in front of its body. The straw on its back stretched to the limit. Tiny brown stakes within its joints cracked near its shoulders and hips.
Its glowing eyes flared. Then, with a sudden jolt, it spread its arms and legs wide, holding perfectly still.
A pale, opaque purple fireball shot from the doll.
As large as the one racing toward the goblin warlock, the sphere hurtled forward with immense speed, appearing to collapse inward, like writhing tendrils, while a whispering chorus of tormented voices echoed from within.
When the two fireballs collided, there was no explosion.
Hirael’s fireball withered quickly, drawing in the surrounding heat, before crystallizing everything nearby in a brilliant, icy sheen. Freezing winds slashed outward.
The purple flame resisted for a moment, but soon began to shrink and vanish under the chilling pressure.
Shielding himself with the amethyst-eyed doll, the goblin warlock scanned the area for the green threads tied to the emerald-eyed doll.
A fire that freezes?! How—No. It absorbed the heat around it… and the heat from the Shadowflame… and froze everything. But where did the heat go—
His thoughts were abruptly cut off.
The goblin warlock’s eyes widened as the diamond-eyed doll in his left hand reacted, wrapping his body in crystalline white light.
He quickly moved the fingers on his right hand, commanding the amethyst-eyed doll to shield him in a barrier of pale purple flames. He barely had time to react as he reappeared a hundred meters away — and an explosion erupted.
Ignoring the burning pain across his back, the goblin warlock quickly stashed away the amethyst-eyed doll and grabbed the sapphire-eyed one.
Throwing her backward, the doll twisted in the air before latching onto the goblin’s back like a tick.
With the long purple cloak burned away, the goblin’s green skin was exposed.
Melted, with muscles showing and numerous blisters covering the vivid red tissue, the straw doll with sapphire eyes drove the tips of the small brown stakes — attached to the ends of her limbs — into the Warlock goblin’s back.
The melted skin quickly began to regenerate. Muscles grew at an accelerated rate before dark green skin took the place of the scorched, blistered layer.
As the sapphire-eyed doll healed the Warlock goblin, she began to freeze.
At first, only a faint frost formed around the straw. A second later, her body turned rigid, and a cold bluish hue spread across her entire form. Once the goblin was fully healed, the doll detached herself and her frozen body fell.
Tapping twice on the amber-eyed doll on his chest, the sand swirling around the Warlock goblin’s right hand shot forth and caught the falling doll, gently placing her at his waist, where she began to slowly thaw.
As he reached once more for the doll with amethyst eyes, the Warlock goblin’s gaze never stopped shifting beneath the strange wax helmet.
Searching for the green threads of the emerald-eyed doll — the ones following Hirael — the goblin spotted them less than two meters to his left.
Sensing the looming danger, he barely had time to manually activate the diamond-eyed doll. His first instinct was to shield his vital areas. A crystalline white glow covered his head, neck, and heart.
The shock of seeing his left wrist severed by cold steel, and his hand fall, was matched only by the pain that hit him in that instant.
Without direct contact with the doll, the white glow covering his body quickly faded — and before he could react, the air around him rippled subtly.
"Monster…”
He only had time to speak one final word before his head began to slide off, then fell from his body. Afterward came the right arm, the left, the legs, and the torso.
Like small blocks, the Warlock goblin’s body fell apart and began to drop.
Hirael, having watched the green threads trailing him vanish at last, didn’t let his guard down. Still alert, he waited a few seconds before revealing himself.
Like a hand-painted image, his body began to appear.
Mounted on what looked like a transparent, blue-tinted unicorn trotting through the air as if it were solid, the old mage — clad in his purple robe — held his staff in his left hand.
In his right, a simple steel dagger inscribed with the [Sharp] rune dripped with blood.
Not attacking the threads and letting them track me was the right choice. It made him too confident, left him open to close-quarters combat. He never expected me to get so close...
An almost instant and automatic defense, but mana-based. It likely would’ve detected mana from a Mystic Symbol matrix... but it seems not from a rune.
His clothes were enchanted. A normal dagger wouldn’t have cut through.
I’ll have to thank young Devas later. I would've had a harder time ending that fight so quickly if not for this dagger.
I don’t like using blades, but it was the simplest method. At least I didn’t have to use that strange metal-projectile contraption he gave me.
It would’ve been unbecoming of me — a mage of my stature — to use something like that...
Humming to himself while organizing his thoughts, Hirael moved his staff and commanded the air around the straw dolls and the Warlock goblin’s head — still wearing the strange white wax helmet — to bring them closer.
As the items floated before him, he pulled a small ring from his pocket. Without directly touching any of the dolls, he manipulated the air around the ring to make it tap each doll, as well as the head, pulling them into the Travel Space stored inside.
Seeing that the ring hadn’t reacted negatively, Hirael froze it and cloaked it with magic. Creating another unicorn identical to the one he rode, the old mage handed the frozen ring to the summoned creature.
“Take it to my testing workshop. Place it in room 2-B,” he commanded. The unicorn galloped off, its hooves stepping on air as it faded into the distance.
Now certain the immediate threat had truly passed, Hirael let out a long sigh. Stowing the steel dagger in his main Travel Space, the old mage ran his free hand through his long beard, combing it with his fingers.
His wrinkled face turned in the direction of the kingdom, and he grumbled to himself in a low voice:
“I’m far too old for all this… My back and hips are already starting to ache…”
“Which way was Helena thrown by that giant mollusk again…?”
Fading away like a watercolor being washed clean, Hirael rode back into the fight.
[…]
Within the spiritual realm.
Ozma was no stranger to pain. Having lived as long as he had, injuries were as routine as the passing seconds in a day.
But when he looked through the human’s vision, just a flash — a glimpse of the fragile image of '
The Eye'
— was enough to make him reconsider how familiar he truly was with pain.
His head throbbed. His left eye twisted in its socket, pulsing and spinning like a beating heart. The blood leaking from its edges stank of rot and burned his skin.
It felt like centipedes were crawling out from within his eye, erratic and in all directions, as the eyeball swelled like a balloon.
Used to physical pain, Ozma realized — in the midst of his agony — that having one’s soul torn apart was something else entirely.
Sure, he had divided parts of his soul to create the Four Maidens, and again when gifting some of his magic to Qrow and Raven. But there was a massive difference between doing so with care and precision… and having some outside force tear your soul apart as if using a dull, rusted saw.
The moment stretched on as he clutched his left eye, until an icy chill consumed the burning organ. He could feel something crawling from the outside in — the opposite of before.
Then the pain vanished completely, leaving only a cold, hollow emptiness in its place.
As he stood, Ozma quickly realized he couldn’t see out of his left eye, even though it was open. Looking around, he saw the Shadow Puppet exiting the beach house through the front door.
Shaking his head and touching his left eye with two fingers from his right hand, Ozma ignored the deranged whispers now pouring from the eye and followed the human’s shadow outside.
“I don’t even have a body… how does a soul bleed?” he asked calmly, as if everything that had just happened were nothing more than a hallucination.
Clutching his left eye — now cloaked in shadow — he stared in the same direction as the human’s shadow: the sea, just below the colossal rotting corpse floating atop the waves.
“'
The Eye'
has a strange connection to the concept of ‘Eyes’—more specifically, the concept of the ‘Left Eye’. It’s supposed to
be
the left eye of that ‘thing’, after all…” the one-eyed Shadow Puppet began to explain.
“I don’t fully understand how or why, but I’m almost certain that if that thing wanted to, even a statue would have its left eye taken—and the material, whether stone or marble, would bleed.”
Ozma nodded slightly and paused in thought before asking:
“Even if '
The Eye'
is more connected to left eyes, my right eye should’ve been affected too. Especially since I looked
directly
at it.”
“If you had looked at it outside the Spirit Realm, that probably would’ve happened. In fact, your eyes would’ve flown out of their sockets instantly,” the Shadow Puppet replied easily, without turning.
“But you’re inside
my realm
. As much as you’re affected, it only happens within the limits of my resistance.”
“The concept of the ‘Left Eye’ might be his, but while we fought, I figured out a few tricks. It’s nowhere near the connection or domain that
‘The Eye’
holds, but… the domain over the concept of the ‘Right Eye’ could be considered mine now.”
Letting Ozma digest his words, the Shadow Puppet fell silent for a few moments. After what felt like two or three seconds, he turned and said:
“Do you remember when you were king? The memories from that time… can you recall them?”
Ozma blinked his single eye and stared at the Shadow Puppet’s dark face—and that insane grin—for a moment.
“Yes. It’s one of my clearest memories. Why?”
“Good. If all goes well, I’ll be needing them,” the Shadow Puppet said, without answering the question. Then he turned back to the sea and walked until the sand touched his feet. “I’m heading to the core of this realm. You won’t be able to enter. Do you want to rest, or should I send you to Jinn?”
The sea in the distance fluctuated between stormy and calm, with clouds appearing and fading, while a hazy reflection of a moon tried to form in the sky.
The colossal corpse stared at the image of the moon, unblinking, paying no mind to Ozma or the Shadow Puppet on the shore.
“You said you’d need my memories?” Ozma asked.
“Not now. I still need to see if what I want to do is even possible. Later, that is.”
“Then send me to Miss Jinn,” Ozma replied solemnly. “I can still fight, so I will.”
With a low, echoing laugh, laced with insane whispers, the Shadow Puppet rubbed two fingers together until a pitch-black coin with an orange eye engraved on one side appeared between them.
Tossing the coin to Ozma, the echo of his words reverberated across the beach before fading, along with his presence:
“Toss the coin to the ground after creating another shell. It’ll take you to Jinn’s shadow.”
[…]
Watching the army march toward her, Melissa took a deep breath.
Fighting monsters was something she was used to: trolls, ogres, direwolves, the occasional golem, even goblins—she’d taken them all down many times before.
But an entire army of fully armed, completely rational goblins?...
Swallowing hard, she braced herself. Beside her stood Darnell, the Pebble team, and a few other soldiers and contractors, all awaiting her command.
The Terrarian army was positioned along the top of the wall—or at least as much as the space allowed. Bombarding the goblins as much as possible without straying too far, the goal was simply to slow them down.
Melissa had ordered a group of men to head to where the harpoons were embedded. Destroying the bridge-barrier that served as the goblin army’s path was nearly impossible—same with the chains underneath it—but the harpoons piercing the wall were a different story.
Bringing down the bridge-barrier wouldn’t just halt the goblins’ advance above—it would also drop the upper army onto the one below. Destroying the structure would also prevent the abominations made of blood and corpses from using it to invade the kingdom.
Just as Melissa was about to shout the order to advance, a voice spoke from behind her.
A little aged, but filled with wisdom and strangely calm given the moment, the voice said:
“I ask that you wait a moment, Miss Oakwood. My compatriots and I have something to do before this unfortunate bloodshed begins.”
Turning to see who was speaking, Melissa vaguely recognized the voice—and immediately recalled the name as soon as she saw his face.
Senior Guide Martell, the man who had once spoken to her and her mother, Helena, when Dylan joined the Order of Guides.
A short man, just a few centimeters taller than Melissa. His brown hair was combed flat, streaked with gray and white. His face was aged—maybe in his fifties or sixties—and his deep brown eyes were so dark they seemed black.
He wore simple clothes: a light gray shirt, gray pants, and dress shoes. There was a teacher-like air about him.
What drew the attention of Maribel and Isis, who stood slightly behind, was the golden symbol on the back of his shirt: a circle with an open book in the center. On the left page, a pickaxe. On the right, a tree.
Melissa frowned as she saw him. Half-turned, splitting her attention between the goblin army and Martell, she asked with a growl:
“The Order decided to get involved? Why? Weren’t you the ones who said that even if the kingdom fell, you’d accept it and die with it without fighting back?”
“A guide’s role is to guide, not to interfere. Fighting is the job of others, not ours,” Martell replied in a lecturing tone. “The final fate of a guide is the same as those they’ve guided. If that’s destruction or salvation, we’ll accept it.”
“But to answer your question... we
weren’t
going to get involved. But the Head Guide ordered us to assist the western front. So that’s what we’ll do.”
Smiling softly, Martell raised his hand.
Above the goblin army, the air shimmered, and about ten balloons appeared. Each carried around five men in its basket, and below them hung what looked like a large sack, filled with dozens of liters of bubbling liquid.
All of the balloon occupants wore shirts with the same golden symbol on the back.
In perfect sync, the Guides in the balloons cut the ropes holding the sacks to their baskets. With nothing holding them up, the sacks—painted with dozens of Mystic Symbols—plummeted toward the goblin army below.
Reacting too late, the goblins barely had time to look up before hundreds of liters of boiling oil rained down on them.
A moment later, without even needing a torch, fire magic was cast into the army, igniting the oil.
Strangely, even with armor enchanted against fire, burns, and heat, the oil burned. And the fire it created burned twice as hot.
From atop the wall, Martell gave a sorrowful wave as two of the balloons began to fall, hit by goblin projectiles that had escaped the initial attack.
“We are few. The loss of even one comrade is tragic... let alone several,” he said, shaking his head before turning to walk away. “Send any wounded inside the walls. My comrades and I will help however we can.”
As he left, Melissa let out a low huff and turned back. Beside her, Darnell—who knew her well—noticed the strange look on her face, something between anger, sadness, confusion, and disbelief.
Staring at the burning goblin army, he asked:
“What happened?”
“The Head Guide, he…” — lowering her voice, she growled — “He’s
my father.”
Before Darnell or anyone else could respond, she stepped forward and shouted, amplifying her voice with mana:
“ATTACK!”
[…]
Ducking under a clumsy swipe from the Zombie Merman, Selina quickly slammed both fists into the creature’s right knee, then leapt back to avoid a kick from its left leg.
Behind the Merman, Robyn took advantage of the opening and slashed the back of the already-hurt knee. Her claws sank slightly into the rotting flesh between the toughened thigh and calf, forcing the Merman’s leg to buckle and drop to the ground.
Pulling back quickly before her claws could get caught, Robyn rolled to the side to dodge a stomp and skidded to Selina’s side, landing in a beast-like position on all fours, her rear raised and her bristled tail swaying behind her.
The two were fighting the Zombie Merman on their own, with the nearest soldiers occupied by the Blood Squids that had ambushed them right after their riders leapt off.
“Even its joints are stupidly tough. Feels like I’m trying to cut through rubber.” Robyn’s voice came out raspy and slightly winded through her fox snout. She wiped her claws on her own fur as she spoke.
“My nails are starting to hurt. Got any ideas? I don’t think we’re bringing this thing down from the wall… and if we keep this up, we’re just gonna pass out from exhaustion before we kill it…”
As she spoke, her gaze flicked between the Zombie Merman and Gilbert, who was fighting Simon farther to the left. In the distance, the Hemogoblin Shark was still on its killing spree.
Selina spat the saliva that had pooled in her mouth to the side, thinking with bitter irony:
Scream for help and see if Devas shows up to swat this thing dead?
Pinch ourselves and hope this whole miserable night is just a nightmare?
Throw a bomb down this abyssal abomination’s throat and watch it blow from the inside out?… Actually, that last one might work.
“Its mouth’s hanging open a bit. Can you pull the horns back and open it wider?” Robyn asked, her thoughts snapping into focus.
“They’re not horns. They’re built-up limestone and dead coral,” Robyn replied almost instinctively, having analyzed the Zombie Merman from the moment it showed up. “But yeah, I can. What’s your plan?”
Selina’s answer was to sprint straight toward the hulking creature, which had gotten back on its feet and was lumbering toward them again.
Running on all fours, Robyn quickly overtook her.
Reaching the creature first, Robyn became the target of a kick. Reading the telegraphed motion, she leapt forward and to the right, landing upright.
Now on two legs and behind the creature, Robyn ducked her upper body to dodge a backward swing of its arm and then sprang onto its back, using her claws to grip the cracks in its hardened, bone-like skin.
The Zombie Merman tried to grab her, but its limited joint mobility kept its arms from reaching behind.
Ignoring her instincts to bite the nape and neck — spots her body marked as weak points — Robyn grabbed the creature’s “horns” with both hands and yanked with all her strength.
“Raaahhhh!”
Slowly, the Zombie Merman’s mouth began to open wider.
Seizing the chance, Selina slammed an uppercut into the inner upper jaw, her exoskeleton boosting the punch with a burst of steam as the Mystic Symbols on her arm lit up.
A grotesque crack echoed from the joints as the upper jaw was forced open wider, revealing the inside of the monster’s mouth — rotting, cave-like, waterlogged, untouched by sunlight for decades. The stench was revolting.
Wrinkling her nose and swallowing back bile, Selina — directly hit by the creature’s breath — flung herself backward just as the Zombie Merman gave up on reaching Robyn and turned its attention to her instead, aiming to crush her in a deadly hug.
Robyn pulled harder as she felt the jaw’s hinges start to give. She threw her weight backward, using her body as leverage.
The creature’s jaws opened a few centimeters more, until the back edges of the limestone plates — once perhaps teeth — locked against each other.
Letting go of the horns, Robyn dropped and rolled back before standing. But just as she was about to sprint back toward the Zombie Merman, something slammed into her left side.
“Crack!”
“GaH!—”
Feeling her ribs pop under the impact, Robyn choked back a scream and elbowed her attacker.
Her elbow struck something soft and slimy — like rotting flesh — and Robyn felt the enemy's body get knocked back.
Falling and rolling across the ground, she quickly rose, clutching her left side. Glancing at her attacker, she barely caught a glimpse before being forced to dodge again.
A fusion of a demon eye and a flying fish — wonderful! And this thing is fast as hell too!
At least it wasn’t that freakish blood shark… I don’t think I’d still be alive if it had been…
I don’t think anything’s broken. But at least one or two ribs are cracked… My Aura’s unstable thanks to that damn transformation. I can’t use it properly. I just hope Dad and Selina are doing better than I am…
Grunting from the pain, Robyn rolled to the side to dodge the Wandering Eye Fish — which had been lurking near the fight until just moments ago.
She tried to counterattack, but her claws sliced through air as the Wandering Eye Fish twisted and shot upward in an arc like a dolphin or true flying fish would…
Nearby, Gilbert couldn’t help her, no matter how badly he wanted to. Simon blocked him with a timely strike just as the merchant’s eyes drifted to the side.
Raising his right arm, Gilbert blocked the fishing line with the sharp metal tip of his bow and ducked as the blade-wire failed to cut the line, which zipped over his head along with the weighted hook.
“Don’t lose focus… old friend.” Simon’s voice came again, wet and drowning.
Closer to Robyn, Selina glanced her way for a brief moment.
Noticing that Robyn wasn’t in immediate danger, and that the Wandering Eye Fish had only landed its hit because of the surprise attack, Selina turned back and charged the Zombie Merman.
Taking advantage of its limited mobility, she waited for the creature to try and strike again. When its muscular arm swung — not as a punch but as a wide sweep with its hand — she ducked.
But instead of simply slipping past the blow as its arm passed over her head, Selina raised her arms and grabbed the creature’s forearm.
Her body weight, combined with her exoskeletal armor, barely registered as the Zombie Merman continued its motion without hesitation.
Dragged through the air, Selina twisted her hips to the side.
Quickly channeling mana and powering a specific matrix on the right side of her hip, she fired a grappling hook. It flew about ten meters and latched onto the outer edge of the wall, a metal cable linking its end to her waist.
At the same time, releasing her left hand and holding on only with the right, Selina tapped her left index finger’s ring twice and pulled something from within her spatial ring — an oval object, greenish-gray in color, about the size of a fist, with a fire symbol painted on it.
Grabbing the Fire Dust grenade, Selina pulled the pin with her teeth and hurled it toward the Zombie Merman’s face.
Due to the creature’s massive open mouth, she didn’t need much aim. It almost looked like the Zombie Merman instinctively lunged to bite the grenade — but failed because its jaw was locked.
Seeing the creature practically swallow the grenade on its own, Selina channeled her mana once more, this time to the inner portion of the same matrix that had fired the hook earlier.
As soon as the matrix was energized, the gears inside the exoskeleton activated and began pulling the metal cord back. But, since the hook’s tip was stuck on the edge of the wall, it was Selina who was pulled away.
Selina barely managed to deactivate the matrix pulling the cord from the hook before her body fell off the edge of the wall.
Clinging on as her legs dangled below, she felt her vision swim with vertigo, and a cold shiver ran down her spine when she looked down.
The red tide was rising fast — zombies upon zombies — burned by the electric matrices that began a couple of meters below.
The smell of burned flesh, which she had been subconsciously ignoring, hit her full force, forcing her to swallow the bile rising in her throat.
A second seemed to last an eternity as she looked down.
Whether from the electricity or being torn apart alive, Selina knew that death was the only inevitable end if she fell.
Blinking and regaining her thoughts, she propelled herself upwards just before a muffled explosion came from her left.
“Boom!”
Turning before she could even get up, Selina saw the Zombie Merman.
With its strangely swollen abdomen and several cracks spreading across its moss-green hardened skin, the creature took a step forward. Its open mouth leaked smoke and tongues of fire that simply wouldn't go out, spilling from its nose, ears, and empty eye sockets as well.
Staring at Selina with its charred, smoldering, and fiery eye sockets, the Zombie Merman took another step forward... before freezing and falling face-first to the ground, its body as stiff as an old rusted bronze statue.
Lifting her hand to her chest, Selina sighed in relief.
"Damn, that thing scared me for a second..."
[…]
In the air, above the red tide.
Helena held her arms out in front of her body, her fingers playing an invisible piano as Mystic Symbols appeared randomly around her, creating matrices of all kinds.
Some released lightning, others fire. Around her, rectangular matrices formed sapphire-blue barriers, pushing the demon eyes, compressing them against each other until their bodies exploded.
Around her body, the matrix protecting Helena flickered, and small cracks appeared on its surface as it was struck by the Dreadnautilus' tentacles, which spun rapidly around the metal platform.
With each spin, whenever its body passed above the barrier, a rain of bloody slime fell from the Dreadnautilus' spiraled shell. The acidic slime slowly melted the barrier, exhaling a brown-red smoke.
Randomly, projectiles also shot from inside the Dreadnautilus' shell. They looked like blood clots, reddish-brown in appearance, and viscous in consistency. The projectiles splattered against the barrier from all sides, like rotten tomatoes.
Wherever the projectiles hit, the liquid began to corrode the barrier, creating the same brown-red smoke and deepening the cracks.
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Helena raised her right foot, resting only her heel on the metal platform. As if stepping on a pedal, her foot moved slightly to the right and descended gently, not touching the platform again completely.
Around her, the matrices that had already been formed trembled and resonated, reverberating. After the tremor, Helena stopped feeding the matrices with her mana, but unusually, they continued to exist for an extended period.
Removing her foot from the
Sustain
pedal, Helena moved it slightly to the side and pressed down again, now on the middle pedal.
Returning to move her fingers on the invisible piano, the Mystic Symbols created this time glowed more intensely in blue, exhaling mana. Some adhered to the barrier, reinforcing it and quickly regenerating the cracks as they cleansed the corrosive liquids.
With her foot still pressing the
Sostenuto
pedal and her fingers moving swiftly, Helena arranged the created Mystic Symbols into matrices — circular, square, rectangular, triangular.
Combining six triangular matrices to form three hollow pyramids, Helena placed a circular matrix at the tip of each one. As the pyramids began to spin clockwise, the circular matrices at their tips rotated in the opposite direction.
The laser beams from the pyramids split into countless rays: some blue, turning green or indigo; others red, turning orange or purple; and even yellow, unfolding into lime-green and golden.
The three pyramids spun around the metal platform, outside the barrier, shooting their beams in all directions.
Each being struck by the beams was brutally damaged. The demon eyes had their sight burned, blinded, or were sliced in half. The zombies below were scorched and torn apart. The Dreadnautilus' tentacles recoiled quickly, sliced like sausage on a cutting board.
Even the hard shell of the mollusk began to give way. Even spinning on its axis and swirling around Helena, without being continuously hit by the lasers, the outer part of the shell started to burn, releasing a thick, red, rotten-smelling smoke.
Combining twenty-four square matrices to create six cubes of about ten centimeters, Helena energized them to the max.
A barrier appeared inside the cubes, containing and compressing the rays, flames, and winds created by the matrices.
With a flick of her fingers, the six cubes flew toward the Dreadnautilus. Sensing the danger of the projectiles, the creature shot around Helena, dodging the cubes, which, when they got close, exploded in a confusion of lights and sounds.
Even with its quick movements, the Dreadnautilus' shell wasn't unscathed.
Damaged in several parts, with holes revealing the creature's true body — something fleshy and pulsating, with a reddish, bloody appearance — the shell began to crack more and more.
To Helena's surprise, the Dreadnautilus shot downward. Completely ignoring her, it dove into a nearby blood river, submerging completely.
Helena wasted no time in following it. Still keeping the three hollow pyramids spinning around her, she headed toward the river and began bombarding it, targeting the matrices at the blood flowing through the earth.
In the next moment, dozens of red tentacles shot from the water and hit the barrier surrounding Helena.
Thrown away again, Helena watched as the Dreadnautilus emerged from the water. With its body recovered, shell repaired, and tentacles regenerated, the creature advanced toward her without injury.
Following it, three more Blood Squids attacked the Duchess — two from below and one from above. These, without any demon eye attached, were simply clusters of blood, flesh, and muscle.
But before they could even get close, their bodies froze in mid-air.
Paralyzed for a brief moment, the Blood Squids began to fall: their tentacles disintegrated and their bodies were reduced to pieces.
There was no sound, no blood explosion, no warning — just a slight ripple in the wind around.
Smiling with the corner of her lips, Helena murmured in a low tone:
"You should be helping the west side. I can handle things here."
The reply came in the form of words written on the inside of the barrier:
"I dealt with their leader, and the army was disorganized. Things are fine on that side. Dealing with this thing is a priority, in my view..."
"What’s the overall strength of this giant mollusk and its powers?"
Without pressing, Helena listed as she murmured and attacked the Dreadnautilus:
"Easily gemstone rank. Maybe even stronger. It's one of the strongest creatures I've ever faced."
"It's fast, has some kind of instinct, and can sense danger. It can create other beings — those blood squids. I don't know if it can do anything else. And it regenerates quickly when in contact with blood."
"It also produces an acidic and corrosive slime. The projectiles have a similar effect. Its tentacles are sharp and fast."
As Helena listed, the air around the Dreadnautilus rippled.
Sensing danger, the creature shot and spun around. Some of its tentacles were cut off, but nothing more.
Above, lightning formed and attacked; below, the earth rose; around her, ice and wind mixed into cutting blades.
In all directions, Mystic Symbol matrices of various shapes appeared — some shooting lightning, others creating barriers and pushing the demon eyes away, others launching fire against the zombies below, and still others energizing the already existing magic.
Slowly, more words appeared on the inside of the barrier:
"This won't last ten minutes then. Maybe five..."
[…]
Diverting the fishing line with the sharp metal end of his bow and shooting two more arrows at Simon, Gilbert resisted the urge to kneel, his breath becoming more labored.
"Age comes to everyone... I know what that's like... I knew what it was like..." Simon babbled in a drowned tone. "You're in good shape... old friend... But not good... enough..."
"The title of... the position of... Merchant... will be vacant. I wonder... has the Merchant of the... next generation... already been born?... Maybe..."
Shaking his head to throw the sweat from his face, Gilbert took a step to the side and crouched, narrowly avoiding the fishing line hitting his face.
Simon didn't stop his attacks, even while speaking. His body neither trembled nor sweated. His breath was a constant inconsistency: sometimes normal, other times absent.
A dead body pretending to live... Damn. Brain or heart? One of those must be the weak spot. Or is it both eyes? Maybe it’s everything, and I’ll need to burn him to ashes...
Purification Powder should work, but he won’t let me get close. The wind always blows my way too. Smells like a dock in the morning. Simon couldn’t control the breeze when he was alive...
And then there’s that bizarre shark... I barely saw a blur when it moved...
Trying to focus, Gilbert organized his thoughts and concentrated on the fight. Still, a moment later, he couldn’t help but yell when Simon continued babbling:
"You’re damn annoying, you know that?! Your company was more pleasant before — and I hated you for most of my life!" Shooting two more arrows, which Simon sliced in midair, Gilbert added: "Old friend this, merchant that, death really made you chatty!"
Stopping his attacks for a moment, Simon let out a low huff. Cutting through three more arrows shot by Gilbert, he said:
"I’m very much alive, old friend." — The voice sounded normal for a moment before returning to the drowned tone: "Maybe it doesn't... seem so... to you, but my lord... gave me a life beyond... life..."
Taking advantage of the pause to breathe, Gilbert didn’t attack and let Simon speak. Keeping part of his attention on the former angler, he glanced at Robyn, who was still trying to hit the Wandering Eye Fish.
Seeing that she wasn’t in immediate danger, Gilbert returned his gaze to Simon.
"But I understand your... point. Strangely, I’m... attached to speech. Maybe because it... keeps me alert... away from the... call... the call of the sea..."
"The Angler and the sea... How... ironic..." — Simon's drowned voice sounded slow. "A curse... for me it’s a... curse... some of us... have..."
"Your daughter, she... she has a curse too, doesn't she? Maybe... she’s the Zoologist... right?...”
"My lord... showed me... I can see... my eyes can see... the zoologist is... chosen by an animal... transforms... part animal... the one from this generation... she... fox... was hers... wasn't it?... maybe..."
With his eyes floating beside his head and staring at Gilbert, Simon looked up. His old face twisted into a distorted expression — part irritated, part peaceful — as he looked at the pure green barrier above, not the Blood Moon.
Maybe because his eyes were fixed on Gilbert. Maybe because of his distracted attention. Maybe because of his chatty and nostalgic state. Simon didn’t react in time when Robyn ran toward him.
Holding the Wandering Eye Fish with her left hand’s claws while her right ripped one of the creature’s wings off, Robyn slammed the Wandering Eye Fish into Simon’s face.
Moving her free hand quickly, Robyn let go of the fleshy wing she was holding and swung her arm at Simon’s floating eyes, trying to cut them with her claws.
Reacting faster than its owner, Simon’s left eye spun on its own axis. It stared at Robyn for a moment, then flew upward, narrowly escaping her claws.
Without the same luck or reflex, the right eye was directly seized by Robyn’s claws.
She hesitated for a moment when she felt the disgusting texture of the eyeball in her hand. Her claws dug into the spongy flesh, then she squeezed. Her fingers sank deeper, until the white-gray flesh of the eye gave way.
Ripping away most of the right eye, what remained floated for a moment, its optic nerves twitching, before finally dropping inertly to the ground.
Beside her, Simon — who had pushed away the almost-dead Wandering Eye Fish with his hand — let out a grunt. His empty right eye socket began to bleed. The crimson liquid bubbled with what looked like red foam as it ran down his cheek and dripped onto his chin.
Grinding his teeth, the tense muscles in Simon's face shifted grotesquely, like blocks under a thin layer of pale skin. Unable to resist, a guttural scream echoed from his throat.
Like a whale’s sonar, the sound spread through the air strangely slowly for a scream. It caused visible ripples, crossing everyone around.
The closest — and the first to be hit — was Robyn.
Her eyes widened as she took a deep breath. The air filled her lungs, but the sensation of breathing didn’t exist. It was as if she were drowning, as if her lungs were full of water.
Sea water. She could taste it on her lips.
She could still breathe, but it didn’t feel like she could. She wasn’t really drowning, but the sensation was as if she were. Unpleasant. Desperate.
Simon’s left eye moved to the front of his face and stared directly at Robyn’s left eye. Instantly, she fell to her knees as everything around her was consumed by water.
The sensation of drowning intensified. The smell of salt overwhelmed the smell of blood. The taste of seawater dominated her mouth. The sound around her disappeared into a deafening and terrifying silence.
The eye in her tiara opened, glowing orange — a light that was quickly snuffed out by the surrounding darkness.
No light could exist in the depths of the sea…
Desperate, Robyn tried to swim upward. Her mind was in chaos. A moment seemed to last minutes, which stretched into hours. Her senses were fading, muffled by the pressure of the ocean.
As she tried to rise, several meters ahead, a beam of light appeared from above. Pale in a way that contrasted with the dark sea, her attention was drawn to it like that of a firefly.
The water around her rippled. The instant Robyn fixed her eyes on the thin, soft beam of pale light, it turned a dense crimson and grew in size, revealing what had been hidden in the marine darkness.
An immense creature. A fusion of what seemed to be several marine animals.
Tentacles of octopuses writhed, covered in pulsing suckers. Shark fins — irregular and sharp like external teeth — grew in random places.
Amidst the cracked remnants of what appeared to be a mollusk shell, scales from various species of fish overlapped, while a colossal whale’s tail moved slowly, curving above the creature. It was cracked in the middle, where a small sphere of light, resembling the moon, could be seen.
Bathed in artificial crimson light, there was an immense eye. It was in this eye that all the animal parts had fused. From the ligaments, blood flowed slowly, staining the surrounding water red.
Robyn could recognize the eye. Even though it was enormous, she knew it was Simon’s eye staring at her.
Between panic and fear, she instinctively covered her eyes with her palms.
I’m still above the kingdom’s wall. I’m not in the sea!
I was fighting, I need to wake up or I’ll die! This is an illusion! None of this is real!
Wake up, Robyn, damn it, there’s no water, no giant monster!
Wake up!
Her thoughts were jumbled and scattered, but she still managed to subtly distinguish that this was some sort of illusion or hallucination.
Still, no matter how much she mentally screamed, no matter how much she reinforced the idea— the ocean around her didn’t disappear.
The water still tasted like blood, and the smell of salt mixed with the stench of decay.
Tears slowly began to fall from her eyes, leaking through the small space between her palms, merging with the vastness of the water around her.
A sound echoed. It was subtle. Robyn could barely hear it, but it was there, like the omen of her death.
‘Drip… Drop…’
The moment her ears caught the sound through the waters, her eyes began to move abnormally.
The left one twisted, moving laterally in painful spasms, as though trying to escape the skull at any cost. The pain was nearly unbearable.
The right one was calmer, colder. There was a frozen anger there. Something was just pressing against Robyn’s palm, as if she were trying to block a hose with her hand.
Choosing quickly due to the pain, she placed her right hand over her left, pressing hard on the left eye, which was writhing like an enraged animal, and kept the right one tightly closed.
It wasn’t enough.
The eyelid of the right eye stayed shut for a fraction of a second before it was forced open.
Robyn had time to stare into Simon’s colossal left eye, now very close, for a brief instant.
And then, the sea of blood, the creature, and the illusion evaporated before the
orange
light emanating from her
right eye.
[…]
Having lived on the beach throughout his childhood and much of his adolescence, Gilbert was familiar with the sensation of drowning.
Unlike Simon, he had never been a natural swimmer. Gilbert had lost count of how many liters of seawater he had swallowed before learning how to stay afloat.
That’s why, unlike everyone else around him, he was able to move. Even with the uncomfortable sensation of drowning, putting two arrows in his bow and shooting them toward Simon was easy.
One of the arrows was aimed at the left eye of the former angler, who stared at Robyn kneeling with a vacant look. The second went toward Simon’s head.
Even before the first two arrows reached their target—or not—Gilbert shot two more toward Simon’s chest. Then he started running toward Robyn, as fast as his old but muscular body allowed.
The first arrow missed its target when the eye floated upward just enough to dodge it.
The second grazed Simon’s head, tearing part of his scalp as he, even dazed from losing his right eye, defended himself with the fishing rod. No blood.
The third arrow pierced Simon’s right bicep, coming out the other side. No blood.
The fourth hit his right shoulder. He threw his body to the side, and a bone snap echoed. No blood.
Reaching Robyn, Gilbert barely had time to position himself in front of Simon’s left eye before it began to weep bubbling blood. The white-grayish flesh was smoking, as though it were burning from the inside out.
Flying back toward its owner, the eye collided with Simon’s chest with force. He groaned in pain again, now with the left eye socket bleeding a boiling, foamy blood.
Behind Gilbert, Robyn’s eyes focused as she took a deep breath.
Still looking around with persistent fear, she brought her hands to her eyes, touching the skin around her eyelids randomly.
"An illusion... just an illusion..." she murmured softly, her voice trembling with relief.
Without turning, Gilbert nocked another arrow and asked:
"What’s happen—"
Gilbert didn’t have time to finish. The Hemogoblin Shark appeared as a red blur in his peripheral vision.
With its mouth dripping with the blood of terranean soldiers, the shark struck Gilbert with its claws in the chest and lowered its head to bite Robyn’s head.
Robyn reacted slightly better, noticing the creature moving a moment before Gilbert did, but still having no time to react as she saw the grotesque jaws opening before her.
Below, Gilbert’s shadow rippled. From it, two purple eyes opened.
Leaping from the shadow like an hallucination, Tyrian appeared between the father and daughter.
With his right hand, he stopped the claw coming toward Gilbert. With his left, he punched the Hemogoblin Shark’s jaw, forcing it to pull back.
Reacting quickly, Tyrian contorted acrobatically and kicked the creature’s chest, while his scorpion tail collided with the monster’s spiked tail.
Having pushed the shark away from Gilbert and Robyn, Tyrian’s body became a blur, just like the creature’s.
A black blur against red. They collided at dizzying speeds until the black one pushed the red one outside the wall, toward the crimson tide below.
The only words Tyrian screamed, just before disappearing with the creature’s roar, were:
“GRAAAAAH!”
They weren’t an explanation, but a thanks:
“My lord, thank you for such a wonderful task! Your loyal servant will destroy your enemy’s servant!”
From the air, several demon eyes took advantage of the gap to attack Gilbert and Robyn. Nearby, the Wandering Eye Fish floated unsteadily, missing one of its wings, flying slowly toward the fox-woman, as if wanting to use what little vitality it had left to take revenge.
Stumbling backward, as her own left eye collided with her ribcage with a wet sound, like a box full of liquid, Simon waved his right hand, throwing the crimson fishing hook toward Gilbert.
At the same time, his command made the Blood Squids stop attacking the distant soldiers and fly toward the father-daughter duo. Two were temporarily stopped by the soldiers, but the closest one, in the area devastated by the Hemogoblin Shark, managed to get through.
Gilbert was the first to recover from his near-death experience, shooting two arrows in quick succession. One collided with the hook coming toward him. The other went toward Simon, who raised his free hand to defend himself.
The arrow pierced his hand easily before he closed it, grabbing the projectile. No blood.
Gilbert kept shooting, ignoring the demon eyes around him. He trusted Robyn and focused only on Simon.
Taking a little longer to recover, Robyn stood up still shaken. She grabbed the nearest demon eye and threw it at another, before tearing a third apart with her left hand and punching the Wandering Eye Fish right in the center of its already damaged pupil.
With little resistance, her hand pierced the eye. Feeling the burn of the creature’s blood on her skin, Robyn moved her arm to the side, throwing the dead body of the Wandering Eye Fish down the wall.
Turning toward the Blood Squid she had seen earlier, Robyn stared at the squid’s attached eyes for a moment—until it was thrown away by the collision with the Humvee.
At the wheel, Selina slammed on the brakes and hit the control matrix on the dashboard. The mystical symbols on the Humvee’s ceiling glowed, and bolts of lightning were fired upward, randomly striking the demon eyes.
Opening the window, she yelled:
"Sorry for the delay! Getting this baby out of my Travel Space is always a pain!"
Opening all the Humvee’s doors and activating the purification matrix, the air around them began to fill with Purification Powder. Even the breeze from Simon’s back was barely enough to disperse the powder.
When it was finished, Selina jumped out of the Humvee and ran toward Robyn and Gilbert, who were attacking Simon.
[...]
Having stepped out from Jinn’s shadow, Ozma asked only for a brief explanation of where he could help and moved to the panel Jinn pointed to.
Flying above a more distant section of the zombie army while firing missiles, beams, flames, and bombs at the demon eyes, the Proto-A tore through the sky at a speed no vessel of that size should have been able to reach.
All four aboard the ship had their left eye covered in shadow.
"Damage to our shields dropped once we moved away from those two. What happened?" Jinn asked Ozma, her eyes darting between the controls and the livestream screen on her phone.
At her words, Charlotte stopped meditating and opened her eyes to listen.
Dylan, who also had his eyes shut — a blue glow escaping from the cracks in his eyelids — simply tilted his head toward the conversation. In his hands rested a large silver-and-gold metallic arrow.
"I'm not entirely sure. Devas —
Shadow Puppet,
" he corrected the term to avoid confusion, "didn't explain much before vanishing." Ozma blinked, a thought surfacing. "Was the spirit camera on?"
"It wasn’t. Still isn’t," Jinn replied flatly. "There are two cameras — one follows Devas, the other the Shadow Puppet. But when the shadow entered the Spirit Realm, the camera stopped working. We have no idea what’s going on in there."
Jinn didn’t ask Ozma if he knew what was happening. She had full faith that if the human hadn’t turned the spirit camera on, he had a reason.
If she were going to ask, it would be after the moon lost its crimson hue.
Humming to himself as his hands moved over the panel in front of him, Ozma continued:
"As for
'The Eye'
... from the little I saw — unfortunately saw — it merged with the crimson moonlight."
"I don’t know the full extent of the transformation, but now there are screams with every attack. It’s disturbing. The maddened whispers of the Nightmares are more pleasant."
"His presence also seems to have grown… That’s all I know."
"That’s not much… and what it is, is bad," Charlotte muttered to herself before turning to ask Jinn and Ozma a question.
She might not have known the latter, only having been informed of his existence. But Jinn was someone she had spoken to many times. Charlotte knew the Spirit of Knowledge had what the name implied: knowledge.
"How do we kill moonlight? Or
is it
even moonlight anymore? What’s stopping that thing from having turned into the moon itself?"
Between the two, Ozma chose silence. Jinn answered:
"As far as we know? Nothing. This is new even to us." He motioned with his chin toward Ozma. "But Devas probably has an idea on how to kill ‘The Eye’. Several, actually. He said this was only his ‘Plan D’ after all."
"Throwing the Sun at the continent where my kingdom is located is
not
a plan!" Charlotte raised her voice slightly, still in disbelief over what the Shadow Puppet had said.
"Throwing the Sun at the continent?" Ozma asked, then shook his head. "Forget it. Devas told me he had a plan. Did he mention anything to you?"
"That he’s going to stop
‘The Eye’
for a moment, and that we need to help keep it pinned down," Dylan replied from afar, eyes still shut, his fingers gently brushing over the silver shaft of the arrow. "Any idea what kind of attack he’s planning?"
Ozma didn’t need to answer. Silence was answer enough…
[…]
Standing atop the ocean, the Shadow Puppet looked upward. His single eye locked onto the colossal corpse above without blinking. The crazed smile on his face remained, frozen in an inhuman expression.
Slowly, as if feeling the shadow’s gaze, the massive corpse turned its eye away from the blurred image of the full moon overhead. Lowering its head, the immense eye on its forehead met the lone eye of the Shadow Puppet.
Everything around them was still. The storm clouds didn’t rumble. The sea held no waves. The wind didn’t howl. All was silent.
It was as if the entire Nameless Foreign World was a painting made by a psychiatric ward patient.
All was silent.
The world felt dead.
"…You."
The delirious voice of the human’s shadow broke the silence.
"…You are my fear. All of my fears — the ones that still exist, the ones that once existed, and the ones that will exist..."
"From the oldest and most persistent to those I’ve left behind. From the strongest to the weakest. From the smallest to the greatest. From the most rational to the most irrational..."
"My fear of the dark."
"The fear I had, as a child, of the dentist..."
"My fear of failing everyone."
"The fear I had of crowds and their stares..."
"My fear of death."
"My fear of madness."
"My fear of no longer being myself."
"My fear..."
The words came out softly, only to vanish abruptly.
The sea remained calm. The wind didn’t stir. The clouds were frozen. The world remained silent — but now the silence felt artificial... forced.
A thin, tense control — like madness on the verge of taking form.
A tight grip on irrational fear.
"In spite of everything… you’re still part of me..."
The human’s shadow stared at the human’s fear. Neither of them blinked. Neither, as inhuman as they were, felt out of place in that world.
The Shadow Puppet spoke again:
"The best part. The worst part. Part of me..."
The human’s shadow opened its arms.
"It’s all me... And I know myself well. If there’s one thing I hate — one thing you hate more than I do — it’s that damned thing out there."
"... Hope isn’t enough... Not just mine. My world is small. I am... But fear is fuel."
"A cornered animal hopes to live — but it’s fear of death that moves it..."
"I don’t have much hope in me. I never did. It was always weak... But fear?..."
A manic laugh began to rise from within the Shadow Puppet. Spilling from his twisted grin, the laughter echoed across the world.
It rippled through the seas, raising small waves that quickly grew into tsunamis. It stirred the wind into hurricanes. It charged the clouds, unleashing lightning-laced storms.
The earth shook with earthquakes, splitting the ocean floor open: a chasm that had always been there, now becoming a massive and gaping trench. An abyss. Pure darkness — seemingly able to swallow all.
Without a word, the human’s shadow began to sink into the raging waters. Following it, the human’s fear did the same.
As the water swallowed them and light vanished into the ocean’s depths, the Shadow Puppet reached out to the connection it had with Jinn — and aboard the Proto-A, her shadow moved.
It rippled like a pool of black sludge, until a face emerged — with a single red eye, the right one, insane — and a matching deranged smile.
Jinn was the first to turn and face her own shadow, followed by Ozma and Charlotte. Dylan, if he noticed, neither opened his eyes nor turned.
"It’s time. Jinn, change Proto-A’s course. Take it closer to the main body."
"Ozma, your memories from when you were king — think about them. You don’t need to return your consciousness to the Spirit Realm, just help them bind ‘The Eye’."
As the words were spoken, the one-eyed, mad-grinning face vanished, and Jinn’s shadow returned to normal.
The moment the Shadow Puppet’s face disappeared, Ozma left the control panel in front of him and sat down, closing his eyes. With centuries of experience in meditation, it was simple for him to fully focus on his memories of the time when he was King Oz.
Beside him, Jinn swiftly turned the direction of the Proto-A, which sped through the air, tearing through everything in its path.
Not knowing what to do, Charlotte simply waited.
Dylan remained silent, unmoving, eyes closed, waiting.
Within the sea of the Spirit Realm, the Shadow Puppet and the colossal corpse sank side by side.
Darkness quickly overtook the cold, desolate surroundings.
The only visible lights were: the right eye of the Shadow Puppet, red, bloodthirsty, and insane; the subtle, predatory glint of its deranged smile; and the neon green eye on the forehead of the colossal corpse, flickering with unnatural hues.
The descent continued. Slowly, even those three lights began to fade, swallowed by the surrounding water.
As the two entered the trench, plunging deeper than the seabed itself, all light vanished. Darkness consumed everything.
No light could exist in the depths of the ocean…
"Truly… even the word ‘beautiful’ stains this fragile image…”
… Except for the glow of the
Strongest Illusion.
A radiant golden light, glorious and sacred in its essence, lay at the center of the abyss, illuminating nearly ten meters around it.
Floating a few centimeters off the ground and vaguely shaped like a sword, the golden light did more than shine — it repelled the very concept of darkness.
As the Shadow Puppet’s feet touched the seafloor, it slowly approached the golden light.
Its steps were slow, almost hesitant. Its body was made of shadow and madness, shaped by the filthiest sins humanity could offer. By all logic, the moment the light touched it, it should have been incinerated.
… But when its body entered the light, the opposite happened.
The light seemed to embrace it. A gentle warmth welcomed it, encouraged it. Gave it hope… The shadow of the human could see the end of that blood-soaked night.
Lowering itself and gently lifting the golden light with both hands to chest height, the Shadow Puppet’s shadowy hands contrasted with the brilliance they held.
The insane, predatory grin slowly vanished from its face, replaced by a solemn, thin line. Its lone eye took on a sorrowful glow as its voice whispered in a mournful tone:
"Forgive me, for in this moment, I shall sin…”
The golden light didn’t respond, but the human’s shadow could feel — perhaps just a hallucination from someone desperate for justification — that the glow in his hands pulsed, as if it accepted what he was about to do.
Releasing the light, which hovered motionless in the air, the Shadow Puppet extended its arms to its sides.
The first hand to move was the left.
Using the soul of Ozma, which rested on the beach house sofa, as a bridge, it grasped the memories the man was reliving and pulled them close, leaving only one thing behind…
It didn’t tear them away, just brought them near and “cast” them into the air.
Images began to appear in the glowing perimeter created by the golden light. Images of a man. A king.
Wearing silver armor adorned with green and gold, the man wielded a god-forged sword, bore a crown on his head, and a sheath at his waist.
The name of this king was:
[̴̣̇͝E̷͖͋̏R̷̬̟̀̃R̷͖͠O̷͕̊R̶̡͐̿!̷̩͂ͅ]̵̧̥͋̽
Faceless, the images of the king flashed rapidly.
Sometimes he led an army. Sometimes he hunted alone. Sometimes he attended feasts. Sometimes he had company… but more often than not, he was alone.
Gripping the hilt of the light with his left hand, the shadow of the human moved once more.
Then, with his right hand, the Shadow Puppet grasped the air, closing his fingers around an invisible handle. Within his grip, the image of a blacksmith’s hammer began to form.
Entirely black like shadow, etched with countless symbols, markings, and red veins across its surface — all interlaced with straight golden lines — the hammer was wrapped in the purple flames of Shadowflame.
Without hesitation, he struck the light with the hammer.
The sound that followed was deafening. Even beneath kilometers of water, deep in the ocean’s most profound trench, the sound echoed like a great drum or a massive church bell.
The water rippled with force, making the abyssal walls tremble and chunks of stone break away.
Behind the Shadow Puppet, the colossal corpse watched. Expressionless, the creature extended its abnormally long arms toward the edges of the golden sphere’s glow.
Without daring to touch it, the eyes in its palms opened. The same neon green as the eye on its forehead, they gleamed with an utterly alien presence.
Slowly, the neon glow intensified. The green light tried — and failed — to pierce the edge of the golden sphere… until the second strike echoed.
The golden light around them rippled. Between the waves, the neon green light slowly seeped in. When the light returned to normal and the ripples ceased, the green glow was trapped within.
It resisted for only a moment before being quickly dissipated, leaving behind only a faint thread of green — and a raw sensation of fear and dread.
The green thread quickly stitched itself through the air, weaving space into an image like those of the king. But unlike them, this image was faded and aged, like a photo taken by an old camera.
It showed a boy of no more than six or seven, dark-haired and with a blurred face. The child stood amid a crowd, where every passerby stared at him with red eyes and hostile emotions: fear, anger, disdain, disgust…
When the third strike echoed, another image formed.
The boy was now lying in bed, blankets pulled over his head, while long-fingered hands crept out from beneath it.
The fourth strike brought the image of the boy tied to a table, as a monster dressed like a dentist approached.
The fifth showed the boy being rejected and humiliated by a girl he had confessed to.
The sixth showed a
cross…
Strike after strike, more fears surfaced. Blurred, aged images — memories twisted by the mind of a confused and frightened child.
As the images multiplied, the sense of fear thickened in the space around them. And the warmth the light once provided dimmed, growing colder, more tense, on edge.
One more, then two, then three more strikes.
With each blow, part of the hammer cracked and was left behind in the golden light.
Sometimes it was fragments of the red symbols, marks, and veins. Other times, the straight lines — also golden, but more metallic and dense. Occasionally, even the shadow that composed the hammer crumbled into dust and embedded itself in the light like a parasite.
The only part that seemed unable to remain in the light was the Shadowflame.
After an indeterminate time, the Shadow Puppet began to murmur in a low, echoing tone:
“Forged from an extension of the world itself…”
An image appeared beside the current scene: the Shadow Puppet hammering the golden sword-shaped light.
“Stored at the planet’s core…”
Another image: the golden light resting at the bottom of the abyss.
“Created to defend against the invading titan…”
An image of a moon appeared — not blood-red, but pale. Upon it stood a being strikingly similar to the colossal corpse. Even larger and whole, with the overwhelming presence of a king… a lord.
Just the false image of the
Moon Lord
was enough to distort the surrounding space. Neon green eyes began appearing on the walls, in the air, and on the ground.
The colossal corpse behind the Shadow Puppet gained an even more alien aura, clashing with the world around it.
“Wielded by a human to slay the titan…”
An image of the little boy walking on the beach, sword in hand, under the rain, appeared beside the others. In the ocean, the invading titan watched him — not slain, given how faint the light’s image was then — but pushed far away.
With the creation of that image, the golden light grew in size and brilliance.
The golden glow burned the corpse’s hands as they began to close around the Shadow Puppet. It incinerated the eyes and drove the body away, which vanished to another place in the ocean.
A recreation of what had already come to pass.
The shadow of the human continued:
“Given to a king by another extension of the world…”
This time, the image that appeared was different. Something dull and false.
One of the king’s images twisted, merging with that of the boy.
With black hair, still faceless, but orange eyes, a blurred crown, and now wearing armor made from the hides of a stag, the ‘king’ stared at a massive eye belonging to the invading titan.
Artificially, the image of the Shadow Puppet’s birth—emerging from the frame—was overlaid onto the scene that had been created.
Etching her silhouette into the scene by force, the Shadow Puppet rose from the ground, holding a sword made of light that seemed to absorb the surrounding darkness. She handed it to the ‘king’ to wield.
The hammering continued. Blow by blow, the Shadow Puppet shaped a recreation of a legend she knew existed—but not here, not in this world.
She inflicted an idea—not to empower the light, which had taken on shades of red and orange alongside gold—but to reinforce its image. To take the weight of legend and use it as fuel.
The birth of the Shadow Puppet had strengthened the connection between the Spiritual Realm and reality. But to bring something from within to the outside, more was required than the human currently possessed.
So, the human’s shadow recreated the tale of the
"Once and Future King,"
using the memory of
"The Infinite Man"
as its foundation.
Two eternal kings.
Then, the human’s shadow recreated the presence of
“Gaia,”
from the
“Nameless Foreign World.”
Two worlds attacked by invaders from beyond.
Then, the shadow recreated the moment when the
“White Titan”
was brought down by a mere human wielding the
“Sword that Protects the Planet.”
The titan’s color was changed from white to neon green. The glory that defined the sword was replaced with despair.
The light was altered—hope fused with fear, something that should never be stained was tainted with the sins of humanity…
All for a single purpose: to recreate the Strongest Illusion in reality.
And so, the human’s shadow recreated everything. An ancient story, forever etched into the
“Throne of Heroes.”
And in that moment, something in that world—something inside the human—changed…
[…]
Ignoring the pain coursing through his body, especially in his left eye, the human’s form was nothing more than a hallucination.
Moving at high speed in erratic patterns, the surroundings were chaotic. Chunks of earth and trees floated mid-air. Some plants aged rapidly, others froze still or melted into something rotten and fleshy.
Countless eyes blinked at random from every shadow and corner—some ravenous and mad, others cruel and malevolent.
The environment bled under a crimson moonlight that clashed with the thick orange mist rewriting the world around it.
Without taking his eyes off the ‘nothingness’—but aware of Proto-A’s approach through his connection to Jinn—the human braced himself.
He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, as if trying to contain everything. Then, he exhaled slowly, letting go not just of his breath, but of his control over energy, vitality, and essence.
Like a dam holding back far more than it should, the human’s body began to collapse.
The immense surge of vitality and abnormal mana—caused by absorbing the Life and Mana Crystals—was now demanding its price.
First came the skin, which cracked instantly. From arms to legs, torso to head, every inch split open. From the fissures, blood evaporated into a thin, hot red mist.
A dense orange glow radiated from within—an amalgam of spiritual energy, vitality, and mana.
On the human’s forehead, the Demon Slayer Mark glowed even brighter, as the vitality sustaining it spread through his body and leaked outward.
Maintaining [Fission Mode] strained the body. Combined with the Demon Slayer Mark, which drained vitality to remain active? The accelerated regeneration and loss intensified the cracking of his skin.
The orange mist around him thickened, expanded, and grew warmer. It rewrote the terrain, infected the world’s mana, and devoured the crimson moonlight.
And still, it paled in comparison to the radiant orange spheres that were the human’s eyes.
Stowing the Ice Blade and the Relic of Destruction inside the VoidBag, the human planted his feet into the ground.
The earth cracked and melted into magma, only to solidify into black stone from the cold emanating from the shadow behind him.
Tracking the faint movement of ‘nothingness’ slightly to his left, the human struck with his left arm—his hand clawed, fingers like fangs, wrapped in Shadowflame.
His fingers shone with straight golden lines, symbols, marks, and crimson veins as he pushed his Semblance to its limit, ignoring the Aura drain, replenished by Shadowflame.
“Plop!”
“Craack!”
D̸̡̢̧̛̛̛̬͕͕̞̟̈́͑͝ͅȨ̷̡̢̛̛̛͉͍͍͍̓̓̉̕͝V̶̨̘̠̪̪̪̰̓̓͐̓̚͠A̴̢̧̺̙̟͈͇̓̓̽̽͠A̸̛̛͇͉̼̼͇̓̓̓A̷̧̡̬̻̼̼̓̓̓͠͝S̸̛̛̘̼̼̼̼̼̓̓̓̚͠!!!҉̡̡̢̛̛̛͇͇͇̼̼̼̓̓̓͠͠͠"
At that moment, the human’s left eye exploded within its socket—from the inside out. His Aura shattered like fragile glass, and a horrifying, utterly alien scream filled the air, making his ears bleed.
Reappearing for the first time since it had been forced into transformation by the human’s outburst,
'The Eye'
returned.
Slightly smaller than before, its massive pupil was split down the middle, revealing a grotesque mouth—hundreds, maybe thousands, of yellowed, bone-like teeth dripping blood that fell unnaturally, like tears.
The white-gray skin of its sclera was stained by bulging veins that had burst under pressure, while its optic nerves trembled violently in spasms.
Growling as the alien shriek reverberated,
'The Eye'
clamped its jaw even tighter. Its teeth sank into the human’s left arm and shoulder, which he used to hold the creature, gripping the edge of its ‘jaw’.
The human’s armor held for a moment before being pierced, but it continued to emit frost that froze some of the invading teeth.
Still resisting, his skin released heat and vitality, clashing against the creature’s fangs. The mist of blood rising from his skin merged with the blood dripping from
The Eye’s
mouth, bubbling upward until it met the creature’s raw flesh.
Inside the mouth, the human’s clawed hand trembled with spasms. The skin on his fingers melted and regenerated in a cycle; the bones cracked, while the energy within was devoured by the mouth around them.
That mouth was not just a mouth—it was a void, a nothingness, the darkness of a Starless Sky that consumed all.
…And yet, the human’s hand and arm endured.
Shadowflame tentacles collided with the flesh around them, burning the inside of the mouth at an absurd temperature. Everything in that creature was sinful to the flame—an invader, an enemy, something meant to burn.
Shadows surged from the Remnant of The Deerclops like a swarm. Eyes blinked all around. The frost remembered—it would not be forgotten. Vengeance was deserved.
In grayscale, the
[Mystery Devourer]
clashed with the very concept of consumption, resisting it from within the mouth.
In unnaturally straight golden lines, the
[Divine Anathema]
withstood the strange energy and divine aura of the creature.
In shades of orange and red, the
[Echo Humanitatis]
refused to yield—to be dragged into a stagnant void where its humanity could no longer grow.
Gazing directly into
'The Eye’s'
split pupil with his right eye glowing orange, the human’s pupil cracked too, the orange spilling into the sclera.
Without blinking, without yielding, his right eye was not taken by force.
Slowly, the soft smile at the corner of his lips twisted into something more mocking, more insane, as the Shadow Puppet’s markings formed across his body.
His voice echoed like a decree for all to hear:
[…]
"I shall bring an end to this bloodstained night..."
"I shall bring an end to this nightmare..."
As soon as the human’s voice rang out, Jinn was the first to move. Floating in midair, the mana around her glowed in deep, dark shades of blue.
The chains around her wrists grew longer; others formed around her ankles, and one, connected to her nape through the metal around her neck, dropped—its golden shine contrasting against the cascade of black hair.
Placing a hand on Jinn’s shoulder, Ozma used the bond the woman shared with the human to draw out as much mana as she could from the soul resting inside the Spiritual Realm.
The palm-shaped mark with an orange eye on Jinn’s thigh released tendrils that spread across her skin. Dark circles deepened under her eyes, and red veins crept into the whites.
Her voice emerged as a whisper:
"Bind him... just as I’ve been bound all this time..."
Letting her arms fall back and head tilt upward, the golden chains around Jinn’s wrists, ankles, and neck sank into her shadow.
Using the Spiritual Realm as a passageway, the chains reemerged from within the human’s shadow.
Sensing something off,
'The Eye'
tried to dodge—vanish and return to its place. It loosened its grip on the human’s arm, but it was too late.
The orange mist around it clung like glue, drastically slowing its movements. The human’s clawed hand clamped down inside its mouth, locking it in place.
With
'The Eye'
pinned, the golden chains shot forward and, curving midair, pierced its body from every direction.
At the same time, Dylan, inside the armor, began to move.
Slowly, he placed a silver-gold arrow onto the metallic string of his bow. The arrow, crafted from the feather of a ten-winged angel, was over two meters long and thick as a grown man’s wrist.
Taking a deep breath and mimicking the way the human breathed, Dylan energized the entire suit. His own mana would've run out before powering even half of it, but the hundreds of Mana Stones in the armor’s reservoirs acted like batteries.
His eyes glowing blue, the second person he emulated was his sister, Melissa. His innate magic reached for her “book” in his mental “library.”
His mana control became razor-sharp, refined like never before—almost, if not absolutely, perfect.
The third person he mimicked was his mother, Helena. With her “book” retrieved, Dylan pulled down the armor’s mask.
Attached to it, a tube poured a glowing blue liquid into his mouth: crushed Mana Stones mixed with Mana Potions, given to the guide by the human.
Swallowing the concoction, Dylan felt his body crack under the immense flood of mana. Controlling the flow using the human’s breathing and Melissa’s precise handling, hundreds of Mystic Symbols bloomed around him.
Manually arranging them, Dylan combined the symbols into intricate arrays circling his armor. Two of them stabilized directly in front of him.
Drawing the bowstring—groaning under the force, a strength he wouldn’t possess without the armor—Dylan took a second breath and waited for the princess's word.
Behind him, Charlotte watched. She didn’t fully understand how Dylan’s Semblance worked, but she knew it involved commands.
She opened her mouth to say,
“Kill him,”
but the words wouldn’t come. Not enough Aura, not enough strength—she just
knew
.
So she used the next best word:
"Restrain him!"
The moment the sound left her lips, her pink Aura shattered. Blood streamed from her nose, eyes, and ears as she collapsed unconscious.
Dylan paid her no mind—he knew Ozma would catch her. He felt the princess’s order take hold. A pink light wrapped around him, then transferred to the readied arrow.
Tilting the aim slightly to the left, toward where he sensed the human—where
'The Eye'
had been before it was consumed—he released the string.
There was no sonic boom. The air rippled as the arrow was launched, like a stone dropped into a still lake—and vanished.
It reappeared just centimeters from
'The Eye's'
body, pierced through with ease, exited the other side, and embedded itself deep into the black stone floor, nailing the creature to the ground.
Sealing the feeding tube, Dylan coughed blood. His vision dimmed, his entire body screaming in pain, yet he nocked another arrow—ready to shoot again, if needed.
[…]
"You, invader from beyond..."
"Eye of the Moon that threatens this planet..."
The words left the human’s lips instinctively. Shaped by what he knew needed to be said in that moment, guided by the light beginning to rise from the Spiritual Realm.
It took form slowly, its hilt gripped tightly. Two hands were needed to wield the sword at its peak—one was human, the other, his shadow.
"Look closely—
and witness the weight of fear that saved the final flame!"
Struggling against all its restraints to no avail,
'The Eye'
could only watch as the golden light slowly molded in the human’s hand.
From the light emerged a long blade, elegant in shape but veined with glowing cracks running through its core like exposed arteries. Its edge pulsed in red and black, like magma trapped beneath a fragile golden crust.
The crossguard was adorned in tarnished gold, and at its center burned a core of deep red, pulsing orange—like an eye engulfed in fire.
The grip, wrapped in dark leather, seemed to consume the shadows around it—an anchor for a weapon that should not exist.
Its oppressive presence lit up the world…
[…]
"This is not the light of salvation..."
Exhausted, Gilbert moved toward Simon, whose chest was torn open, his single eye lodged there as blood poured from his ribs.
Robyn ignored the wounds across her body, her fur soaked in blood, and leapt at the Blood Squid charging her.
Selina, with a broken right arm, pulled it up, bit down on the exosuit’s metal, and activated the flamethrower arrays, incinerating the second Blood Squid and the demon eyes above.
Cold, determined, desperate...
Just a little longer... Just a little more...
[…]
"It is the flare of a world that refuses to die!"
In the throne room, Alalia, seated within the lotus flower, slowly opened her eyes. Her trembling hands had gone still.
I’ve survived before... and this is the one part of the story that will repeat!
The rain of green leaves expanded, covering more ground, burning and purifying zombies, monsters—healing all allies it touched.
The plants bathed in the light, drank it in...
Just one more moment...
[…]
All across the kingdom, on every battlefield, nearly everyone could see the overwhelming glow—tainted gold, red, and orange.
It didn’t inspire hope. It stirred something colder, crueler—something that made their bodies move.
The wounded rose. Soldiers buried in corpses forced themselves to fight. The fatally injured pushed through, drawing strength from nowhere.
They fought with desperate fury to survive. Fear drove them toward the end of that blood-soaked night.
None of them noticed the False Sun had vanished—because something brighter had taken its place...
Just one more second...
[…]
Two hands tightened around the hilt of the sword.
The human’s—skin cracked and glowing like magma coursed through his veins—gripped near the guard.
The human’s shadow—its skin black and leaking frost—clutched near the pommel.
Lifting the sword high overhead, the blade's glow intensified. All surrounding shadows vanished—devoured, consumed.
The crimson moonlight was extinguished. The eyes created by
'The Eye'
crumbled to dust.
With his throat ablaze, life leaking from his body, his very heat searing the battlefield, the human’s voice tore out—hoarse, burning, a declaration.
The sword had chosen its name… and the human brought it down.
"Then burn—burn with the sins of humanity!"
"Excalibur Asura!!"
The blade struck
'The Eye'.
The air bubbled around it; the fabric of space itself split and melted. It sliced cleanly through the creature, from end to end. From the tip, a beam of light fired upward, forming a pillar that pierced the sky.
All the demon eyes were blinded before being incinerated. Heat swept across the battlefield, and every cloud vanished in an instant. The bloodied water turned clear once more.
The light engulfed the soldiers, burned the monsters, consumed their sins, and set their souls free.
There was no final scream, no last stand, no final struggle.
Just a name called and a single blow—and the battle ended.
'The Eye'.
still looked alive: unmoving, chained in place, impaled by the arrow, held still by the hand inside its mouth.
But the message before the human’s eyes didn’t lie:
[Eye of Ċ͂ͧ҉̭̦̱̠̲ţ̠̖̪̻̮̟̅̋h̟̺͕̼͙̟͚͙ͧ̓͞u̢̹̼̫͇͌͆ͅļ͇͖͋͊ͩh̜̠̲̒̑̆͠u̙̫̣̭̠̦̞ͥ̋͊̕ͅ ̢̝͖̤̳͍̈́̒͐ has been defeated!]
Reading it, a low chuckle escaped the human’s lips. It wasn’t mad, nor unhinged—something almost childlike. A faint smile returned to the corner of his mouth. His expression was oddly peaceful.
For the first time since arriving in Terraria, the human looked up at the moon of this world.
It glowed in soft shades of crimson—dull hues.
Its random craters seemed to watch him. The crimson began to fade, from top to bottom and bottom to top, giving way to pale white.
Bleeding, with a calm gaze and faint smile, the human looked at the moon and said:
"Let it be remembered, then..." — his voice soft, serene, for himself and those who witnessed. "Let this night be remembered as..."
"The Night that... God Blinked."
[...]---[...]
First of all, Excalibur Asura has an illustration on (P)(A)(T) for anyone who wants to see it. I’ll also post it in the comments here under its name (NovelFire). As for other sites, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it, so if you’re interested, just check it out on (P)(A)(T). It’s an image I’ll be leaving available for everyone to see.
Finally, wishing you all a good
Day
and an enjoyable read!
.
!
[Title at the end.] (17) (SITO – 159)
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