“Stars. Just what are they? We…don’t really know, but what we do know is that our creator, Cosmos, is a Star. The Star of Adoring Creation. The Stars reside in the swirling galaxies high above the heavens, but there have been no records of them ever making an appearance in history. Do they simply not choose to descend upon our earth? Or perhaps…are they unable to find us?”

Arch Magus Virgil, Ruler of Augurium

———

The Knight

“O’ Cosmos. Guide these wayward lambs with your sublime luminescence. Light the way forward, and banish this murky realm into the bowels of the earth.”

Tiny, purple and blue specks of light begin to trickle out of Simon’s orb, illuminating the pitch-black darkness of the underground. His fellow magi support him from throughout the army’s ranks, supplying the sorcery with aura in order to constantly maintain its usage. Regular flames and torches do not work within the underbelly for a sinister darkness within snuffs out all forms of light besides aura.

Massive tunnels and passageways open up as they pass through the subterranean. Once built by the Polus ancestors, these halls now lay decrepit and abandoned from centuries of neglect. It once traversed these passageways often in the past; it’s a shame how deteriorated it has become.

The Knight slowly glides above the army as they march on deeper underground. Aegis is constantly maintaining its winged form in order to serve as a guiding presence for the rest of the army, but even he is struggling to maintain his concentration. Something’s wrong. There is a malevolent presence hidden within the shadows, and Aegis feels the energy around him cowering in fear at the unknown influence.

“Ascalon, we should be careful,” The Knight warns. “We’re not alone. Something is hiding within the darkness.”

”Yes…I sense it too,” he remarks grimly. “The aura around here is unstable, but how can that be? The scouts reported that this route should have been safe.”

”They were not incorrect Ascalon,” Simon notes, grimacing from the constant use of aura. “Indeed, Creation doth mingled aimlessly upon our entrance, but malevolence began to creep up from the earth as our march surged forth. I surmise the size of our army is what lured the presence.”

“Damn…I suppose the old nurseries have a spark of truth to them, but our purpose remains the same. We shall make haste no matter what dares to block our path.”

“Should I fly ahead and search for any threats?” The Knight asks.

“No, it’s alright. If something does emerge from the darkness, I want our knights to take care of the threat themselves. We must get rid of this terror within us, and conquering the creatures of the void will be the first step towards our growth.”

The terror among the ranks has been abated for now, The Knight’s sparkling wings maintaining the army’s sanity, but fear still lurks within the corners of their minds. If an ambush does occur, The Knight imagines that the army will fall into disarray quite easily.

“I can sense that you’re still a bit skeptical, but you really shouldn’t worry. The knight orders are capable of much more than you realize.”

Suddenly, a loud groan pierces the air as the shadows beyond Simon’s luminescence begin to twist and malform. Something is writhing out of sight. Something unnatural.

Grotesque shapes rise up from the earth, their bodies covered in filth and rotting decay. Rusted armor adorns their body as they shuffle forward with corroded weapons. What once resembled a face is now but a cruel mockery of the human image with bits of flesh falling off from their withered bodies.

“That’s…that’s impossible,” Ascalon gasps. “These creatures were once human. No, these creatures were once Polus warriors. I recognize those insignias, ancient though they may be. What is this madness?”

The Knight is familiar with necromancy due to a crazed magus from the past, but something is off about these creatures. Dark tendrils flicker and convulse amongst their bodies, and they seem to move without purpose unlike the structured systems that necromancers utilize. Nothing is controlling these undead, so what is powering their animation?

“Aegis,” The Knight whispers. “What do you sense?”

Rage, pain, misery. Creation is screaming out in despair, and the numerous grudges of the fallen have coalesced into a stygian cloud of anguish. Aegis clutches his head at the pure hatred surrounding him, its distressing cry reverberating in his mind, and attempts to embrace the aura, but its misery is too strong. Thousands have perished within these tunnels, and upon their final breath, they fervently wished for vengeance against their executioner. Against The Knight. Now, hatred fuels their soulless bodies, and only a staunch rancor against the living remain.

“…Ascalon, you are incorrect,” Simon mutters. “These entities are no longer our fellow brethren. They have been consumed by the malice within. Strike true, for their souls would quake with rage upon gazing at their now twisted visage. Let us put them to rest.”

“You’re right, these mockeries must not be allowed to use the bodies of our ancestors,” Ascalon says with newfound determination. “Warriors of Polus, to arms! Powers to the front. Let your indomitable strength cleave a path through these monsters!”

The ranks of the army quickly begin to shuffle around as they change battle formations. Giant, hulking titans make their way to the front, their armor bulkier than the knights from the other orders. Although not quite as tall as Annalay or Sarathiel, these knights tower above the others with their bodies clad in rigid steel. Large weapons lay sheathed on their back with some donning great axes, two-handed flails, great swords, and even large clubs. Other members of the order utilize a more defensive approach, using tower shields and great lances to form a phalanx position in the front.

“First form of the Powers: Damascus Gate!” Ascalon commands.

The shield users anchor their bulwark upon the earth with rhythmic precision, forming a tight wall from end to end and letting nothing past the front line. The shadowy revenants begin to charge at the wall, creeping forward with an unnatural weight. There is no form or strategy to their madness, only an aching desire to snuff out all life within their crumbling gaze.

”Hold…”

The revenants advance closer and closer, their miserable groans now audible to all within the formation. Sweat drips down the faces of those holding the front at the sight of the creatures, their mad ramblings burrowing into the mind, but the soothing presence of the winged-lady above bolsters their heart and will.

“Hold!”

The creatures are now a hair's breadth away. A malevolent energy pulsates within their rotting sockets, and the smell of their rancid breath becomes unbearable as they close in on the formation.

“Pierce!”

With a thunderous shout, the Polus warriors pierce through the undead legion, skewering the countless revenants as the malignant energy fades from their bodies. Their wailing cries only fuel the army’s emboldening flame, but the onslaught is not over just yet. The revenants climb and crawl over the pierced bodies, tearing away at their fellow husks.

“Second form of the Powers: Rapture!”

The warriors of the front line quickly pull their lances out of the bodies and switch with a heavy-weapon wielding comrade behind them. The new warriors wind up and cleave upwards at the ravenous undead, decimating the legion and sending them flying back into the darkness.

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“Step forth, push, and repeat. First form of the Powers: Damascus Gate!”

The knights repeat the two simple, but powerful, movements as they demolish the spewing horde with faultless precision. Defend, pierce, cleave, and push. For the subjugation of such mindless beings, nothing more needs to be done. Without any leadership, the undead can only fall as the knights pave the way forwards, their steps crushing down on the rotting corpses below.

However, as they advance through the dwindling swarm, a loud, tortured cry suddenly pierces through the underground’s expanse. A figure emerges from the murky darkness, its body overflowing with sickly, pale green aura, and unlike the withered corpses around it, its golden armor still shines with a pristine luster. Two wings etch outwards from its helm, and an ancient form of the Polus insignia is engraved in the middle.

“Ascalon…” Simon mutters out of fear. “Valkyrie. That visage belongs to Valkyrie.”

“I-I see it clearly, Simon.” Ascalon says. “No wonder there is such a horde within these tunnels. This is where The Constellation slayed the first Seraph. This is where our terror was born.”

The disgraced Seraph trudges forth, slowly limping towards the trembling knights. No other Throne in Polus’s history has ever managed to come close to her strength, and the sight of the founding mother of the nation fills her descendants with hesitation. Can they truly strike her down? Do they have the will to slay their beloved ancestor?

The banshee stops in place after gazing upon the blade on The Knight’s back. The Eclipse shudders with sadness upon seeing its former master reduced to such a sullied state, and it begs for The Knight to slay the malformed carcass. Despite having been conquered, it does not despise its captivity. A weapon exists to be wielded and death is an ever-constant reality in the realm of warriors, but this thing is a cruel mockery of a knight. A wraith born of malice and hatred. It should not exist within this world.

“I shall deal with her Ascalon,” The Knight says as it descends onto the ground. “It is my duty as the inheritor of her blade to lay her to rest. Do not interfere, this is my fight.”

“…I understand. Please, send her off with a warrior’s death.”

A warrior’s death…yes, it owes her that much at least. Even without The Eclipses’s plea, The Knight would have challenged the banshee anyway. It is a remnant of the past, and a victim of The Knight’s eternal duty. But now, it is here to make amends. To purify her lingering malice and send her off into the endless sky above.

Valkyrie’s carcass wails at the sight of the drawn Eclipse. It reaches out to the blade in desperation, despair etched on its decaying image, and shuffles forth in an attempt to embrace it.

“Eeecclipppseee…” its rotting voice mutters. “Dooooonnn’t leeaaaavvveee meeeeeee.”

“You are but a husk, your mind long perished,” The Knight whispers solemnly. “Valkyrie is no more. Only her regret remains, and I shall not allow it to sully her image.”

The banshee shrieks and fills the area with her malignant aura. The green energy decays everything within its grasp, corroding both the living and the dead in an indiscriminate wave of blight. The creeping essence is blocked from spreading to the army by Simon’s barrier, but the strain is taking its toll on his body.

“Lorelai, my barrier shall not withstand for long!” he cries out. “Dispatch the revenant quickly whilst my aura still holds!”

“On it Simon, endure it for as long as you can!”

The Knight quickly cuts through the blight with The Eclipse and lunges at the husk. Although the blade is able to create openings in the decaying aura by making separations in space, it is only temporary as the blight quickly fills in the gap. Aegis is covering The Knight in his own barrier, but his power is not as strong as the magi captain. The Knight will only have a few seconds within the blight before the barrier decays and puts Aegis at risk, so it is forced to continuously slash at its surroundings in order to keep him safe.

Despite no longer having consciousness, Valkyrie’s instincts still remain, and it quickly evades The Knight’s attacks as it skitters and crawls unnervingly throughout the cave. Its speed is lightning quick, and the decaying flesh on its body doesn’t stop it from having the same ferocity that the Seraph wielded when it still traversed the realm of the living. With no weapon in hand, it swipes at The Knight with blighted claws and attempts to bite down on its throat. The graceful technique of the Seraph is long gone, replaced by a mindless, animalistic frenzy.

The Knight reverses the spatial rend and, instead of teleporting across the space, brings the banshee straight within arm’s length by removing the distance between them. With the creature confused at the sudden movement, The Knight wastes no time and kicks it straight into its chestplate before delivering a downwards strike aimed straight at its chest. The banshee narrowly avoids a fatal blow but its arm is unable to escape the attack, severed in one, clean cut with nauseating green liquid pouring out from the orifice

It shrieks and explodes in a fit of rage, concentrating the aura on its back and forming a crude imitation of wings made from blight. It quickly takes to the air and flees into the darkness, taking the decaying mist with it.

Finally free from the pressure, Simon retracts the barrier and breathes a sigh of relief as he collapses on the floor and recovers his energy.

“I’ll chase after her,” The Knight says as it returns to Ascalon.

“Lorelai, you can’t! We don’t know what still lurks within the darkness,” Ascalon exclaims. “Let’s just advance with the rest of the army.”

“Ascalon…you know it has to be done. Simon also won’t have to worry about maintaining the barrier if I confront her while away from the army.”

“But the knights need your presence!”

“Ascalon, take a good look at the others and tell me what you see. Are they still filled with terror?”

Ascalon turns around and gazes at the legions of knights before him. Blazing eyes filled with conviction stare back at him, and the shadow of fear is no longer able to grasp onto their weakness. In the battle against the undead, they have conquered that which plagued their kind for millennia. They are now empowered.

“…Please,” he begins. “Be careful.”

“I will, promise.”

The Knight takes off and accelerates into the endless darkness of the tunnel with only the light from its wings to illuminate the path forward. It reaches further within and finds Valkyrie’s corpse sitting on a mound of carcasses, feasting on the rotting flesh of its former countryman and using the aura within the rotted blood to fuel its recovery. It desperately gnaws on the meat as bits of sinew and bone fly out and stain its armor.

It rises up from its macabre meal and lets out an unearthly shriek, gaze filled with fury at the sight of its mortal enemy in front of it, and leaps into the air forming twin blades made of blighted aura in its hands. The two collide with each other as they dance around in the void, the banshee’s movements becoming more frenzied. The blight around them becomes even more acidic, and not even The Eclipses’s severance is enough to keep back the malevolent aura.

“Aegis, concentrate all of your energy on the barrier!” The Knight commands, forced to be on the defensive. “I’ll end this soon. Endure as much as you can!”

With a deep breath, The Knight circles the surroundings and gashes at the space, directing the empty void in the creature’s direction. It braces itself for an attack, but it never comes. The Knight appears to be merely striking the air in vain. It hisses at the unknown display and begins to resume its assault once more, when suddenly, the air around it begins to contort and contract, dragging its body back through an invisible force.

“Black Hole,” The Knight decrees with a final spatial rend.

In an instant, explosions detonate in the air, engulfing the writhing corpse in flames as a singularity forms behind it. The Knight delays the coalescence of matter in the space it rends, causing it to accumulate and expand. Eventually, it bursts, and the mass explosion of astral matter simulates the death of a gas giant, creating a black hole and sucking everything nearby within its dark void.

The Knight intended to use the ability back when the revenant still remained wingless, but the sheer force of the gravitational pull would have sucked in the surrounding soldiers. It needed to be alone.

The banshee desperately attempts to claw out of the black hole, but is crushed and shredded by the sheer gravitational pressure. Eventually, the manifestation ends, and the former remnant of Valkyrie falls pitifully onto the ground. It weakly tries to rise back up with its mangled body, but with a quick propel of The Eclipse, the blade is sent piercing straight into the banshee’s abdomen. It locks the corpse in place as its blighted aura begins to fade from reality.

“Eeeeccliipppssseeee,” it mutters. “Yoooouuuu’vveeee reeetttuuurrnnneedd…”

The corpse embraces its beloved blade with a heartfelt smile before falling silent forever, its last expression one of peace and serenity. The blade sparks and sputters for a moment as if bidding a mournful farewell to its former master. The Knight waits solemnly by the sidelines for the blade to say its final dues before respectfully burying the tranquil corpse back into the earth.

After a brief moment of silence, The Knight returns to Ascalon and the rest of the army. He rushes towards it as it lands on the ground and locks it in a tight hug in front of everyone.

“Is it done?” he whispers.

“Yes. She has returned to the skies above.”

“…Thank you. For laying her to rest. I’m sure that she’s smiling down upon us, happily within Cosmos’s warm embrace.”

“Of course.”

The two share an intimate moment in front of the crowd before eventually separating. Ascalon awkwardly coughs amidst the sea of playful eyes and turns around to face his army.

“Despite the setback, the way forward is now clear!” he roars. “None remain to block our path. Warriors of Polus, Onwards! To Magnus Murus!”