Upstairs in a room steeped in significance, the walls boasted intricate wooden panels, adorned with framed accolades and portraits of esteemed figures. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, their dark oak frames almost reaching the ceiling, laden with volumes of knowledge. High-backed leather chairs encircled a medium sized mahogany table in the center. Three people sat on the chairs, tending to multiple stacked documents that reached troublesome heights.
Into this sanctum of information strode a guard wearing the common henchmen’s all black uniforms and hooded cloak, which obscured his face. Standing upright, he bowed to show respect. "Hello gentlemen."
The first man to notice was a very bulky fellow with balding gray hairs, accompanied with a magnificent mustache—by his own words anyway. “Justin? What the hell are you doing up here!? Go back down to your station this instant! Also, you address me by Captain Hosok when you talk to me!” The towering man, named Killa Hosok, roared out.
“Sorry—Captain Hosok—but I came up here to inform you that the two other guards on duty keep on talking and gossiping about fellow members. It has gotten to the point of distraction where I cannot focus on my duties at hand. Could you make them stop?”
“Is that so, huh?” The captain's face tightened and the corners of his mouth curled in authoritarian power as he relished the impending act of discipline. “Well, looks like we got to correct some insubordination—Let's go Kueo!”
“Me?” A jade color haired individual sitting at the opposite side of the room answered, his face indicative of the fact he didn't want to be there in the first place. “Fine—Titopan, finish the organization while we're gone, won't you?”
A disinterested young man responded from the other side of the table. “Understood.”
An evilly excited Captain Hosok and tired Kueo set off for downstairs, leaving only “Justin” and a busy Titopan alone. A fact Titopan found strange. “Hm? Why are you still here Justin? You heard the captain, go back to your station already.”
“Afraid I can't do that—Titopan, was it?” The man Titopan thought was Justin put his hand on his shoulder, prompting Titopan to turn around in an annoyed retaliation.
“What the fuck Justin! Are your ears no—!?” While thunderous at first, Titopan's yells would quickly fizzle out in a horrified manner, as the one he saw behind him wasn't Justin, nor was it the actual intruder. The man he saw had amber orange, combed back hair, yellow eyes, and a small scar on his left cheek… It was Titopan—It was his exact visage. “W-Who th—!?”
“I'll be taking that name for the time being. Sorry.”
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BuuH-UUuuuuuurp!
“Well, that was a big one, wasn't it Guspane?” The man snickered at his partner's lack of manners as he finished his second meal. “I'm sorry for this, buddy. Not only did I ask you to eat two whole bodies, but that I need you to eat some more stuff. For storage this time though, they're documents I've picked out to read on, see what the Soul Divination Council's plans are…”
“Mweerp!” Guspane responded to his partner's apology, seemingly in an accepting manner, putting the man at ease. The worm wiggled about in an uncanny dance to show his dedication to their mission.
Understanding his familiar's gesture, the witch on a mission proceeded to feed it rolled up sheets of paper, filled to the brim with inked ancient and esoteric knowledge, one by one. Once his inventory ran empty, he gently picked up the worm, patting its back to encourage another burp.
Once Guspane belched again, it coiled itself once again around the one it trusted most.
“Thank you my friend. Time to see what's the deal in the basement, then we can get you out of harm's way. We can skip the bunker area… Though, on second thought, they did say they ate there, their cooking area must be on the same floor, maybe I can cause a distraction…”
Grasping the same purple gemmed wand he used to infiltrate the fortress, the man recited the same spell, using it to meld with the walls once again, leaving the top floor vacant.
Now sinking within the walls, hearing a thundering and disciplinary voice roar without restraint whilst passing the second floor, the man noticed a subtle tremor within the very same walls he was traversing through. “What the… I can feel something... No, someone else, in the walls with me!? They shouldn't be able to feel my presence due to my Phasive Soulful Wand, but this is quite concerning… Wait—!” A flash of the two guards’ conversation came to mind: “Look, I understand, but you have to keep it down dude, what if Henzo hears us? With his ability, he could be anywhere in this godforsaken tomb.”
Now reaching the third floor, the man made sure to scout his surroundings before exiting the walls. Poking only his head through the nearest wall, a giant dining room with a long table in the center came into view. The table was easily big enough for twenty people at least. Decorated with a lavish spread of glistening silver cutlery and crystal goblets neatly arranged in front of each high-back, velvet chair. The polished surface reflected the warm candlelight from ornate chandeliers hanging above.
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The most eye-catching feature to the man though would be the Soul Divination Council's Insignia, carved right into the center.
Looking to his left and right, the man could discern doorways leading into branched off rooms, most likely the bunkers where the guards slept. In front of him, past the table, he could see another doorway, and this time he had clear vision into what was inside, a kitchen. Exactly what he was looking for. (“Bingo.”)
Stepping into the fortress’ pantry, he came across three other guards, all preparing meals for the night's supper.
“Ah! Captain Titopan! It's rare seeing you out of your station upstairs. Is something the matter?” The first chef guard, who was chopping vegetables, greeted who he thought was “Titopan”.
“Everything is quite alright. I just decided to come down here to escape the yelling above.”
The second chef guard popped his head from a cabinet with a snicker. “Yeah, that Captain Hosok is going pretty hard, wonder what the guards up there did this time.”
“Tell me about it!” Interjected the last chef guard while washing dishes.
As the guards laughed at their fellow comrades’ misery upstairs, “Titopan” looked around, surveying the room for anything he could use. An endeavor that would be solved with a medieval oven, placed in the top right corner of the room.
Walking over to the oven, the man bent down to meet its gaping gaze. Soon after, he raised only a single finger, and whispered yet another incantation. (“Fire Affinity: Release”)
The invocation spawned a miniature fireball at the tip of his raised finger, of which was blown by a soft exhale into the oven, disappearing among the sea of flames within.
“The smell coming from the upcoming feast is honestly enrapturing. You three make sure to keep it up. I'll be eagerly waiting for tonight's supper.”
“Oh, yessir Captain!” All three chef guards said in unison, saluting to their captain as he walked past them and out the kitchen.
“Holy Goddess! Captain Titopan actually complimented us!” The first chef guard almost squealed like a child.
“I know right!? No way!” The second chef guard giddily responded with out-stretched arms.
The last one grasped at his chin. “He usually hates everyone's cooking, and only eats meals sent here from his mother or made from her own recipes!”
Stepping just outside of the doorway's view, the mysterious man once again took his Phasive Soulful Wand in arms and prepared to delve deeper into the secluded stronghold. “It's a shame really, I meant every word… The supper really did smell very enticing. I wonder, when was the last time I had a home cooked meal…” The man thought to himself whilst he phased back into the structure itself.
“Fire Affinity Technique: Remote Inferno”
With a sudden snap of his fingers as they also melded into the walls, the fire stoked within the oven would grow silent for a short moment. It confused the chef guards, prompting one of them to check on it, only for the entire room to be set ablaze from an explosion. While majority of the damage was kept inside the kitchen, the resulting shockwave shook not only the entire fortress, but even the island it stood on.
“Perfect, that'll serve as a nice distraction, an—‘unfortunate’—accident due to careless guards. I can already hear all their hurried footsteps reverberating throughout the fortress floors. While they go and see what happened, lets see what's at the bottom floor…”
Diving straight to the bottom, he landed with a soft thud in a hallway after dropping from the ceiling of the basement. Looking around once more, the final floor immediately showed itself to be much different in its atmosphere from the rest of the fortress. The flames that supplied the light blazed with an eerily deep green glow, bathing the hallways with a sense of discomfort. Instead of the common wooden interior, the floor and walls were lined with frigid gray stones. Even the air itself felt noticeably heavier.
“The air… I can feel huge amounts of soulura residue around here… And the smell, do you smell it too, Guspane? The walls have recently been bathed with blood, but the scent is kind of old… Wait, I can smell something else… This scent—a witch’s scent!”
Rushing to the origin of the witch's scent, he came across a corridor with numerous old blood splatters marking the walls and, somewhat confusingly, dead rat bodies scattered about.
As he walked forward among the carnage, rats he thought were dead, but in reality feasting on the corpses of others, scurried around his feet. Looking up from the grotesque sight, he saw a singular iron door on the wall to his right.
Slowly heaving it open, the man saw nothing but scratchings on the walls. “This room… This is the origin of the scent… Where the girl was being kept—and experimented on…” He said, noticing the bloodied scratch marks on the other side of the iron door.
The man crept into the solitary room to investigate further. Rats scurried along the walls and corners of the room in total darkness. It was obvious there was nothing inside to be found but the overpowering feeling of loneliness that saturated every surface of the room.
Walking out, all the man could do was clench his fists tightly. So tightly in fact, he felt the skin on his palms begin to rip from his own fingers. “They were treating someone of my clan so inhumanely, AND FOR WHAT!?” He yelled in a desperate, unguarded rage, of which echoed throughout the corridor he stood in.
Sensing his partner's distress, Guspane licked the man's cheek, snapping him back and encouraging him to properly collect himself.
Taking a short breath, he reminded himself of why he went on such a mission in the first place. “No… Getting angry right now won't do me any good. This just serves as further fuel as to why I must destroy the Soul Divination Council and bring their corrupted reign for the last eight hundred years to an end!”
“Sadly for you," A scratchy voice eerily sounded from the dark abyss of the corridors, "That won't happen…”
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Next: (Chapter 13) Conflict on a Doomed Island