The white-robed man lunged at the Invigilator, his blade embedding tip-first into the man’s chest, blood splattering as he wrenched the weapon free.
No! Vin’s eyes widened. What just happened?
But before she could process it, one of the maidens began to glow—a powerful, blinding white light radiating from her form. The hooded men noticed and surged forward, but they were too late. In an instant, she was gone, reduced to smoldering ash.
Vin froze, flabbergasted. But it wasn’t over.
The Invigilator’s body flared next, suffused with that same searing white light. Vin staggered as an intense, burning pain racked her body, as if her very components were being violently torn apart. Or purified.
She recalled the Invigilator’s earlier words. Did she sacrifice herself… to give him power?
Perhaps the sheer intensity of the purifying light had disrupted the illusion holding her in place, for the chains around her began to melt into nothingness. Realizing her chance, Vin turned and sprinted, feet pounding against the damp floor as she ran from the light.
She’d seen this before—this suicidal act. If the Invigilator truly was a special-class Sanguine, then this power surge could only mean one thing: he was about to explode, releasing all his purifying light in one catastrophic burst. That was an ability of that branch.
And Vin had no intention of being caught in it.
She distorted the ground beneath her feet, trying to launch herself away, but barely rose a few inches before crashing back down. The purification—it was suppressing her abilities.
Chaos erupted behind her. Some of the hooded men managed to flee, while others frantically shouted, “Order reigns supreme!” as they charged toward the Invigilator.
Vin didn’t care.
Boom!
A blinding flash of white consumed everything.
----------------------------------------
When Vin woke, the ground beneath her was smoldering, still radiating intense heat. Her body ached as though she’d been wrung dry, and her components—her very abilities—felt more absent than present.
It would take time—or a strong potion—to recover.
Groggy and disoriented, she pushed herself upright. Her blurred gaze swept over the misty street. No movement. Only charred corpses, twisted and still, leaking viscous black liquid.
In the distance, her eyes caught sight of the Invigilator’s body, crumpled amid the devastation.
Staggering forward, Vin fell to her knees beside him. Without hesitation, she pulled a vial of red healing potion from her pouch, uncorked it, and carefully poured it into his mouth.
The Invigilator coughed weakly. His body shimmered faintly with an illusory light, but his wounds showed no signs of improvement—especially the one in his chest.
Isn’t this supposed to be a high-quality potion? Vin frowned. Or is the attack itself preventing the potion from working?
It seemed likely.
Her gaze lingered on the dying man. To think I’d see an Invigilator fall…
The weight of the moment pressed on her chest. She glanced upward at the red-tinged sky, the mist swirling like a veil over the ruins. Wouldn’t the Sanitarium be able to fix this?
She hesitated. Normally, that would be the first thought. But the Sanitarium also meant needles—lots of them.
It doesn’t matter.
She was about to move when she felt a weak grip on her arm. Vin froze, her eyes flicking downward.
The Invigilator’s bloodshot eyes stared up at her. “You’re… okay?”
He mumbled something unintelligible, his gaze drifting into the distance as if he were staring into eternity. “I failed… the Pure White…” he said, tears carving pale streaks down his grime-covered face.
Damn. Vin had never seen an Invigilator cry before. She hadn’t even thought they could cry.
“You didn’t fail,” she said softly, trying to console him. “You’ve served faithfully—and you’ll continue to serve.”
The man’s lips trembled. “No.”
Vin hesitated, brows knitting together.
“I’ve been attacked by something… an affliction only the gods can heal.”
The gods? Confusion swirled in her mind. “But… the Sanitarium can heal anything.”
“People still die.”
“You won’t.”
“I will.” Blood bubbled from his lips as he coughed. “Unless the Pure White God Himself descends… I’m done. A failure.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Vin stared at him, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name. Against her better judgment, she spoke.
“What knowledge did the Maw have that made you block my ears earlier? And what do you mean by an injury only the gods can heal?”
The Invigilator said nothing, only staring at her with pale, hollow eyes. “This is… a secret.”
“But—” Vin’s voice faltered. She hated herself for pressing, but the words spilled out anyway. “You failed, didn’t you? An Invigilator failed. Why not let me carry out the Pure White’s will? If you can’t aid him, let me.”
The man’s lips curled into a faint, broken smile. “Yes… I failed. I was Maw once… but the Ministry accepted me. Graciously. And what did I do with that blessing? I failed.”
He heaved a shuddering breath, blood trickling from his mouth. “The Maw spoke the name—or title—of a living god.”
Vin froze. A living god? The Eleven Gods didn’t behave this way. Their names caused no harm. So… which is it? A ruinous god? An evil one?
“That god—or goddess—has been watched over by the Ministry. To ensure nothing… happens.” His voice was fading, growing faint. “I can’t tell you more. But know this—the Maw are trying to free her. And if they do, what she guards will be unleashed upon everything.”
Vin’s breath hitched. “Wait, what? Are you saying this is… a catastrophe-level threat?”
“But there’s no need to fear that… not yet. The Maw are still far from gathering the souls they need to set her free.”
Souls. Vin’s mind raced. So that’s why they used a soul bomb…
Souls are mana. They need the raw power within souls to break the seal?
The goddess... A female form of the storm.
Vin’s blood ran cold as the truth settled over her.
The Invigilator went still. His pale, hollow eyes stared at the sky.
Vin remained kneeling beside him, pondering his words.
The invigilator added, “As for the other—that one is perhaps the true danger.” He said, “Some weeks ago, the Thales Cathedral was attacked by a faction known as the Thieving Guild. However, the attack was a ruse. They were hired by another faction to fool the city's Paragon Engine and gain entry.”
“Paragon Engine?” Vin had already deduced most of what was being said and didn’t need much time to ponder.
The invigilator shook his head. “I cannot explain that to you,” he said. “The faction that entered Canen is known as the Knights of Disordered Order, and they are the ones who attacked tonight.”
Seems to fit with their whole aesthetic.
“They've been sighted in other Glory Cities, as though searching for something. It turns out that 'something' is here,” he continued. “They came into contact with a Maw, who shortly after vanished. Not only that, but they seem to have an alliance with the Order of Newman.”
Vin frowned. That doesn’t make sense. As far as she knew, this building was used by the Order of Newman as a front for one of their specialized hospitals. Why would members of the Knights attack their supposed allies? Unless they aren't allies and are being used.
The Order of Newman is being manipulated by the Knights while maintaining the illusion of alliance.
The invigilator smiled painfully. “I suppose you’ve guessed it now,” he said. “Yes. With all the souls they've taken, they would have acquired enough power to do whatever they intend... It was always about the souls.”
The Maw needs souls, and the Knights need souls... Vin’s eyes sparked with realization. Could they need them for similar reasons? Could the Knights also have some god they wish to bring back? A sudden sense of inevitability washed over her, like everything was spiraling into a single point.
Like a vortex. She shivered. Of course, she knew what that was. But it wasn’t conducive to dwell on whether one’s life was simply part of some grand event, orchestrated to lead them toward something—or someone.
Vin heaved a misty breath. “So that means...”
“Yes!” the invigilator said. “The Knights are trying to free a god—an evil god. The one who attacked me is likely a vessel for that god.”
Which explains why the injuries cannot be healed. He already carries components of that god within him. Vin analyzed.
The invigilator's voice had dropped to a whisper. “But that must never happen. It would be disastrous for such a thing to occur in Canen—the capital of the empire, the land of Pure White. No. We know what they are doing, but what we need—what the Ministry needs—is their location.” He paused, catching his breath... or perhaps his final moments. “Can you do that, Vin? Can you find them and stop such heresy from taking root in the Pure White God's land?”
Vin closed her eyes briefly, then parted her lips as if to speak. But her gaze fell to the invigilator.
His eyes were closed. He had died.
“Yes. No such god will descend upon Canen.”
A memory flashed in her mind—a man, radiant with wings.
She dismissed it, then carefully laid the invigilator's body down. Stretching out her hand, she spoke a silent prayer. Her eyes scanned the battlefield for a time before her feet slowly lifted from the ground.
Now, I need to find myself a heretic. She drank the last remnants of the potion and exhaled deeply.
She shot into the skies, slicing through the veil of mist.
----------------------------------------
Below the Grand Helper, two main leaders seemed to hold authority, each with their own faction of survivors and scavengers. One was a Sanguine; the other, a Swordsman. Tint's group belonged to the latter, which was also Monica's group.
Speaking of her... Karl hadn’t seen Monica for some time. After arriving in the hold, she had broken away from him, likely to meet her friends or deal with some task. But something about her absence unsettled him. Especially with the way crates were arranged strategically in certain spots throughout the hall.
It reminded him of... that place. The hall that fed and controlled him. Never again.
From his observations, survival here was precarious. Despite Monica’s earlier reassurances, the reality was far grimmer. The people here were barely scraping by on scraps scavenged from the castle.
The wounded were being tended to by young women—barely adults. In fact, most of the people in the hall seemed between twelve and twenty-three. Some looked like potential mutants, evident in their fitter physiques. Mutants would last longer under mana siphoning, but the rest... they were hollow.
Eyes dull. Skin pulled tight over fragile bones.
After some time, a figure approached Karl. A woman, her steps hesitant, her unease visible. Likely, stories of him killing Astra Kin had spread.
Just don’t think I’m some savior.
“The Grand-Helper would like to speak with you,” she said.
That was fast. Karl raised an eyebrow but then considered it. I’m likely one of the strongest here. If I were him, I’d also want to secure an alliance. But Karl had no intention of playing diplomat.
He was led into a separate room, where Faus and Lock waited behind a long square table. Faus, the Sanguine, stood out immediately. Angular face, deep eyes, and skin so radiant it almost glowed. He was tall, easily six feet.
A physical component.
Lock was silent. So silent that even with enhanced hearing, Karl could barely pick up his breathing.
But they were not his objective. The one he sought was seated at the very head of the table. Black hair, dark robes adorned with jewels. His face was stoic, his eyes hidden behind slightly cracked glass lenses. He had an air of both scholarship and mystery.
Before either could speak, Karl moved toward the chair at the end of the table. He pulled it back and sat with a solemn expression. He did not carry his axe but could summon it at any moment. He would have preferred to hold it, but given the nature of these people, showing his cards was perhaps not the best move.