After a second of falling that felt like an eternity, Brock reappeared in a gigantic stone chamber that looked like it had been hollowed out of the earth’s core, Aphrodite across from him in the same position she’d been in in the apartment hallway, eyes still closed mid-blink. She was frozen in place, looking more like a statue than a person, and Brock tried to reach out to her.

His body wouldn’t move.

What the hell is going on?

A familiar figure appeared in front of him, clad in purple robes stitched with eye-bending golden diagrams. He leered at them from beneath his skull-topped headdress.

“Told you I’d see you again,” the necromancer cackled. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

Brock tried to fight his way out of the unnatural stasis, but it was no use. He was stuck like a preserved fly in amber. The necromancer laughed again.

“You caught me unaware the first time, but now I’m perfectly ready, Brock.”

He sneered the last word.

Wait. How does he know my name?

As if reading his mind, the necromancer replied.

“I know a great many things, oh yes, a great many things indeed. The Conductor giveth generously.”

I’ve heard that name before. At Aphrodite's street party earlier. Who is The Conductor? What do they want with me?

The necromancer raised his hands in a dramatic pose.

“But now I must make ready. You just sit there and enjoy the show.”

Pillars of dirty green light fountained from the necromancer's withered palms, and a flickering succession of shimmers and bubbles appeared around him in layer after layer.

“Protection. Greater Protection. Greatest Protection. Super Ultra Greatest Protection. Hyper Plus Double Ultra Super Mega Greatest Protection. EX Max Omega Alpha Triple Ultra-”

Brock tuned him out. It looked like this was going to take a while. He hoped Aphrodite was okay, and wished he could move his mouth to ask her, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing came out.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Suddenly something crackled inside his brain, almost like static. It resolved into words bouncing directly into his skull, similar to when he was in the Appraisal chamber with Yuriel and Cap talking to him through the mirror wall.

“...locking... ...got it. Brock, it’s Captain Swift. We’re aware of your situation, and we’ll be there shortly. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of there.”

I suppose that’s a relief, Brock thought gratefully. Even if they don’t like me much.

Finally, the necromancer finished his interminable droning, and Brock shifted his focus back to the cavern.

If he wasn’t frozen in place, he probably would have pulled a muscle from laughing. The imposing cadaverous man now looked like a rainbow had vomited out a clown with the ridiculous amount of light effects going on all over his body. His internal mirth quickly faded, however, as the necromancer fixed him with a gimlet glare.

“Right about now, you’re probably thinking someone’s coming to save you, aren’t you, Brock? Perhaps some of those Black Cat NPCs?”

Brock continued being frozen.

“Too bad for you I already anticipated that this was a trap.” His eyes alit with zeal. “I am perfectly ready, Brock!” He raised his gnarled hands once again. “Summon Death Knight. Summon Death Bishop. Summon Death Queen. Summon Death King. Summon Death Knight With An Even Sharper Sword. Summon-”

An army of increasingly sinister looking skeletal creatures crawled out of noxious green pentagrams in rank after rank. They extended as far as Brock could currently see. His head crackled. Cap again.

“Almost there, Brock.” It seemed like the voice shifted away slightly. “Fiona, is that teleporter lock ready yet-”

“Oh, but that’s not all,” the necromancer whispered gleefully. “I know exactly how they plan to get in. They’re going to home in on your bio-signature, and then swap your body with their own, thus surprising me and giving them the advantage.”

“Few more seconds, Brock. Mikael, grab those-”

“Lucky for me,” the necromancer’s voice had dropped to the sound of a snake slithering across a grave, “I have someone else I can shift their spell to instead.” He howled in laughter. “Am I not merciful, Brock? Am I not a hero, letting the damsel go free?”

You’re insane is what you are, Brock raged in the silence of his mind. The necromancer laughed louder.

“Behold, Brock! What happens to those who dare challenge me when I am perfectly ready!”

“Here we come!”

Coruscating light washed over Brock, then snapped over to Aphrodite as the withered old man swirled his hands and arms like he was washing something. A second later, she was gone, and the squad was in her place.

Fiona, pistols held outstretched in each hand, sniper rifle barrel poking out over her back, a bandolier of ammunition crisscrossing her chest.

Mikael, legs bent low and silver hair tied back into a poof, his right hand on the hilt of his cherry-blossom katana.

Verdant’s doll, now massive and bursting with flowery vegetation, tendrils already questing out in impaling clusters.

Cap, carved staff held at the ready, charms jingling on each wrist, a tilted black beret nearly covering her eyepatch.

They looked around, and then there was a muttered chorus.

“Fucking Overlords.”

The room exploded into chaos.