Within a bloodsoaked monolith, towering over a black sanded desert somewhere within Midnight.

A lone man, if you can even call him that, walked through an empty corridor. In his wake, loud thunder sounded against the hard floor with each step. Six jagged horns adorned his rugged head, which itself was covered in scars and gashes. The smell of death escaped his angular nostrils as they were set within a flattened nose, as he hid most of himself beneath an elaborate violet cloak.

His tortured head sat atop a large, bony body. Scars covered him as they were joined together with many still freshly carved wounds. Protruding out from his back were many splintered bones, accompanied by deep lashes that seemed to create the illusion of wings.

This creature was something that had been born from the very depths of Midnight as if it were cast away from any light—instead—delighting itself within the darkness. Serving the shadows with its very existence.

This being was known by a familiar name—Roland. Or as it was truly named, Rol'an, a member of the forgotten Borun clan, a malignant species which uses both pain and suffering to strengthen their already domineering wills. Through this terrifyingly torturous experience, the Borun species are capable of unleashing unfathomable power equivalent to that of an entire army, but very few are able to accomplish this feat without turning mad and losing themselves in their own self-destruction.

Not many knew why this demonic creature had received such a human name as Roland, but many had suspected that it was all but a ploy to lure in the weak and frail. That, or it was but a sick joke to humanize a true monster.

In truth, it was believed most Borun had gone extinct, only leaving a small handful left to lurk throughout Midnight, hiding within the shadows as their minds fell to madness, leaving them nothing more than a hollow husk of what they once were.

He let out a soft growl as his wounds remained bloodless as if through some sort of horrible training he had somehow maintained control over even the most basic of bodily functions. To control one's own blood was an unfathomable power for most and had been useful for his ascension to power.

This beast was the true manifestation of Midnight's will. A desire to be grotesque and dangerous. As if to plot his next course, Rol'an lifted a ruby out from under his cloak, raising it into the air above his face as he looked into it, mesmerized.

"The truth which I seek shall be uncovered," he growled again, "My moment shall come, and when it does, I shall devour the hearts of those damned Lords, and become the perfect being."

Suddenly, an alarm sounded on one of the electronic devices which sat within the beast's sash. He pulled it out with his razored fingers, looking at it through an expression which held both curiosity and concern.

"This is impossible…" Rol'an murmured under his breath, "What is the meaning of this message?"

He paused, reading out the words which had been received by his device. All it read was three words, but each one seemed to cause a stir within him. "Elias. Droh. Trouble."

He was confused, as the message contained no origin or explanation, but it was clearly directed at him. "A ploy?" He wondered aloud, but the idea was quickly forgotten.

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"Doesn't matter… I shall take the bait, and bring that little Faun to heel, where only true suffering will await him. He shall return to me what I seek—what he took, and then I will dispose of him." Rol'an stopped in his tracks, "Hmph, and perhaps that foolish boy Elias has outlived his usefulness… maybe I should replace him, too. Hm… perhaps the one who sent this will serve me well, instead."

"Yes, indeed." He paused for a moment as his thoughts wandered, "I sent that fool Elias out with one of my spears... the fact I received this message must mean he survived and completed his task. Hmph, I wonder what his face would look like if he knew he was used as bait to challenge those Lords..." Rol'an glanced around, his sight falling onto a single sheen of crimson that leaked across the floor. "I've already eliminated most who can stop me... all that is left is the final piece of the puzzle, and my ascension shall be complete. How many more bodies will be needed, I wonder."

His sinister laugh was quickly swallowed by the darkness within the monolith, turning him into nothing but a phantom, absorbing him into its embrace. He vanished as if he were never there from the start. All that was left within the massive room was a smooth layer of freshly gathered blood, but not a body in sight.

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Deus sat there, waiting. Now that the message was sent, he knew that everything was out of his hands. He didn't even really know what to expect, but he knew that he couldn't let himself be seen.

"Deus, respond." A voice spoke out from the comm-link to his shock, he hadn't expected to hear from anyone so quickly. He lifted the device up to his mouth as he replied in a whisper, "I'm here Elias, but I can't really talk… I'm next to the tower, they haven't spotted me yet."

"Understood. I haven't been able to get a message out for backup, so we might be stuck here," Elias claimed, not knowing that Deus had already sent out for help. "It seems that those bastards are using something to block our long-range signal."

'Wait… how was I able to call for help but he wasn't?' Deus didn't understand. If he was able to send out a long-range message but Elias wasn't, what had caused the difference?

Deus lifted the communication device to himself as he replied, "I see… so what's the plan?"

After a momentary pause, Elias spoke back through the radio device, "We need to start moving backward, our best bet would be to move across the front of the tower and reorganize ourselves with our gunners stationed as the backup. Your comm device, use it, see if you can reach them because ours can't. Maybe you're closer to them, so maybe you won't need to use a long-range frequency. It doesn't seem like the enemy is blocking close-range, thankfully. Most likely it's because they need to use their own close-range frequencies, too."

"Fine, I think I can manage that," Deus accepted. It was a relatively simple assignment and didn't come at any additional risk to him. "I'll start moving down the ridge toward your location, see if I can't take some cheap shots at the enemy as I go."

"I'll make sure we don't accidentally shoot you as you arrive," Elias replied half-jokingly, half-seriously.

Deus lowered the comm device back down as he adjusted the channel on it. A static buzz sounded as he twisted one of the knobs, changing the broadcasting frequency. It wasn't particularly odd how Elias' comms weren't working for long-range, but it was odd that his Archive had worked so that he could send his last-resort message.

What had caused the difference between the two devices and broadcasts? Was it the frequencies, or was it the fact that the Archive was more advanced and even possessed within it a shackled A.I? Whatever it was, Deus fully intended to take advantage of it, all that was left to do was to somehow charge his Archive back up to full battery, that, or find a new device to place the Archive drive.

Bzzz! The comm connected to the channel that the gunners had been assigned to. He called out into it, "Droh, can you read me?"

Time passed slowly as he waited for a reply. He spoke into the device two more times, just to be safe, yet there was no response. He turned the comm back to close-range and spoke into it, "Elias, you read me? I couldn't get a hold of them."

He had used one of Elias's radios, as his own Archive was out of charge and wouldn't be able to send out the message again.

Elias replied over the device, "Shit… alright, join up with us and we'll start moving toward them… my best guess is they've got trouble of their own."