Part 2 –

The storm did not relent for the days to come. Night after night the storms seemingly wailed louder than before. To some the roars sounded like screams straight from nightmares.

It was as if the spirits of the damned were warning them of an unbeknownst threat of an unprecedented scale.

Luckily, as if by fate, the foreboding clouds finally saw a break just before the eve of the night before the war. Surely this was the work of the Gods; a message interpreted by all as “There is always light at the end of the dark.”

A benevolent sign from the esteemed Children of Balance. Hope at the end of Despair. Their victory was already written into the archives of the world itself. They were certain of it, both Adventures and soldiers alike. To fail would be to rip the very seams of fate itself; an impossibility for mortals to achieve.

And to those who doubted their benevolent fate were reminded of the presence of not one, but two beings that held near God-like statuses to mere mortals like themselves.

These were of course the Exrenity and the Spirt of Balance.

But where it was widely known amongst the Greater Knights and those among the higher ranks of the army that the Exrenity would not be participating – Everyone else were left to only assume that the Exrenity would stand with them in glorious battle.

They could not know the truth.

At the very least they would have the Spirit of Balance on their side of the battlefield. This was their greatest ally. They could not possibly fail with an ancient being that far surpassed the strength of potentially hundreds of thousands.

Yet what they would soon realise at the break of dawn, when their weapons finally met with the flesh of the Undead and when their sights were soaked in blood was that they would have neither on their side.

Phase – the Spirit of Balance – had disappeared without a trace only hours before the eve of the Kingdom’s most dire battle.

* * *

Inkshard’s teeth clattered along the muddy trail her carriage followed. A band of esteemed White Knights rode with her as they took the shortest route from the Capital into Farshard; being the shortcut through the spanning forest.

She was the first to realise Phase’s disappearance and quickly took action to find her at all costs. There should not have been any reason for her to disappear and it was most certainly not random given that Phase very rarely left her side.

An onlooker with zero knowledge of the Spirit of Balance would easily assume that Phase was a ghost haunting the Priestess, as if she were an object of attachment. It did not help that Phase mostly opted to float rather than walk alongside her.

Regardless, for them to be separated was strange to say the least. Furthermore, Inkshard of all people did not know the reason behind her disappearance. Amongst the fleeting thoughts that sought for an answer to Phase’s sudden departure there was only one that truly stood out.

Indeed. It was the riddle that Hope had directed to Phase. Its meaning was lost; toneless and cryptic to someone even like Inkshard herself, never mind her own mother.

Granted, she was still just a child. But her immaturity was negligible when it came to her duties as the main Priestess of Balance, a complete far cry from an ordinary child. Deciphering the message of the Gods was as natural as breathing to her. Riddles were among such messages to a far less common degree. The Gods were usually straight forward when intending to convey their message.

There should not have been a reason for them to issue Phase with a riddle. Inkshard was convinced it held importance beyond her own understanding. After all, a riddle of that nature would naturally be tailored for Phase.

But she needed to know. By deciphering the message only then would she be able to understand Phase’s intentions. The most she understood were the catacombs.

It was highly likely that Phase was already at the catacombs just northeast of Palvel. For what purpose and for how long however was what she strove to decipher the message. She couldn’t tell anyone to seek for Phase out of respect for her Gods, hence why she took it upon herself to ask for an answer directly.

They needed Phase on the battlefield alongside their army if they wished for the best possible chance of survival. As selfish as it seemed and as insignificant as her wish was, Inkshard was still a child at heart. There mere thought of losing her mother and beloved friends was nothing short of a nightmare.

Inkshard gripped tightly onto the wooden handles at the front end of the carriage, braving through the rocky journey as the horses dragged them at full speed. The sounds of hooves churning into the mud drowned out the sound of grinding metal armour and the howling winds.

The moon glistened in her moist eyes as she watched the trail with unyielding intent, the faint lights of Farshard slowly illuminate the tree lines ahead. Eventually, the carriage roared as it finally met with the bricked roads of the town. It arrived at a complete stop before the stars of the Chapel of Balance, and at once, Inkshard and a band of White Knights accompanying her disembarked in an orderly fashion.

“After you Priestess.”

“Thank you very much. Please keep the Chapel in check and don’t allow anyone to set foot inside.”

“But of course. Please be careful Priestess. The Gods are likely to be unhappy for your inquiry.” One warned.

“I’m aware. But our Kingdom’s survival rests on what happens in Palvel tomorrow. I’m sure the Gods will be willing to forgive me.” Inkshard spoke unwaveringly.

“… I can only pray that is the case.”

“Yeah… Me too.”

“Godspeed Priestess. May the Children of Balance answer your prayers.”

They unanimously bowed as she immediately took strides into the Chapel. At each few meters within its glistening halls a White Knight would remain and take guard to prevent all from entry.

Finally, once at the main hall, the final set of White Knights remained at the grand doors and watched as Inkshard quickly made her way towards the holy gear-like altar at the end. Her robes fluttered behind her despite there being no wind, and the long sleeves that dragged across the pristine marble floors seemingly never touched.

It was as if the Gods were already preparing to meet with her, knowing full well of the intentions that resided within those hopeful eyes. Upon witnessing this, the White Knights each bowed like it was their last, for they believed that their Gods were watching this sacred place.

Inkshard’s heart raced. It felt as though she had spoken a thousand words and was being judged with passing moment. Her eyes remained glued to the altar as a faint pale-blue light began to surround her.

The altar suddenly appeared like the infinite maw of the abyss. Something deep resonated from within. It spoke to her judgingly at all levels of existence. Her body resisted its invisible flames, for the blood that ran through her veins left her immune to its flickers.

The visors of the White Knights averted their gaze from the opening rift. One reason why White Knights and Greater White Knights were required to wear visors was because of this. To look upon the colourless void beyond the altar was to have their soul succumb to the pleasures of hope and the agony of despair simultaneously.

All doors to the Chapel had already been sealed, each one layered with magical chains to ensure no poor soul would accidentally wander through whilst Inkshard communicated with their Gods.

A major commotion brewed at the Chapel doors and was handled appropriately by those left outside. Under normal circumstances the Chapel would be closed off to the public at very specific times of the month. This was due to the ritual that unfolded within which allowed for the Children of Balance to communicate with the main Priestess.

However – this time was different. The closure of the Chapel was entirely out of schedule. Inkshard’s inquiry with the Gods was outside of the normal circumstance; an unprecedented situation that had never occurred with the countless Priestesses that had come beforehand.

It was an unspoken rule to never inquire from the Children of Balance. The audacity of one to seek the Gods without their permission beforehand was utter foolishness.

Not because it was a waste of time for their Gods, but because the souls of those individuals would be rendered at an instant, for only few could listen to their voices without succumbing to an agonising death.

The true nature of the Children of Balance was far from benevolent to those who understood and served them directly. Inkshard understood this to a lesser degree than her mother, but it was still not enough to truly grasp what their nature entailed.

Only until she peered into that colourless void did she feel a sense of overwhelming dread for the first time in her life. She wanted to utter something – anything – but an invisible force sealed her movements. Even her breathing was not due to her own will.

Perhaps this was why no one had ever spoken to the Gods on their own true accord. Those that did likely died in the process. Perhaps the Children of Balance wished not to be disturbed outside of those timeframes.

Had Inkshard made a fatal mistake? A critical lapse in her judgement?

No. She did not believe this to be the case. More than anything – she believed that this was the correct call, as foolish as it may be. The Kingdom needed the wisdom of their Gods more than ever.

She believed she possessed a bargaining chip; being the survival of the Kingdoms. Because without them there would be no one left to worship the Children of Balance and protect their integrity to the world that they could not materialise in.

Her senses quickly shifted into an unknown place whilst her physical body remained within the Chapel, left for the White Knights to guard as dozens of magical circles surrounded her body like chains serving to anchor her to this reality.

The shifting realities caused her stomach to churn violently as the pale, pristine marble beneath her turned to an opaque ice blue. A platform of black and this strange ice-like material surrounded her as she stood in what seemed to be the centre of an island.

Her movements returned to her almost as immediately as she arrived, and her head darted in every direction only to see nothing but the checkered background of the bizarre world. It spiralled, pulsated, and moved in ways that her mind could only begin to marginally comprehend, almost causing her mind to split as she collapsed onto her knees, grovelling at the ground in mental anguish.

“NNNGH!” Inkshard cried.

She was within the Domain of the Children of Balance without a doubt. But why was she here? Communication with the Gods was always through the altar within the Chapel of Balance. Aside from the scenery itself, this was what confused her the most.

That aside – the Domain of her Gods was nothing like she had envisioned. It was sinister in design and spoke of nothing but pure malevolence rather than benevolence. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought that this was the Domain of a Demonic God.

The will required to stand here was immense even for the Priestess herself. Only monsters and beings that could no longer call themselves humans would be able to withstand this mind-numbing scenery.

Inkshard could not even scream if she wanted to.

Unsurprisingly, the checkered background served a purpose. The Children of Balance called this the ‘filter by sight’. There had been few soon-to-be Exrenity in the past who had made it this far only to have their minds liquified before delight of the Gods. A favourite delicacy for Hope.

Inkshard clawed at the ground as she slowly began to look up in search for the Gods again, this time able to stomach the revolving world beyond. The ice-like ground ate at her knees through the thick robes, progressively reaching her bones as her eyes scoured to no avail until finally –

– She found them.

“Rise. To think we would have company so unexpectedly soon. We can only imagine the grand predicament that has brought you here.”

A voice resounded from above.

Somehow, she had missed the two near endless staircases that rose to two separate platforms above. Even more disturbingly was the fact that she had also not seen the pale ball that sat atop the white platform, appearing equally as the sun and moon of this Domain.

But what struck her the most – and caused her blood to chill as she rose to her feet – were the two figures that ominously floated atop these platforms. They were children as expected, yet the aura that emanated was truly that of beings that far surpassed imagination.

Inkshard was forced to stare into their eyes. Despite being so far beneath she could see the infinite marbling within those crimson and sky-blue eyes. She tried to bow – to fall to her knees – with every fibre of her being but Despair’s [Divine Statement] overruled her will.

Not that it mattered to begin with. At this distance it would make no difference if she grovelled or stood.

“Oh Priestess. It would be unwise to look too deeply into our eyes.” The figure Inkshard could only believe was Hope spoke in a holy voice as she slowly began to descend from the platform.

“You wouldn’t want to lose your soul now, do you Priestess?” Despair hummed sinisterly, her tone, demeanour, and voice completely different from what Inkshard was used to, let alone imagined.

The Children of Balance gracefully descended from an impossible height for what felt like mere seconds; a sight near impossible for Inkshard’s human mind to comprehend. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, yet somehow her fortitude remained firm as the fire in her eyes remained lit. She could not afford to give up now. Her mouth parted, yet no words left. It was unknown whether fear or the will of the Gods prevented her from forming words.

A faint smile appeared on Hope and Despair’s faces as they finally reached Inkshard, their footsteps silent but somehow agonisingly loud. They admired the look in her eyes – the determination and audacity to invite herself into their divine Domain at her own accord.

Her presence was like a smidgen of filth upon a beautiful painting. However, the Gods being as merciful as they were, embraced this filth, for it added meaning to the piece as a whole.

In other words – she served a purpose.

“Ah~ You’re so similar to her. Like mother like daughter. The origins of your blood remain the same even across the corporeal body. I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you instead of her.” Hope nearly sung, her hands roaming around Inkshard’s body.

They were surprisingly smaller than her. But that did not make them any less imposing. In fact – this only further amplified their divine aura. The concept of hope and despair personified as but simple children were far more jarring to witness than to merely imagine. But this was true for many things anyway.

“Unsurprising. It almost makes me want to peel off this exquisite flesh and see if there really is a mortal body underneath.” Despair poked deeply into Inkshard’s flesh, causing an internal storm to break within her. “I wonder if it’s a blessing or curse that your blood is so similar to the Sprits of Balance. What is left of them, anyway. Your mother was the same, just as her grandmother, and great grandmother. All undiluted and ever so perfect. Trapped like birds in a cage. It so happens to be that you’re the first to leave it.”

“But – fear not Priestess.” Hope cupped Inkshard’s face and stared deeply into her eyes, bearing a near motherly expression. “We are merciful beings. To bring harm to our beloved priestess would be to abandon our believers. Yes. You can look into my eyes now.”

“In your language that means you should feel privileged. Pride. Relief that you can still keep your soul. Forever remember that if it were not for your benefactor, Hope, I would have killed you for daring to set forth into our Domain, child.” Despair whispered into her ear, just as the effects of the [Divine Statement] wore off.

Yet Inkshard still did not move. Her breathing nearly ceased entirely, and her mind went blank repeatedly at their touch and scent. She was woefully aware that her physical body was still within the Chapel. A part of her could still sense the outside, yet everything within here clashed with it, and it did not help that she could barely attribute the sensations of the Gods to anything.

Pain was one of them. Comfort was the other. Who was what, and which was who was confusing to say the very least.

And despite this – her demeanour ultimately did not change the slightest. She came here for one reason, and one reason only.

To understand the contents of their riddle. Only then could she aid the ones she loved at Palvel.

“Those eyes are wonderful. From the bleakest depths to the brightest shallows – I imagine you wish to seek clarity. No need to answer us, for we already know~”

“She couldn’t even if she wanted to. Sister – there is no point in answering something that does not concern her.”

“Rightfully so. The contents belong solely to the Spirit –”

“Just call it by its name. Phase. What a sorry excuse for a Spirit. Why would you – a child – concern yourself with it? Phase’s sole existence is to atone for its transgressions. You shall not intervene.”

The Gods somehow knew what she wished to seek. No. It would be strange if they didn’t know. They were the Gods of this region after all, and she imagined that they had been watching over her for most of her life anyway.

She was still taken aback by this. Her mouth parted again and this time – she was able to utter something against all overwhelming odds.

“… but even still… Phase is the only one who help everyone.” Her voice was painfully meek, so much so that Despair scoffed at her whilst Hope revealed unbelievable empathy.

“How selfish.” Despair mocked.

“Hush now, Despair. This one is but still a child.”

“Children or not – you would be the last to care. She should be thankful she’s favoured by you. It is the only reason she’s still here.”

“You wouldn’t kill this one either. But you’re correct. Perhaps I do have a slightly favourable outlook on you, Inkshard. You’re pure of heart. A child in every sense of the word. Uncorrupted like all else that reside outside of Colight... and the threat that exists at the heart of Palvel. Fear not, for we do not wish to harm you.”

Hope cooed, wrapping her arms around Inkshard’s waist as she pulled herself into an embrace. “Tell us. Why must you seek to divert Phase from her destiny?”

“… to save… everyone.”

“Everyone~? Do not lie. You only wish to save those you love.” Despair claimed. “In truth – You couldn’t care less if everyone else died save for them; save for your mother and your friends.”

“That’s not –!”

Inkshard reacted on reflex upon hearing that. But before she could finish – the reality of her mistake attacked her at an instant, robbing her voice away. Simultaneously, Despair hovered a finger right before one of Inkshard’s eye. A claw was only but a hair away from gouging it out.

“It is the truth. There is nothing wrong with the truth. Humans are selfish by nature. It is only wrong when you blind yourself from it. You don’t wish for peace because you adore all life. You only wish for it so the lives of those you love can remain.” Despair antagonised her, but not without retreating her claw. “But I suppose that is why Hope favours you. Good girl. Be at ease. Don’t cry. Those tears mean nothing to me. Your despair is disgusting.”

“It’s ok, dear Inkshard. Hope is your benefactor. Despair is what you seek to abolish, so – embrace hope. The contents of our message should not matter to you, but in making it as such you have already moved the gears of fate into motion. What you do now will save countless more than Phase ever will.”

Inkshard silently wept, unable to return the embrace to Hope out of utter terror of being killed. Her demeanour seemingly cracked as her spirit began to dispel in turmoil. The body within the Chapel could only hang onto the magical circles. Her legs could no longer carry the sheer weight of horror that she was exposed to.

“Perhaps you have given up?”

“… no… no – I – I…”

“Then cease your tears. Do you truly wish to save them? To save them all?”

“… I want to… but – but…”

“Hush. That is all that matters. Inkshard, know well that your Goddess adores your courage. Despair is the least of your concern, for it is I who will tend to you and your Kingdom.”

Despair could only stare as she heard this. In the end, the result was meaningless to her, for her plans were already set in motion. This was Hope’s play. Her pawn – no, this was her masterpiece. This smidgen of filth was what she aspired to bring about the greatest hope of all, just as how Despair sought to bring the greatest despair with her own set piece.

An envoy of Hope? A retainer? An apostle of the highest degree?

Only Hope knew what Inkshard was. Or more accurately – what she would become.

“Perhaps we shall start with the truth~ Let me ask you something, oh Priestess – do you think the outcome of the war truly matters in the grand scheme of fate?” Despair hummed.

“… w-what?” Inkshard stood utterly dumbfounded by what she had just heard.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“You should listen to Hope. Do you wish to save everyone? No, what a stupid question. Of course you do. The meaning of ‘everyone’ may be muddied and lost in human interpretation, but I suppose it makes no difference. Shall we bargain then, Priestess?”

“Bargain…? W-won’t you lose the faith of your followers if we fail at Palvel? The Capital will be lost.” Inkshard reminded them, but the Gods seemed far from concerned. Despair’s eyes glimmered instead, and an insidious grin formed at the notion of their deaths.

Her heart sank, but was thankfully saved in its final moments by the soothing words of the only God she could ever believe in. At least Hope shed some form of concern for the sake of Truebirth, although, to what degree remained unknown. It felt as though her world had collapsed all around her, and only by the single pillar which was Hope herself kept the last pillars from crumbling to dust.

“There is someone I wish to see again. Phase must battle with herself more than what lays in Palvel. This is her atonement. Her salvation. You must not interfere. However – I believe she will be pivotal for your task. Oh Inkshard, oh Priestess – oh dear child – I wish to see the Exrenity.”

“Exrite…”

“Only then will their survival be guaranteed. This is absolute in fate, for it is us who dictate it.” Hope released her and cupped both of Inkshard’s hands.

Fragments of hope began to swell within Inkshard after what felt like an eternity of complete despair. For a moment her faith had been destroyed, but perhaps with Hope’s encouragement the future may not be so bleak.

“But how…? They’re in Saicry. It takes months on horseback, and days still by airship. We can’t afford to sacrifice one.”

“Entrust yourself to fate. Believe in me – in Hope. You are already aware of Exrite’s destiny. There will not be a need for the Priestesses beyond the defeat of the Maidens, for our descent into this realm world will be a possibility once again. This is an opportunity for you achieve peace beyond merely saving the ones you love. Consider this your trial. Head to Palvel and you will know what to do from there.”

“… I – I understand.” Inkshard exhaled from the heart, knowing that there was nothing else she could do but believe in Hope’s words. To rebel against the Gods would lead to nowhere but certain death. It was infuriating that the outcome of the battle played no greater role in the end.

And for what purpose?

The Gods did not wish to answer. She had a feeling she’d figure it out sooner or later. But it did not change the fact that her sentiments of the Children of Balance had been completely shattered. Hope to a lesser degree, for she offered a solution to their madness.

Something larger than she could possibly imagine was at play. As much as she wished to know – the very life of her loved ones took absolute precedent. She understood that if it was not Phase that would aid them, then it would undoubtedly be Exrite and the others.

How? Fate. That is how.

She felt frustrated for not being told a straight answer. Despair saw this and openly mocked her resolve, concealing it as a bid of farewell.

“Enjoy your hope. May you never blind yourself, or you’ll find yourself on a seat next to mine.”

“Persevere Inkshard. Save them. Carry forth my will onto the world and become the bearer of hope.”

“… I will.” Inkshard fortified her resolve, her allegiance and belief now solely belonged to Hope. The Goddess in question warmly smiled and kissed the back of her palms before she was dismissed from their domain.

A flare of light engulfed her vision, and with a single flash – she stood before the altar once again. A part of her felt like it was all part of a nightmare, but the sensations left on her body said otherwise.

The magical circles shattered one by one, exploding like broken glass before they faded into oblivion. The racket alerted the guards who were now outside of the sealed Chapel doors and entered with their heads facing down.

“Is it over Priestess?”

“For now… we – we need to hurry. Please take me to Palvel as soon as possible.” Inkshard slowly returned to a stable state of mind and instantly sprang into action. The White Knights looked upon themselves curiously before their gazes finally settled onto her.

“Hold on. Wait just a moment Priestess. What exactly for!?”

“I was advised by our… Gods to reach Palvel. We have plenty of time before the battle starts. C’mon. Let’s go! Quickly!”

The knights displayed utter confusion amongst themselves. Inkshard didn’t inquire why this was so until she first noticed rays of light shining through the windows.

“No… no way…” Her blood ran like ice.

“That won’t be possible. Our soldiers have already left hours ago. By now they’re already approaching the outskirts of Palvel. The battle would have already begun by the time we make it.”

Her heart sank.

* * *

Elsewhere – Whilst the army quickly marched forth towards Palvel in epic strides – The catacombs slowly began to rumble with activity. The tremors reached every branch of its maze-like structure, causing dust to bleed through ancient cracks. Phase explored the desecrated halls that once housed hundreds of thousands of dead in its walls.

Now all that remained were wounds punctured across each crumbled wall where the dead once resided and were now reanimated as the Undead. Surprisingly, the number of Undead she had come across were still at zero. There was not even one that lurked within these halls, let alone a single fragment of their putrid existence.

Perhaps if she were a true corporeal being then there would be far more activity, but as a Sprit she was mostly immune to the effects of the Undead. Their mana-devouring abilities worked to little effect against beings like Spirits and other magical species due to their inability to have their biomass – if they possessed any – to be converted into the Undead.

Like Demons, mana and their existence were intertwined unlike most other races. To have it stripped away also meant to destroy the very fabric of their beings. As a result – Demons, Fairies, Spirits and even some powerful Elves were immune to the Undead plague.

However, that did not mean that they were not targets for consumption. In fact, magical races were highly prized and sought after by high-ranking Undead. Where one Demon equalled more than a hundred humans – it was easy to see why this was the case.

The lower ranked Undead however lacked the ability to consume these magical races. Merely absorbing such pure mana has been known to inadvertently return the Undead flesh back to its original form. It was a cure in a sense, albeit a cruel one.

The malformations would not be reverted, and at that point it was best to simply end the misery of a loved one. Not even their soul would return entirely intact. Death was a more merciful fate than to allow them to have their organs squirm like worms in a parody of what they once were.

This was primarily the reason why Vevillen had never seen an Undead outbreak. By the time a lowly Undead would arrive it would have already perished by the purity of the ingested mana that most fauna and flora possessed there.

However, the distant past was a different story. The Undead and the magical races were sworn enemies. If the Gods were ever released from their Domains in this era, then the first wars to break out would undoubtably be between the Uboros and the Vevillen High Council of Gods.

The second would course be between the human Gods and the Demonic Gods; The Zelmori Fall and the Fallen verses the Empyrean Rise and their subordinate Angels.

That aside –

Phase had already fulfilled the first part of Hope’s riddle. What she needed to do next was to find the ‘black sun’. Or the Well of Wishes as properly named. She was vaguely aware of its purpose and the intentions of Despair who sought to use it as method to set the stage for her inevitable arrival. That is of course should Exrite somehow defeat the Maiden of Realms.

Whilst she too had faith in Exrite it was hard to say that she completely believed in him. There was only so much that a human could dream to accomplish, and therefore she could not imagine him to be any different than he was just months ago.

Humans were incapable of such rapid changes. But he could barely register as a human, so it seemed unfair to judge him as such. A long sigh left her parted lips as she tried to once again find other attributes that made him suitable as the Maiden of Time.

“And they called me insane.” She muttered underneath her breath.

As for the Well of Wishes – she understood that it was a product of Desire rather than Despair and functioned to fulfil one’s true wish in a viscous parody of one’s deepest desire. What she didn’t know was how they sourced the mana. She believed biomass to be the answer, although, having that biomass converted into the Undead was counter intuitive due to the lack of mana.

Additionally, entire ordeal was still hard for her to comprehend. If Despair required a suitable retainer, then wouldn’t Desire be a perfect fit? An Overlord could easily serve to set the stage for Desire’s entrance into this realm.

Then – what was the purpose of creating one if this was the case? Why waste so much mana for something that can be easily achieved? And most importantly; how was Despair so intrinsically involved when she was trapped within her Domain?

Phase digressed. Perhaps her mind was looking at it all wrong. She was not a God after all. Just a mere juvenile Spirit amongst the giants of the world.

Yet she wondered if she was the only one with a functioning brain.

In the end she only understood that the Well of Wishes was needed in some unknown capacity for Despair’s departure into the world. To cement a foothold for her descent. Likewise, the Star of Celestial Guidance – which was the pale object within the Domain of the Children of Balance – was likely to serve a similar function for Hope.

Only time will tell, and she was not long off from unravelling this mystery. In truth Phase had no obligation to see this riddle through. She much preferred to fight alongside Talia at Palvel than to scour these ruined halls.

However, this was her only chance of gaining atonement from the Children of Balance. To attain freedom once and for all she needed to accomplish the task at hand without fail. In the event that Exrite did succeed then she’d be thrown back into the darkness.

A hand moved down to the pale orb that hid beneath her ethereal dress. She caressed it with tender love, for this carried the soul of her mother. It was held close to her heart with both hands as she moved through a series of shattered staircases, eventually reaching another maze-like floor.

There was no end in sight to the depths of the catacombs. Soon the hundreds of thousands of possible deceased rose to what seemed like millions. Countless generations of dead once rested here in this final place of respite and were now violently torn away to serve a life far worse than death itself.

But Phase could not care for such lowly races. There were exceptions granted to the inhabitants of Truebirth and Pathfist, of course. Still though, meddling in the affairs of such lesser races was disgusting to say the least.

In any case – Phase moved through the tunnels like a spectre. Where it took weeks for a group of explorers to navigate and additional months to map each floor of the catacombs, it only took her mere minutes. This was due to her speed, [Night Vision] and the immensely powerful origin of mana which she had been tracking all along.

It was located somewhere deep within the catacombs, most likely within its deepest recesses where it would be most protected. It could not be anything other than the Well of Wishes given the sheer magnitude of power that emanated from beneath.

An ominous hum grew louder with each passing floor. The contents and origin of such a bizarre noise were not from the tremors of the catacombs itself but was somehow an amalgamation of millions of voices sewn together.

She could not understand them.

To her they were just the mere background noise – the ambience of the Well of Wishes which was only but a handful of floors away. Each floor shrunk in varying degrees until she finally reached a cavity of unprecedented proportions.

A hall would be another way to describe this place of immense darkness, but only just barely. Pillars that prevented itself from caving in were destroyed beyond hope. It was a miracle that this place was still here.

A magical force was undoubtably the reason behind this, and all it took was a single glance to realise the source of this magic.

No. It was not the Well of Wishes. Its mana could not be wasted on something so insignificant.

It was undoubtably the Overlord of Desire. While her being could not be seen even by a Spirit of Phase’s calibre – her presence could undoubtably be felt all around her. She existed everywhere and nowhere in the darkness, simply watching her move towards the Well of Wishes.

The ruined walls revealed bare rock underneath, and the floors were littered with so many bones and scraps of biomass that it appeared like nightmarish overgrowth. The necrotic mass of living tissue pulsated and reacted to her tramples, whimpering through pores that could barely function as mouths.

She knew immediately that these poor souls were not yet the Undead. Their flesh had been liquified and reconstituted into the floor itself, slowly decaying as they fed legions of Undead, which marched by the thousands through a fleshy tunnel behind the Well of Wishes.

Phase could only imagine what that tunnel was. It did not look artificial, or something dug up. Rather than that – it looked… ‘alive’.

She clutched at the pale orb in response, her face contorted in utter disgust.

“Curious, aren’t you~?” The voice of Desire whispered.

“Shut up. What is the meaning of this?” Phase snapped; her gaze unmoving as she made an unseen effort to pinpoint Desire from within the darkness.

“Is it not beautiful? Your mother was quite fond of these sights. Look at you, so gleefully trampling over them.” Desire cooed, her cold hands suddenly brushing against Phase’s and the pale orb. “Your mother would be so proud –”

“I said shut up!”

A light blue blade of light instantly cut through the darkness in a circular motion around her. In an instant, the hall of despair was illuminated by a shockwave of light which painted each corner before the darkness consumed it again.

Desire’s being appeared in that split second. She sat with interlocked legs above the Well of Wishes, which easily towered dozens of meters above. Her crimson eyes flared with disgusting energy, and in an instant, the wails of the collective damned fell into a silent scream.

“Don’t speak like you know my mom!” Phase screamed adamantly, her ethereal blood boiling at the Overlord’s over familiarity. “Why are you here Desire!? If Despair thinks you can stop me from fulfilling Hope’s wish – then you’ve made your last mistake.”

3 magical circles instantly formed above her. Beads of light began to converge into 3 distinct points, eventually creating massive swords which were aimed directly at Despair’s glowing eyes.

Phase had already chosen to fight regardless of what Desire’s next move was. She was here for one purpose and one purpose only. Desire’s presence was undoubtably an obstacle placed by Despair.

After all – Despair was the one who wished to see her suffer the most for her wrongings.

Desire could only smile provocatively at what was a child compared to her existence. The thousands of years Phase possessed was but a speck of sand in the desert that she was.

She unfolded her legs and began to rock them with childish glee. Seeing nothing but anger filled in those blue eyes was an utter delicacy.

“Oh. No. I’m not here to stop you. I just wanted to talk. This is our first time meeting so formally, after all. It’d be a shame for it to result in a bloodbath.”

“Talk? Do you take me for an idiot!?”

“Yes.” Desire answered truthfully. “A fool that can’t seem to let go of the chains that keep you anchored to the past. Look at you, so willingly dragging your weights. How pitiful –”

The colossal blades were fired straight for Desire. They rippled through the air, leaving a vacuum that tore bones and biomatter straight from the ground. Desire simply watched these come straight for her, completely unphased by the attack.

She did not need to do anything against something so weak.

Two blades instantly collapsed into itself upon contacting the silhouette of her being. The shattered remains flew like shrapnel across the room, killing dozens of marching Undead and peeling sections of the living floor away.

Amongst the madness Phase suddenly appeared before Desire. She had hidden herself behind the two blades whilst the third was directed towards the entrance of the Gate Larva. She had hoped to rob her attention and at the very least, destroy the Gate Larva. That way the Undead would not be able to reach Palvel.

However – whether by pure naivety or sheer anger – she had severely underestimated the power of an Overlord to an insulting degree.

Black tendrils so dark that they seemingly glowed amongst the darkness sprout from her back. They effortlessly wrapped the blade and wielded it as their own, brandishing it before it was destroyed on the spot.

At the same time – a tendril protruding from Desire’s stomach whipped Phase back to whence she came. The resulting attack caused the ground to shatter as she skidded with tremendous force; so much more than the initial attack alluded to.

“AGH –!”

It felt as if an invisible force had dragged her rather than launched her.

“Perhaps you will be more willing to talk now~? Shall we start over, Spirit of Balance?”

Phase entered a brief state of shock. The attack which should have only been magic based was also undoubtably of physical nature.

Spirits possessed incredibly regenerative abilities when it came to physical damage. They were constructs of mana, a soul, a will and an element or magic of some sort. But this was different. The physical impact rendered her nearly immobile as some form of magical damage began to eat away at her body.

This damage lingered like a scar that had transcended through to her soul, like a branded imprint.

And it burned.

“W-what’s happening to me!? Argh! AHHHHHH!”

“Nothing in particular. It’ll burn for a while. I’m pleasantly surprised though. It seems like Zeluru devoured your desires already. This is a good sign, Phase. You’re learning.”

What gnawed at her soul was the most supreme version of the [Curse of Desire]. This was the [Mark of Desire]. Its effects were extremely similar, save that only Desire herself could bestow it. To those unfortunate enough to not have been inflicted by the [Curse of Desire] were subject to a vision of their desires to a debilitating degree.

Only few could even begin to claw out of their visions.

It was a hideously twisted version of the [Curse of Desire]. A hellish kind that saw to extract every essence of their desire until they were nothing but shrivelled remains so drained of mana that they eventually became the Undead.

As terrifying as this was – some who worshiped the Overlord of Desire saw this as a rite of passage, particularly those who had become her Apostles.

Only those that could shatter the visions that sought to perverse their deepest desires could find its true meaning and consequently their purpose.

As for those fortunate enough to have survived the [Curse of Desire] – the [Mark of Desire] could only open old wounds within the soul itself. If their desires were not truly resolved or achieved, then one would feel themselves begin to burn from the inside out.

Phase desired for nothing more than to see her mother once again. The mental agony manifested physically, and she groaned painfully aloud amongst the flesh beneath her, their voice becoming one.

“How does it feel to have your soul set alight? The [Mark of Desire] won’t last long, so please do savour it. I know I am~” Desire suddenly appeared behind her, her hands motherly brushing through her pale hair.

Hundreds of years’ worth of memories cycled before her eyes like a chaotic kaleidoscope. Her screams soon fell silent as the memories of her mother came flooding in all at once, and with it, her utmost desire to see her again.

But she knew these visions of prancing along tall grass hand in hand were false. To have her precious memories toyed with snapped something deep within her heart.

The orb within her palms nearly cracked at her inhuman clutch, her nails impaled so deep within that they nearly met at its core. A loud hissing erupted from the object before 5 giant blades instantly shot from magical circles above.

Phase screamed as they futilely impaled Desire, instead jamming themselves to the hilt into the ground. Desire had effortlessly evaded the attack and appeared back on top of the Well of Wishes as if nothing had happened.

Her movement was near instantaneous within the darkness. Phase, to her dismay, also gathered that even if she were to illuminate every corner of the hall it’d make no difference. Desire was not a dark dwelling being. Neither did she harness strength from it.

She merely thrived in it.

Phase formed another dozen magical circles, expending so much mana from her surroundings that some of the faces beneath her withered into black tissue. However – just as she was about to swing her arm forth to send her blades hurdling towards Desire once again – the Overlord clapped her hands, seemingly snapping Phase from her enraged trance.

At this point she had realised the futility of her powers against a being that was considered a God in this Era. It also didn’t help that Desire’s true strength was in how she battled her psychologically.

“It’s futile Phase. We’ve already established the difference in strength. Save your energy. You’ll need it soon enough.”

“Then what the hell do you want from me!? If all you want is to talk then stay the hell out of my way! To go as far as to protect the Undead from me makes no sense!” Phase’s anger manifested through her voice, cracking through the flames in her spirit.

“But it does. This is the design of Despair. You are just a catalyst. We can’t have you play your part too early now.” Desire tapped at the Well of Wishes, causing its surface to ripple like the surface of a calm lake.

“What do you mean!?” Phase retorted.

“To tell you would be the same as letting you move freely through this place. We’re on a timer Phase. A strict timer. We’re too early for the main event.”

“Shut up! If the timer is to move the Undead to Palvel then I am not going to stand here and allow it! Does Despair want to kill every last person who can defend the Capital all for the sake of feeding that – that thing their biomass!?”

Silence suddenly befell them. The shuffling of the Undead disappeared as Desire’s body began convulsing. And just when Phase opened her mouth to speak again – Desire erupted into hysterical laugher.

“Ah-ahahahahahaha! Ahaha… ah. Ah… I’m sorry. Pardon my rudeness. I didn’t think you’d be so naïve. I forget that magic of yours is not as fine-tuned as other Spirits. You have a long way to go if you wish to protect your new friends, Phase.”

“… what are you talking about?”

“I wonder. Perhaps it does look like biomass was the source of fuel for the Well of Wishes to you. I cannot fault you for thinking as such.”

“So it’s just their desires then!?”

Desire didn’t respond immediately. She took the silence as an answer, but a part of her suspected this was still far from the truth. The source of mana didn’t seem to directly come from the desires of millions as she began to suspect.

But it wouldn’t make any sense given that the Well of Wishes was a construct of Desire. Why would it use anything other than Desire or biomass, given that living creatures were a requirement to fuel it.

The thought left her staring blankly into those beads of crimson. Minutes passed by in what seemed like seconds to these timeless beings until finally – Desire spoke.

“Time is fleeting, Phase. You’ve already found the Black Sun. It’d be wise to just wait and talk our hearts out until – hm. Well – you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Will you stop me at all costs if I try to destroy the Undead?”

“By Despair’s command. Please do not interfere –”

The dozens of blades of light were flung straight towards the fleshy entrance of the Gate Larva. Few were directed into the Well of Wishes itself, but all was for naught. When each blade reached mere inches of their target – a network of elaborate [Barriers] caused them to fracture into thousands of particles.

These bared the inscriptions of Desire – markings that shifted and shimmered depending on the individual’s perception. This was the universal language of desire, and despite never seeing them before Phase could sense their meaning.

“And watch the people I care about lose their lives again!?” Phase roared, frustrated at her inability to progress at the face of unparalleled adversity.

“Who? Oh. Ah… that’s right. The Priestesses. The endless mother and her single child.”

“Don’t talk like you know them!”

“I can see why you want to save them. Her appearance is uncanny, no? It would be a shame for her to die so painfully. Perhaps it would be easier to have her as an Undead. That way your mother can never leave.”

“You –!”

Her soul erupted in flames again. A tendril flicked faster than Phase could react. It easily pierced through the flesh of her shoulder, directly inflicting her with the [Mark of Desire]. She staggered backwards, clutching at her shoulder in gruelling agony. But this was not due to physical anguish.

Her mind felt like it was flailed a thousand times with burning whips, leaving imprints that brought about memories she had once moved on from.

Or perhaps they were just there waiting to be resurfaced. To be chased and enacted upon as her true, self-destructive desire. She knew this must have been the case. She had already partially atoned for her blindness regarding her mother’s death with Uru and had painfully learnt the destructive potential of one’s deepest desire.

She had also served in solitude as a result.

But no longer was it vengeance. No. It was never vengeance to begin with. Her one true, unchanging desire had always been to remain with her mother.

Forever.

As she screamed and grovelled pitifully amongst the butchered flesh, the last of the Undead legion had finally been swallowed by the Gate Larva. Its entrance sealed shut with tens of toothy appendages which appeared like the petals of a flower. A vile explosion of toxic fumes erupted from the hole it had buried itself in, cracking the bedrock like it was but mere sandstone.

In order for something of such massive proportions to move it needed to expend vast quantities of heat. The Gate Larva accomplished this by converting super-heated biomass into a rich, gaseous form which was released at pores across its many kilometre-long body.

This would shatter even the hardest of stone and allow it to easily burrow underground. The creature disappeared into the hole, and at once, the entire catacombs trembled under its influence.

The broken pillars which appeared like stalagmites fell all around them as debris began to accumulate. The catacombs threatened to collapse into itself, but by some miracle it remained standing.

“Can you hear the horns of war, Phase? We are at the dawn of a conflict that will forever change the course of Colight and consequently, our entire world after eons of Ephyla’s orchestrated curse. Despair must fester if hope is to exist. One’s grand desire must be humiliated if one’s true wish is to be granted. You must understand this. For your own sake. It matters more now than ever.”

Desire outstretched her arms as if presenting sacred scripture.

The catacombs trembled once more as hideous creatures crawled through the bedrock and began to converge at the base of the Well of Wishes.

Phase instantly recognised that these were high-ranked Undead. Their faces were uncannily human and retained their colourful flesh in frightening contrast to the rest of their bodies. They were like the products of hundreds that had been rendered and moulded into shape like living clay.

These were undoubtably the strongest Undead in the entire legion. She instantly recognised their appearances and painfully scowled. They were Brutes of humanoid origin – a high-ranking Undead that sought for nothing but the destruction of the living. They were near unmatched in raw power and were the very definition of nightmares.

As for the Gate Larvae, that was called a Corruptor.

And it was only considered a low-ranking Undead despite its enormous size.

Phase could only guess as to why they were still here as she battled to gaze up upon her greatest adversity yet.

“Hear them march forth, and if hope so smiles upon your direction, you may hear them march back. What will you do, Phase? I’m eager to watch your chains disappear.”

An impossible mountain stood erect before her. The living floor turned black in waves beneath the putrid feet of the high-ranking Undead as they absorbed ever last ounce of their mana which then returned to a black liquid form.

It was then that Phase realised that these Undead Brutes were feeding the Well of Wishes its last few droplets before it could finally reach activation.

With this in mind – Phase bared her fangs and drew countless weapons from beyond the realm of living, and instead of pointing them at the creatures and Desire she chose to destroy the living flesh to an unrecoverable degree.

Desire saw this in her pale-blue eyes and could only laugh.

“Very well. Talking was never your strong point. But your spirit is admirable. I can say this at the very least – you are not quite like your ill-minded mother. But you were so close… all because you were born within the last 30,000 years.”

And as those words reached Phase’s ears – two orbs took form in her palms, morphing into magnificent swords of blue light after she tucked away her mother’s soul. And then, with nothing but pure contempt, she struck with unprecedented force against the living flesh.

Phase was not going to allow this to continue.