The library that surrounded Enzo and Dendrite was absolutely overburdened with books. Shelves sagged, and tables carried indentations where books had been left for too many years. To one side of the library was a large stained-glass window of a man with a halo around his head. Pieces of the man’s skin were missing, revealing mechanical parts and circuitry underneath.
Enzo suddenly realized that he could read the titles of some of the books spread out on the table in front of Dendrite. One of the books read, “Elementary Conjuration,” and another read, “The History of Castle Bosporus.”
“What do you mean?” Enzo asked.
“The Deluvians,” Dendrite said, shivering. “I bled to death outside of the East Gate and respawned here. I assume the same thing happened to you.”
“Yeah,” Enzo chuckled darkly. “I had just enough time to deliver my last words to FullDan before I clocked out.”
“Thirteen, eh?” Dendrite wondered. “I guess that means there’s eleven more of us.”
“Us,” Enzo mused. “I guess…” Enzo looked down at the Phantom of the Opera outfit he was wearing, “we’re supposed to be the villains in GM’s story.”
“Pah,” Dendrite gestured dismissively. “Why should we? I’m not gonna switch sides just because GM tells me to. In fact,” Dendrite lowered his voice to a whisper, “my NPCs told me something. A Dark Apostle is about as strong as a post-game Revenant. Check it out.”
Dendrite looked down at the thick mahogany table upon which he had placed his books. The top of the table was constructed of hardwood that was several inches thick. Dendrite picked up his books and gently placed them on a smaller nearby table. He raised his hand about a foot above the table and extended his fingers such that his hand resembled a knife. Then, without warning, Dendrite brought his hand down at an extreme speed. For a moment, his hand was a blur as he chopped the table. Dendrite’s hand struck the table, but it did not stop. With an awful crack, the entire mahogany table split in half under the weight of Dendrite’s calamitous strike. A cloud of dust ejected from the fallen table and spread out in a ten-foot radius.
The two Apostles coughed and tried to wave the dust away from their mouths. “That’s crazy,” Enzo said. “I didn’t know Revenants could get that strong. Are we still technically Revenants?” Enzo thought to himself.
“Never mind that,” Dendrite said. “My point is that we’re extremely powerful now. If there’s anyone that can kill GM right now, it’s us.”
Enzo and Dendrite’s attention was suddenly drawn to the entrance to the library opposite the one Enzo used to enter. Neither of them could pinpoint the exact sensation that caused them to look in that direction. Upon looking, they saw a woman who had just entered, followed by a gaggle of featureless sorcerers. The woman was wearing a strapless black ball gown and a billowing black cape with a white collar that almost reached the top of her head. The outfit left much of her chest exposed, and the roman numeral XI could be seen under her collarbone. Enzo recognized her as Poldra, the smoking woman who had been killed in the artillery strike. Her hair was still tied in the same kind of braid she was wearing when she was still alive.
“I see you boys are already breaking the castle,” Poldra chuckled as soon as she walked in. Enzo was put off by the extent to which her tone matched her outfit.
“Poldra!” Enzo shouted. “I see you’re still alive.”
“Yeah,” Poldra said as she got closer, “though I guess I died on that tower. What happened? I just remember a loud noise, and then I was here.”
“Artillery,” Enzo said. “They took the whole tower out with cannons. I actually survived the blast, but I was killed by gunfire a few minutes later.”
“Sucks, man,” Poldra said, now a few feet from the other two Dark Apostles. “Do you know why I’m dressed like Maleficent, and you two are dressed like the Phantom of the Opera?”
Enzo briefly described the situation to Poldra, who had apparently not stopped to talk to the sorcerers before she had started exploring the castle. During the conversation, Dendrite offhandedly mentioned that they were in Castle Bosporus. Enzo silently ruminated on the fact that the Bosporus was one of the two straights between the Mediterranean Sea and Back Sea. At the time, Enzo didn’t think it was important, so he didn’t mention it.
“Okay, now I understand the whole Dark Apostle thing,” Poldra said after Enzo and Dendrite were done explaining. “What I don’t understand is why this shirt has to show so much of my cleavage. If I were to step into Osiris dressed like this and say, ‘I’m here to kill all of you,’ half of the guys there will ask me to step on them.” Poldra pulled lightly on the hem of her low-cut shirt as she spoke.
At this point, the group was walking down a long hallway. They had started walking while Dendrite was talking. A significant number of heavily-robed sorcerers were following them at a respectable distance. Strangely, Enzo was glad that the sorcerers were out of ear shot. If they could hear what these vaunted Apostles were talking about, they might be disillusioned. A moment later, Enzo chided himself for the foolishness of caring what those unimportant NPCs thought of him.
“I’m sure there are plenty of in-universe explanations,” Dendrite said, “but ultimately the answer is that GM wanted us to be dressed like this.”
“Also, it shows off our numbers,” Enzo said, pointing to the thirteen on his chest.
“Something tells me complaining isn’t going to get anything done,” Poldra said. “It’s not like GM has an HR department.”
“Hopefully we’ll be able to get changed later,” Dendrite said.
One of the many sorcerers in their entourage hurried forward to within earshot of the three Apostles. Strangely, Enzo was able to tell entirely by sound that the sorcerer was walking up to him. He also knew, based on the sound of the footsteps, that the sorcerer was relatively light for a person, maybe one hundred to one hundred and twenty pounds.
“Excuse me, my lords, I have a message from the Master,” the sorcerer said. Enzo could immediately tell that this was the female sorcerer that answered some of his questions when he had first awoken.
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“What is it?” Podra asked. Her tone indicated that she suspected she would not like the answer.
“The remaining Dark Apostles are meeting in the Great Hall,” the sorcerer said.
Poldra, Dendrite, and Enzo looked at each other for a moment.
“Might as well,” Enzo said and shrugged.
The sorcerer led them on their path. Enzo could tell by her gait that she was incredibly nervous, but she was doing a good job at hiding it. A feeling of unease filled Enzo. These actions that came so naturally to him now were completely impossible for him before he had been reincarnated as a Dark Apostle.
After a full twenty minutes, they reached a long room that was filled with people. At the center, arrayed around a long table, were eleven people dressed in the Dark Apostles’ long coats and capes. Off to the periphery were several dozen sorcerers. At a glance, there were probably about fifty sorcerers present before Enzo’s group had arrived.
When Enzo’s group arrived at the table, the Dark Apostles were arguing about something. Only two were sitting at the table. The other eight were standing around shouting at one another. Assisted by his new-found visual acuity, Enzo saw the roman numerals for one through ten on the chests of the Dark Apostles who had arrived at the Great Hall before him.
Enzo recognized one of the Apostles. The Apostle with a V on his chest was Melkior, also known as Kevin Avery, the Revenant who had been killed by an orc while Enzo’s group retreated back to the West Gate. Enzo would have said something to Melkior immediately, but he could not possibly be heard over the sound of the Dark Apostles arguing.
“What the Hell are you saying!?” Apostle 7 shouted. He had greasy slicked-back hair, and anger was evident throughout his whole body. His face was scrunched up in anger, his shoulders were tight, and one of his fists was raised so that he could punctate his points. “We didn’t change sides just because GM did us a solid! If we kill GM, we get out! That hasn’t changed!”
The First Apostle, a blonde man with shoulder-length hair, was the target of the Seventh Apostle's vitriol. The First Apostle was sitting at one of the ornate wooden chairs that surrounded the table in the center of the Great Hall.
“I don’t know what town you spawned in, Seven, but I assume it wasn’t New Arcadia,” said One. “We caught GM outside of the safezone. We tried to kill him. As you can imagine, it didn’t go well. We shot him with anointed bullets; it didn’t work. What makes you think we can kill him now?”
“If not bullets, then something else!” Seven shouted. “We can kill him with magic… or our bare hands! We are so much stronger as Apostles!”
“If we can find him,” the Eighth Apostle, a tall woman with short blue hair, said. “If you haven’t noticed, he’s not here.”
“Seven,” the Fourth Apostle, an Asian man with a sharp jawline and short black hair, began. “You seem like the kinda guy that can only play a shooter if you’re convinced that the enemy soldiers are evil.”
“What are you talking about!?” Seven growled.
“In a video game, when you kill an enemy soldier, it’s not because he’s evil or otherwise morally incorrect, it’s because he would kill you otherwise,” Four said. “It’s the same way for soldiers; it’s the same way for us. A soldier kills his enemy because he has to; not because his enemy is evil. In that same vein, we need to follow GM’s orders because we’ll die otherwise.”
Seven raised his hand as if he was about to say something, but he was cut off by the Ninth Apostle, a Middle Eastern man who had been standing to the side with his arms crossed. “It would be evil to help an entity as heinous as GM in any way no matter the circumstances,” Nine said.
“Exactly!” Seven said. “Finally, someone’s talking sense. Thanks, Nine.”
“It’s Kamil,” Nine said. “I am not a tool of GM.”
“Thanks, Kamil,” Seven said. “Who else is on my side?”
After a moment of no reaction, Seven said, “No one?” Then, a few seconds later, Dendrite raised his hand with a sigh. Enzo followed suit a second later, though Poldra’s hand stayed where it was. Dendrite and Enzo turned to her; Polda merely shrugged her shoulders.
“Thank you, Twelve, Thirteen,” Seven said. “As for the remaining nine…”
Melkior, who was the remaining Apostle sitting at the table, interrupted Seven. “Before we Apostles schism, perhaps we should cut this line of conversation short. We can hold a civil war after GM has put all his cards on the table. Does that sound okay? For now, we are neither on GM’s side nor against it. Can we all operate with that mindset for now?”
“Why bother?” Four said. “We should just hold a vote now on supporting GM. It’ll be nine to four.”
“That’s probably not such a good idea,” Poldra said.
“Why not? Isn’t Democracy supposed to be a good thing?” Four said.
“If we were to hold that vote now, I’d abstain,” Poldra said, “and I suspect that a lot of other people here would also abstain.”
The Third Apostle, a bald black man, said, “I feel the same way. We just got here. It’s too early for us to do something so big.”
“Fine,” Four threw his hands up in the air, “we’ll go with Five’s idea for now. What should we do, then, oh great mediator?”
“We could all introduce ourselves so that we don’t have to call each other by the number on our chest,” Melkior said. “One, why don’t you go first.”
“Whatever you say, Five,” One smiled, “though, I kind of like the number thing.” One cleared his throat and said, “I’m the First Dark Apostle, [Svenheim28]. I guess I should say something interesting about myself.” Four chuckled. “I spawned in New Arcadia alongside Two, Three, and Four. We went outside the walls, and we ran into a Deluvian with a gatling gun. I died first, and the others tell me they died a few seconds later.”
“You didn’t have to tell them that, Sven,” Four muttered.
“Two,” Mekior said.
The Second Apostle, a short man with brown hair, said, “I’m [Talwar13]. I guess I’m the Second Apostle.”
“I’m the third one,” Three said. “My username is a bit dumb, so you can just call me Darren.”
“Your username isn’t lame, man,” Four said and patted Three on the back. “It’s a witty reference... Right...” Four shook his head to regain his composure, “I am [Kojiro19], GM’s Fourth Dark Apostle!” He swept his white-gloved hand dramatically as he introduced himself.
Sven and Talwar nodded their heads and smiled as Kojiro introduced himself. “I like it!” Sven said audibly. “That’ll get their attention!” Sven and Kojiro high fived.
“Right,” Melkior tried not to sound judgmental. “I am Melkior, the Fifth. I spawned in Osiris City. In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I met Apostles 12 and 13 in Osiris before my death.”
The Sixth Apostle, a young Asian woman with short hair, quietly said, “I’m [NullPoEx], but my friends call me Null. I’m, uh, number six.”
There was a half second of silence. Enzo wasn’t sure that Null had finished speaking, but Seven had taken the brief silence as confirmation that he should begin speaking. “I’m [Nailman1],” he said. “As you can see, the number on my chest says seven. “I’m from Fulvang City, and I’m a deontologist.”
“Orthodontist?” Kojiro asked, genuinely confused.
“Ah, deontology,” Melkior said. “A valuable but ultimately imperfect form of philosophy. I’d be happy to argue deontology with you later. Like, for example, the deontological value of self-preservation.”
“And that’s my cue to cut off the conversation,” a voice came that completely filled the Great Hall. A small part of Enzo’s brain informed him of who the voice belonged to. Enzo could tell that it was the same for the other twelve Apostles, because they all got to their feet or otherwise assumed a fighting stance.
A veritable ocean of solid shadow flowed through the Great Hall’s open windows. The Thirteen Dark Apostles were blinded for a moment before the shadows dissipated as they all coagulated into a single malignant tumor. The shadows completely disappeared, revealing a man standing at the head of the table.
GM, who attired the same save for a handgun in a holster at his hip, stood at the head of the table.
“I can’t stand philosophy,” GM said to the shocked Apostles, “especially moral philosophy.”
GM removed his green military jacket, folded it, and placed it on the central table. “I’m more into the applied sciences, myself.”
Melkior, the Fifth Apostle
https://i.imgur.com/DA1FnLK.jpg [https://i.imgur.com/DA1FnLK.jpg]