Rather than attacking back, the ritualist who'd just stood back up lowered his hood, revealing a very much human face. He narrowed a pair of dark eyes, leaning forward as if not believing what he was seeing. Eli healed him again, doing a small amount of damage. However, he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he walked forward with a questioning expression.

As the robed figure drew near, Eli saw that it was a rather young man, perhaps in his early thirties, with a clean-shaven face and a pale complexion, but not unnaturally so, like Ephraim's unnatural skin tone. Dark rings under his eyes whispered of exhaustion.

"Uh. Hello?" Eli asked.

"Who are you?" the man asked as the rest of the robed figures in front of them pulled down their hoods as well.

"I’m Eli," he said, trying to be casual. "Who are you?"

"Sebastian," he replied, glancing over Eli's shoulder. "You have destroyed a great many of our followers. And now, you attack me? May I inquire as to why you would do such a thing?"

Eli glanced at Samantha, who shrugged, then looked back at Sebastian. "They were skeletons. Undead, you know?"

"Our community. Dead, yes, but set to be returned to life in this ritual. You murdered them. After all the work that we poured into this. Years of preparation for a single night. Now, we've lost so much, all because of you."

"Um, sorry?" Eli asked, glancing at the others. Three of them were women—two were young, perhaps even younger than Eli himself. One had red hair, another blonde, and the third was an old lady with gray hair in a tight bun, her back crooked from age. The four remaining figures were old men, all of them balding, with gray hair and slumped shoulders. They all looked haggard and immensely disappointed.

"You’re holding prisoners!" Samantha shouted, pointing at all of them. "Let them go, and we can leave you to it." She glanced over to Eli. "I think."

"Prisoners?" Sebastian spat. "We’re holding no prisoners here. This is a sacred ritual. Anyone who does not want to take part has no place here. This is a celebration of life."

"In that case. What’s in those?" Eli pointed to the pools of black goop.

"That is the essence of night," Sebastian replied in a nasal, condescending tone, his voice raspy. "The material through which we can provide miracles to poor souls who lost their lives."

"What’s in the essence?"

"Sacrifices."

"Aha," Eli said, pointing like he'd just unraveled their sinister plot. "Sacrifices! Evil!

"Willing sacrifices."

"Willing sacrifices? You must be joking," Samantha said.

Eli inspected Sebastian.

Sebastian. ??? Level 28.

"Question mark?" Eli muttered. "I’d like to speak with your willing sacrifices, please," he said carefully.

Sebastian was not human. What did that mean, exactly?

"No."

One of the younger women, the red-haired one, shook her fist at them. "You ruined it! My grandpa was among those skeletons. He used to read to me before bed. And now he’s dead, forever!"

Eli raised his hands as if to defend himself from the words. "Why were they carrying weapons, then? They attacked us! Everything down here attacked us! That huge hound thing? The rogues? What about Hannes the ruler skeleton dude?"

"Everyone is buried with at least one weapon," Sebastian answered. "How else are we to defend ourselves?"

Eli turned to Samantha. "This is really confusing."

"What’s confusing about it?" Samantha asked, not taking her eyes off Sebastian. "They obviously have the prisoners in those pits. We just have to go there and pull them out the head back so we can get some sleep."

Eli spoke out of the side of his mouth, trying to whisper. "I’m not so sure we can beat them. They’re all level 28."

All eight of them were coming forward now, crowding around Eli and Samantha. Eli tried to take a step back, but one of the old men grabbed his shoulder. The grip was like a vice.

"What are you doing?" Eli asked, fear setting in.

"They’re murderers! War criminals!" the blonde young woman said, her lips pulled back in anger to reveal a perfect set of white teeth.

"Destroyers," another one said. "They deserve death."

"Death," an older woman said, slowly shaking her head. "If we kill a killer, all it does is create more killers. I say we throw them out and be done with it. The ritual must continue. It should not have been interrupted at all."

"Throw them out?" Sebastian asked, turning his nose up. "We cannot let them go. Look at him. He’s obviously a Priest of the Dying Light. They should all be extinct!"

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"You're young yet, Sebastian," one of the old men said. "What need does the Light have of priests when it is already dead? I say we throw them in the pit. They wished to speak to our willing participants—so be it."

"You want to turn them?" Sebastian asked. "Against their will?"

One of the old men, with dark, all-black eyes, nodded. "Yes."

"What are you really?" Eli asked. "Let’s end this charade."

"A Crusader," the old man muttered. "They have been extinct for a thousand years. And now a Priest and a Scholar as well. Don’t you find that a little strange?"

"We’ll have them reveal their real intentions once they are part of us," another one added.

More hands grabbed Eli, and the women took hold of Samantha. Both of them cast spells immediately—Eli with a Sigil of Light, and then Heal, cursing as his Aegis failed to register their hands holding him as attacks. The stars in Samantha’s Spreading Light struck everyone holding her, actually doing some decent damage, but they did not relent. Eli’s Sigil didn’t do much, but the faces of those holding him twisted into masks of pain and frustration. Their determination won out, however, and they pulled Eli and Samantha to stand right before the pools of inky black corruption.

"Eli!" Samantha screamed.

"Samantha!" he shouted back, frustration and impotent rage warring in his chest as he futilely tried to pull himself free. There was no getting away from these people. His Heals didn’t do enough, and Turn Undead didn't proc no matter how many times he tried. It did not register these people as undead—they were clearly not skeletons or zombies, but not humans either.

They threw him into the pool of black goo. The last thing he heard was Samantha screaming, "You fuckers! I’m gonna get you for this!"

It was like being submerged in syrup. His body had no buoyancy, sinking like a stone. This was not at all like what had happened with Ephraim. This really felt like drowning. Only Eli didn’t drown. After quickly sinking to the bottom, a buff appeared in his status bar.

Champion of Light: The dark cannot reach you.

And it couldn’t. The corruption shied away from him, leaving a small gap between his body and the endless darkness. It wanted to envelop him and invade even his sense of self. Eli could feel it. But it could not. He shone with light, pushing the darkness away.

If he moved too quickly, his body still touched the goop, but that only made it shy away even faster as it sizzled and squirmed, trying to get away. Unsure what else to do, he began feeling around, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. The pool was a rather big one, even if it wasn't all that deep. Eli moved around at random, desperate to find a way out. Samantha didn't have the buff. Was she even able to breathe? What would the corruption do to her?

Crossing right through the goop, Eli found something. A man. When Eli first approached, the man's side revealed itself, hunched over and in what looked like medieval style stocks where his head and hands were stuck between two wooden planks, holding him in place. Not that he needed much holding because he wasn’t struggling at all. They were too late. No, not too late. He began shifting around a little when Eli's presence made the corruption shy away from his tall and muscular body.

Eli hurried around the stocks and came face to face with the prisoner. A black guy Eli recognized, if vaguely. The prisoner stared back at him, dumbfounded, with large, expressive eyes. A nose once broken but now healed, coupled with a strong jaw and a buzz cut, made him remember. This guy worked in the finance department of Infinite Innovation Solutions. If Eli remembered correctly, he used to be in the military or something.

"Simon?"

"Aren't you Mr. Thomas's secretary?" Simon asked, narrowing his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Administrative assistant," Eli muttered, then waved the comment away. "I'm Eli."

Simon d'Lear. Human. Level 10 Crusader of The Dying Light.

Simon's obvious confusion wasn't letting up. “What the hell is going on here? I thought I was the only one sent to this place. How are you possibly here, Eli?”

"We're all here," Eli said, pulling a small lever to open the stocks. "All of Infinite Innovation Solutions, as far as I know. What are you doing here in this pool?"

“I’m trying to get home."

“What do you mean?” Eli asked, surprised.

“That’s what Ephraim told me,” Simon explained. “They are doing a ritual to send me home while also helping their friends.”

“You mean the skeletons?” Eli asked.

“Skeletons?” Simon replied. “I haven’t seen any skeletons, only Ephraim and his disciples. Did you meet them? You must have met them if you're here. Did they send you down here too, so you can go home with me?”

“I really doubt this is about sending you home. They lied to you, Simon. Ephraim was a bad guy. A monster, even. Why would they put you in stocks?"

“The dark stuff here is invading my body, and it’s... it’s not so pleasant,” Simon said. “So they put this here to help me stand up.”

"Didn't you see the office building?"

"The building?" Simon asked. "No building. I've been in the church. Then down here. Never went back outside after Ephraim found me."

Eli's eyes widened. "Shit! We have to get out of here. Samantha!"

"No! I'm staying down here so I can get home."

"This bullshit can't get you home," Eli insisted.

"You sure?"

"Almost certain."

Eli noticed Simon’s health. It was dangerously low, so he healed him back up to full.

“Whoa. What was that? Feels a lot better, actually,” Simon said, his eyes clearing a little.

“How long have you been in here?” Eli asked.

“Feels like days."

“Let’s get you out,” Eli said.

He then cast Sigil of Light on the floor, covering almost the entire size of the pool of inky darkness. It hissed and shrieked, boiling away when coming in contact with the Sigil of Light.

Simon coughed and wheezed as he climbed. Some corruption still clung to him. Eli healed him a few more times, getting the last remnants of corruption still trying to keep a hold of Simon, as they made it to the top and over the edge.

As they climbed, he heard Samantha's voice. "You get him up right now or I'll strangle you with those stupid cult robes!"

Eli's shoulders relaxed. Samantha was fine, for the moment at least. When he got up, he saw corruption clinging to Samantha's leg and arm, turning her skin dark. But that was nothing compared to the one next to her. The dark shape of a man crouched on the floor coughing, almost entirely corrupted.

Eli quickly healed them both, chasing the corruption away, then threw a mana potion to Samantha. She grabbed it and downed its contents, replenishing her empty bar.

"About time you joined me up here," she said, her tone of voice and her eyes both wild with fear and exhiliration.

"How did you escape?" Eli asked, nervously glancing at the fuming ritualists.

"The corruption doesn't like light. We already knew this, Eli," she said, taking on a mock lecturing tone. "Who's your friend?"

Simon coughed, clearing his throat. “Nice to meet you. I'm Simon."

“He's with Infinite Innovation Solutions. Not sure yet how he ended up here. Who’s your guy?”

Having healed the one beside Samantha, burning away the corruption, a red-haired youth appeared. He was freckled, with a large nose and blue eyes that seemed to glitter with intensity as he stood. He was perhaps nineteen at the most, but the sneer on his face made him look older.

Hellion. Corrupted Human. Level 23.

No class. That probably meant he wasn't from the company.

“Who are you?” Eli asked.

“You ruined everything,” Hellion spat. “They were saving my ma!”