In the long hallways of the castle, a young man with a jet-black scholarly robe was striding toward some direction with a purpose in mind. Without the usual black hat that covered his head, his white silvery hair was slicked back in a style. He had a pair of thin-framed glasses and a haughty expression that would catch attention.
Yan Tayfun was overly excited today as a glimpse of curiosity washed over his piercing blue eyes. Yesterday, milady had told him that she would have a new disciple. Finally, someone who would share his pain and suffering! He was tired of running errands for her esteemed master.
Tayfun wondered what kind of person the new disciple would be. Her character, talent, and looks - all interested him. He was filled with pride as he would soon be called a senior.
Although Hakan had many talented students in the military, she had never taken more than a single disciple; as such, his expectations for the junior were high. He wondered how this new disciple had caught her master’s attention as she had high standards. Fellow disciples were no different from brothers and sisters. Tayfun was happy to finally have one.
As he approached the infirmary, he saw a young servant, her expression focused, delicately spoon-feeding a boy whose fragile appearance masked the chaos of the events that had plunged him into a coma.
She was careful not to get the boy choked. Sensing another presence, the servant paused and turned slightly, catching sight of Tayfun.
“Greetings, Sir. I am sorry as I cannot properly greet you at the moment. Who may you be?”
“Are you Yana Fatma?”
Fatma nodded. Fatma carefully adjusted the pillows to gently lay the boy back down. After ensuring he was comfortable, she approached the silver-haired man with a tinge of curiosity in her eyes. Her gaze was keen as she assessed him.
This morning, the same as yesterday, she had rushed toward her uncle’s chambers the very moment the starset loomed in the glassy skies. Her uncle had told her that he had found a teacher for her, so she had been very expectant today.
“Are you an instructor?”
Tayfun raised his eyebrows in surprise, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He pointed at himself with a heightened chin as he exclaimed.
“Hm? What do you mean? Did you not know that milady had a disciple? I am your senior brother! You can call me brother Tayfun from now on!”
Pride swelled in his chest as he stood there, consciously straightening his finely chosen attire. He tried to make the best first impression, and as such he mustered all his courage and even dressed up in his finest attire beforehand.
‘Cool, aren’t I? Haha, she might accidentally fall for me.’
Tayfun thought. His charm usually had a noticeable effect on the ladies.
‘Who is this weirdo?’
Fatma thought as she cringed. She did not show it on her face yet all the reliability that the young guy had fell in her eyes. This cretin was just a clown.
Thank god he was just a disciple. Fatma did not have much hopes for the master either, since if this guy passed for a disciple then how dependable could a master truly be?
“Ah, is that so...”
Fatma responded, somewhat downcast. Tayfun was stunned to see the light enthusiasm this lady was gushing with gone in a moment.
“Let me feed the young master first. It’s almost over. We can go meet with the master then, Tayfun.”
Tayfun was staggered. Not ‘Sir Tayfun’, not ‘Big brother Tayfun’, not even ‘Warrior Tayfun’, but just ‘Tayfun’? All his fantasies were shattered.
“Ah, is that so…”
This time, he responded, downcast.
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As the group ventured deeper into the labyrinth, they were swallowed by the bowels of the earth itself. The cavernous walls, like the ribs of a colossal beast, loomed overhead, dripping with the slime of millennia.
Underfoot, the path was treacherous, slick with wetness. The air was oppressive, thick with the stench of decay and cold. Passages twisted into the darkness, forking and leading them deeper into the heart of the labyrinth.
The constant drip of water was occasionally punctuated by the eerie sound of something else moving in the darkness, just out of sight.
“Father, what are keepers?”
“Terrifying monsters. They are the parasites eating away at the world.”
“Why is that so?”
The boy’s crystal clear eyes brimmed with curiosity. He was sitting on the lap of his father, one of the twelve chieftains of the Bayar clan, while they rode on a gigantic wolf. Behind them, there was a swarm of smaller wolves, each having a seeker mount on them.
“You will see. We are going to fight for a rune in zone C-23.”
“Isn’t that dangerous? Monsters are scary… I mean strong.”
The child asked hesitantly, not wanting to seem fretful to his father. The chieftain’s gaze was steely while the child’s young mind already wove tales as grand as his father’s deeds.
“Bhahaha! Are you scared, son? You were born a herald, from Earth no less! This is your second life yet you are afraid of mere beasts?”
“No, father! I was just interested! That is all!”
“Haha! Of course, my son isn’t scared. Scared? Ha! When you are with your mighty father, no less.”
The chieftain teased the boy while giving an excessive laugh that could be heard by all the warriors behind.
“Hahahaha!”
The warriors joined the leader in his laugh. Their morale surged to the peak. What was there to be scared of? Even a three-year-old boy joined them on their hunt.
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Recently, a smaller group had disappeared in sector C-23. All the anomalies in this accursed labyrinth have a cause and correlation. Something definitely must have happened, and as such, the seekers were alerted. Any moment of distraction could cause one’s downfall.
This was another reason why he brought his son. Besides showing him the realities of this world at an early age, he wanted to boost the morale of his warriors.
“Why are they called keepers, father?”
Ignorant of the dangers of their surroundings, the child continued on with the barrage of his questions. But chieftain Chimeg didn’t mind.
“They guard the runes. Each keeper has a rune embedded into their hearts, otherwise known as cores. Those runes are in accordance with their ranks. For example, a rank two keeper would have a rank two rune at the site of their core. Do you get it?”
“Yes!”
“Of course you do!”
Chimeg fiercely patted his son’s head as he gave a ferocious smile. His coat of dark leather moved with the rhythm of the beast beneath him. Encircling his broad shoulders was a fur collar, so rich and dense it seemed as if he had draped the spirit of the wilds around him.
Clad in armor and carrying a heavy sword on his back, he was not a figure to be reckoned with. His mount, a noble beast as untamed as his master, bore him forward, muscles rolling like distant thunder.
“But why do we fight them, father?”
Although the child had close to no memories of his home planet, he remembered that Earth was a relatively peaceful place with no feuds. Upon hearing his question, his father tsked as he lightly slapped the boy’s head.
“Ouch!”
“You moron! We - the Bayar warriors - never run from a battle! The spirit of war is ingrained in our souls. Those monsters have eaten your ancestors alive. And you want to let them off the hook?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Remember! We, the seekers, and they, the keepers, are irreconcilable enemies. They want to devour our souls and exterminate all the populace above the surface!”
“I understand.”
“I can’t hear you!”
“Understo-”
Suddenly, the wolf halted, shaking as its legs gave away. Following the lead, all the other wolves also stopped. The boy was confused and as such looked at his father’s face for the answer, upon which he became terrified.
Because his father was terrified.
“Ka. Ka. Ka. What do we- we- we- have here? Hmmmmm? Hmmm? Hm?”
The boy, following his father’s eyes and the place where the voice came from, looked into the distant darkness. There, illuminated by the light of torches, a silhouette of a figure became visible.
“RUN!”
Despite Chimeg’s warning, none would move. None could move.
And even without Chimeg’s warning, all the seekers had already felt the deathly aura rush through their very essence as their skin was palpated by fear. They instantaneously became enamored with dread.
The boy was more confused than terrified. As he was not yet a seeker, much less an awakened one, he couldn’t feel the approaching creature's aura.
Why was his mighty father, a matchless warrior, scared of the sight of a little girl? As the boy looked at the approaching creature, he could not sense any danger coming from it.
Upon seeing that the wolf wouldn’t budge, Chimeg quickly dropped off of it and grabbed his heavy sword, sweat drenching down his forehead.
“DO NOT APPROACH!”
He screamed at the top of his lungs. Yet, the figure of a little girl did not heed any care for Chimeg’s warning.
Chimeg raised his hand. At his command, all the archers and mages became prepared to shoot. As the heavy tension lingered in the air, one of the veteran warriors at the front voiced his concern.
“Chimeg! We cannot shoot! We must run! I am not sure but that thing looks like-”
“We can't!”
The usually brave and fearless man was as pale as a ghost, as if his soul had left his body. Chimeg also wanted to retreat, yet the wolves wouldn’t budge. Showing their backs to their opponent was even more foolish than fighting it. He himself was not afraid of death, yet he feared for his son behind his cover.
Chimeg focused his gaze at the approaching figure of the keeper.
The figure of a girl had a gothic charm, dressed as if ready to attend a masquerade held in the heart of a forest. Her voluminous dress bloomed around her, a spectacle of black and blood-red fabric, with layers of lace that cascaded into frills and ruffles. The dress spoke of midnight whispers, each folding a dark petal of elegance.
Her porcelain skin was a stark contrast to the boldness of her attire. Her eyes, large and doe-like, were painted in hues of lavender that added to her mystique.
Crowning her head was a tiny hat, adorned with a feather that node to the fashions of a lost era. Curly locks of chestnut hair framed her face, cascading down her shoulders like spirals of burnished copper. The hat perched precariously amidst this riot of curls.
In her hand, she held a miniature bag, a perfect replica of a vintage handbag one might find in the possession of a high society, complete with sinister charm.
Just as Chimeg lowered his hand in a command for the archers to shoot, he gasped, immediately regretting his actions.
“No way…”
Chimeg exclaimed, his mind wavering in the midst of chaos. He finally recognized the figure.
Rank three keeper.
Voodoo Doll.
The Keeper of Bewitchment.
The arrows, instead of going for the keeper, came at the seekers. The archers shot each other to death. The mages did the same, shooting a relentless swarm of spells at each other. The warriors slit each other’s throats.
In a moment, most of the expedition group was massacred, by their own hands no less.
The doll was poised, one foot slightly forward, in striped stockings that ended in tiny, delicate shoes. She opened her bag as it sucked the souls of fallen warriors. There would be no afterlife for them. The wolves also tore each other apart.
“No- No- No- heralds… Only- only- only- boy.”
The delicate figure of a little girl made a saddened expression, as if her candy had been stolen.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Out of nowhere, she gave an ear-piercing screech. Everybody except Chimeg had their ears bleed as they became deaf. The boy also had his eardrums burst as he lost consciousness.
The seekers fell to the ground, all except Chimeg.
“I will kill you!”
He desperately ran toward the keeper as he was transforming into the form of an enormous Cyclop. He was using the soul of a rank two keeper in his body.
“Ka? Ka? KA! Useful- useful- useful- you are. Good! Good! Good!”
Yet before he could fully transform, Chimeg involuntarily halted. He had lost control of his body! Only then did he feel that there were invisible strings attached to his body.
Voodoo Doll slowly strode toward the unconscious boy on top of the witless wolf. At the time of her arrival, although it took her a few moments to arrive there, none were left standing.
“No! Stop… Do not… Do not touch my son!”
Chimeg’s plea was a raw whisper, his visage flushed with the heat of primal fear, eyes wide, mirroring a horror that eclipsed all he had known. Chimeg cried, his face as red as blood, his expression, in contrast, helpless and terrified.
She slowly placed her hand on top of the boy's head. As she crushed his head, she slowly took his tiny brain and chewed on it.
“Name. Name. Name? Jerome, Boston, Bioengineer. No- No- No- family.”
Chimeg paled. He watched as the doll feasted on his son’s brain. His world narrowed to a pinpoint of despair, a horror so acute it threatened to cleave his spirit from flesh.
The doll further looked up at the boy’s memories.
“Hellion? Hellion! Hellion??? No- No- No- information. Ka? Ka. Ka…”
She was disappointed. Her expression contorted into an ugly grimace that didn’t suit her otherwise cute childlike face.