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"Old… naked people. This is not how I expected to end my day on Artemia, my dudes. Or maybe I’m not even here and still high on my bed.”
“Can you shut the fuck up?” Talia hissed, her voice a sharp whisper. “Anyway, I don’t think they care about those corpse puppets you guys eradicated at all… or maybe they don’t even know about them.”
The air was damp, clinging to their clothes and sinking into their skin as they crouched on the roof, watching the eerie scene below. The sun had long vanished, and though sounds from the city continued in the distance, none reached the unsettling stillness that enveloped the estate.
Beneath them, across the courtyard, the old, naked figures still hadn’t moved an inch.
“Julian…” Talia whispered, her sigh filled with unease as she turned to rest her back against the roof. “Are you sure all of them are alive?”
“I can’t be sure. But I heard heartbeats.” Julian whispered back.
He’d edged close enough earlier to listen and determine whether they were corpses—and, unsettlingly, they weren’t. At least, not the ones he could make out before retreating to avoid being discovered by anyone from the estate.
Two hundred of them, old people who have not even moved an inch… all of them are possibly alive.
But while the crowd of old people remained unmoving, the people who had arrived with the ship had already set up some sort of altar—an ornate table they carried out from inside the mansion.
Perhaps it wasn’t technically an altar, as they hadn’t lit any candles on it or even placed some sort of idol. But Julian and the group could only assume it was meant for some ritual, considering how they’d placed it right in front of the crowd.
“This is… getting scary.” Talia’s quiet breaths seemed to mirror everyone’s unease. “I’ve been in dungeons and fought weird monsters that were terrifying, but these are people. Literal people.”
She wasn’t the only one struggling with the creeping dread. Julian glanced over to see Juliet’s lips parted, quivering slightly; her fingers were wound so tightly around her weapon that her knuckles had turned white. Besides that, she hadn’t moved—almost as frozen as the figures below.
“Are… you alright, Juliet?” Julian asked, gently placing his hand over hers to calm her.
“I… am. But the little girl’s right, Boss.” Juliet’s voice was a shaky breath. “Something’s not right here. I mean… I expected your quest would get creepy after seeing you forge those [Epic] weapons and the shadows claiming them… but this? This is a cult.”
“Let’s not sit around here any longer,” Titus muttered, sliding down the roof slightly. “We’ve seen all the entry and exit points, we know the number of hostiles. We’re ready to move.”
“Easy, Titus.” Talia’s eyes shifted back to him before refocusing on the estate. “Look, I’ll be honest: we don’t even know if Julian’s quest is related to this. I mean, it probably is, since he said something about shadows, but rushing in blind won’t help. Sorry, Julian.”
“What for?” Julian tilted his head.
“Well, you know, because…” Talia gestured vaguely at her own eyes.
“My dude.” Dyrroth sighed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think Gigadude cares about any of that.”
“Right…” Talia’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at Julian, who looked completely puzzled by her words. “Let’s just… wait a bit longer—at least until we know what we’re actually dealing with. We need to see what’s inside that crate.”
“Roger that.” Titus grunted, crawling back to the top of the roof to continue scanning the estate.
“They’re… really listening to her, huh?” Juliet murmured, leaning toward Cyrus, who had been muttering quietly to the Chat, trying to figure out how to stream a bunch of naked elderly people without being flagged.
“Oh. That’s because she’s the leader of their party,” Cyrus replied, glancing at Juliet before nodding toward Talia.
“She is? Not the bald guy?” Juliet’s eyes widened.
“Nope.” Cyrus shrugged. “Talia’s smart, very smart. Possibly low EQ like the Sword Junkie here, but she’s very smart.”
“You’ve said that three times.” Juliet frowned, focusing on Talia with renewed curiosity.
“Because it’s true.” Cyrus grinned. “She’s a Catapult champion.”
“I have no idea what that is,” Juliet raised an eyebrow.
“Just think of it as a… sport where you have to calculate the trajectory of your ship almost instantly several times in the span of seconds or you risk hitting something and dying since you would have no way to maneuver mid-flight.” Cyrus explained.
“Yeah, I still have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Good, because I’d have breached my Humanity Engineering agreement if you did.” Cyrus smirked, covering his mouth as Juliet’s confusion deepened.
“What—”
“Movement!” Titus raised his hand, catching everyone’s attention. “They’re finally opening the package.”
The group snapped to attention, their heads popping up over the roof’s edge as soon as they heard Titus’s words.
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Below, the three robed figures began prying the crate open, their movements slow, deliberate, almost reverent, very much like how gently they carried it to the estate.
It took several careful minutes, but soon the group understood why they treated the crate as such.
“Is that…” Juliet’s eyes widened even further, shock clear on her face, “...Is that a child?”
It was a child. The crate was holding a small child.
No. Perhaps small would be an understatement as the group could actually barely see the child from the distance. The child was perhaps the size of a hand and a forearm, and they could easily make that distinction as when one of the robed individuals gently lifted the child up, he did so just with both of his palms. And perhaps the weirdest thing about it all was that it wasn’t a baby, no. It literally looked like a child, barely passed being a toddler, perhaps 5 years old.
“Oh, shit…” Cyrus whispered, his voice tense. “...It’s an Eldazen.”
“Here…?” Juliet’s shock grew, her gaze darting to Julian. “W…wait, wait… Boss. I know this is your quest, but this is… this affects the entire country now. Maybe we need to report this.”
“Hm.” Julian glanced at Juliet, but before he could say anything, a soft, chilling hymn echoed across the courtyard.
“What the…”
The elderly figures, which had remained motionless for hours, started swaying, their heads bobbing left to right in complete, eerie unison.
“Okay, it’s official…” Talia shivered, rubbing her arms. “...This is officially the creepiest thing I’ve ever experienced.”
The humming grew louder as the robed figures raised the Eldazen child above their heads, only to slowly lower it onto the altar. The child looked heartbreakingly delicate, lost in the sea of faces staring up in reverence.
“If that child’s Eldazen, then…” Titus murmured, his eyes shifting to the shortest robed figure out of the three, “...I’m certain that one is too.”
“What are they doing here?” Juliet gulped. “They’re the ones who cut off trade with us. Don’t tell me they’re breaking it?”
The robed individuals gathered around the altar, kneeling as they raised their hands, fingers curled as though sketching invisible symbols in the air. And soon, the shadows around the estate began to pulse and tremble, at first with slight tremors, then with wilder and wilder movements.
The shadows of the old people too, began to separate from their forms, stretching out like dark, sentient streams rebelling against their entranced owners. Slowly, they merged, slithering across the courtyard floor toward the altar.
The shadows gathered and crawled up the sides of the altar, swirling around the child’s tiny feet.
Then, a pulse.
The child, who had been still until now, flinched, and then, with no warning, began to cry—a wail so pure, so innocent, that it cut through the dark ritual’s malice. That cry, however, was not a cry of a child being woken up, but of a child hurting.
“That’s it!” Titus slid down, his voice breaking the group’s trance. “No more waiting!”
Without looking back, he leaped from the roof.
"Titus!" Talia clicked her tongue in frustration. "Damn it! We didn’t spend all this time watching just to rush in without a plan!"
But Titus didn’t listen, already breaking from their cover as he sprinted toward the estate.
“Newbie.” Talia turned to Julian, but he didn’t need any more instruction; he nodded, determination already set in his eyes.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Julian murmured, sliding down the roof to follow Titus. The others exchanged quick glances and, perhaps with a resigned sigh, joined Julian in the charge after their teammate.
“Plan?” Julian asked as Talia caught up beside him.
“The old people won’t be a threat—we need to focus on the ones in the robes first,” Talia said as they neared the estate gates. “Assume the smallest one is an Eldazen mage; that makes them the most dangerous. And as much as I hate to do this… we’ll need to grab that child as leverage and use it as a hostage.”
“Titus!” Julian called, and Titus glanced back, catching the signal instantly.
“I’ll infiltrate through the back,” Titus said, peeling off from the group and moving to the side of the estate to enter unnoticed.
“And us?” Julian asked.
“Where else?” Talia smirked, though there was a flicker of nerves as she truly found the old naked people creepy. She pointed toward the front gate. “We go in loud and make sure the baldie goes unnoticed.”
Talia unsheathed her longsword as they ran, and she didn’t hesitate at all as she reached the gate, she slammed her weapon down on the chains, snapping them with a metallic clang that echoed into the eerie quiet.
The naked, swaying figures nearest to the gate didn’t flinch. Their bodies continued moving, heads bobbing in a rhythm, mouths issuing that low, guttural chant. Not one of them even looked their way or stopped at all.
But something else did.
The Eldazen child’s cries ceased abruptly as the fingers of the three robed figures stilled, the shadows that had been creeping toward the altar, abruptly recoiling back to their owners as the three figures glanced back at the noise.
The three figures turned sharply, and before the shortest of them could react, Dyrroth’s daggers were already inches from her neck. But alas, in a heartbeat, the robed figure on the right lunged at Dyrroth, kicking him away and sending him sliding several meters across the stone ground.
The second robed figure didn’t hesitate to also attack, raising a crossbow and firing at Dyrroth without a word.
But Talia quickly dashed forward, blocking the bolt with her longsword and barely flinching as it rebounded off the blade.
Dyrroth retaliated instantly, throwing a dagger toward the one holding the crossbow. But the robed figure dodged with a backward tilt, her hood slipping to reveal her face—cold and unyielding, almost emotionless. Undeterred, she raised her crossbow again, this time pulling another from beneath her cloak, firing both in rapid succession.
“Shit!”
“Got you!” Juliet interceded, swinging her war axe in front of Talia and deflecting both bolts. She didn’t pause, charging the woman with the crossbows before she could reload. But before Juliet could land a blow, the robed figure who had kicked Dyrroth intervened, pulling her ally back just as Juliet’s axe was about to cleave her companion’s head in half.
Yes, they were both women.
Meanwhile, Julian found himself locked in a different standoff entirely. He stood frozen, staring at the short, robed figure who was staring back at him with an odd expression. It wasn’t hostility—it was something almost like recognition, a strange familiarity he couldn’t shake.
While the others were caught in combat, the shortest robed figure simply observed Julian, as though weighing him. And slowly, she unlaced her robe and removed it completely—and true enough, she was an Eldazen.
Just as Cyrus had described, she was extraordinarily short, half the size of an average human—or hyum, in this case—but perfectly proportional, delicate. Her exposed arms were covered in intricate tattoos, symbols that spiraled like living lines of ink, their patterns hauntingly similar to the mark Searadyn’s Avatar had left on Julian’s hand, but not quite.
But beyond that, something else struck Julian—her scent. A dried flower’s fragrance, sharp and distinct, like a perfume. It was the same exact scent as…
“...What’s your relationship with the child?” Julian asked, slowly unwrapping Searadyn’s Veil as he glanced at the child on the altar. “You smell alike.”
“Interloper, my bond with the child is no matter of thine concern. she whispered, her voice a calm, eerie calm as her tattooed hands began to glow.
“Is he your son?” Julian’s gaze shifted momentarily to the child, whose breaths were coming in heavy, strained gasps.
“He was.” Her voice trembled, but an almost crazed smile twisted her lips as she spoke.
“But no longer. He is become the child of shadows, the vessel to guide us back unto the light... the very incarnation of Orpuk, reborn.”
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