”What on earth did she do this time?” Emilia pondered and stared at the behemoth of a machine that had fallen on top of the underwater path and prevented them from getting to where they hoped Anastacia and Leggy had gone to.
Water dripped in from the seam where the walls of the corridor tried their best to make a seal against the lifeless machine, but the irregular shapes in its armor prevented them from doing so. This led to the corridor having a few centimeters of water covering its floor, before it was drained by the small gaps between the tiles as it flowed further from the leaks.
Though she was initially unsettled by the sheer existence of such a creature and that there was no telling what else the dark waters hid from them, there was something else about it that bothered the priestess far more than that; simply standing close to the mechanical giant sent chills down her spine and caused her fiery soul to grow cold. The same inexplicable corruption that had followed her from the elevator grew tenfold again and the world around her lost what little color it used to have, the concern over Anastacia and Leggy’s wellbeing turned into indifference and the desire to return to Valor and Rosie flickered and died a quick death. Only her conviction and faith in Sylvia fought back and forced her to move away from the machine in time so that the rest of her soul could still be thawed and returned to normal.
She stared at the hand she had held the tainted crystal with back in the elevator and suddenly understood something unit twelve had mentioned. “Their spirit lingers in the machines…” She repeated as the numbness left her hand.
King had noticed that there was something wrong as well, though he was visibly fuming from anger, he made no attempts to touch the simulacrum blocking their way. Even if it would have meant abandoning Emilia, he could have easily climbed over the obstacle as the pressure of the water or drowning weren’t concerns to him, but he could tell that noting good would come from trying.
“I don’t think you need to be too worried; Anna isn’t the type to get squished under a thing like this, she’s probably just fine – heck, there’s a good chance she killed whatever that thing is.” Emilia tried to calm the simulacrum and partly herself as well. “Leggy is with her and has the map to this place, so unless you know of a way to move that thing out of the way, I suggest that you find us a way around and we’ll look for any traces of them. Anna isn’t smart enough to stay put while we go around, so we’ll likely have to track them down afterwards. Be on the lookout for mechanisms and equipment that has been tampered with, I feel like that’ll be the breadcrumbs she’ll leave for us – assuming Leggy doesn’t come up with something sensible, but I don’t know her well enough to say for sure.”
The lights on King’s new armor remained bright and the heat emanating from him showed exactly how calm he was, or rather wasn’t, but he reluctantly nodded and started to hurriedly walk back to the camp.
Despite knowing that no gods would hear her from the depths of the fortress, Emilia offered a quick prayer for the safety of her friends to bolster her own resolve and headed back to pack up her gear.
The still moist uniform wasn’t fit for wearing, so the priestess could do little besides shoving it into her backpack and hoping she’d get a chance to properly dry it soon enough. Not being able the wear her usual clothes left her a bit uncomfortable, but at least her armor was in perfect condition after a thorough maintenance and she could hide her spare clothing under the metal.
From the gear missing from Anastacia’s haphazardly piled equipment, they were able to tell that the necromancer didn’t have any of her spears, but still carried both the enchanted knife as well as the crystalline daggers, on top of anything else she might have kept in the pouches of her belt. She didn’t have a canteen, but if needed, she could use magic to evaporate enough of the water from the reservoir around them to remove the salt from it, at least if she could come up with the equipment needed for it. She had also left behind the stone cylinder given to them by unit twelve.
Leggy’s cloak was left behind as well and was neatly folded into King’s already heavy luggage to keep it safe.
In a tremendous hurry, they left behind the camp and started backtracking their path into the chamber they had come from. They kept a vigilant eye on the water, now knowing what might lurk in it. Not a single word was spoken for the entire journey and Emilia kept her lantern shut to avoid any attention it might have brought.
A few times, the priestess could have sworn that she saw lights drifting far away in the water, but the pace being kept by King didn’t allow her to stop and take a better look – likely for the better as well.
Whether it was luck or the original cause for the explosions now being dead and blocking their previous path, the pair managed to get all the way back to the beginning of the underwater path without having to deal with yet another surge of water slowing them down.
Emilia had to take a small break in the chamber where Anastacia’s personality had been fragmented but kept it as brief as she could. She could tell that leaving her behind wasn’t entirely beyond King at the time and even thought that she could just wait somewhere while he went ahead unhindered, but for some reason, despite the rush he was in, the knight made sure they didn’t get separated.
The next part of their silent journey was to backtrack all the way to one of the forks in the road they had passed after King’s room and take the route they had ignored, which didn’t differ much from the other dim endless corridors. However, it had a slight decline for the entire length of it; though almost unnoticeable, it was consistent for the entire length of the route and by the time Emilia estimated they were in the rough area of the water reservoir, they were well below it, which suited the priestess just fine.
Their new route was unimpeded for only slightly longer than the first one, as the corridor finally came to an end at another, somewhat larger stone door.
Without hesitation, King opened it and revealed a chamber much like the previous one, but instead of a chair and a table, the only object in the room was a sword-like object that jutted out of the middle of the floor, its pommel pointed directly up.
On the other side of the room was an inactive door, confirming what Emilia had immediately begun to suspect: the chamber held an experiment that needed to be completed before it would let them progress. She also wondered if that was the real reason King had made sure she was following him; he must have known about it.
“A classic weapon-stuck-in-thing conundrum, eh? Do we need to pull it out?” She asked and kneeled to inspect the blade.
The grip of the sword was made from whatever stone the aureun used for everything they made and definitely wasn’t made with comfort in mind. The pommel was a nondescript sphere with nothing much to it, and the cross-guard was much the same, a slightly curved bar of stone that had no detail to it whatsoever. The blade was, at least according to Emilia’s fairly amateurish estimations, fine; nothing amazing or horrible, a simple sharpened piece of metal with a groove running along it and a very fine taper towards the tip, which was deeply embedded in the stone floor.
King grasped the grip firmly and waited for a few seconds, but when nothing happened, he disappointedly turned to Emilia.
“Just tell me what to do.” The priestess smiled and put aside her backpack.
The simulacrum let go of the weapon and pointed at Emilia’s hand, obviously asking her to grab the sword before stepping aside to give her room.
“Just so you know, I’m fairly unremarkable with a sword, so if this turns into a fight where I need to use that thing, we might be screwed.” She joked, nervously removed her armored glove and brought her hand up to the grip. “But if I can hold the blade and just use it as a club, we might be fine – that should still count, right?”
As soon as the priestess’ fingers tightened around the sword, she could feel a small spike prick her in the hand. It wasn’t all that painful and the series of patterns in the blade it lit up distracted her from it.
Spreading rapidly along the metal, all the way to the floor, and then covering the entire room in only a couple of seconds, the light blue shine became almost blinding.
Emilia could see the walls and the ceiling quickly vanishing into the light, piece by piece, leaving them into a void of light for a while, until faint forms began to take shape around them.
Suddenly, the blueish shine of the void took a much more crimson hue, not all that unlike the shade of fire through smoke. The patterns on the blade itself rapidly turned from red to orange to white, emanating scorching heat from the weapon and eventually melting the metal blade like it was made from ice.
The priestess showed the bladeless hilt to King. “This isn’t supposed to happen, is it?”
The knight of stone shook his head and readied his weapon and shield.
Instead of the flash of light the adventurers had learned to take as the final part of whatever mechanism they had activated, the world around Emilia and King went black, with only the simulacrum’s armor shedding light at the nothingness surrounding them.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The first thing to appear from the darkness was the wretched stench of gore, smoke and charred flesh, like the bloody aftermath of a particularly horrific battle or a raid. What followed it was a sight horrifyingly fitting for the scent.
Lit by several braziers fueled by burning wood and remains of people and animals, the pair found themselves in what appeared to be a reasonably large church or a temple, but to call it a house of anything close to a deity would have been nothing short of heresy.
Ten full rows of pews on the both sides of the central nave were still occupied by the mauled corpses of whatever congregation had originally used the building. Crushed and torn beyond recognition, the bodies were wrapped in barbed wire and anchored in place with large rusted nails, which probably were the only thing holding most of them together.
The walls were littered with iron javelins, deeply embedded in the white marble of the building and supporting a whole weave of gutted remains that drained their blood on the floor, covering it entirely under a thick layer of partially congealed mess.
The arched ceiling had once been entirely covered by a single massive piece of art, likely depicting the deity the church originally belonged to and their champions, but was now tainted by blood and dismembered bodies, bent and nailed to it to imitate the poses of the people in the painting.
In front of the rotting congregation, behind the altar, was a partially melted bronze statue that had depicted a proud warrior god and was now decorated with a considerable collection of severed heads.
On the altar itself, lazily laying on her side was a tall but rather scrawny woman with an iron mask covering her eyes, an iron corset welded to her skin and a skirt sewn together from recently skinned faces. Her ash-gray skin was mostly covered in blood and the metallic strands of hair flowing down from the back of her mask appeared red hot towards their tips.
She had clearly been interrupted by the pair and was holding a golden chalice in her right hand, stolen from the reliquary no doubt, and filled with blood and garnished with a couple of fingers. With her left hand she was flipping the pages of whatever holy book the church had used in their ceremonies.
For the first time, Emilia understood what seeing blood must have been like for Anastacia, and actually felt a bit lightheaded at the sight of the destroyed temple. She tried her best to not look at anything around her, and instead focused entirely on the woman at the altar.
“Who are you?!” She yelled and immediately grasped her mace in her free hand, ready to spring into action. “What’s going on here?!”
The woman took a sip of her drink, placed it down, calmly folded a corner of the page she was on in the book and closed it before saying anything. “A grand surprise on all accounts, but one brought on by an error no doubt.” She sang with a voice disgustingly familiar to Emilia, but one she didn’t recognize, or refused to recognize. “The machinations of the aureun, unquestionably so. Curiously, the same taste lingers both in their flesh and their trickery.”
“You have ten seconds to explain yourself, after that my mace will do the speaking.” The priestess threatened the bloody woman.
The only reason she hadn’t already turned to violence, was the fear that the machine had dug the scene from somewhere within her, just like the chair had done with Anastacia’s personality. The horrors around her weren’t something she had done or even seen in her life, but the idea of it having anything to do with her was repulsing regardless.
“So much have the times changed that I must explain myself? To you of all people as well.” The woman chuckled and sat up on the altar. “From what is past to you, I am Pyria, the Queen of the Primordial Night, Maiden of Pain and the Lady of Torture. I am the one cities build walls against, I am the one in the last whispered prayers of despair, I am the one who made mortals fear the dark!”
“Pyria? I’ve heard the name before.” Emilia tried to remember. The name ‘Pyria’ often came up when talking about things that happened thousands of years ago, but she hadn’t particularly made a note of it yet. “Why are you here?! Were you trapped? Did I just accidentally release you?!”
Pyria stood up and kicked a few bodies out of the way as she gracefully descended from the altar, towards Emilia and king. “Oh, my deliciously tender child! Worry not of such things, freeing me is no matter of grasping cutlery and far from accidental. Yet concerns arise from my appearance – the trinket held by your succulent hands was seeking for a specific piece of soul, but ultimately ushered forth me… Invokes questions and worry for your mortal soul.” She puzzled over the matter as she slowly walked towards Emilia and King, both of whom started to back away with their weapons readied to strike in an instant if Pyria did anything suspicious.
“My soul looking like a slice of cheese is less of a concern to me than the fact that it found you, explain!” Demanded Emilia.
“Such answers are not mine to give, I am but a residual piece, unfit for higher places and hidden away – and I count myself fortunate for it, for the mortal morsel of meat I am carried by is delectable and her tastes… exquisite.” The ancient fiend marveled and smiled off-puttingly warmly. “My presence is no more of a concern than that of an unpleasant memory; dwell not on it and I hold no power over you.”
As she spoke, Pyria kept approaching Emilia faster than she was able to back away, and when the priestess’ heel hit the heavy wooden door of the church, they ran out of options.
The disturbingly gentle words of the blood-soaked ancient being did very little to dissuade Emilia from trying to attack her, and part of her thought that it was what the machine wanted in the first place.
Before she had the chance to do anything, King stepped forth and placed the tip of his spear on Pyria’s throat, which did nothing but bring a grin to her lips.
“Sons and daughters of aureun, creations of cruelty rivaling my own! I may be forgotten from the memories of mortals, but this one remembers me as I were. Perhaps we met on a field of battle once or twice? Your kind shows no fear, no pain, no terror or despair, so it was not often I bothered, but we had our moments.” She happily reminisced of the millennia past. “But it is quite heartwarming to see that you would lay down what you count as your life in defense of our chosen. It almost tempts me to reward your chivalry in the way we used to, but you have a princess to save elsewhere, do you not?”
King showed no signs of letting his guard down and brought the blade even closer to Pyria’s throat, slightly pressing it into the skin but not quite cutting.
Pyria’s calmness was no lesser to his stubbornness, as she smiled while slowly dragging her nail along the blade, causing sparks to fly from it. “A mind of metal is slow to change, but you, more than anyone here, know the purpose of these chambers; I am not here as an obstacle to be conquered, but an aid my dearest child needs to accept. So stand down, valiant Knight of Anastacia, stand down and allow me to do what I can.”
Defiantly nudging his spear quickly to scratch the fiend’s neck, King lowered his spear but refused to move out of the way, like he was trying to make a point.
The ancient being courteously walked around the stubborn knight and patted him on the shoulder as she passed. King clearly found it extremely disgusting and immediately wiped his armor.
“Take one more step and by Sylvia I will bury this mace in your face!” Threatened Emilia, less than convinced of Pyria’s supposedly good intentions.
Pyria stopped just barely out of the priestess’ range and spread her arms as if she was offering to hug her. “Separated from your god, lost, cold and so very alone, yet you face me with a weapon in your unwavering hand and call out to Sylvia – but one of the myriads of reasons we hold you so very dear. Unfortunately, no gods, no divine, no holy being will hear your lonesome cries here, perhaps it is time to rely on something far less… distant?”
Something about the way Pyria sang her words was very compelling and easy to agree with, and for a fraction of a second, Emilia considered lowering her weapon. However, when the fiend took the step she had been warned about, the priestess’ resolve returned and she swung her weapon, hitting the far taller fiend in the chin.
Like glass, the relic mace shattered in her hand. Its fragments fell into the vile bloody mess covering the floor. Watching her most prized possession in the world break so uselessly added one more dose of doubt Emilia had started to amass for the deity she served.
She wrapped her fingers tightly around the bladeless hilt of a sword she was still holding. “The answer is no. I do not know what you are, who you are or why you are here, but I serve Lady Sylvia and no one else.” The priestess snarled and started to look for more improvised weaponry in her surroundings.
“I ask not for servitude, I ask for no faith, such things are for gods. I ask for a fragment of trust, let me help you, only until the joy returns.” As Pyria spoke, the shards of Emilia’s broken mace rose up from the blood and slowly joined back together in the fiend’s hand, she then plucked one of her metal hairs and wrapped it around the bloody reformed weapon.
Instead of the radiant shine it had previously carried, the mace now appeared sickly, for the lack of a better word. It dripped blood and somehow had a violent aura to it, a mere look at the weapon brought forth ideas of carnage and slaughter.
The priestess warily snatched back her weapon and felt its weight in her hand, it was definitely her mace and carried a similar blessing-like power on it, but also a new ruthlessness it previously didn’t emit.
“Just as joy was once your shield, so will my powers protect you from the lesser evils at work in this fortress. No child of mine will feel the taint or corruption of some neophyte villainy, no petulant fledgling misery will weigh on the shoulders of my chosen. Teach fear to those who you oppose you, guide to terror the ones in your way.” Pyria declared excitedly, took the opportunity to get closer to Emilia and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Go forth, priestess of joy, scion of calamity!”
Emilia considered trying to swing her new weapon at the fiend, but with her words, the chamber had achieved its goal and the room was engulfed in darkness once more.
The disgusting smell of viscera turned back to the dusty scent of ancient air, and the uncomfortable warmth into refreshing coolness. The ambient blue light slowly returned and lit the room enough for Emilia and King to see each other, and that the door ahead was now active.
The priestess stared at the twisted mockery of her old weapon, just to make sure that what happened was no illusion. She also noticed that what had been her spare clothes, were now a uniform, very similar to her usual one, but stained with blood, rust and soot.
The pieces of armor were as shiny and spotless as ever, but taking them off felt even harder than before. She had always felt uneasy without them, but now even the idea of having to take off her gauntlets felt absolutely repulsive.
“Well this is a bit of a concern.” She commented tried to see if the stains on her clothes would come off with just elbow grease, which didn’t appear to be the case. “Next time some sort of ancient evil is trying to offer me anything, just stab them with your spear, please.”
King was no longer listening and was already heading for the door while Emilia was still picking up her equipment.
As the priestess tossed away the hilt of the aureun sword, she noticed something far more worrying than the condition of her new uniform; she no longer felt the unease that had followed her from the elevator, nor the weakness caused by her cut connection with Sylvia, in fact, she felt exactly like she always did, which may have been worse than either of the previous maladies.