The Etched Coins glowed, which meant that they were still functional, but something was preventing them from leaving this immediate space.
“It says we are ‘contained’, and the way out is… questionable at best.” One complained, bracing themselves as the Spindleworms collided with their tower, shredding it apart and even going as far as striking other towers behind them.
The sudden barrage of flying Spindleworms caused them to immediately recognize that their sudden assailant was no ordinary being. Not even a Moon could lift a Spindleworm, let alone hurl so many consecutively.
“Beneath the buried possessions; the way in is the way out; a place frequented the most; where the stars rise; death – there is no clear prediction.” An annoyed Clockwork Prophet distraughtly grunted, watching as the top half of their tower crumbled away.
In the distance, the pendulum became unhooked, and it collided with two of five major rings that protected the Heart. The bulb of the pendulum itself was so large that it spanned the entire foundation that all 12 towers stood on, crumbling many from the base. If it weren’t for the towers being anchored to the ceiling, then they would have immediately lost their Astrolabe.
“The Director… do you still plan on meddling with us?” Another who had lost their lower half and bled tiny Gears uttered, staring up at the light where a small parchment of paper fell.
It fell beside him, and on it, was a crudely drawn picture of a person with a top hat bowing to give their regards.
“You…!”
“So this is a ‘Heart of the City’.”
A voice interjected just a split second before a sandal crushed the head of the Clockwork Prophet. If one was to slow down time and watch it again, they would find that his head was crushed before it made contact with the soles of the sandal.
This was because of the immense gravity that accompanied the bearded man.
“It’s less of a Heart, and more of a complex of machines. Nothing here makes sense, just like those stringed bastards Marionette tends to raise. But it’s filthy here. Contaminated, even.”
The gruff voice came from this man, who stood easily over two meters tall. He was built like a mountain, his physique an embodiment of absolute strength. The shirtless man stroked his beard before summoning a black orb in his palm.
Immediately, the debris was lifted from the ground and began to orbit him.
“A Beholder… has descended… Here, of all places… How… were we found?”
“They found us… They’ve found us again…”
“Relay the message… Leave at once…”
“Unable to. Unable to. The Gears will not turn properly… not in his presence… We…!?”
Irrevocable fear consumed them. The light of the Fate Mechanism disappeared as though everything had abandoned them. They recognized that space had been cut off from them for good, but they did not know if it was due to the immense spatial distortion produced by Beholder Knalzark, or the thing that had prevented them from teleporting.
“This used to be the home to tens of thousands.” Beholder Knalzark began, holding onto what appeared to be a rusted metal button belonging to the shirt of a child. “We’ve lived long enough to resent this, but not wise enough to know how to prevent it. But you have lived in comfort enough to forget why it was that you solely exist in the Derma Layer. It was to remain outside of my reach.”
They did not know why he was enraged. His face did not show this, but the intensity of the gravitational storm reflected precisely how he felt. It was like the wrath of the Amalgam but dialed to the point where their Heart stopped responding.
“How many more of us do you want to reform and detach us from who and what we are?” Beholder Knalzark’s steps penetrated every level of the tower, shattering it.
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Yet due to his gravity, the shattered tower did not collapse. It was merely suspended in space. His grey and black hair flowed behind him majestically as he assumed the form a sprinter would take before running.
“Detach and pull us apart as you may try. Caldera Industries was made to be inseparable. Gravity will keep us the same as what we are. Neither your kind, the prosthetics of Inflow Direct, their Serums, or the CognitO items of CogitO will taint us!”
His voice was then drowned by the sound of an explosion. He launched himself from the tower with incredible speed. He hurled through the air, smashing through another tower like a bolt of lightning.
He skidded across the earth like a fallen meteorite, peeling the steel foundations to reveal more of the hidden belongings of those who once called this place home.
“Taint my people they will not!”
He shot himself through the air again at seemingly supersonic speed. The light bent around him, making it nearly impossible to see him as he collided through another three towers. He zipped back and forth, using his own body to destroy everything in his path.
The Messengers, the Clockwork Prophets, the Clockwork Spindleworms – they were all helpless in the face of a Beholder. It was an overwhelming showcase of might. It was nothing like the Amalgam, whose presence was the result of who and what she was.
Knazlark’s presence on the other hand came from his strength alone.
“I’ve seen this play out a thousand times before your kind! I was there when people began to experience detachment to themselves! Beholders are no different from your kind. This… is my outlet for not being able to cripple them myself!”
This nightmare was nothing but a playground to Knalzark. Indeed, it was therapeutic to him. He had sought for most of his life to find a way to strike back at the Impuritas that had wronged him, and thanks to the Amalgam, it was possible to reach their most sacred places with ease.
“REMEMBER THIS, DISEASE!”
He exclaimed, shoving a black orb into the center of the interlocking rings. The Heart was stuffed with it, and it began to collapse into itself. He did not want the Amalgam to erase them. He wanted them to remember this, and to spread his promise in hopes of it reaching the ears of the Infecta Rot.
“ENDORSE ATTACHMENT!”
Every tower, every structure, and every Gear both near and far had been broken down to the smallest of pieces. They surrounded him like planetary rings as the Heart of the City died in his hands.
A look of temporary satisfaction overcame him.
It was over in an instant, thankfully. Everything that belonged to the Heart of the City perished, leaving nothing behind but the unearthed belongings of the past residents.
When he looked down at his hand where the button used to be…
“… Yet I too am one of the ‘taints’. Objects not reinforced with our special blend cannot be handled by rough hands.”
… a deep sadness overcame him.
He was forced to be reminded of his strength.
It did not matter what object he touched. It would be destroyed moments later. Even the bones and remains of people could not be handled by him. No personal belongings other than high-quality cloth could ever be worn or held.
The burden of his strength was great.
He stood there for some time, pondering to himself. It was something he usually did after a battle. He’d meditate for hours on end to clear his mind.
Suddenly, someone approached him.
“… It died pretty easily, huh.” The Amalgam hummed, thanking him with a bright voice.
“Naturally. They’re not particularly strong.”
“I think you’re just too strong. Good work. We moved as many as we could.”
Knalzark didn’t respond, but he seemed happy to hear that. It was strange because it was uncommon for his own personnel to perish in his forges. But it was more so the context of their loss that saddened him.
“As many as you could is more than what many would bother to do. I personally would not have moved them.”
“Tough, but I’m here, so we gotta follow the Code.” Frost reminded him. “Anyway, it worked out in the end. Nothing wrong with trying to save lives. We’re not losing anything for trying to help them.”
Her way of thinking was foreign to him, yet it made sense.
“Your only criteria is that you don’t lose anything, rather than gain something? Hah. That’s a naive way of thinking, but the Archetypes have their ways to uphold it better than Beholders.”
“It’s what I believe in. That’s all there is to it.” Frost shrugged, opening the portal for him to return to. “Let’s go. We’ve collected the Isolation Sphere ahead of you. I’m not sure if they managed to teleport away.”
“They did not. They seemed incapable, the morons.”
“Really? That’s surprising… Could it be a side-effect of the Isolation Sphere?” Frost pondered as Knalzark stared down at her, half-mesmerized by her golden strands.
It was impossible to know what he was thinking. But in this one instance it was obvious that he was bothered by Frost’s gradual changes. He kept it to himself as he retreated to the portal. But before he disappeared, he asked Frost a simple question.
“Amalgam. What do you think ‘Attachment’ means?”
“That depends on the context.”
“I mean in relation to ourselves.”
The debris began to shower around Frost as she thought of an answer.
“Maybe being true to yourself.” She suggested. “Like being able to hold onto things that are important. Attachment is a tricky thing.”
“… I see. To be able to hold onto them…”
It made him smile, yet also saddened him.
Because that answer was what Knalzark believed in as well.
Yet as much as he wanted to, he himself could not hold onto things without destroying them.