An old man’s head jerked upward, parchment-thin skin trembling. His prison was silent, air thick with the musk of decay and desperation. Eyes—milky, cratered—narrowed to slits. A frown carved itself into his face, deeper than the scars of his unnatural longevity.
He whispered under his breath, forgotten before the words reached the nearby sightless walls, “He’s alive. It seems… you failed, my love.”
* The unheard ramblings of an ancient Irgen.
Three pairs of lungs inhaled stale air in sync, despite all three having distinct memories. A gray-skinned man shifted in the leather chair he found himself in and breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes met two of his companions, a humanoid reptilian, already unsheathing his swords, and a four-armed gunslinger whose eyes squinted.
“Status? Everyone alive?” Claudius’ voice cut through the diner’s stale air. Not just a question, a command. Tables meant for thirty stood empty. Only their ragged breaths answered.
Nods returned to him a moment later, and the Judge’s recent battle came to his mind. He glanced down at his body in a hurry, but discovered not a single wound. He was spotless. There was no blood except for the drops trailing down his nose.
Claudius wiped the sign of overextending his Seer Designation and pondered his situation. The only problem was he didn’t know what to start with. So, he instead spoke aloud, “Things aren’t good. I fought a powerful man with scrying while the rest of you were enchanted. It was… so bad I had to craft a Covenant with the Lightsea. Shabby and rushed, but Praetor Sun prepared me. After the fight… I think we were pulled here. The Inferose.”
Both Talander and Yue nodded, with the latter asking, “What about Rosa? Where is she? How did we sense nothing? I… can’t believe we were so useless.”
The Judge shook his head, acknowledging Talander’s patient silence, and explained, “I don’t know, but I think she’s fine. Call it a Seer’s speculation. The Inferose was affecting everyone’s minds. Only… a few could resist it. Those who could were… terrifying. It was a close call. But we’re here now. We just need to reach its core. I can feel it.”
Claudius turned to the window. The horizon burned. Not with sunlight—with a bloated, pulsing rose, its petals edged in blackened flame. His throat tightened. The Inferose wasn’t a dimension. It was a throat, swallowing them whole. It would only offer its strength should they survive the digestion.
Fragments of visions came to him, and he bit down. Hard. The Judge’s hands tore apart the table beneath him while Talander rushed to his aid, grabbing his shoulders. Yue, too, tried to help, but Claudius pushed them back, “No! I’m fine. Just… I’m fine. Give me a second.”
With a shaky spine, Claudius stood to his full height again. His Stigmata had changed. His touch no longer merely entered the past. The price he had paid was substantial. Claudius Vermillion would never wield a Domain Collapse. He had locked himself into the lower echelons of power.
A Centurion was now his pinnacle. Only five Praetors lacked Domains among the several hundred in Congress.
Nonetheless… Claudius did not regret his sacrifice. If he hadn’t given his all, his entire crew would have died. Dante would have died. The only survivor would be him, and he would have been crippled, anyway.
The figure he saw only in the confines of the future after his pact possessed the exact limit of power to enter here, as if it was calculated. Claudius saw him enter the Inferose in that torn reality.
He breathed in and out. Then, he placed his hand against the windowpane of the plain diner, focusing on his returning calm as he spoke again, “I’m going to use Telemetry. It’s evolved. Don’t let me fall.”
Yue’s brows rose, but she swiftly caught the Judge as his legs gave out and his eyes rolled back. The use of his ability while conscious was not something that would readily return.
Yet as his crew carried him to a chair, and the winds of night flowed outside, Claudius entered what was to come. His mind spiraled, waging a war toward the rivers of fate. He strode, step by step, against a descending waterfall, hiking up it despite its curvature.
With each step, another piece of a vision crossed his mind.
A lone man stood outside the unadorned diner. With a plain, unassuming smile, he asked, “Hello? Can you let me in?”
Three figures stood inside the building, still discussing strategy. The sudden noise under the risen moon startled them. None had sensed the man, and as they gazed outside, they saw a human standing ramrod with a sweater and pants.
The Irgen strode forward to open the door. Claudius stepped back behind him, drawing his Executioner. After seeing his caution, Yue also prepared her guns. Talander stood before the glass door, and he paused, staring at the human who stood inches from the door.
With one hand on a sword and his tail wound for battle, he asked, “Who are you? Are you human? Are you from here?”
In response to his questions, the human didn’t blink. His eyes mirrored Talander’s steel with their glint. A glance flipped between Claudius and the Irgen before approval was given. After a robust inhale, ice already forming on his blade, Talander pulled the door open.
The squeaky glass frame swung wide, and the human spoke with a child’s tenderness as he stepped in, “Thank you.”
Talander’s muscles relaxed for a split second, and then he saw a horde of bodies appear down the street of the lifeless town. Tens. Maybe even a hundred. All humans.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Before Claudius’ words reached Talander’s ears, the Irgen’s vision drooped and slanted, “Talander! What the fuck are you?! It’s not human! Yue! Run!”
Glass shattered as Claudius broke open an escape, but the Harenlar refused to leave. She unloaded round after round into the ‘human’. Twenty-four bullets split open the creature’s flesh, yet all it did was open a craving, flaming maw for each hole.
And a single one decapitated Talander.
The sight froze Yue. Her bullets did nothing. Claudius pulled her away, but he wasn’t fast enough.
On the cool diner floor, Talander’s eyes closed forever as he watched the creature eviscerate Yue and rip out her spine. Guts dripped downward and splashed against the porcelain squares below. Claudius’ eyes lingered on the blood just long enough for him to hear the man’s words before the Judge ran away.
“Tasty.”
********************
“Fuck!” Rejo groaned aloud as he sat on a tree stump, his head pounding and fuzzy. For all his muscles and endurance, he was wholly unprepared for a Domain Collapse. It drained him of energy while supplanting it with egregious pain, despite him copying Dante’s Reset.
A few hours later, the Araki held none of Dante’s powers as his mouth tendrils writhed in frustration. Sonna stood before him, holding a hand to her chin as she took in the situation. Rejo told her all he knew of the battle outside the Inferose, including Dante’s appearance, and the petite Weren struggled to put it all together.
Sonna spoke to herself while Rejo continued to grumble, “So… an illusion… hmm… You did a Domain Collapse? Must be a translation flaw. Hmm… We need to find him then. He should know what to do next. I feel like the sun is pulling us toward it. What do you—”
A voice interrupted her, appearing from the snow as if he belonged to it, “I agree, Sonna. We must head toward the center. Dante shall be there. Together, we are strongest. Rejo.”
Astraeus emerged, bowing to the combatant who had saved both Dante and his lives. Sonna stood in alarm, and even Rejo roused, forcing himself to prepare for a fight. Astraeus saw their wariness, his dark flesh warbling with anticipation as he threw his hands up, “No, no, no. I’m not your enemy. Not right now, anyway. Dante has spoken much of you both. We can work together. Just as the human and I have.”
Sonna and Rejo shared a look, but both could only shrug. With Rejo’s current fatigue and his recovering Domain, which Sonna didn’t even believe in, they held no hope of defeating Astraeus. The Dirge’s wounds weren’t minor, but a cornered beast was the most perilous.
As such, Sonna stood and opened her arms, asking, “Alright then. Take the lead. Where do we go?”
Astraeus made an odd noise with his mouth, reminding both sentients of Dante when annoyed. Then, the Anathema pointed through a brush, motioning for them to follow, “This way. We need to hurry. Based on the entrance… this might just be a race to dimension’s core.”
None opposed, and the group sliced through the snow. Thanks to Astraeus, he could move the chilled powder without issue, keeping it off the three and ensuring their warmth. Time passed in the tundra until they saw the trees lessen in volume.
Then, they stepped past the boundary, discovering a small town right as the distant sun lost its glimmer. The moment the light left, everything fell silent. The trees became windless, and the frames of the few houses, diner, and church shrank as if hiding.
Sonna squinted as she saw a figure in the street peering at the diner. It almost looked like a human in her eyes. The discovery sent her legs flying, and she sprinted toward who she thought was Dante. In the middle of her run, with Astraeus and a struggling Rejo behind her, the figure pivoted to face her.
Its skin was perfect. Unblemished. Pure perfection.
The sight sent a chill down Sonna’s spine as her instincts fired. She slowed down a moment before a muffled shout came from the inside of the diner.
“RUN!”
But she couldn’t. Sonna froze as the figure’s lips opened, and its legs brought it closer, “Hello there,” it spoke without emotion, yet had a slight twinge to its voice. “Would you shake my hand, Sonna Hearal?”
It strode closer, extending a hand out to the Weren’s petite body as it uttered a name it couldn’t know.
********************
A gasping noise echoed into the confines of a snowy forest. The waves of sound bounced against the trees, knocking much of the whiteness off, but by the time it reached any ears, it only sounded like the wind. Such crashing weight brought a curse from a four-armed woman walking beneath the trees, “I hate the fucking cold.”
As a reply, the other woman present, with gray skin and rose-red lips, scoffed, “Yeah. Just use some more of your bone-marrow as clothing.”
Joan Rafe twisted to face Rosa Heartwelt. The two were dumped in the middle of this lifeless forest with no other company. Several hours had passed since they arrived, bewildered and lost, but they were forced to work together in such an environment.
“Hmm. You could use your Miro to warm me up, too. Don’t think I can’t see the steam wafting off your armor,” Joan scowled while trudging through the icy tundra. How they arrived here was a mystery. Both discussed the last things they remembered, but it meant nothing.
Now, they could only argue, escalating their hatred of each other. One was a snake, devouring and shrewd, hiding her emotions, while the other often showed her fury but hid the deviousness.
Rosa’s blade hovered at Joan’s throat. “Stimulants. Now.” The Harenlar didn’t flinch. Her secondary hands twitched toward her pouch—slow, deliberate. A smile flickered. “Careful, Judge-ling. You’ll need me alive to thaw your corpse later.”
Still, no violence came about as Joan delivered what was asked. Their whereabouts were unknown. Were they in the Inferose? They did not know. The last thing they remembered was stepping onto the plains. From there, all was blank.
Rosa’s mind swam with thoughts of Claudius and the rest of her crew. She knew this mission was risky. Of course, it had to be. The reward was exuberant. It only made sense. If she survived, Praetor Sun herself would train her, a woman recognized by Yarnen himself. The Zero Anomaly. The Profound Windbreaker.
Despite the price she may have to pay, the young woman shook with anticipation. On the other hand, Joan’s fate was downcast.
She still hadn’t found Dante. The doctor’s mind ventured outward as the cold sank in, her stimulants fighting off the awful chill. Joan felt her desire to find Dante softening. It was as if she realized her only prospects were not with the human. She had her own strengths. While it may be more difficult alone, she shouldn’t just stake out after him.
Joan wasn’t some love-obsessed youngling. She followed the best path, and in this tundra, after months of nothing, she sighed. Dante wasn’t here.
But another sign took Dante’s place.
A distant groaning.
The doctor twisted her ear in thoughtfulness while Rosa’s hands went to her blades. A second passed while both stood still, the Tianshe’s eyes scouring every inch of the pale forest. She found nothing.
Another moment passed, however, and the noise returned. Joan’s eyes narrowed as she knew what it was. Who it was.
“Lucius. Come! He’s hurt!” Joan swept her hand behind her, motioning Rosa to follow as the doctor sprinted through the dense snow. The Judge-aspirant hesitated for a beat but heeded her call.
The four-armed Harenlar ran with a swiftness rarely shown. Her heart pounded as she injected yet another stimulant, rushing to her…
Test subject? Is that what he was to her? Yes.
If he was anything else, Joan might just begin to care for him. She couldn’t have that. Once. Only once did she care for her subject. And look where that got her? Stuck in a freezing tundra on an unknown dimension.
As she burst through a leafless bush covered in alabaster powder that stuck to her flesh, Joan saw him. The Martian she thought was nigh-invincible.
Instead of the figure she knew, a broken mess lay before her and the arriving Rosa. None of his legs bent in the right direction. One arm was torn off at the elbow, and the other had no fingers. Both eyes were gouged out, no, chewed out, and his nose was a hollow cavity. Worse than those wounds, the man was gaunt, all his muscle and fat vanished. From where she stood, Joan saw Lucius’ hearts, beating ever as a baby’s first through the mangled flesh. It was so fragile. He was so fragile.
Never in her life had the doctor seen such damage in a living creature. Her eyes sank into the cooling blood as it froze in her sight. As she stared, Joan realized the signs of her Biotic. He used it, the Brute. The realization in twain with the dying man left her frozen.
The Tianshe came to a stop, gasping under her breath, “Holy fucking shit. Is he…?” Rosa’s awe grew as she dived to the ground, scooping up some fading moisture with her hand. “Bastard killed an Anathema. Alone? Here? Joan? Joan? Joan!”
Rosa’s third yawp brought Joan back to reality. The doctor nodded, diving to the ground and pulling out the tools from her bag. Without saying a word, the scientist got to work, saving her subject. Rosa fell to the snow, too, her hand reaching out toward the Martian, “Seal up his wounds. I’ll work on the innards.”
Her command brought both Joan’s disgust and curiosity. A single raised eyebrow forced Rosa to explain, “Miro. It’s the only Tide that can heal. I’m not all that good with it in this way, but you can’t fix a mauled heart.”
Joan snorted, “I sure can. But it’ll do. That's why they have two. We need to stop the bleeding. And give him nutrients. Brute tore through everything he had. Can Miro revitalize?”
“Yeah. It can, even without a Negative-Tide. Arido steals, Miro returns, and Frigo stabilizes. Try your bone-marrow, too. Who knows its secrets?” Rosa spoke with confidence as both women got to work, healing the only one of the three who had killed an Anathema.
No words. No barbs. Just blood-slick hands and the rasp of Lucius’ dying breath. Joan’s scalpel danced—not with cruelty, but precision. Rosa’s Miro Tide glowed faintly, stitching muscle to bone. For once, they weren’t rivals. They were gears in a machine, grinding to outpace death. As they rekindled Lucius’ living flame, the lights above waned little by little.