The sun was nowhere to be seen when Noir awoke next. The stars, seemingly glowing now that the last lanterns and street signs had started to fail, were barely enough to illuminate the dark room he slept in, motivating him to mentally call for gazers guiding lights, the visions he saw through her knocking all the sleepiness out of him.

Everything around him was red, indicating certain damage. Quickly, he went to the next room, his makeshift laboratory inhabited by a bunch of small unibuns, some of them huddling together inside their cage, others lazily sitting around the place and inspecting every corner they could think of.

After a short bit of focussing, Noir noticed that the immediate danger to his life came not from the escaped bunnies, thus prompting him to quickly take the pot of pestilence he recently created, before going outside.

The already silent night seemed to slow down as he saw five people standing in a circle, chanting Latin words he didn't have the motivation to translate while a gigantic sword was slowly lowered from the heavens, thick black mist covering the most radiant thing he had ever seen.

From there, it went quickly, the grafters eyes hardening as he did what he felt he should do.

"Thou dare to cross mine path, believers? Don't ye know of the darkness that is hidden beneath our abode, ready to spill forth once the four horsemen are unleashed? Thou are talking to pestilence, bringer of death and lord over your bodies, for your impure souls must be cleansed."

He said these words with passion, awakening the other two with his speech, and splashing his newest brew towards them, the gooey substance contracting as fast as it was splashed apart, prompting the white robed figures to step back, only for the first among them to realize the slime had already hit his leg, the gooey creature slowly climbing up his legs, his screams echoing through the night as the summoned sword began to recede.

Quickly, the clerics drew forth silver blades, the hilts shaped like crosses, identifying them as the ones used to decorate the nearby church, a place that Noir had often run into problems with, strongly disagreeing with him, but ensuring he had the necessary advertisement when they inevitably complained to their children and warned them of him, to the point some had created a few books worth of lore he had to restrain himself from writing down.

But as their blades were engulfed in radiant light, the old people's faces hardened as one of them held the pestilence at bay, while the others slowly proceeded towards him.

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By now, the first among them who was attacked was fully enclosed in gel, his screams stopping as the acidic slime fed himself, growing and filling every available orifice.

Noir himself drew a blade from the entrance, slashing at his own creation to poison it.

Behind him, he heard the swoosh of flames being ignited, the warmth to his right and the chill that ran through his spine indicating that his Apprentices had arrived.

"I am War, and in the flames of Hell your souls shall be cleansed."

Mia said from his right, leaping into the fray as Marc let out a mad cackle.

"I am the one who shall end this twisted world, the most gentle among the apocalypses. Just fall over and obey, so I may claim your soul and have your body march in the army of the damned."

Noir took over again as his other apprentice strode forward, his blade seemingly melting into the night as he fought another.

Finally, Noir Opened his arms, sending a cocktail of every pestilence he was aware of at the group, shielding his apprentices as he commanded the goo to disrupt his enemies, while he circled them and searched for an opportunity to strike.

The numbers were uneven, and both sides fought furiously.

Divine light clashing with infernal flames, burning each other in a devastating stalemate.

The sapping curse of death fought against the radiance, trying to preserve his own health and occasionally lashing out to deal divine justice.

Even the goo was locked in a fierce battle of will, its unending hunger fighting against a shield slowing down its consumption.

The fight between Noir and the man he now recognized as the local priest was on a different level, though. Not the battle of attrition, will or brute force like the others, this fight was between skilled swordsmen, knowing each landing strike would be fatal, both blades changing as the fight was going on.

The priest was supported by the ever approaching sun, every second seemingly increasing his strength as midnight passed, while the corrupted blade of noir slowly changed in structure.

What at first was a poisoned sword slowly lost its form, the acid becoming harder in his hands.

As he channeled his power through it, his blade fell apart, completely replaced by a whip of tumors and sinews, prompting him to initiate a second phase to the fight, in which he lashed out at the one holding his slime at bay. A risky move that broke the man's concentration, the ensuring instance igniting the battle to new levels of ferocity.

Within a few seconds, the slime jumped the unfocussed cleric, Marc quickly raising the remaining flesh of the first dead as his servant, the skeletal zomby dashing towards his enemy. Disrupting their stalemate with necrotic slashes.

A hellhound rose from the ground, bathed in flames as it glanced at the slaughter produced within its summoning circle, the blood leaking everywhere getting it ready for battle.

The fight between the Priest and Noir changed too, with Noir blocking his opponent's hits and his whip lashing out at different members of the clergy.

When all but the Priest had fallen, he engulfed himself in divine light, disappearing without a wound.

"This calls for a crusade!" he screamed, a wicked grin spreading along Noir's face.

"Indeed, at this day, the dark crusade has begun."

He stared at his students now, shaking his head and sighing dramatically.

"We must unleash what has never been unleashed, and recruit conquest. The righteous one and the paladin that shakes the frontiers. If we find him, we cannot be stopped unless the forces of heaven themselves intervene. And here I hoped to retire as a simple fortune-teller. But with these new minions at our side, the extermination of all that is pretentious must commence."

Thus, the group returned to their beds, resting before the war would begin.