I had met Dendrite outside of the West Gate. He was a decent fighter, and he didn’t flee from battle when it came. The two of us had been separated during the Deluvian’s incursion on Osiris City. It was good to see a familiar face in such unfamiliar surroundings.

The library that surrounded Dendrite and me was absolutely overburdened with books. Shelves sagged, and tables carried indentations where books had been left for too many years. To one side of the library was a large stained-glass window of a man with a halo around his head. Pieces of the man’s skin were missing, revealing mechanical parts and circuitry underneath.

I realized that I could read the titles of some of the books spread out on the table in front of Dendrite. One of the books read, “Elementary Conjuration,” and another read, “The History of Castle Bosporus.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The Deluvians,” Dendrite said, continuing his statement from seconds before. “I bled to death outside of the East Gate and respawned here. I assume the same thing happened to you.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled darkly. “I had just enough time to deliver my last words to FullDan before I clocked out.”

“Thirteen, eh?” Dendrite wondered. “I guess that means there’s at least eleven more of us.”

“Us,” I mused philosophically. “I guess…” I looked down at the over-the-top outfit I was wearing, “we’re supposed to be the villains in GM’s story.”

“Pah,” Dendrite gestured dismissively. “Why should we? I’m not gonna switch sides just because GM tells me to. In fact,” Dendrite lowered his voice to a whisper, “my NPCs told me something. A Dark Apostle is about as strong as a post-game Revenant. Check it out.”

Dendrite looked down at the thick mahogany table upon which he had placed his books. The top of the table was constructed of hardwood that was several inches thick. He picked up his books and gently placed them on a smaller nearby table. He raised his hand about a foot above the table and extended his fingers such that his hand resembled a knife. Then, with extreme speed, Dendrite brought his hand down at an extreme speed. For a moment, his hand was a blur as he chopped downward. Dendrite’s hand struck the table, but it did not stop. With an awful crack, the entire mahogany table split in half under the weight of Dendrite’s calamitous strike. A cloud of dust ejected from the fallen table and spread out in a ten-foot radius.

The two of us coughed and tried to wave the dust away from our mouths. “That’s crazy,” I said. “I didn’t know Revenants could get that strong. Are we still technically Revenants?”

“Never mind that,” Dendrite said. “My point is that we’re extremely powerful now. If there’s anyone that can kill GM right now, it’s us.”

Dendrite and my attention was suddenly drawn to the entrance to the library opposite the one I used to enter. Neither of us could pinpoint the exact sensation that caused us to look in that direction. Upon looking, we saw a woman who had just entered, followed by a gaggle of featureless sorcerers. The woman was wearing a strapless black ball gown and a billowing black cape with a white collar that almost reached the top of her head. The outfit left much of her chest exposed, and the roman numeral XI could be seen under her collarbone. I recognized her as Poldra, the smoking woman who had been killed instantly in an artillery strike at the East Gate. Her hair was still tied in the same kind of braid she was wearing when she was still alive.

“I see you boys are already breaking the castle,” Poldra chuckled as soon as she walked in. Enzo was put off by the extent to which her tone matched her outfit.

“Poldra!” I shouted. “I see you’re still alive.”

“Yeah,” Poldra said as she got closer, “though I guess I died on that tower. What happened? I just remember a loud noise, and then I was here.”

“Artillery,” I said. “They took the whole tower out with cannons of some kind. I actually survived the blast, but I was killed by gunfire a few minutes later.”

“Sucks, man,” Poldra said, now a few feet from the other two Dark Apostles. “Do you know why I’m dressed like Maleficent, and you two are dressed like the Phantom of the Opera?”

I briefly described the situation to Poldra, who had apparently not stopped to talk to the sorcerers before she had started exploring the castle. During the conversation, Dendrite offhandedly mentioned that they were in Castle Bosporus. I silently ruminated on the fact that the Bosporus was one of the two straights between the Mediterranean Sea and Black Sea. At the time, I didn’t think it was important, so I didn’t mention it.

“Okay, now I understand the whole Dark Apostle thing,” Poldra said after Enzo and Dendrite were done explaining. “What I don’t understand is why this shirt has to show so much of my cleavage. If I were to step into Osiris dressed like this and say, ‘I’m here to kill all of you,’ half of the guys there would ask me to step on them.” Poldra pulled lightly on the hem of her low-cut shirt as she spoke.

At this point, we were walking down a long hallway. We had started walking while Dendrite was describing the situation to Poldra. A significant number - fifteen in total - of heavily-robed sorcerers were following us at a respectable distance. Strangely, I was glad that the sorcerers were out of ear shot. If they could hear what these vaunted Apostles were talking about, they might be disillusioned. A moment later, I chided myself for the foolishness of caring what those unimportant NPCs thought of him.

“I’m sure there are plenty of in-universe explanations,” Dendrite said, “but ultimately the answer is that GM wanted us to be dressed like this.”

“Also, it shows off our numbers,” I said, pointing to the thirteen on my chest.

“Something tells me complaining isn’t going to get anything done,” Poldra said. “It’s not like GM has an HR department.”

“Hopefully we’ll be able to get changed later,” Dendrite said.

One of the many sorcerers in our entourage hurried forward to within earshot of the three of us.

“Excuse me, my lords, I have a message from the Master,” the sorcerer said. I could immediately tell that this was the female sorcerer that answered some of my questions when I had first awoken. She had taken up a kind-of leadership role within the cadre of fifteen sorcerers.

“What is it?” Podra asked. Her tone indicated that she suspected she would not like the answer.

“The remaining Dark Apostles are meeting in the Great Hall,” the female sorcerer said.

Poldra, Dendrite, and I looked at each other for a moment.

“Might as well,” I said as I shrugged.

The sorcerer began to lead us down a new path. I could tell by her gait that she was incredibly nervous, but she was doing a good job at hiding it. A feeling of unease filled me. My uncanny ability to perceive these minute details was unique to my existence as a Dark Apostle. As a Revenant, my perception was roughly equivalent to my IRL perception. As a Dark Apostle, I had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a bat.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Offhandedly, I closed one eye and opened my Character Sheet.

Character Sheet

Name EnzoTheBaker Level 100 Blood Points 250/250 Mana Points 633/633 Race Dark Apostle Fortitude 25 Strength 48 Agility 30 Wisdom 34

Attribute Modifier: Enhanced Mana Reserve (500)

After a full twenty minutes, we reached a long room that was filled with people. At the center, arrayed around a long table, were eleven people dressed in the Dark Apostles’ long coats and capes. Off to the periphery were several dozen sorcerers. At a glance, there were probably about fifty sorcerers present before our group had arrived.

When my group arrived at the table, the Dark Apostles were arguing about something. Only two were sitting at the table. The other eight were standing around shouting at one another. Assisted by my new-found visual acuity, I saw the roman numerals for one through ten on the chests of the Dark Apostles who had arrived at the Great Hall before me.

I recognized one of the Apostles. The Apostle with a V on his chest was Melkior, also known as Kevin Avery, the Revenant who had been killed by an Orc while the group led by Tantalus retreated back to the West Gate. I would have said something to Melkior immediately, but I could not possibly have been heard over the sound of the Dark Apostles arguing.

“What the Hell are you saying!?” the Seventh Apostle shouted. He had greasy slicked-back hair, and anger was evident throughout his whole body. His face was scrunched up in rage, his shoulders were tight, and one of his fists was raised so that he could punctuate his points. “We didn’t change sides just because GM did us a solid! If we kill GM, we get out! That hasn’t changed!”

The First Apostle, a man with shoulder-length red hair, was the target of the Seventh Apostle's vitriol. The First Apostle was sitting at one of the ornate wooden chairs that surrounded the table in the center of the Great Hall.

“I don’t know what town you spawned in, Seven, but I assume it wasn’t New Arcadia,” said One. “We caught GM outside of the safezone. We tried to kill him. As you can imagine, it didn’t go well. We shot him with anointed bullets; it didn’t work. We threw spells at him; it didn’t work. We stabbed him with swords; it didn’t work. What makes you think we can kill him now?”

“If not bullets, then something else!” Seven shouted. “We can kill him with magic… or our bare hands! We are so much stronger as Apostles!”

“If we can find him,” the Eighth Apostle, a tall woman with short blue hair, said. “If you haven’t noticed, he’s not here.”

“Seven,” the Fourth Apostle, an Asian man with a sharp jawline and short black hair, began. “You seem like the kinda guy that can only play a shooter if you’re convinced that the enemy soldiers are evil.”

“What are you talking about!?” Seven growled.

“In a video game, when you kill an enemy soldier, it’s not because he’s evil or otherwise morally incorrect, it’s because he would kill you otherwise,” Four said. “It’s the same way for soldiers in the real world; it’s the same way for us. A soldier kills his enemy because he has to; not because his enemy is evil. In that same vein, we need to follow GM’s orders because we’ll die otherwise.”

Seven raised a pointed finger toward Four as if he was about to say something, but he was cut off by the Ninth Apostle, a Middle Eastern man who had been standing to the side with his arms crossed.

“It would be evil to help an entity as heinous as GM in any way no matter the circumstances,” Nine said.

“Exactly!” Seven said. “Finally, someone’s talking sense. Thanks, Nine.”

“It’s Kamil,” Nine said. “I am not a tool of GM.”

“Thanks, Kamil,” Seven said. “Who else is on my side?”

After a moment of no reaction, Seven said, “No one?” Then, a few seconds later, Dendrite raised his hand with a sigh. Enzo followed suit a second later, though Poldra’s hand stayed where it was. Dendrite and Enzo turned to her; Polda merely shrugged her shoulders.

“Thank you, Twelve, Thirteen,” Seven said. “As for the remaining nine…”

Melkior, who was the remaining Apostle sitting at the table, interrupted Seven. “Before we have a religious schism, perhaps we should cut this line of conversation short. We can hold a civil war after GM has put all of his cards on the table. Does that sound okay? For now, we are neither on GM’s side nor against it. Can we all operate with that mindset for now?”

“Why bother?” Four said. “We should just hold a vote now on supporting GM. It’ll be nine to four.”

“That’s probably not such a good idea,” Poldra said.

“Why not? Isn’t Democracy supposed to be a good thing?” Four said mockingly.

“If we were to hold that vote now, I’d abstain,” Poldra said, “and I suspect that a lot of other people here would also abstain.”

The Third Apostle, a bald black man, said, “I feel the same way. We just got here. It’s too early for us to do something so big.”

“Fine,” Four threw his hands up in the air, “we’ll go with Five’s idea for now. What should we do, then, oh great mediator?”

“We could all introduce ourselves so that we don’t have to call each other by the number on our chest,” Melkior said. “One, why don’t you go first.”

“Whatever you say, Five,” One smiled, “though, I kind of like the number thing.” One cleared his throat and said, “I’m the First Dark Apostle, Svenheim28. I guess I should say something interesting about myself.” Four chuckled. “I spawned in New Arcadia alongside Two, Three, and Four. We went outside the walls, and we ran into a Deluvian with a gatling gun. I died first, and the others tell me they died a few seconds later.”

“You didn’t have to tell them that, Sven,” Four muttered.

“Two,” Mekior said.

The Second Apostle, a short man with brown hair, said, “I’m Talwar13. I guess I’m the Second Apostle.”

“I’m the third one,” Three said. “My username is a bit dumb, so you can just call me Darren.”

“Your username isn’t lame, man,” Four said as he patted Three on the back. “It’s a witty reference... Right...” Four shook his head to regain his composure, “I am Kojiro19, GM’s Fourth Dark Apostle!” He swept his white-gloved hand dramatically as he introduced himself.

Sven and Talwar nodded their heads and smiled as Kojiro introduced himself. “I like it!” Sven said audibly. “That’ll get their attention!” Sven and Kojiro high fived.

“Right,” Melkior tried not to sound judgmental; he was unsuccessful. “I am Melkior, the Fifth. I spawned in Osiris City. In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I met Apostles 12 and 13 in Osiris before my death.”

The Sixth Apostle, a young Asian woman with short hair, quietly said, “I’m NullPoEx, but my friends call me Null. I’m, uh, number six.”

There was a half second of silence. I wasn’t sure that Null had finished speaking, but Seven had taken the brief silence as confirmation that he should begin speaking. “I’m Nailman1,” he said. “As you can see, the number on my chest says seven. I’m from Fulvang City, and I’m a deontologist.”

“Orthodontist?” Kojiro asked, genuinely confused.

“Ah, deontology,” Melkior said. “A valuable but ultimately imperfect form of philosophy. I’d be happy to argue ethical philosophy with you later. Like, for example, the deontological value of self-preservation.”

“And that’s my cue to cut off the conversation,” a voice came that completely filled the Great Hall. A small part of my brain informed me of who the voice belonged to. I could tell that it was the same for the other twelve Apostles, because they all got to their feet or otherwise assumed a fighting stance.

A veritable ocean of solid shadow flowed through the Great Hall’s open windows. The Thirteen Dark Apostles were blinded for a moment before the shadows dissipated as they all coagulated into a single malignant tumor. The shadows completely disappeared, revealing a man standing at the head of the table.

GM, who was attired the same as he was the last time I saw him save for a handgun in a holster at his hip, stood at the head of the table.

“I can’t stand philosophy,” GM said to the shocked Apostles, “especially moral philosophy.”

GM removed his green military jacket, folded it, and placed it on the central table. “I’m more into the applied sciences, myself.”