The environment solidified as he took in a few breaths. His focus had been to escape, but he relinquished such thoughts. His inadequacy in the pace, his master's death. In a way, he felt relieved. The relief of being a Justicar, of being away from Ana constantly and the release from the rule of the aristocracy.

Here...I suppose it would be okay. His mind wandered into the abyss. From the blackness his world appeared from nothing.

I am the master.

From the darkness I will never return. I am no longer Gelehrter. I am something greater, far greater.

“There are no Mortem to answer to.” He said. The sudden realization released a stimulant into his body he had never felt before.

Elation rose into strength. In his world, he imagined he was the strongest. No Mortem or anyone else could crush him.

Gelehrter, you must wake up! The voice called again. He ignored it.

What use would it be to go back there? Innocence begged him to remain.

In this world, nothing was wrong. Stolzer was alive.

Eisener was alive.

A valley took shape before him. In its center rose a tower which reached beyond the heavens, its immense grandeur glowered at the denizens of the land and demanded their obedience. However, this was Gelehrter's world.

In my world, anything goes. He concluded.

Agony. He writhed in the grip of agony as he felt it rush into his system. It demanded his attention.

Voices rose in a discordant chorus from the mountain which loomed in the distance. The sounds reverberated into an amalgam of noise and he strained his ears to focus onto its subject.

Mortem.

Mortem.

Serve the Mortem.

Justicar.

Justicar.

You are Justicar under the Mortem.

Protect, Protect.

You must protect.

Sanctuary.

Sanctuary, oh Holy Land of the Father.

Mortem, Mortem.

He reached for his temples as the sounds cascaded into forms which surrounded him from all sides.

Mortem.

Mortem.

Mortem.

Mortem.

Mortem.

Serve the Mortem.

Gelehrter wake up!

His screams escaped him in an attempt to drown the crowd of voices.

At last his eyes opened. The sight of the darkened corridors sent shivers down his spine and he fidgeted with the mask underneath his collar. A sigh of relief escaped him as the filter built into the Blessed Star's mask worked feverishly to quiet the stem of poisonous air.

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Gelehrter glanced about as oxygen flowed into his body. His friends were no where to be found. The encampment he helped them create, the conversation they had, their presence...

It was all an illusion...He felt tears well into his eyes and he wiped them away gingerly. Exhaustion forced apathy to blanket onto him, but he shoved it off. Without another thought, he stood upright and marched on.

His footsteps echoed throughout the expanse. Devoid of life, he witnessed the endless hallway. Blackness ahead of him screamed at him to turn back and the darkness behind him ushered him forward.

“Where on Sanctuary am I?” He whispered to himself. His voice had echoed continuously for what seemed to be an eternity. His mind raced with infinite possibilities as he witnessed the environment shift. Stones from under his feet rose from their position and rose into nothingness, as if they were consumed by some invisible maw. He took to a sprint and the corridor behind him had reformed into a wall almost instantaneously.

Bright light siphoned his sight for a brief moment. He glanced about as the whirring of machines igniting into life reached his ears, the sudden draining of the Blessed Star taking it toll on him. Hastily he deactivated the magical armor and padded about. He padded about, the strange dials and other instruments beeping as he neared.

Gelehrter focused onto a station labeled: Abnormality Extractor. He squinted as he read the label: For use when traveling in the Lower Sector.

The man tilted his head and reached for the mask. As it neared his visage, it lunged forward and released a series of vile bursts of air. After, the machine whirred and forced the air from his lungs. His eyes widened as he witnessed dark matter exiting his system.

Resting against the machine for an instant, his breaths palpitated for a few moments as he gathered himself. Cold sweat beaded down his brow as he turned to several other devices nearby.

“What on Sanctuary...” He mumbled, his mind attempting to comprehend the image before him. In the center stood the rising Citadel and he took note of all the Districts which seemed to continue indefinitely in their respective directions. As he gazed into all aspects of the image before him, his eyes fell onto the region of the Market District which he had grown so familiar with.

Eisener's home, which was inherited by Ana. His arm extended forward in hopes of touching the roof. An echo of her voice reverberated in his mind as he focused onto her. The familiar rhythmic tune of her hammer as it shaped her creations. In his current state—a Justicar wearing a gambeson given to him by King Thalanil of the North, a pair of torn boots, and pants—he felt unworthy.

However, his ears caught the sound of others approaching. He reached within for magic. His footsteps were silenced and his form was hidden by a veil of energy. As his form faded, so too did the lights. The machines slowly shut themselves off.

A pair sauntered into the chamber. Once they entered, the massive energy wave emitted from the machines all turning on at once caused Gelehrter to stagger. He turned to the pair who entered. Accalia's platinum hair dazzled him as she seemed to drift about. She was garbed from head to toe in white garments, from the gown to her dainty slippers. The ocean hues focused entirely on the form of the man before her. He had been hunched over and rested almost entirely on his cane. Strange clothing protected him from the elements. Most in Sanctuary wore robes, shirts, armor or other garments. This man however wore sleek pants with shoes that reflected the devices around him. A jacket had been pulled over his dark form and a button-up shirt was tucked into the pants.

His eyes studied the figure before him curiously.

“...I see that you have taken the necessary precautions, my dear.” His voice, a grizzled grinding heaving mass of air, seemed to coo to Accalia.

“I have done all the necessary steps. For now, I suppose it is superficial to say that I will be granting you a new body very soon.” She sauntered to a nearby device. Her fingers danced along the surface and lights all around them focused onto the wall ahead of them. The metallic surfaces hissed as they were moved aside from strange systems which whirred and ground against one another. His eyes widened as appeared to be millions of floating bodies held in gigantic tanks. They floated about and were amalgamated shapes which resembled humans. His hair stood on end as they wandered through the many rows ahead of him.

Stealthily he made his approach. As they entered the immense chamber proper, he darted behind them and bit his tongue as the walls behind him shut.

“Your progress on the Resurrection spell is slow.”

“Indeed...I have not had much time to develop new methods. From what I understand, the magic is forbidden.” Accalia reminded him.

“The Sanguine Overlord...?”

“Hannibal, she has no idea. I have taken great lengths to ensure she will not know of my experiments. Once I return to the Citadel, I will secure my entrance here and no one will suspect me.”

“Gavilis is a smart man. He has lived as long as I and is still looking quite young. Perhaps you should capture him next, since he is the one responsible for many of our plans going awry.” The shuffling man who bore the name Hannibal finally halted at a particular body. Inside of the tank was a floating boy, no more than twelve years of age, opened his eyes. A pair of studious sapphires focused onto him. An alert, almost haunting, tilt of his head and the water within vibrated in short bursts.

“I am aware, master. Your return is to be delayed for quite a while longer. Vampires are about and they believe you are dead. I have located your beloved and are working to revive her as well. I have managed to replicate you, but your true strength was in your first form. Please wait a little longer and gather your power.” Hannibal pressed his palm against the glass and the boy returned the gesture. As his eyes began to close, they focused onto Gelehrter's position a several dozen meters away.

Damn, he saw me. He thought and pressed his hand onto the handle of his blade.

However, no mention or apprehension came.

He refuses to warn them.

“Eloise then?”

“Eloise the First has been located in the bowels of the Citadel. I will find a means to pinpoint her and you will bring her to me. Do not fail. I cannot save you if you do, lest you forget.” Hannibal lowered his head as if lost in thought.

“Your will be done.” She bowed and seemed to drift away.

The man remained in place and looked to the young ward. A similar head of snow white hair—in all regards it was a similar Ernald floating before him.