The sound of boots pressing against the polished surface echoed in the dimly lit hallway as the members of the Hound Extermination Crew marched forward with quiet confidence, each of them dressed for battle. No words were spoken, no steps wasted, their movements precise and deliberate as they approached the massive portal looming at the far end. The swirling emerald mass, threaded with streaks of blackened gray, emitted a low, menacing hum that grew louder with each step they took. On either side of the gateway stood two Wutas, their posture rigid in silent guard.
“I wonder how chaotic things have gotten out there,” Slim muttered, adjusting his suit with a dry chuckle.
“Quite chaotic, I’d imagine,” Orion replied, his grin broadening. “It’s been over a month since the Bridge Between Timelines was established—who knows what kind of interesting people have wandered into our timeline by now,” the mage’s prime added, unable to hide his excitement.
“How sure are you about what you said the other day?” Zara asked suddenly, her gaze flicking between the mage and his clone.
Both responded in unison, “100%.”
Zara sighed in resignation, shaking her head gently. As they arrived in front of the portal, the Wutas immediately acknowledged Scott’s presence. “We greet the Great One,” they said simultaneously.
Scott’s expression remained impassive as he addressed them. “How are the preparations?”
“All has been prepared according to your minion’s specifications,” one of the Wutas declared.
Scott nodded, then turned to his companions. “This is it, everyone. Once we step through, there’s no turning back. If anyone’s having second thoughts, now would be—”
“Save the speech, buddy,” Slim interrupted with a chuckle, stepping forward confidently.
“You’ve become quite the talker lately,” Zara teased. “What’s next, are we going to see you cry?” she joked, shaking her head. Without hesitation, she, Ember, and Plume moved forward. Orion’s main body followed suit, but his clone lingered behind.
“I guess this is goodbye for me,” Orion’s clone said, grinning as he waved to the group.
“Why are you talking like you’re different from him?” Zara rolled her eyes. Though the clone spoke as if it was a separate entity— and it was, they all knew Orion and his clones shared the same personality, thoughts, and memories.
“Are you going to that place?” Scott asked privately over the party channel.
The clone nodded. “I’d rather go with you all, but that place promises to be just as exciting. Who knows, we might cross paths again. Wouldn’t that be fun?” he giggled.
“Good luck. Let’s meet again,” Scott said with a faint smile. “Remember to—” Scott’s words cut off abruptly, his brow furrowing as he stared at the clone. The rest of the crew turned their attention toward it as well, a sudden tension filling the air.
The smiling clone’s eyes suddenly reddened, as if possessed by something malevolent. Dark, tar-like smudges began to creep across his face, spreading rapidly over his body like a plague.
“Orion, what’s happening to your clone?” Zara asked sharply, her gaze narrowing with suspicion.
“I’m not entirely sure… oh,” Orion began, then paused mid-sentence, his once-tense features softening into a grin. “Relax, everyone. It’s not an enemy,” he said, amusement coloring his voice.
“Then what the hell is it?” Slim asked, his gaze darting between the smiling mage and the clone, now almost entirely engulfed in the black substance.
“It’s his variant,” Scott cut in before Orion could answer.
Orion chuckled, clapping his hands together. “Perceptive as ever,” he said, beaming at Scott.
The champions’ expressions shifted instantly. While Orion and Scott remained unnervingly calm, the rest of the crew stiffened at the mention of a variant. They knew what it meant—the bridge not only allowed champions to cross timelines, but it also enabled calamities to do the same. And the presence of the Calamity of Inquisition in particular was no trivial matter.
The tar coating the clone churned violently for a moment, then a voice emerged—similar to Orion’s, yet somehow different. It resonated deeper, more ominous. “Apologies for using such crude methods to communicate…” The variant-controlled clone's gaze locked onto Orion's main body, as if seeing him for the first time. Then, in an instant, the tar-like smudges dissipated, though the clone’s eyes remained blood-red.
Orion’s clone, now fully possessed by his variant, stared at him, eyes wide with something akin to disbelief. The clone then turned toward Scott; its shock palpable. The gaze seemed to ask: Do you realize who stands before you?
“You’ve taken strides beyond anything we could have ever imagined,” the variant muttered, its voice laced with an unsettling mix of awe, envy, and excitement. “It’s a shame I won’t be part of you.” There was a genuine sadness in its tone, the words heavier than they appeared.
Orion’s smile never faltered. “A shame indeed.”
Zara, Slim, Ember, and Plume exchanged uneasy glances. Whatever was being hinted at between Orion, the variant, and Scott was beyond their comprehension. Scott, on the other hand, had already begun piecing it together. Named calamities weren’t bound by the Point of No Return, and from his perspective, the variant had likely recognized Orion as someone who would likely emerge victorious during the fabled merger at the cataclysmic Point.
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the eerie silence.
The variant shifted its attention to the voidweaver, a smile tugging at its lips. “I come bearing news,” it said, its tone light, almost casual. “Be warned, we’ve been given executive orders to annihilate your party should we cross paths.”
The air in the room grew cold, but the variant wasn’t finished. Its gaze then fell on Ember. “Unlike your companions, a separate order has been issued for you. You can be killed,” it said with a chilling calm, “but your soul must be retrieved.”
Ember’s expression darkened, her fists clenching tightly. She knew exactly who had issued that order. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she inhaled deeply, forcing her emotions back under control. “Thank you,” she muttered, her voice steady but barely concealing the turmoil beneath.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The variant smiled faintly at her response before turning back to Scott. “I’m guessing you plan on jumping across timelines, right?” he asked, though it seemed more of a statement than a question.
Scott nodded once.
“I thought so,” the variant chuckled. He then turned to Orion, a glimmer of admiration in its eyes. “That was your idea, wasn’t it?”
Orion’s smile widened, but he said nothing. His silence was all the confirmation the variant needed.
“Smart move. But don’t expect things to be any easier just because you’ve shifted timelines. In situations like this, the best play is to create a scenario where—”
“Where everyone loses,” Orion interjected with a grin. Instantly, both the mage and his variant erupted into laughter.
“That’s all I have to say,” the variant said suddenly, then paused, his gaze drifting around the space. “This place is...” His eyes fell on Orion, who gave a slight shake of his head. “Ah. I see. Well then, I wish you all good luck.”
The reddish gleam faded from the clone’s eyes, and he staggered a few steps before regaining his composure. “That... that was a first,” the clone muttered, his voice unsteady, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
“Go rest,” Orion said, his voice gentle. “Leave the rest to us.”
The clone nodded, retreating. Meanwhile, Orion turned to his companions. “I guess it’s time for us to go.”
With a silent, mutual understanding, the group moved toward the portal. One by one, they stepped through, with Scott trailing behind. Before crossing, he turned back to Orion's clone.
“What about the other members of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign?” Scott asked.
Orion gave a slight shrug. “The administrator’s strict—no one from the higher floors is allowed to descend. They’ve all been forced to return. There was some debate about leaving avatars behind, but no one wanted to risk the administrator’s wrath. I’m sure you understand.”
Scott nodded, offering no further comment. He stepped into the portal, vanishing.
Seconds after Scott’s departure, another portal manifested near where Orion stood. Unlike the previous one, this portal was blackened and exuded a suffocating, baleful aura. A cold voice, dripping with authority, echoed into the hallway.
“You have been summoned.”
Orion chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No time wasted, huh?” Without hesitation, the mage approached the ominous portal, stepping through without another word as it vanished behind him.
----------------------------------------
Far from Carcosa, in an unknown location, a portal shimmered into existence in the center of a dusty field. The field was enclosed by towering walls, forming an arena. Scattered around the arena stood clusters of champions, each eyeing the mysterious portal with guarded expressions.
The members of the hound extermination crew emerged, stepping out of the portal one after the other, their movements measured and deliberate.
A cacophony of system notifications echoed around the arena, and the wariness in the eyes of the surrounding champions quickly morphed into shock—then excitement. In mere moments, bloodlust and greed began to flare.
Rumors had swirled endlessly about the infamous group's whereabouts. Guilds, factions, and lone champions had scoured the tower, searching for any sign of the crew, but their efforts were to no avail. None expected them to surface in the arena—of all places.
You’ve reached Visbos' Arena, the final stage of Thisos’ Labyrinth and the Ranking Games!
The system’s announcement rang out, but Scott and his companions paid it little mind. Their gazes swept across the arena, noting the lack of spectators and the swelling numbers of eager, battle-ready champions.
“The portal’s closed,” Plume murmured softly. “There’s officially no turning back now.”
The Trisos observed the vast arena that unfolded before them. Towering walls lined with razor-sharp spikes encircled the black, sandy earth, devoid of any signs of life. Cyan orbs, glowing faintly with mystical energy, hovered in the air, casting an eerie light.
“Welcome, group one hundred and twenty-nine. The ranking stage will commence upon the arrival of one more group. Thank you for your patience,” announced a voice from one of the floating orbs.
“That’s a voice I haven’t heard in ages,” Slim remarked, his skeletal face shifting slightly in thought. “What was the examiner’s name again?”
“Nex, or was it Nix?” Zara muttered, folding her arms across her chest. Her feline eyes swept over the other groups. “I’m surprised they’re behaving. I thought they’d disregard the rules and lunge at us the moment we appeared.” She glanced at Orion. “Looks like you were right again.”
“The bounty on our heads may be tempting,” Orion said with a sly grin, “but no one here would risk drawing the ire of the examiners—or worse, the administrator. We’re practically walking examples of what not to do, or rather, what not to be.” He giggled softly.
Turning to Scott, Orion continued, “This is the arena you told me about. I believe the same rules apply, correct?”
Scott gave a curt nod.
Orion beamed. “I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us.”
Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the arena. The champions turned toward the source—a large opening that had materialized in the walls. Several figures emerged, their faces quickly morphing from shock to greed and bloodlust as they received sudden notifications, then they spotted the infamous hound extermination crew.
“There are now one hundred and thirty groups gathered here. The final ranking stage will begin. Thank you for your patience,” the examiner’s voice echoed once more.
Stage Selection! Option 1: A full-scale brawl among the gathered groups, with rewards based on the quality of opponents defeated. Option 2: A team battle where all champions in the arena will face off against those from another ranking stage in a different timeline. Victory guarantees the condensed essence of an Asura for each champion.
“Please select the option you wish to partake in. The option with the most votes will be chosen for the collective. You have one minute,” the examiner announced, yet no one moved.
All eyes were on the hound extermination crew, waiting to see what they would do. Some groups, who had experienced the hidden ranking stage before, knew abstaining from voting was an option as well.
“We’re really doing this, huh?” Slim’s voice echoed mentally. The skeleton stretched his limbs, the popping of bones echoing as he adjusted his stylish suit. Like him, the other members of the crew silently readied themselves for what was to come.
Stage Selection – Voting Results! Option 1 – 0 votes. Option 2 – 0 votes. Abstainers – 130 groups.
“I must say, this is an unprecedented situation,” Nex’s voice sounded again, almost bemused. “Abstaining from voting is tantamount to tacit participation in the mandatory challenge.”
“An opponent is being pre—”
A thunderous crack, like shattering glass, interrupted the examiner’s words. An overwhelming pressure descended upon the arena, crushing many of the champions to their knees. Some smashed their heads into the ground, dying instantly.
For the first time, the champions diverted their gaze from the hound extermination crew. Instead, they stared at a massive hand that seemed to tear through the fabric of reality itself.
The Mad Titan, Visbos, has unleashed the horde!
Another distinct crack echoed, and the arena's reality shattered, revealing thousands of titans and miniature titans, each one emanating a palpable bloodlust.
Scott and his companions had subtly distanced themselves from one another, each taking stock of the massive entities that began pouring into the arena.
“This is where it all begins for us,” Scott said, his pendant transforming into the War Hammer of the Mad God.
“As always—”
“Survive,” the crew declared simultaneously.
At that same moment, a chorus of ear-deafening roars filled the arena as the massive creatures charged forward.