At the same moment the hound extermination crew arrived at White Hell, in a distant timeline ravaged by man-made devastation, a figure bellowed cheerfully into the starless night. Their towering frame flickered amidst a sea of mangled corpses, illuminated by the flames licking the ground.

"My friend, stand up. Surely it doesn’t end like this, right?" Costa grinned, his grip tightening on his blood-stained daggers as fresh blood mixed with sweat and smoke slid down his bare torso. He stood over a figure whose limbs had been severed, neck broken, and chest crushed. Despite the mangled body, the figure’s bloodthirsty eyes remained locked on Costa, a sadistic smile frozen on his face even in death.

Costa nudged the corpse with his foot. "Come on, that can’t be it. Get up already. We were just getting to the good part." His kicks grew more forceful. "Come on, get up!" he snarled, his eyes flaring with fury. Before long, his frustration peaked, and with a swift motion, he decapitated the corpse, sending the head flying into the inferno several feet away.

"He’s not going to wake up if you keep kicking him, you know that, right?" A voice echoed from the flames, calm and detached, though Costa's eyes remained on the decapitated body.

Mumbling to himself, Costa shook his head. "It shouldn’t be this easy. He must be a fake." His lips curled into a grin. "Yeah, definitely a fake. There’s no way he’s this weak."

"Do you hear yourself right now?" the voice responded again, and this time, Costa turned to its source. A man stood there, meeting Costa's gaze.

Unlike Costa’s imposing frame, the man was of average build, with blonde hair tied in a knot. Flames danced off his skin, covering him in a mixture of orange dust and soot, but his most striking feature was the cluster of glittering crystals scattered across his forehead and jaw. In his hand, he held a scepter, its top gleaming with the same brilliance as the jewels on his face.

"Marek? Didn’t you die?" Costa asked, looking genuinely confused.

Marek sighed, rolling his eyes as if too tired to argue. He massaged his temples. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered before shifting his focus to a lanky man sitting atop the wreckage of what had once been a home. The man’s gaze was distant, drifting away from the scene of carnage around him.

"Hurly, say something," Marek snapped. "I’m in this mess because of you."

Hurly turned slowly, his impassive, yellow eyes gleaming with a strange, eerie beauty against his withered face, which seemed to provoke anxiety in anyone who looked too long.

"A thousand and six people died today, but none of them was him," Hurly said quietly. His voice barely rose above a whisper as he pointed to the headless corpse. "They look alike, but they’re not the same."

Marek’s brow furrowed, irritation growing. "You said the same thing the last couple of times," he interrupted. "What makes the one you’re after different?"

Hurly’s finger hovered over the corpse. "They're not empty like him."

Marek groaned in frustration. What in tarnation does that even mean?

“That’s because the one you’re searching for doesn’t exist,” Costa suddenly chimed in, turning away from the corpse. “That bastard is the Eidolon of Envy. He just picked up a few tricks—that’s why you felt like he was something special. Don’t worry, you’ll see soon enough that I’m right.” His smile was bright, almost too bright given the circumstances.

Hurly, unfazed, simply averted his gaze. Costa swung his arms, and his daggers vanished into thin air. But almost instantly, several teeth shot out from various directions, hovering in front of him. With a flick of his hand, a mason jar appeared from his inventory, and the teeth neatly arranged themselves inside it.

Marek’s eye twitched as he watched the bizarre scene unfold. “You’re a weird person. You know that, right?”

Costa smiled, seemingly unaware or uninterested in the remark. Once the last tooth settled into the jar, it vanished into his inventory with a soft hum.

“Can we leave this wretched timeline already?” Marek groaned, scanning the desolation around them.

“Why rush?” Costa replied, still not looking at him. “We’ve got to cleanse everyone who was affiliated with that disease. Only then can we—" His words trailed off as a system notification flashed before him.

Both Marek and Hurly stiffened, their expressions shifting as they turned toward Costa. They knew his status, and a direct system message was no trivial matter. They stayed silent, watching intently as Costa’s expression flickered between emotions while he read the message. A moment later, the hulking man erupted in booming laughter, his voice echoing through the wreckage. Hurly and Marek exchanged glances; neither had ever seen Costa laugh with such unrestrained joy.

“What did the message say? Are you going to tell us, or just leave us hanging?” Marek asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

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Costa ignored him and turned to Hurly. “Remember when I said I’d prove it to you? Well, looks like the perfect opportunity just showed up.”

Hurly’s eyes narrowed. “He’s nearby?” he asked, a note of excitement creeping into his usually calm voice.

Costa’s grin widened. “We’ve got a week. Let’s make the most of it.” At that moment, a crack formed in the air in front of him, pulsating with energy. He glanced at Marek. “You’re still after the bounties on their heads, right?”

Marek nodded instinctively. The gears in his mind were already turning—he could guess who their next target would be, and the thought made his lips curl in anticipation. The jewels embedded in his face shimmered, reflecting his excitement with a dazzling display of colors.

“I’ll leave the rest to you two. The Eidolon of Envy is mine. I’m not sharing,” Costa declared.

“Deal,” Marek agreed, without hesitation. “I don’t care about him anyway. Do whatever you want.”

“I disagree,” Hurly cut in abruptly. Both Costa and Marek frowned in unison.

Marek leaned in closer to Hurly, whispering urgently, “What’s wrong with you? You can find someone else to play with. This isn’t open for debate.”

His words, however, fell on deaf ears. Hurly stood firm, glaring down at Costa, his intentions crystal clear—he wasn’t going to let someone else claim his prey.

“So, even you can make that kind of face,” Costa remarked with a smirk as the portal blinked out of existence. He cracked his neck twice and grinned. “Talking is pointless now.” His daggers reappeared in his hands, gleaming under the dim light.

Marek, massaging his temples, took a cautious step back. “Why am I always surrounded by maniacs?” he muttered under his breath.

Costa cracked his neck again. “For the record, I liked you, soldier,” he said casually. “Your abilities are impressive. But a dog should know its place.” His chuckle was laced with mockery as he twirled his dagger, taunting Hurly. “Come on then, show me how determined you really are.”

Hurly took a step forward. Marek’s voice echoed in his mind, but only Hurly could hear it. “Hurly, think carefully about what you’re doing,” Marek warned.

Hurly paused, glancing over at Marek.

“You’re powerful—no one’s denying that. But think about who you’re about to fight,” Marek continued, his tone grave. “That’s the Calamity of Endurance.”

“And?” Hurly replied, his voice cold and audible this time.

Marek frowned, bewildered. “What do you mean, and? You can’t win this,” he stressed. “Do you seriously believe—”

“I’ve heard enough.” Hurly turned back to Costa, a flicker of arrogance flashing in his yellow eyes. “I’m a god. You’re all beneath me.”

Costa chuckled darkly. “Yes, yes, O’ great deity. Show me what you can do.” His steps quickened, and in response, Hurly charged forward, while Marek retreated further, cursing under his breath.

Meanwhile, in a separate timeline dominated by towering, lush mountain peaks, a distortion opened in midair and spat out the hound extermination crew. The portal vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving the infamous group crashing through the thick vegetation, felling a couple of trees in their wake.

Despite the rough landing, each member was immediately on alert, scanning their surroundings for threats.

“I don’t see it. Anyone else?” Zara asked, her bloodshot eyes darting around the peaceful area.

“Nothing on my end,” Slim and Plume echoed in unison.

“Same here,” Scott and Ember chimed in.

“Um, what exactly are we looking for again?” Orion suddenly asked, his voice breaking the tension.

The expressions of his companions darkened. “This isn’t the time for jokes,” Zara snapped, her tone sharp.

“I’m not joking,” Orion chuckled, casually taking in their surroundings.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” Plume interjected; she would raise an eyebrow if she had one. “You did see the notification about seven entities crossing timelines, right?”

Orion nodded. “I did see the notification, but what does that have to—oh?” He chuckled as realization hit. “You thought the Calamity of Ice followed us here?” He shook his head with another soft chuckle.

The group turned to face him, a shared confusion settling in. For the first time, Scott lowered his guard, the same realization dawning on him.

“Isn’t that obvious, buddy?” Slim chimed in. “There are only six of us here, after all.”

Orion shook his head. “Technically, that’s incorrect,” the mage said, his voice teasing. “Already forgotten someone, have we?”

Zara, Ember, and Slim exchanged puzzled glances, while Plume stayed vigilant.

“He’s talking about Fi-Fi,” Scott explained, breaking the silence. Understanding washed over the group, and soon bashful smiles replaced their earlier confusion. The elemental slime had been in hibernation for so long that they’d completely forgotten its presence.

Orion chuckled again. “And here I was, thinking something important was hidden from me.” He scanned the tranquil surroundings with a slight shake of his head.

The others shared thin, embarrassed smiles, each wondering how Fi-Fi would react if it knew it had been forgotten, even if only temporarily.

A gentle wind rustled the lush vegetation around them, carrying a sweet, flowery fragrance. The distant echoes of flowing rivers and waterfalls created a serene backdrop. Everything about the place screamed tranquility.

“It’s nice not being thrown into danger for once,” Slim muttered softly.

Zara jabbed him with her elbow. “Don’t jinx it, bonehead,” she said, glaring at him.

“There’s no telling where exactly we are, though,” Ember remarked, surveying the landscape. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a long time.” Apart from the damaged trees from their crash landing, the surroundings were pristine and untouched.

“That’s not entirely true,” Plume murmured absentmindedly, drawing the group’s attention. No one had noticed her moving closer to a tree, her form resting on its bark.

“Oh?” Orion asked, watching her with curiosity. “Do you have some kind of connection with the trees?”

“They’re not happy we disturbed them,” Plume replied, leaning against the tree. “I’ve apologized on our behalf, and they’re willing to forgive us—as long as we don’t harm any more vegetation on the mountain.”

The group exchanged glances, but none doubted her words.

“Ask them if there are any cities nearby or what kind of people live here,” Zara suggested after a pause.

Plume was about to respond when a distinct gong echoed through the mountains. The hound extermination crew instinctively looked up as a massive shadow passed over them—a colossal flying ship blocking out the sun.

“They said everything in these lands belongs to the Cult of the Crimson Sun,” Plume announced quietly.

Scott and his companions focused on the ship's insignia—a radiant sun encircled by ten moons, emblazoned on its sides. Then, a voice boomed from above, echoing across the mountains with a chilling authority. "Bow in the presence of the Dark Moon."