Wally Naugus had just teleported Lady Ciara's letter to her spy in Castle Acorn, the parchment vanishing in a shimmer of teal light that snapped shut like the blink of a reptile's eye. The magic left behind the faint scent of ozone and old parchment—a smell Wally privately associated with secrets, treason, and paperwork.
He disliked all three of them.
Veins of violet light threaded through the rock like capillaries.
The ground hummed faintly underfoot, vibrating in arrhythmic pulses that never quite aligned with a heartbeat.
Wally held one of the four Anarchy Beryl they had already found aloft with his chimeric claw.
It hummed in response to him.
The gem was a faceted oblong crystal the color of morning dew—burning green at its core, fading to sharp lime yellow edges. Strange sigils shifted beneath its surface like fish beneath ice. When he tilted it, they rearranged themselves, forming fleeting symbols of ancient Echidna dialects before dissolving again.
"They are resonating further," Ooma Arachnis murmured.
Her voice was soft, but there was iron in it. Her ruby red eyes reflected the Anarchy Beryl's glow in a constellation of ember dots.
Around her skittered her spiderling children, dozens of them, ranging in size from that of a clenched fist to nearly the span of Wally's forearm. They chattered in tiny clicking whispers, their movements synchronized in unnerving precision.
Wally twitched one long ear.
"Yes, yes, they're resonating further," he said. "They've been resonating further for the past three hours. I'm aware of the concept."
The Anarchy Beryl's hum intensified, deepening in pitch. It was no longer a gentle vibration. It felt more like a distant engine starting somewhere beyond the veil of space.
Ooma tilted her head.
"The others are nearer."
"Yes, but they are still relatively far." He replied tiredly.
The cavern seemed to breathe.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically.
It breathed.
The violet veins pulsed in widening arcs along the stone walls, light thickening and thinning in slow contractions. Dust lifted from the ground in faint spirals with every pulse, then settled again in a patient rain. The air carried a mineral sharpness that clung to the back of the throat.
Wally Naugus lowered the Anarchy Beryl slightly, though he did not release it. The chimeric claw tightened around the gem's faceted edge as if afraid it might leap away on its own.
"Nearer," he muttered. "Everything is always nearer when one is standing in a cave that wishes to devour them."
Ooma Arachnis did not smile. She rarely did. Instead, one slender hand lifted, and several of her larger spiderlings scurried up her arm, perching along her shoulder and collarbone like living ornaments. Their eyes reflected the Beryl's glow in dozens of tiny emerald pinpricks.
"The resonance has changed," she said.
"Yes, that tends to happen when mystical artifacts decide to vibrate harder."
"It is not merely stronger. It is layered."
Wally's ear twitched again. He tilted the Anarchy Beryl.
The hum now carried an undertone—a second vibration riding beneath the first. It thrummed against his bones, making the air between his teeth buzz.
He narrowed his eyes.
"You may be correct."
Ooma's ruby gaze did not leave the crystal. "I am."
The ground trembled faintly.
Not violently. Not enough to threaten collapse. But enough to unsettle.
The violet veins brightened in sequence—one, two, three—like some titanic heartbeat echoing through buried arteries.
Wally glanced deeper into the cavern's descending corridor. The path sloped gradually, then sharply, curving out of sight. The stone grew smoother the further it went, as if worn by centuries of unseen passage.
He did not enjoy descending into unknown magical depths.
He enjoyed even less the idea of someone else claiming the remaining Anarchy Beryl first.
"They are calling to one another," Ooma murmured.
"Yes. Yes, they are. It is extremely impolite."
The spiderlings chittered softly, their legs tapping the stone in synchronous rhythms. The smaller ones began spreading outward along the walls, probing crevices, vanishing into cracks too narrow for anything larger.
Wally inhaled slowly.
The scent of ozone thickened.
Somewhere ahead, something shifted.
A faint crack like distant thunder echoed through the tunnel.
Ooma stepped forward first.
Wally followed with obvious reluctance.
The descent grew steeper.
The violet light thinned, replaced by a deeper green radiance emanating from the walls themselves. The rock here was darker, almost black, shot through with crystalline filaments that pulsed faintly in time with the Beryl's hum.
Wally adjusted his grip and cast a faint illumination spell from his free hand. The air shimmered, casting ghostly reflections that flickered against the crystalline veins.
His shadow stretched long and distorted along the walls, sprouting extra horns and elongated fingers.
He disliked that.
"The stone is Echidna-worked," Ooma observed quietly.
Wally slowed.
"Ancient?"
"Yes."
"Pre-Cataclysm?"
"Possibly."
The word hung in the air like a blade.
Pre-Cataclysm meant power. Dangerous power. The kind that had reshaped continents and fractured civilizations.
The Anarchy Beryl pulsed brighter.
The sigils beneath its surface sharpened, forming clearer shapes—angular runes, spiraled glyphs, looping scripts.
Wally squinted.
"Those symbols… they're stabilizing."
Ooma stepped closer, her gaze intense.
"They are responding to proximity."
The hum deepened again.
Now it felt like standing beside a colossal machine turning on somewhere beneath reality itself.
A crack ran through the stone floor ahead.
It was not fresh. It was ancient.
And something glowed beneath it.
Wally stopped abruptly.
Ooma raised one hand, and her spiderlings halted in unison.
The crack widened slowly.
Not from force.
From vibration.
A thin beam of green light leaked upward from the fissure.
Wally's ears flattened.
"That," he said carefully, "is either promising or catastrophic."
The ground shuddered.
The fissure split further.
Green light poured out in a thin, steady column.
Wally felt the Beryl in his claw tug forward slightly, as though magnetized.
Ooma's voice was calm. "There is one below."
"One," Wally repeated. "Singular. That is manageable. Singular is civilized."
The crack snapped wider with a sudden jolt.
The stone fractured outward in jagged lines.
A crystal shard thrust upward from the floor—then another—then a third—forming a jagged crown around a rising object.
The light intensified.
Wally shielded his eyes.
The stone broke open completely.
A second Anarchy Beryl rose from the shattered floor, suspended in a slow spin, its glow fierce and steady.
It was not identical to the one he held.
This one burned darker—forest green bleeding into sharp golden flares at its edges. The sigils inside it were larger, more defined, rotating in deliberate patterns.
The hum shifted pitch again.
The two Beryls resonated.
The vibration became almost melodic.
Wally stepped back.
The air thickened like syrup.
The two crystals began orbiting one another slowly—one in his grasp, one suspended in the air.
Ooma watched, unblinking.
"They are synchronizing."
"Yes," Wally hissed. "I can feel that."
The sound intensified into a harmonic tone that made the cavern walls tremble.
The violet veins brightened violently.
Dust rained down from the ceiling.
The spiderlings retreated toward Ooma's feet, clustering tightly.
Wally tightened his grip and forced his magic into the Beryl, stabilizing its rotation.
The suspended crystal jerked midair.
For a moment, it seemed as if the two would collide.
Instead, the suspended Beryl snapped into stillness.
The hum softened slightly.
The air cleared.
The trembling subsided.
Silence followed—thick and heavy.
Wally exhaled slowly.
"That could have gone much worse."
Ooma inclined her head.
"There are more."
Wally's ears drooped.
"Yes. I suspected that might be the case."
They proceeded deeper.
Now the green light dominated.
The violet veins had nearly vanished entirely, replaced by larger crystalline formations jutting from the walls at irregular angles.
The air vibrated constantly, though less violently than before.
Wally now held two Beryls—one in each hand.
They pulsed in alternating rhythms, occasionally aligning in perfect synchronicity before drifting apart again.
He found the sensation profoundly irritating.
Ooma's spiderlings spread ahead like a scouting tide.
Several returned quickly, clicking in urgent patterns.
Ooma listened.
"There is a chamber ahead," she said.
"Of course there is."
"It is large."
"Marvelous."
"They sense movement."
Wally stopped.
"Define movement."
"Living."
He grimaced.
"Define living."
Ooma did not answer.
They rounded the final bend.
The tunnel opened into a vast cavern.
The ceiling arched high overhead, disappearing into shadow. Stalactites hung like serrated teeth. The floor was fractured into platforms separated by shallow glowing chasms.
And at the center of the chamber stood a structure.
It resembled a shrine.
Or a prison.
Stone pillars circled a raised dais carved with intricate Echidna glyphwork. The glyphs pulsed faintly green.
Suspended above the dais—held in a lattice of crackling energy—was another Anarchy Beryl.
This one glowed brighter than the others.
It flared white-green at its core.
And something moved around it.
A shape—amorphous, shifting—coiling like smoke caught in glass.
Wally narrowed his eyes.
"That is not decorative."
Ooma's voice was steady. "It is bound."
"By whom?"
"The glyphs."
Wally studied the carvings.
They were old. Deeply carved. Reinforced with crystalline inlays that glowed in synchrony with the energy field.
The shape around the Beryl twitched.
A pulse rippled outward.
The two Beryls in Wally's hands vibrated violently.
The energy lattice flared.
The shape within it solidified briefly into something with elongated limbs and jagged edges—then dissolved again into writhing mist.
Wally stepped back instinctively.
"Ah," he said quietly. "So it is guarded."
"Or imprisoned," Ooma replied.
The spiderlings began spreading along the edges of the chamber walls, avoiding the chasms.
Wally examined the structure more closely.
The glyphs were not simply binding.
They were siphoning.
Energy flowed from the suspended Beryl into the surrounding pillars, then into the floor beneath.
A containment system.
An old one.
A failing one.
A crack ran through one of the pillars.
A thin fissure of darkness bisected the carved runes.
The shape inside the energy field twitched violently when the crack flickered.
Wally exhaled slowly.
"If that breaks entirely…"
"It will be free."
"Yes. That is the implication."
The two Beryls in his hands began pulling forward again.
They wanted to join the third.
He could feel the attraction growing stronger.
Ooma stepped closer to the dais.
Her spiderlings gathered at the base of the pillars, studying the crack.
"It weakens further with every resonance," she said.
Wally's eyes flicked between the suspended Beryl and the crack.
"If we extract it, we disrupt the containment."
"Yes."
"If we leave it, the containment eventually fails."
"Yes."
Wally scowled.
"Marvelous. A dilemma."
The shape inside the lattice struck the energy barrier suddenly.
The field flared blindingly bright.
The crack widened slightly.
Wally felt a surge of power rush through the two Beryls in his grasp.
The hum became a roar.
Ooma's eyes flashed.
"It reacts to the others."
"Yes. I noticed."
The shape coiled around the suspended gem like a tightening fist.
The glyphs flared desperately.
The crack spread another inch.
Wally inhaled sharply.
"There is no elegant solution."
"No."
He grimaced.
"I detest inelegance."
The shape struck again.
The energy field flickered.
The crack splintered down the pillar's length.
Wally raised both Beryls.
The hum peaked into a piercing tone.
The suspended Beryl responded—its light flaring to match.
Energy arced between all three crystals.
Ooma stepped back.
"Stabilize it," she said sharply.
"I am attempting to!"
The resonance formed a triangular web of light.
The shape inside the lattice writhed violently.
The cracked pillar began glowing intensely.
Wally forced his magic outward, weaving it between the three Beryls like stitching torn fabric.
The glyphs along the dais responded.
The crack halted.
The pillar ceased splitting.
The energy field stabilized—brighter now, stronger.
The shape recoiled, shrinking inward.
Silence fell.
The suspended Anarchy Beryl's glow softened.
The hum dropped to a steady rhythm.
Wally lowered his arms slowly.
Sweat dampened his brow.
"That," he said through clenched teeth, "was unpleasant."
Ooma studied the structure.
"You have reinforced it."
"For now."
The crack remained visible—but it no longer spread.
The energy field looked steadier.
Wally exhaled slowly.
"We can not leave it here indefinitely."
"No, so we wont."
The Anarchy Beryl's glow pulsed unevenly as Wally Naugus tightened his chimeric claw around it—not crushing, but *claiming*. His magic slithered through the crystal's latticework like ink in water, staining its resonance with his own jagged signature. The suspended Anarchy Beryl shuddered in response, it's containment field flickering as though recognizing the shift—not just in power dynamics, but in the very nature of the game being played.
Ooma Arachnis watched without blinking as her spiderlings skittered backward in unison, their tiny legs clicking against the stone like a dozen clocks winding down at once. Wally's magic wasn't just reinforcing the containment field—it was *rewriting* it, threading his own jagged will through the ancient glyphs like a virus corrupting sacred text. The suspended Anarchy Beryl pulsed erratically, its light flaring between green and a sickly violet as his influence spread. The shape trapped inside recoiled, thrashing against the newly warped lattice, but the more it resisted, the tighter Wally's grip became—not on the crystal, but on the very rules of its prison.
"You're overwriting the Echidna's work," Ooma observed, her voice betraying neither approval nor alarm. Her ruby eyes tracked the way his magic slithered up the cracked pillar, mending fractures with jagged, living stitches that pulsed like veins.
"Repurposing," Wally corrected with a grin that showed too many teeth. "The glyphs were designed to siphon power into the Sunken Demon Island's bones—*wasteful*. I'm simply rerouting the plumbing." His claw flexed, and the suspended Anarchy Beryl spasmed violently as his magic punched through its core, twisting the lattice into a thorned helix that pulsed with stolen energy. The trapped shape inside shrieked silently, its form unraveling at the edges like smoke caught in a draft—Wally's laughter was a blade dragged along glass. "There now. Isn't that more *efficient*?"
Ooma's spiderlings had gone utterly still, their legs curled tight against their bodies as the chamber's temperature plummeted. Frost spiderwebbed across the dais where Wally's magic pooled, cracking the ancient Echidna carvings further—not from neglect, but from deliberate, gleeful vandalism. He stroked the suspended Anarchy Beryl with a single claw tip, coaxing out a shuddering whine as its light dimmed to ember glow.
"Power shouldn't be hoarded," Wally Naugus mused, his voice cutting through the cavern like a blade through velvet—soft, but with lethal precision. His smirk was all teeth as he turned the Beryl in his claw, watching its trapped essence writhe under his influence. "It should be *shared*." The suspended gem pulsed erratically, its once vibrant glow now a sickly violet as his magic siphoned its energy outward—feeding the hungry veins beneath their feet.
"And soon King Maxx Acorn will pay dearly for never learning that lesson," Wally smirked, watching his violet corruption spread through the Anarchy Beryl's lattice like ink in water. The trapped entity inside shrieked soundlessly as his influence coiled tighter—not merely draining its power, but reshaping its very purpose into a weapon hungry for royal blood.
Ooma's spiderlings skittered back instinctively as the cavern walls pulsed in time with the Beryl's distorted rhythm, their ruby eyes, the same exact shade as Ooma's, were reflecting the eerie violet glow that now emanated from Wally's claw—not the Beryl's original green. Wally exhaled slowly through his jagged teeth, his breath curling in the suddenly frigid air. The trapped entity within the suspended Beryl thrashed violently against its new constraints, its amorphous form flickering between shapes—a claw here, a muzzle there—before solidifying into something unmistakably Echidna in silhouette. Wally's grin widened. "Ah," he murmured, voice dripping with mocking sympathy. "You *do* recognize me after all this time."
The suspended Anarchy Beryl shattered abruptly—not from force, but from sheer dissonance. Wally's chimeric claw snapped shut around the largest fragment before it could hit the ground, his magic weaving through the broken pieces like a spider reclaiming scattered silk. The trapped Echidna shade writhed in his grip, its form flickering between fury and terror as his influence seeped into its fractured essence.
"There there now," Wally crooned, his voice dripping with mock gentleness as the shade's edges blackened under his touch, "let's not make this messier than necessary, shall we?"
The remaining Anarchy Beryl fragments orbited his wrist like jagged satellites—their light now violet black, their sigils inverted. The trapped Echidna shade pulsed weakly in his grip, its form unraveling further with each shuddering breath Wally took—not from exhaustion, but from satisfaction. He turned the largest shard slowly, watching the way its corrupted light refracted through Ooma's spiderlings clustered at his feet.
The shade tried to scream.
It had no lungs.
It tried anyway.
The sound manifested as a distortion in the air, a pressure that made the crystalline veins along the walls crackle and spit green sparks. The remaining fragments of the Anarchy Beryl vibrated around Wally's wrist in tightening spirals, their rotation accelerating as if feeding on the shade's unraveling essence.
Wally tilted his head slightly, studying the flickering silhouette trapped in his claw.
"Definitely Pre-Cataclysm Echidna," he said conversationally. "Judging by the glyph patterns and your lingering arrogance."
The shade lashed outward in a jagged arc of green light. It struck his shoulder and dissipated harmlessly, absorbed into the violet current already coating him.
He sighed.
"That was impolite."
Ooma stepped forward one measured pace. Her spiderlings adjusted with her, forming a semicircle at her feet. They were not frightened.
They were assessing.
"The containment is gone," she observed.
"Yes."
"The spirit is unstable."
"Yes."
"And you are feeding it into the Beryls."
"Yes."
She regarded him in silence.
Wally's smirk sharpened.
"Containment is a crude solution. Repurposing is far more elegant."
The shade's form flickered again—elongating, splitting into multiple jagged silhouettes before snapping back together. Ancient markings glowed faintly across its translucent surface. Echidna runes. Binding marks.
It had once been someone important.
Wally tightened his grip.
And then suddenly... the chains were all broken.
And so to was that shade.
And so Wally Naugus smiled once more in satisfaction.
The Seven Anarchy Beryls they had collected pulsed in unison around him—each humming with stolen power, each reforged into jagged violet black shards orbiting his wrist like a crown of thorns. Their glow cast fractured shadows across the cavern walls, warping the air with every pulse.
"At long last," he began dramatically, "we have all the Anarchy Beryls King Maxx Acorn oh so desperately needs."
His chimeric claw flexed, and the Beryls pulsed violently—their corrupted violet light lancing through the cavern like jagged lightning. The spiderlings recoiled as one, their tiny legs skittering backward in perfect unison, sensing the shift in the air—the moment when a predator decides whether to play with its food or simply devour it whole. Wally's grin widened, no longer needle sharp and utterly devoid of warmth.
"So what do we do now?" Ooma asked simply, her spiderlings clustering at her feet like a living carpet of twitching legs and watchful eyes. Wally's grin twisted wider, "It's quite simply Ooma my dear, I simply use my teleportation magic to take us to King Maxx Acorn's plan throne room!" He belowoed with glee.
You see the one limit to Wally Naugus's teleportation magic is that he has to know where it is, which is why he didn't use it for finding seven of the Anarchy Beryls.
But he more than knew where Castle Acorn was.
And so he did use his magic.
On all of them.
And off they went.
To where it would all finally end.