The dust in the plaza slowly began to settle, coating the massive, broken corpse of the Spire Messenger in a layer of grey ash. The silence that followed the battle was heavier than the creature itself.
The Sleepers who had arrived with Changing Star stood frozen, their eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and primal fear. They stared at the gargantuan carcass, its limbs twisted and broken, its terrifying beak forever silenced. This wasn't just a Scavenger or a Centipede. This was a horror of the heights, a monster that usually signaled the death of entire hunting parties.
Whispers began to ripple through the crowd, breaking the stupor.
"They... they killed it?"
"A Spire Messenger? I thought only the First Bright Lord and his original cohort were capable of such a feat."
The gaze of the crowd shifted from the dead monster to the living legends standing amidst the gore. They looked at Alista Tudor, the Blood Emperor, standing tall despite his shredded armor. They looked at Artemis, the Princess of the Valor Clan, whose gravity manipulation had crushed the beast. And they looked at Klaus, the silver-haired Pathfinder whose reputation in the Forgotten Shore was already that of a veteran survivor.
It was an impossible gathering of talent—a True Name wielder, a Great Clan scion, and one of the best scouts in the Dark City—all united under one banner.
Alista leaned against the beast's flank, wiping sweat and ichor from his brow. He scanned the faces of the spectators. 'It seems we caused a big commotion,' he thought, noting the awe and wariness in their eyes. 'So much for keeping a low profile. We just announced ourselves as a superpower.'
His gaze drifted past the general crowd and locked onto the Changing Star's cohort.
He saw Sunny. The treacherous shadow was not looking at the monster. Instead, Sunny's eyes were darting rapidly, first to the boisterous Effie, then to the stoic Nephis, and finally resting on Alista himself. There was a flicker of realization in Sunny's dark eyes—a connecting of dots that shouldn't have been connected yet.
Alista's lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. 'He sees it. He's putting the pieces together. He understands the implications of the vision Cassie saw in the Plot, or at least, his intuition is screaming at him. Well... things are about to get crazy.'
Ignoring the stares and the brewing political storm, Alista turned his attention inward. The thrill of the kill was fading, replaced by the anticipation of the reward. He needed to see what the Spell had granted him for slaying such a nightmare.
With a mental command, he summoned the runes:
Name: Alista Tudor
True Name:Blood Emperor
Rank:Dreamer
Soul Core:Dormant
Soul Fragments:[799/1000]
Memories:[Flame Armor], [Hunter's Sword][Dawn Shard][Light Lamp][Heaven's Jar][M… Un…old]
Echoes: [Cursed Herald]
Attributes:[Uniqueness of Black Emperor], [Instincts], [Barbarian], [Battle Analyzer]
Aspect:[Black Emperor]
Aspect Rank:Divine
Aspect Ability:[Bribe]
Alista stared at the shimmering runes hovering in his vision, a sharp smirk cutting across his weary face.
'An Echo,' he thought, his pulse quickening. 'Finally. A reward worthy of the risk.'
He closed the interface and turned his attention to Artemis. She was finally stirring, pushing herself up from the cracked cobblestones with a pained groan. Her silver hair was matted with dust, and her breathing was shallow, but her eyes remained sharp.
"Is it... is it done?" she rasped, looking at the mountain of pale flesh and black feathers that used to be a Spire Messenger.
"Yeah, Arty," Alista replied. He extended a hand toward her. She gripped it firmly, and he hauled her to her feet. He offered her a faint, admiring smile. "You finally figured it out. That Gravity Flash... you looked just like Fujitora."
Artemis wiped a streak of blood from her lip, a tired smirk playing on her face. "Fujitora, huh? I'll take the compliment."
Gwen and Fors approached from the perimeter, having finished their final checks. Fors walked up to the massive carcass, prodding a pale, muscular limb with her toe. "So, we can salvage this, right? I wonder how Spire Messenger actually tastes. Probably like tough chicken and regret."
Finally, Klaus joined them. He had been standing apart, staring into the middle distance, his expression uncharacteristically grim. The usual lighthearted spark in his eyes had been replaced by a hollow, haunted look.
Alista's tone turned cold, his protective instincts flaring. "Klaus. What happened?"
Klaus didn't look at him immediately. He seemed to be struggling to find his footing in reality. "Nothing," he muttered, his voice flat.
[Klaus POV]
Klaus wasn't lying to be difficult; he simply didn't have the words. The moment the Spire Messenger's life had vanished, the "Forbidden Truth",his Flaw had surged. He had been violently transported—not in body, but in mind—into a vision so vivid it felt like a memory of a future that had already happened.
He found himself standing in the center of the NQSC, but the city he knew was gone. It was a hellscape engulfed in searing, unnatural fire. Buildings were collapsing into piles of molten slag, and PTVs were burning along the streets like funeral pyres.
Normal civilians were screaming, running in blind terror, while Awakened warriors struggled to maintain order.
"How?" a Master cried out, his voice cracking with desperation. "How can a mere Awakened cause this much damage?"
Another Master nearby, his armor charred, looked toward the horizon in horror. "Where is the House of Night? Where are Valor and Song?"
A woman named Sarah, a high-ranking member of the House of Night, landed nearby. Her face was pale. "A Nightmare Creature of Cursed Rank dropped simultaneously on Night Garden, Ravenheart, and Bastion. They are fighting for their own survival, Michael. No one is coming to save us."
Michael snorted, looking around at the carnage. His gaze landed on a figure slumped against a piece of rubble. It was Sunless.
Klaus's heart hammered. Sunny was unrecognizable. Both of his legs had been severed at the thigh, and his left arm was missing entirely. He gripped a broken sword in his remaining hand, his face a mask of agony. His head was cradled in the lap of Nephis, who was desperately trying to channel her white flames into his wounds. But the healing wasn't working. The fire seemed to recoil from the injuries, unable to knit the flesh.
Nearby, Cassie was walking blindly, her staff tapping against the blood-slicked ground. Her eyes were bleeding, red tears carving paths through the soot on her face.
"What is it, Song of the Fallen?" Sarah shouted at her. "What do the future say?!"
Cassie didn't stop. She began to scream, a primal, raw sound. "Run! Run now! He's here!"
Before Michael or Sarah could respond, two spears made of pure, compressed flame whistled through the air. They pierced the Masters' heads with such velocity that their skulls detonated upon impact. Blood and brain matter splattered across the ruins.
Nephis looked up, her silver eyes reflecting a terrifying sight.
Out of the heart of the conflagration walked a man. The flames didn't burn him; they seemed to bow to him, parting like a loyal tide. He was covered in blood, his hair a vibrant, violent red. Klaus's stomach dropped. The man looked exactly like Alista Tudor, but he was possessed by a manic, divine insanity and was his hair red.
In his left hand, the red-haired Alista carried a severed head by its raven-black hair. The blue eyes were glazed over in death—it was the head of Ascended Jet.
The red-haired monster looked at Cassie and let out a chilling, maniacal laugh. "What? Seeing things, little blind girl?"
Cassie collapsed to her knees, her hands clasped in a desperate, trembling prayer. She began to recite a chant Klaus had never heard, her voice a frantic whisper:
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.
Please... save us."
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.
Please... save us."
The red-haired Alista laughed harder, the sound echoing off the burning skyscrapers.
Sunny, with the last of his strength, summoned his shadow. The Stone Saint materialized, her stone armor cracked but her resolve unbroken. She lunged toward the him.
The man didn't move. He reached into a pocket and threw a six-sided die. It clattered against the ground, rolling it showed the number three.
Alista's mouth twitched. He dropped Jet's head and raised his right hand. A ball of concentrated, white-hot plasma formed in his palm. He slammed it into the Stone Saint's chest, the blast tearing a gaping hole through her magical stone heart. The Saint fell, her form flickering as she was forced back .
Alista then summoned a horrific artifact: a charred, bloodstained banner mounted on an iron-black flagpole. He drove the pole through the Saint's prone form and into the earth. As the banner unfurled, an aura of war and absolute destruction permeated the air.
Klaus felt his soul beginning to burn.
"Please... save us... from ...the.... Red Priest..." Cassie's voice faded.
Klaus gasped, his consciousness snapping back into his body. He was back in the Dark City. The air was cool and smelled of salt, not burning flesh.
He looked at Alista—the current Alista, with his calm demeanor and black hair.
'What the hell was that?' Klaus thought, his skin drenched in a cold sweat. 'Was that him? Do I need to kill him now before he turns into that... that thing? How was he immune to the flames?'
Alista was watching him closely, his brow furrowed. "What happened, Klaus?"
Klaus swallowed hard, his "Forbidden Truth" Flaw burning like a brand in his mind. He couldn't speak of the fire. He couldn't speak of the severed head or the "Fool."
"Nothing," Klaus repeated, though his mind was screaming. 'I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to know what he is.'
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