Tenebris Marcam knelt upon the scorched earth, his hands moving with practiced, rhythmic precision as he traced a complex ritual circle into the dirt. As the final line was drawn, he stood slowly. The ground began to tremble, and a colossal, blinding yellow beam of light erupted from the circle, encasing him in a howling whirlwind of pure energy.
The yellow beam tore through the sky of a foreign realm, striking a weathered stone platform with the force of a falling star. Tenebris Marcam stepped out of the fading light and began the long, lonely trek across a massive wooden bridge that spanned a seemingly bottomless abyss. Far below the creaking planks, draped in the eternal darkness of the pit, lay a sight of pure terror: a gargantuan Titan, chained down by massive links of glowing, celestial metal.
Tenebris didn't look back. He reached the end of the bridge and stood before the gates of a towering, ancient castle that seemed carved from the mountain itself. He knocked once. The sound echoed through the peaks like a crack of thunder.
The massive doors groaned open, revealing a Great Hall filled with "Empty People"—hollow-eyed sentinels who stood frozen in the shadows like statues of the forgotten. At the far end, bathed in a sickly light, a man sat perched on a throne of twisted wood and shimmering emerald.
"What do you want, Vincent?"
Tenebris walked forward, his footsteps echoing sharply on the cold stone. "Loki, help us. With your armies to destroy the Awakened Army."
The man on the throne had piercing green eyes that seemed to cut through the gloom. "And why would I want that?"
Tenebris Marcam gritted his teeth, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "You and the Calamity Faction are enemies, right? The Awakened Army is the sub-faction of it."
Loki squinted, a look of casual boredom crossing his handsome face. "You're bringing this up again? So! Whom are the Awakened Army, huh?"
"They're the sub-faction led by the Vile Engineer," Tenebris explained, his voice tight with the weight of the threat. "Vile Engineer's strongest commander is Vile Wretched."
At the mention of the name, the room suddenly vibrated with a violent surge of green particles. Loki's eyes widened, flashing with a mixture of recognition and ancient rage. "Vile Wretched!?"
Loki's hands—clad in green and black gloves—gripped a golden glass. He slammed his hand onto the handle of his throne, the enchanted wood cracking under the sudden surge of his strength. "Wretched, wretched, wretched! Hmm... My own brother, seriously? What insolent... You know what! Instead of helping you by sending my armies, I will help you directly. I don't like my brother after leaving the Tempestus Dominions. It sickens me and it's disgusting!"
Tenebris Marcam looked down at the floor, considering the terrifying power of the Titan he had seen beneath the bridge, before looking back up at Loki. "What about that huge Titan in the underground?"
Loki's expression shifted instantly from rage to utter shock. "You want to release the Progenies Omnipotentis Omnium? What kind of an idiot are you?"
Tenebris recoiled slightly, his eyes wide at the reaction. "I was just askin'."
"Then don't ask that stupidity answer ever again," Loki snarled, leaning forward until he was mere inches from Tenebris's face. "You should've learned more about the Titans, rather than being a pets of Plague Doctor hands."
Tenebris let out a weary sigh, done with the insults and the posturing. "Enough chit-chat, are you gonna accept or not?"
A slow, predatory grin spread across Loki's face, sharp and full of malice. "Yes."
In the quiet of a GDA medical bay, the air was sterilized and still. John lay strapped to a high-tech table, his remaining limbs connected to hissing monitors that beeped in a steady, rhythmic pulse as he received treatment for his devastating injuries.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and the Advisor walked in, his eyes fixed on a glowing digital tablet.