All eyes were fixed on Nikolas, as if frozen in place by what had just happened. The unstable weapon in his hands morphed back into its sleek sword form. However, it continued to shake violently in his grip, its unceasing hunger only checked by the unmasked hollow’s discipline.

  Nikolas reversed his grip on the sword, impaling it into the rock below as he stood up properly. “Shut it. You’ll get your blood. Plenty of meatbags here.” The hollow commanded, before directing his steely, asymmetric gaze towards the meatbags in question.

  Laufey and Kaara slowly got up, dazed by the magnitude of what had just happened. Even Thoumal paused his reload for a moment, shocked by the display of strength. The thought that he had been holding back was inconceivable to them, if only for the sake of their own survival.

  “My designation is PH:OV,” Nikolas reintroduced himself in a passionate, uncharacteristically oratory tone, undoing the clasp of his cloak with a flick to let it fall away dramatically. “Prototype Homunculus: Original Vessel. I am the right hand of Queen Seraphim of Atraxia, and the jester of her court.”

  Clarisse’s eyes widened, recognizing one of the names he had mentioned. Immediately, her thoughts went back to the stories she had heard about Atraxia, a skyless land of purgatory from where armies of demons besieged the overworld. Yet, something didn’t quite fit.

  “Why would Nikolas be on their side!? And why would the Queen of Atraxia let her right-hand man roam the overworld as… freely as he does… wait, Seraphim??”

  A harrowing sensation creeped up her spine as she put the pieces together, far more chilling than the knife currently pressed against her neck. Clarisse finally recalled where she had heard their mentor’s name before.

  “Sera, short for Seraphim. The Seraphim. Queen of the Closed World Seraphim. Ruler of all demons, herald of the end times. That Sera.”

  Their assailants had a similar, slightly more pronounced reaction of uncertainty as they heard his declaration. Thoumal caught Laufey’s trepidation in the way he held his mace, and the gulp which followed. Kaara’s flames dimmed in intensity at the same time, and Ciela’s grip on her captive relaxed ever so slightly. The party was having a collective realization, one which seemed to have a unanimous conclusion – they were well out of their league if he wasn’t bluffing.

  “I care not for titles, but for you, who dare to hurt my friend,” PH:OV spat out each syllable like a cobra spewing venom from its fangs as he addressed the hesitant heroes. “Lament, ere death slips beyond your reach.”

  The trio of frontliners shared glances between themselves, before Thoumal raised his right hand to make a gesture. On the far end of the cavern, Ciela understood what it meant and tightened her chokehold on Clarisse. “I feel you try anything, and you’re dead, kid. Got th-”

  Thoumal flinched when PH:OV suddenly appeared right in front of him, dashing imperceptibly fast. His first instinct was to move his hand to block and try to raise the crossbow, but the hollow’s intentions were clear. This wasn’t an attack. If it was, there was no way Thoumal could respond in time before the hollow’s claws would reach him. No, this was a show of power. In the same momentary blitz he had used to apparate in front of Thoumal, PH:OV disappeared again.

  Clarisse felt Ciela’s arms suddenly jerk her backwards, followed by a strong afterwind before being able to register anything else. She wasn’t as restrained anymore, but the arms around her remained. The only thing which had changed was that PH:OV was missing from the other end of the cave, and the gust which chased him in a desperate attempt to catch up.

  Clarisse’s heartbeat gradually increased in tempo as she turned her head in a glacial pace to see PH:OV standing just a few yards away, facing away from her. What was left of Ciela slumped to the ground behind her, leaking blood like an open faucet. Everything caught her attention all at once in a moment of shock – the decapitated corpse which had but a moment ago been threatening her, mutilated pieces of its head like a crushed melon in Nikolas’s claws, the spine which had been partially ripped out by sheer speed and the spray of fine, red mist on the cavern wall like an abstract masterpiece of art.

  “N-Nik?” Clarisse mouthed, feeling every muscle in her body tremble after witnessing him turn a person’s head into puree in a single, imperceptible strike. She tried to step away, but fear discombobulated her motor senses. The best she could manage was scurrying a couple of feet away in panic.

  PH:OV turned around to acknowledge her, dropping the crushed skull next to its prior owner before addressing her. “Lenue.” It was that same tone she had been used to, but the addition of his malicious, bloodlusted expression gave it a completely different delivery.

  Kaara was the first one other than Clarisse to realize what had happened. “Ciela… NO! CIELA!” He cried out, erupting in wrathful flames and rocketing towards the Atraxian Jester.

  Clarisse gave no reply to PH:OV, simply staring in shock and horror. There was a semblance of warmth glowering in his eyes as he beheld her, swiftly extinguished as he turned away. A moment later, he disappeared again, leaving only a burst of wind behind in his place.

  Kaara reeled back in pain mid-flight, losing all his momentum to a blunt force landing squarely in his gut. He barely had time to register PH:OV’s leap towards him before liquid warmth erupted from both sides of his torso. The enchanted robes and holy chainmail did little to protect Kaara, leaving only a burn on the hollow’s fist as it punctured through him.

  PH:OV kicked down on Kaara, freeing his arm from the pyromancer’s guts to make a graceful landing. Kaara’s limp body continued to burn as he crashed, but perhaps now it was fueling that flame rather than by wielding it.

  Laufey let out a bloodcurdling bellow as PH:OV landed, throwing his mace at the hollow before charging after it. There was not an iota of hesitation anymore, driven to pure rage by the fates of his comrades.

  PH:OV remained in place as the mace nearly twice his height torqued towards him, making no attempt to dodge it. Instead, he merely raised a hand and caught one of its flanges when it would have struck him. It seemed no greater a feat to him than the way Nikolas had done the same to Gareth’s greatsword when he threw the mace aside, though a far more ruthless adversary was soon upon him.

  Laufey began with an uppercut, which caught PH:OV in the lower half of its arc but was stopped short by his guard. He followed up with a stomp, striking at the smaller target as if he was squashing an insect.

  PH:OV strafed once, twice, thrice – keeping tempo with the berserker’s blows seemed almost effortless, though he was notably not retaliating. Every sidestep and retreat was a calculated venture which brought both of them closer to where Nikolas had plunged their ignited blade into the ground.

  In the midst of all this, Thoumal kept them in his crosshairs, but found his judgement impaired by doubt.

  “Shit shit shit…! No, it wasn’t supposed to go this way! Ciela and Kaara are already… If he really is… should I?”

  His hand trembled as he let the arbalest support itself off his knee, reaching into his pockets for a particular scroll. He felt a sting of betrayal as his fingers wrapped around the arcanic parchment, but an equally strong sense of hopelessness compelled him to unravel it as he watched Laufey’s unyielding rampage hit only air.

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  Once PH:OV was within arm’s reach of his sword, he stopped dodging Laufey and instead held up his forearm to take the brunt of the brute’s blows, each of which threatened the mineshaft’s collapse by the tremors it was creating. Though his forearm remained, the ground beneath PH:OV’s feet began to crack and crumble with each blow he blocked, quickly losing integrity.

  “I can’t… not now. Even if there’s only a small chance–” Thoumal yanked the parchment of his pocket, keeping it stuck to his palm as he aimed and pulled the trigger, launching another cannonball at PH:OV before quickly beginning to reload.

  PH:OV yanked the sword out of the ground, transforming its burning essence into a spiked buckler as the cannonshot struck. It pushed him back and broke his posture, allowing Laufey to finally land a direct blow on the undead rogue.

  The thrill of violence kept Laufey’s rage going, but as he raised his fists for another strike, a giant hammer materialized from the broken blade’s energy, and its swing sent the half-giant flying back into the opposing wall.

  PH:OV suppressed the hammer back into a sword as he got up. Laufey’s lone strike had left little if any visible damage on him, but it had certainly angered the hollow. He glanced around to spot the barbarian’s fallen mace, and steadily walked towards it.

  Laufey recovered from being launched across the tunnel rather quickly in his anger, breaking into a run towards PH:OV as soon as he spotted him. “RAAAAAHHHH!” The berserker let out another battlecry which was met with quite the unusual response.

  PH:OV kept his eyes trained on Laufey as he approached the mace. Instead of wielding it, however, he slid the weapon across the abandoned rails running down the middle of the tunnel, accompanied by a command. “Pick it up.”

  Laufey paid no particular heed to PH:OV’s words, finding the requisition of his mace to be beneficial and swung with it as soon as his fingers tightened around the grip. Once more, the blunt weapon swung through the air on its trajectory towards PH:OV’s head, before being abruptly stopped by his arm.

  This time, however, PH:OV did not parry or toss the weapon away. He spoke, holding onto the head of the mace tightly, and by extension, Laufey’s attention. “The thief never saw her death coming, just like a rat in the backstreets. The mage fell in his final blaze of glory, a reminder of great potential. A barbarian should die in a duel, holding his honor until the final breath.”

  Laufey’s struggle faltered, and he stumbled backwards when PH:OV loosened his grip on the mace. His words were chilling, bringing the barbarian’s rage to a screeching halt.

  “So this is how I shalt die… then I have no regre–”

  Laufey’s thought was cut short when PH:OV lunged forward, once more delivering an imperceptibly fast slash as he dashed past the half-giant’s feet and sliced one of his ankles off. He fell to his knees, staying upright only by support of the mace’s shaft. As he looked back, his final sight was that of the hollow leaping high into the air, holding a glowing trident above his head.

  The ignited trident let out a sizzling sound as it pierced through Laufey’s armor and flesh like a hot knife through butter, malevolent souls finally quenching their thirst by the barbarian’s blood. Its form grew even after plunging into him fully, like a parasite feasting on its host to grow.

  With the half-giant dealt with, PH:OV let out a somber sigh and turned his eyes towards Thoumal. He walked slowly, almost meandering to lengthen the gap between them, a gap which he had proven was trivial already.

  “Laufey, you too… this is all my fault! We should have never…”

  Thoumal grit his teeth as panic stole his breath, and he broke his posture to retreat. His steps were hasty, messy, and he stumbled on the tracks as he crossed to the other side.

  “And the ranger cowers like prey, a hunter now becoming the hunted.” PH:OV declared as he flexed his fingers, staring down Thoumal’s crosshair into his eye. He had a sliver of a smile, almost as if he took satisfaction in delivering each of their fates.

  Thoumal’s fingers clenched the trigger at his provocation, but the hollow lunged forward, redirecting the cannonball into the ceiling behind him with an uppercut. “That coward has spent many an hour fancying himself as an artificer. This body knows excellence when it sees it.” PH:OV slammed the crossbow’s stock into Thoumal’s face and knocked it out of his grip, before bringing it down like a hammer.

  The weapon was heavy, yet better suited for ranged finesse. Wood cracked and splintered into dozens of fragments as PH:OV mauled the ranger with his own crossbow. He could have easily dealt a lethal blow with his fists alone, but this was about pain. “You could’ve let us BE! No one made you do this. I was only helping where I COULD!” PH:OV lamented, planting his feet on Thoumal’s chest and one of his arms to pin the ranger as he reduced the crossbow into a mangled mess of wood, metal and wires.

  Thoumal was hanging onto life by a thread when PH:OV discarded what remained of the crossbow. His jaw had broken, and a thick splinter stuck out of his left eye. He wasn’t trying to protect himself, either. The parchment he had been holding had been knocked out of his hands when PH:OV snatched his weapon, and his fingers had been busy scraping the debris nearby, desperately searching for it. Just a nick, even a passing touch of the paper would have been reassuring, but he found nothing.

  “I would’ve still let you live had you not touched her. But you… you heroes are all the SAME!” PH:OV roared as he got off of Thoumal once the crossbow broke. Walking up to where he had first let loose, he picked up his helmet which had pieced itself together by magic, glaring at the mask with disdain before donning it and returning his attention to the ranger once again. “Your only solution to problems is to kill them, and so shall be your fate.”

  While PH:OV was beating down Thoumal, far back in the cavern, Kaara took an arrested breath as he regained a sliver of consciousness. Everything hurt. He couldn’t feel his legs at all. He couldn’t get up, or even turn his head. Out of the corner of one eye, he could see the cavern wall painted with Ciela’s blood, and from the other he could see the soulbound trident protruding out of Laufey’s back. He could hear what was happening to Thoumal, and as each agonizing second passed, he gathered all his willpower to cast one last spell.

  Clarisse, who had so far been petrified in horror of what was transpiring in front of her, finally tore her eyes off the murderous hollow when she noticed the incandescent glow around Kaara. At first, it seemed like it was coming from his robes and the gemstones he wore. But the light was far too bright for that, no. It came from his skin, every fiber of his being as mana coursed through him. His eyes went white from the rays of light cracking out of his skin. She clutched the straps of both bags she was holding as an impending sense of fear screamed at her to run.

  Kaara’s final thoughts dwindled on his memories at Mernilk, staying with his companions. The way Thoumal chastised him for threatening that artist, the way he spent the evening competing with Laufey at the bar… and Ciela. How deadly, yet ever so beautiful… it was the only way he could think of describing her secretive nature. The way she stared daggers at him whenever he complimented her, and yet kept asking for his opinion when she wanted to try out something new. How he awoke with his head in her lap in Junnhaven… he hadn’t imagined things would be so different just a few days later.

  “There’s nothing left for me now… so I’ll leave none of myself. My body and soul… burn it all, turn it all to ash.”

  The far greater fear of immediate death shattered Clarisse’s paralysis as she watched the man combust in a blaze of glory. She bolted up the way they had come, pushing her legs to run as fast they could carry her. Even the shade-infested chasm seemed more amicable than being devoured by the rapidly incoming annihilation.

  Nikolas turned around from his sadistic mutilation of the ranger just in time to see the explosion begin, and immediately let go of Thoumal. He dashed once to pull the trident out of Laufey’s back, and then again to try to reach Clarisse in time.

  Kaara’s final flames grew to fill the cavern’s cavity, engulfing every corner in an instant. Nikolas’s detour cost him, and he was caught in the explosion as he made his second dash.

  Clarisse saw the path ahead glow brighter as the flames of the explosion gained on her. Adrenaline kicked in as she turned back to see exactly how close it was. Then – something launched out of the flames, crashing into the wall next to her. Her eyes widened as she saw it get on its feet. The realization that the beast was also going to make it out of the cavern wasn’t reassuring at all for the redhead, and panic set in as she heard his rapid steps approach. Dropping his bag in hopes that that was what he was after, Clarisse let desperation drive her escape.

  An injured Nikolas snatched the bag before it landed, and caught Clarisse by wrapping an arm around her torso a split second later, much to her vocal horror. His speed kept them from being devoured by the flames right then, but the chasm would be coming up on them soon.

  Clarisse screamed as her feet left the ground, flailing within Nikolas’s grip. Between the all-ending flames and the undead monstrosity, she would’ve chosen the more familiar end if she’d known he would still get her. Her ears felt like they were on the verge of bursting, and everything went bright like a flash as the flames got closer. The last thing she felt before being consumed by the blast was Nikolas shielding her in his arms.

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