Chapter LV: Further Down

            Every week a recon team (Usually a pair) from the Avians drops by near the Plaguelands to scope the scene. There seems to be a spontaneous change in weather conditions at the midpoint of each week, and today a cold breeze is blowing over the area. The week before, the ground was practically opening up from the geothermal heat coming out from the cracks; now the whole place is frozen over, but there was no snow; it’s all frost; a blue field of ice that looks like it’ll crack the moment you touch its crisped surface. The only thing that’s constant is the fact that this place is a wasteland. It’s hard to believe this place used to be a country for Elementals.

 

            “[1]Fifty-thousand people used to live here... Now it’s a ghost town.”

 

            A voice sounds off from Kevlar’s earpiece.

 

            “What the hell are you talking about, Sheldon?”

 

            “It’s [1]Baseplate from World War 3. Don’t you know him?”

                  

            “No.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            These two have been traversing the various curves of this wasteland for about two hours now and it won’t be long until they reach the mark. Some sort of magic field is erected about the perimeter of the Plaguelands and it has the ability to detect movement from large vehicles. Unfortunately, small vehicles haven’t been reinvented yet since the Cataclysm, so the best way to travel is on Chu’fers, large flightless birds that can adapt to any climate by adjusting the density of their feathers. These creatures stand up to 2 meters (6.56 feet, for all you godless Imperials) tall and have eyes that can adjust to any ambient luminousity. Their feathers vary in color depending on the current weather, and since it’s cold, they’ve taken on a blue shade to cover their skin.

 

            “From our current pace, it’ll take about another half hour until ‘Bloody Palace’ is within range.”

 

            “Let me guess: You want to take a break.”

 

            “You read my mind.”

 

            They stop right at the middle of the wastes. All around them is an open field of nothing but paths of ice stretching out onto the horizon. Thick clouds float above them and blacken the frosted ground with its shadow, making it hard to see if not for the dim mana flares they have. It’s 20 degrees Celsius below zero (-4 °F, you pretentious fools), and their vests made of [2] Koalefant hides are warm enough to keep them cozy. Being out in the open like this could make an FPS (First Person Shooter) player cringe from all the possible angles where he could get shot from but these two have something for that.

 

            After they dismount, they each take a shovel packed from the back of each Chu’fers and start to dig. The ice cracks into a web and breaks as the digging tool pierces the surface and goes through the ground.

 

            The small excavation was only a fourth of a meter deep (0.82 feet, you priviledged... Wait a minute! You’ve gone way too far with these jokes, writer! I admit that it was funny at first, but this is getting out of hand!), enough to fit in the dry planks they packed to start a fire.

 

            It takes a few things to get them ready: starting up the fire, settling down the Chu’fers, setting up the tent, and lastly, synthesizing the Mirage Field. Sheldon immediately grabs the bedroll in the tent so that he could sit next to the fire without freezing his butt off.

 

            “Yeah...”, he hums in satisfaction. “That’s the stuff..”

 

            “Master Tim would be very grumpy if he ever sees you in such a state”, Kevlar comments as he sits on the resting Chu’fer.

 

            “That’s no way to talk to your superior, Crow”, Sheldon speaks with a surprisingly serious tone.

 

            “Oh, yeah. Guess I forgot since you don’t exactly act like one. Plus we’re in different divisions so I’m not used taking orders from a Falcon.”

 

            “Really? I bet that attitude of yours is a real turn on for Violet. Say, how’d that kiss feel from earlier?”

 

            “It... erm... It felt like a strong surge of euphoria was released from my insides.”

 

            “Well, that’s one way to put it. You know, even though you’re three years older than me, you really have no idea how these things work, do you?”

 

            “Not a clue. In fact, it may be the only thing I’d acknowledge as you being superior for compared to me”, he says with a smug look on his face.

 

            “Too bad our ranking is based on how long we’ve been working. This whole organization’s been out of whack without Mauro.”

 

            “And Pac. Don’t forget Pac. That guy was a legend.”

 

            “Yeah. Back then, the divisions actually mattered.”

 

            “For me, it does not matter who is on top. Mein Furher will always be higher than anything in existence.”

 

            “There you go again with the ‘Mein Furher' thing. Why don’t you just say ‘The One True God’ or ‘The Most High’?”

 

            “I believe everyone has their own view of who God is. All things considered, that may be why there are so many affiliations that claim to know things about Him. As for me, I see Him as a supreme leader with whom I may be able to attain the Heavenly Paradise that all configurations of being desire.”

 

            “...Bruh....”

 

            The sound of collective footsteps suddenly echoes from outside the Field, alerting the Chu’fers with their necks stretched toward the source of the sounds.

 

            “You hear that?”

 

            “Stygians...”

 

            Kevlar takes care of the Chu’fers while Sheldon takes a peek outside. There were more than ten of them but it doesn’t look like they were headed toward their general direction. These hideous, shambling perversions of God’s creation walked with their bodies trembling from the cold as if trying to rationalize their own existence. As they escape Sheldon’s line of sight, he notices they were moving toward Bloody Palace for some reason.

 

            The Plaguelands are usually deserted but every once in a while a few Stygians make their way here. Whenever there’s a raid, some of these things get lost so they come back here once they’re away from their master’s presence for too long. There are even instances when they’re able to feed off a civilian unlucky enough to meet them on the road.

 

            “They’re gone”, Sheldon announces as he phases back into the tent. “It might be best if we went on foot from here.”

 

            “Fine by me”, Kevlar replies as he stretches his legs.

 

            They grab their gear, ready to infiltrate Bloody Palace in search of the two amulets with the main objective is to retrieve the two part key.

 

            Now...

 

            I’m not one to spill out the gravity of the situation right off the bat, but the last person who tried to infiltrate Bloody Palace had his mind broken by a succubus.

 

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            To keep Tristan from screaming like a baby who lost his mother, Winston gave him a shot of knock-out serum, and, once sedated, he lays the Emu on the bed and coils a rope around him. It’s morning now and the back of the shed still needs fixing from last night’s ordeal. The Nightingale had an improvised bandage (cloth soaked in alcohol) around his arm as he configures the radio, waiting for feedback from the other side.

 

            “Wait ‘till the guys hear about this...”, he thinks to himself.

 

            It’s been three years since Tristan’s assignment to defend Osiris Luno, at least according to what Winston heard, and when the Lightning Elemental went missing, Tristan took it upon himself to find the guy. For reasons unknown, the Emu headed for Draconia after a month of searching without any leads. That was the last time he heard of the guy before he turned into the mindless killing machine he is now.

 

            He wasn’t very close to Tristan, but he’s heard talk of him being some sort of prodigy. When Tristan was six years old, he underwent training as a Tearju Assassin, until at the age of twelve, he was recruited as a soldier for the Garrison. Three years of service in the front lines landed him a place with the Avians as arguably the youngest to be recruited at the age of fifteen. There were even rumors about him being the reincarnation of the legendary [3] 9029, a soldier raised from youth to finish the job by any means necessary. But of course, unlike [3] 9029, Tristan met his downfall rather prematurely. Someone must’ve f*cked with his mind to make him fall this low.

 

            “Excuse me, Mister Winston- WHAT THE HELL!?”

 

            De’Ann just came in to check on the shed when she saw it was broken from outside.

 

            “Miss Erin, please-“

 

            “What is the meaning of this!?”

 

            “He’s... uh...” Winston takes another look and sees Tristan is starting twitch himself awake. “He’s a colleague...”

 

            “You’re going to have to come with me, Mister Winston”, she demands, pulling out her rapier.

 

            “I assure you, this is all under the discretion of your superior.”

 

            “Well, would you kindly explain to me why that man is tied to your bed and soaked in blood?”

 

            “I’m afraid I’m not authorized to give information to just anyone”, he explains. “Please understand that this is part of my job. Perhaps you could get Mayor Lavoisier for me. I have a report to give him.”

 

            “That tone in your voice isn’t very convincing... Why don’t we go to the Mayor together and you can explain to him what all this is about?”

 

            He looks back at Tristan who looks like he’s about to wake up. Unable to think of a way to get himself out of the situation, he resorts to changing the subject toward the first thing he notices.

 

            “Is that a kiss mark on your cheek?”

 

            De’Ann blushes a deep red. I’m starting to get the feeling that she and Lena had lots of fun last night when they got back from Berial Magus.

 

            “SHUT UP!” She furiously sheathes her weapon. “I... I’m telling the chief about this so don’t you dare leave this shack!”

 

            She marches out and breaks the top door hinge as she slammed the door.

 

            “Wow. If this were a real crime, I would’ve already gotten away.”

 

            A rousing groan captured Winston’s attention, and as he turns around, he finds Tristan struggling against his binds.

 

            “Annyeong”, he greets casually.

 

            “I WILL MURDER YOUR FAMILY!”, Tristan greets back.

 

            “Um... You do realize I’m an orphan, right?”

 

            “MISTRESS! THIS LOWLY WORM WISHES TO HEAR YOUR VOICE AGAIN! MISTRESS! MISTRESS! PLEASE DON’T ABANDON ME! LET ME HEAR YOUR ANGELIC VOICE INSIDE ME AGAIN!”

 

            “Damn. You seem tense about this ‘mistress’ of yours. Why don’t you tell me more about her?”

 

            “BAKA NI SURU KA, KISAMA?”

 

            “What language is that? That doesn’t sound like an Emu’s dialect.”

 

            “OJOU-SAMA! OJOU-SAMA! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

 

            “Dude, come on. Do I really have to sedate you again? I can’t help you if you don’t try to help yourself.”

 

            “KUSOKURAE!”

 

            Tristan sighs at the last reply.

 

            He grabs the box underneath the bed and produces a needle with some sort of red liquid bubbling inside the hypo. Before administering the sedative, he observes his subject. Tristan’s condition seems to have worsened compared to last night. His eyes were blood-shut, his skin was totally pale, and there seems to be blood inside his mouth since he’s been biting his tongue while he slept.

 

            “I’m sorry about this. I promise I’ll put you to rest once Violet gets a good look at you, brother.”

 

            He sticks the needle into the fallen Avian’s neck, and it connects to his aorta, effectively knocking him out for another eight hours or so.

 

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            You’re probably wondering, dear reader, why these two Avians are running through the Plaguelands even though they are not only completely exposed in this open field, but also relatively unsupported since all their other allies are off somewhere. This is because they’re coming up from a different angle. There’s a secret path behind the volcanic belt which connects to the cliffs of Weiss where they came through.

 

            Now they’re within range of Bloody Palace and Sheldon is already positioning himself prone and scoping out the scene.

 

            The Falcon had a sniper rifle with him although I don’t know what it’s called so you’ll just have to imagine what you want to name it. If I had to describe it, the rifle resembles that gun [1] Captain Price used on his way to take out [1] Zakhaev, the big one that he had to set up, not the small one, except this one had a silencer. He also wore a pair of glasses shaded white and marked black with heat signatures within his field of vision. It flashes a white strobe light on Kevlar’s tracking device so that he could provide support.

 

            Meanwhile, Kevlar had nothing on him aside from his tracking device. He was, however, wearing a new suit that’s wrapped in a dark shade in order to blend into Bloody Palace.

 

            “So far, it looks exactly the same as the layout described in Pac’s survey report.”

 

            Sheldon adjusts the slider on his glasses to zoom in and out of the area. There seems to be a red dot blinking at the lowest level of Bloody Palace from where he’s looking.

 

            “Yep. Twelve hectares of pure hell, that’s for sure”, Kevlar comments as he looks out on the scene with one knee on the ground.

 

            “Let’s see... We have three sections: right, middle, and... the left one looks a bit too open, don’t you think?”

 

            “Yeah. It’s like a bomb went off.”

 

            “A good entry point, but no way are you gonna get past all those Stygians. There are two Acolytes above the spires so the left section isn’t much of an option.”

 

            “What about up there?”

 

            Kevlar points out the one by one square meter (3.28 x 3.28 sq.ft.) window frame at the top of the middle section’s tower.

 

            “Can you really climb that high?”

 

            “You underestimate me, brother.”

 

            “Alright, I’ll trust you’ll get there in time, but how do you expect to get out?”

 

            “Hmm... Good point.”

 

            Sheldon frowns, unamused.

 

            “Well, you’re onto something but...” He readjusts his glasses and zooms in at the right corner where a tower is connected to the middle. “Maybe you can exit through that arrow tower. The hallway underneath connects to it so you’ll have to climb up.”

 

            “That’s a cannon tower. You see that?” Kevlar points out. “It’s a cannon.”

 

            “Whatever it’s called, can you make it through there?”

 

            “How many floors up?”

 

            “Six and a half meters above ground level.”

 

            “Two floors... I guess I can recover from the fall.”

 

            “Good to go, then. You got twenty minutes.”

 

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            “Where do you want these rivets?”, Crisostomo asks as he brought a bucket full of rivets for Elias. It seems he’s been gathering them from the Sylphid’s wreckage.

 

            “What size?”, Elias asks back. As of the moment, he’s been reconstructing the main engine of the ship.

 

            “I don’t know. There’re big ones and small ones.”

 

            “Separate the two, would you? I can’t pin point which ones to magnetize with so many of them. And while you’re at it, count how many of them each.”

 

            “Wow. You seem to know exactly what you’re doing despite the ship... ‘failing’, as Violet would call it.” Crisostomo smiles spitefully.

 

            “As much as I hate that word, it really did fail. Must be because I ignite the engines with a bomb.”

 

            “A bomb?”

 

            “I’m not that wealthy in supplies, as you can imagine.”

 

            “Then why’d you build it?”

 

            Elias went silent from Crisostomo’s question. Must’ve hit him hard. I wonder why...

 

            “Put those rivets in order”, he replies. “Gotta fix this ship real quick. I don’t wanna stay near the Garrison for too long.”

 

            “Alright, boss.”

 

            Crisostomo takes off his hat and sits on a stump. He drops the rivets big and small to his left and right, respectively.

 

            In the meantime, Elias continues to-

 

            “Master, would you like to take a break? We were able to acquire a basket of dalandan from the marketplace.”

 

            That voice-

 

            “That voice could light up my world any day of the week. I think I’m in love with my maid.”

 

            Wow. What a f*cking loser. A f*cking loser that speaks out loud.

 

            “I... I’m sorry, Master, but there are various circumstances that prevent me from having a relationship after only a brief time of acquaintance...”

 

            He turns around to see Lanette slightly blushing from his outburst.

 

            “Damn it. Did I speak out loud again?”

 

            “Y-Yes. It surprised me a bit, but I’m not ready for any kind of relationship at the moment. Sorry.”

 

            “It’s alright. Don’t take it too seriously.” Elias looks down at the basket on the maid’s arm. “How’d you get those?”

 

            “...Sticky, I think his name was, said he was able to procure these from one of the stalls with your sister.”

 

            “And you just left them there?”

 

            “I’m sorry but your sister kept insisting that I return with these immediately. It sounded urgent as if she were running for something so I hurried over here.”

 

            “You can’t let her push you around with something like that. Bring them back here. There’s still some stuff left from the supply room so instead of buying stuff, just get some food there in the meantime.”

 

            “Yes, Master.”

 

            The maid hurries off back to the settlement.

 

            “...I guess I’ll head to Berial Magus after this. Maybe I’ll find a job there.”

 

            “Excuse me, sir.”

 

            The voice of an unknown old man grabbed his attention. He had a black hooded cloak on him and a chainmail. That beard, though... It’s pretty damn long.

 

            “If you’re looking for gold, I’m all out. Hell, if you want, we can look for some together”, Elias replies curtly, thinking the old man was just another solicitor.

 

            “Not exactly.”

 

            The old man approaches him with his hands behind his back.

 

            “Oh... You’re one of those scavengers looking for parts?” Elias turns to Crisostomo. “Cris, we got ourselves a scavenger here! Get your sword!”, he calls out with a threatening voice.

 

            “I assure you, I am not a scavenger”, the old man voices calmly.

 

            “Okay, you’re creeping me out right now. Just tell me what you want.”

 

            “You’re Violet’s student, aren’t you?”

 

            “...Where did you hear that? Information about her students is supposed to be confidential except for her-“

 

            “Superiors.”

 

            “So you’re saying-“

 

            “Exactly.” The old man smiles. “I am Timothy. You are Elias, correct?”

 

            “Yeah.”

 

            “Let me be the first to say that the Avians have too many problems at hand and not enough people to work with. As much as I hate to say it, we are in need of capable hands. You were part of Violet’s Macromage program, but you refused the offer to become one of us.”

 

            “I’m not a soldier, sir.”

 

            “Of course... But you are a Macromage, aren’t you?”

 

            “Yeah.”

 

            “And your current employment status?”

 

            “Jobless and homeless.”

 

            “Great”, Tim replies with an engaging tone. “I think I may know of a way to solve both our problems.”

 

            From behind, Crisostomo drew his sword and pointed at Tim after he circled around and dashed toward the old man.

 

            “Oh...” The Guard Captain found himself at the end of the barrel of Tim’s hand cannon. It was aimed between his eyes the moment he dashed in.

 

            “You’re coming too, Crisostomo.”

 

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            The mission is good to go.

 

            Kevlar was able to make it in range of the entry point within three minutes, and as he scaled up the tower through a few conveniently budged bricks and exposed steel bars, Sheldon was at the very edge of the horizon, his field of vision enclosing mostly the middle section of the castle.

 

            “I’m in”, Sheldon’s earpiece transmits.

 

            “Ah, classical innuendo, I see.”

 

            “A decent notion, but now is not the time, brother”, he says, resisting the urge to play along.

 

            “Agreed. You got seventeen minutes so stay sharp.”

 

            Kevlar immediately takes note of the room he’s ended up in. There was nothing inside except for a banner up on a pedestal. As for its design, a middle circle with four other circles with the same radii were connected to the top and bottom, all colored white on the blue background. No doors were installed about the perimeter but there was a hatch with a ladder leading downward at the far end of the room.

 

            “Is it safe to go down?”, Kevlar consults before going down the hatch.

 

            “It is now”, Sheldon replies as he shot off the Stygian idling by the ladder.

 

            “Going down...”

 

            A long hallway that stretches both ways greets Kevlar as he drops down the ladder.

 

            “More [4] Nether Bricks going left and right. Where to next?”

 

            "Take the spiral staircase to your left. Steps are uneven so just drop down in the middle.”

 

            Kevlar heads for the stairs with quick and quiet steps. The forward area seems to be clear, and as he sights the stairs up and down, he takes hold of the railings. He quickly climbs over the other side of the railing and proceeds to drop, pausing his fall by holding onto the rail every two floors.

 

            “I’m... at the lowest level”, Kevlar reports whilst stabilizing his breathing. “Proceeding through hallway.”

 

            “There should be a wall to your right fifteen meters from the staircase entrance. Pry through it, and the key parts should be there. Ten minutes.”

 

            “Got it.”

 

            The Crow produces a crowbar from his pack and busts through the Nether Bricks covering the keys. Inside he finds... nothing.

 

            To make matters worse.

 

            “Stygians are coming at your direction. Seems they’ve been alerted. Hurry up.”

 

            “The keys aren’t here...”

 

            “What?”

 

            “The key parts aren’t here!”

 

            “Are you freakin’ kidding me!?”

 

            “It’s empty!” Kevlar enters the small corner to double check.

 

            “Ah, damn it. Forget the key! Head to the exfill point! I’ll provide support!”

 

            “Got it-Got it!”

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References:

1. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 1 references

2. Creature from Don't Starve

3. Kazami Yuuji's number from Grisaia no Kajitsu

4. Block type from Minecraft found in Nether