PROJECT:C

Dylan awoke with a start, a cold sweat beading on his brow. The last thing he remembered was the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against his temple. But now, he found himself in a strange, ethereal realm, bathed in an otherworldly light.

As he sat up, he noticed a figure hunched over a strange, pulsating device. The figure turned, and Dylan's heart skipped a beat. It was Elliot Hunt, his former ally, his victim. But Elliot looked different, more powerful, more… otherworldly.

"Dylan?" Elliot's voice was a whisper, a question.

"Elliot?" Dylan's voice echoed in the silent chamber. "What... what happened?"

Elliot turned back to his work, his hands moving with a purpose. "We're both here now, aren't we?" he said, without turning around. "In this place, beyond life and death."

"But how? I was... killed."

"As was I," Elliot admitted, his voice filled with regret. "Back when you were under his control, a puppet on Everett's string. But now, we're free."

"Free?" Dylan questioned, his mind racing. "Free from what?"

Elliot paused, his gaze distant. "From the cycle. From the endless war between light and dark. We're in a place where we can truly understand the universe, its secrets, its power."

Dylan looked around, his eyes wide with wonder. The room was filled with strange symbols and glowing orbs. "What is this place?" he asked.

"A place of infinite possibilities," Elliot replied. "A place where we can rewrite our destinies. Light's Cradle. Marco's home."

As Dylan looked into Elliot's eyes, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. Perhaps, he thought, death was not the end. Perhaps it was just the beginning of a new journey.

"Experiment 3X."

The lights within the warehouse Alexander and two armed men had escorted Thomas to came to life, revealing a rather shocking sight to the young man. Thirty feet by thirty feet, a glass containment cell separated the four from the fifth in the building. An emaciated youth sat in a chair in the center, ankles chained to the floor at either side to constrict his movement. Long white hair concealed his face, but his head tilted as he heard the small group's approach.

"Entirely uncooperative with the Silver Corps' agenda, but capable of killing lycans much the same as you." As Alexander spoke, the pale figure within its cage snapped to attention, a piercing red eye exposing itself from behind their hair, "Jessen. It is good to see you." The old man gave a hearty chuckle as Thomas watched on in horror. As this boy stood from his seat, a torrent of shadows poured from beneath him, painting terrible, grotesque visages across the glass walls.

"The hell is this?" Thomas stammered as he stepped backward, several vicious rows of teeth snapping at the glass in his direction. They eventually sank away into the mass of darkness and the sound of the chains catching punched the black-haired boy's heart into his throat. The one called Jessen grinned from ear to ear, relishing in the fear he had aroused.

"Tell him, Grant!" A growl escaped the figure as he tilted his torso and head upward, gazing down at them as if he still felt to be superior to those who had imprisoned him, "Tell him how you turned your baby boy into a monster!" Jessen headbutted the glass, smile unwavering as he chuckled at them, his shadow lapping and thrashing at the floor around him.

"We gave you the power to set things straight by your own hands, 3X." Alexander Grant's eyes became cold as he raised a hand. The two guards raised their weapons and approached the cell. Before Thomas could ask about any of this, the cell door was opened and the shadowy mass had escaped the prison that still suppressed its host.

Thomas leaped out of the way, rolling along the ground before steadying himself into a crouched position. He looked over to his chaperone, relieved to see a shell-like construct of light protecting the man from the onslaught.

"Mr. Souther, I'd like you to get to know my son. Perhaps you can reason with him."

"Are you serious?"

"I propose as much force be used as is necessary." As if in response, the two guards ran to the young man's sides. One of them presented him with a long, slender knife; one which Thomas was already familiar with as it had been his weapon of choice before being abducted by Grant and his men.

He spun the knife in his hand and gritted his teeth, "I feel like I'm missing some crucial info, 'boss'..."

"The apparitions which appear from 3X's shadow are similar in composition to the lycans you have already faced. Theoretically, you should be able to fight on even ground." Alexander turned and walked away, the beastly form being taken by the black mass deciding to turn and go after a new target.

A massive claw snatched up one of the masked soldiers, tendrils ripping the assault rifle from his grasp and tossing it across the room. As he dangled helplessly in its clutches, the man screamed, but soon found himself back upon the ground. The shadows which composed the appendage dissipated next to him in wisps of smoke. Thomas, standing next to the soldier, flipped the blade in his palm once more before bending and stretching his legs in preparation for the fight to come.

"Seems on the level."

Jessen's grin from behind the glass faded. This was the first person Alexander had brought that had been able to fight back against his shadow. He growled, his pride getting the better of him as he sent the writhing, tar-like monstrosity on another frenzy.

Thomas inhaled slowly and closed his eyes. He could feel the darkness all around him. It threatened to constrict about him and squeeze the life from him. He could smell Jessen's killing intent and it was something all too familiar to him. In a flash of metal, Thomas's eyes snapped open, and he flung himself forward wildly. He looked almost like a human buzzsaw as he spun through the air and tore through his opponent's means of attack. The two soldiers who watched in awe wouldn't see his feet touch the ground again until he was already inside the glass cell with his foe.

"You..." Jessen's eyes widened, astonished at what he had just witnessed, "You're different."

"Are you aware of what exactly it is we do here in the Heilifolge, Ms. Chapman?" Edsel led Ophelia through the facility, sure of where they needed to be but still not making the new recruit privy to that information. The young woman followed the redhaired mage, taking in the surroundings of the laboratory they were currently in with intense curiosity.

"My father always called you all the greatest warriors in the realm. I was never made to not believe that from what I've seen and heard from your guild over the years." She stopped, peering down the steel catwalk and leaning over its railing to get a better look at those working below. It appeared that R&D were currently working on some sort of cannon, though it didn't seem to have any sort of conventional storage for ammunition.

"Best to keep up," Edsel quipped. Ophelia turned and nodded in embarrassed agreement, hurrying to catch up with the man as he was already exiting at the opposite end, "Wouldn't do to have you lost." He smirked before waving a hand across a panel on the wall. A doorway immediately made itself visible before sliding open with a mechanical hiss. The girl tried her best to hide her amazement, but Edsel, having noticed the shock in her eyes, chuckled, "They surprised me when Elliot first presented them and had them installed as well. A necessary precaution when an organization as large as ours has to compete with employed espionage from time to time."

"Oh, a-absolutely," she nodded, pulling herself together before following him through the entranceway and turning to watch as the door reconcealed itself with yet another mechanical hiss. "Elliot Hunt. Not many speak of him, but I've read of his former-"

"Not former. As of today, you are a member of the Heilifolge, and as such you are allowed all our intelligence," Edsel pointed to the far side of the white room they had entered, a massive black pane flickering to life as he did so. It showed images of a massive stone archway in a jungle, and similar constructs in various other locations including what the girl recognized to be the black tower which Everett Hart had once ruled D'accira from, "We have recently learned that Elliot Hunt as well as Joshua Hart are still alive. They've only been... misplaced."

"Joshua Hart, sir?" Ophelia stepped forward and admired the massive screen, in awe at the technology available to this guild, "I can't say I'm familiar."

"He was one of our founding members. Son of Everett Hart, but always proved himself to be the better of his family. Until Jessen, I suppose."

"That stings, Turner." The two turned as Jessen entered the room. It was almost eerie to see the man in such lighting, his bare chest nearly matching the white walls.

"I'm sure," Edsel sighed, waving a hand between the two of them, "Ophelia, meet Jessen. He will fill you in on the details from here."

"Ophelia Chapman, sir," she outstretched her hand for a friendly shake but was left with a defeated expression as it was left unacknowledged.

"Yes," Jessen stepped forward as Edsel hurried off elsewhere, apparently ever the busy man. The clone of Everett Hart's long hair whipped about as he turned and pressed several keys on a keypad beneath the massive monitor. The image quickly changed to that of what seemed to be a live camera feed of one of the gates, this one situated within a desert's sands, "Time is of the essence here, Ms. Chapman. I trust you packed some lighter clothing?"

She felt embarrassed as the man eyed her heavy work attire, but soon revealed that the baggy coveralls only served as her top layer. Unzipping the back and sliding out, she revealed a tight, cut tank top and tan shorts beneath.

"Good," He pressed another button, and another image was added to the screen, this one starting off as static but soon changing to the smiling face of Alex Grant, presumably somewhere else within the Heilifolge HQ. The blonde smiled as he noticed the communication on his end, waving to the two of them eagerly, "Alex, have you gathered Michael and Raphael?"

"Yessir! We're ready to head out when you are!" Alex moved out of the way revealing two others in the room with him. The first Ophelia recognized as the lawyer and public speaker of the Heilifolge, Michael Conrad. The other, a young boy with an otherworldly appearance, was a mystery to her. Before she could comment on his light blue hair, however, Jessen hurried the lot along.

"Good. Meet us in the hangar. Now." With the press of a button the feed was cut short and Jessen walked around the girl threatening to leave without her if she didn't hurry.

Elliot stood in front of the crowd of people gathered in the town square, taking a deep breath before he began to speak. He wasn't used to making speeches, but he knew that he needed to address the public regarding his return to the Heilifolge.

"Good people of D'accira," he began, his voice echoing through the square. "It has been fifteen years since my perceived death at the hands of Dagon. But I stand before you now, alive and well."

The crowd murmured in surprise and awe, and Elliot could see the shock on their faces.

"I have returned to the Heilifolge, to continue the work that we began so many years ago," Elliot continued. "The Heilifolge has grown and expanded, and we now operate on a national level. Our goal is to protect the people of this country from the dark forces that threaten our way of life."

Elliot paused for a moment, looking out at the crowd, before he continued.

"I know that there are those who doubt our abilities, who question our methods. But I ask you to trust in us, to believe in what we are trying to accomplish. Together, we can overcome any obstacle, and together, we can ensure a bright future for the people of D'accira."

As Elliot finished speaking, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction. He had returned to the Heilifolge, and he knew that they were stronger than ever.

Meanwhile, Cori and Alex stood off to the side, watching the crowd's reaction. They had mixed feelings about Dylan's refusal to return to the Heilifolge. On the one hand, they respected his decision to move on with his life. But on the other hand, they knew that Dylan's skills and experience would be sorely missed.

"I just hope that we can make up for Dylan's absence," Cori said, turning to Alex.

"I'm sure we will," Alex replied.

"Heilifolge!" Marco peered from just outside the tent his band had put together and were currently preparing to take down as the front party moved onward headed by Cori Achliss. Having to separate himself from his group was not ideal, but the redheaded leader of what once had been the Guard was not so willing to send back one of his brightest recruits, "Where is your leader? Where is the one responsible for my son's-" Zebulan Carlisle thrashed throughout the makeshift barracks before locking eyes with Marco from across the cell divided tent space which the majority of the Heilifolge's lower units had spent the night in. Marco stood his ground as Zebulan charged at him, ready to defend himself and his men against the enraged father. But as their blades clashed and sparks flew, the redheaded warrior found himself at an impasse. He could not bring himself to take down Dylan's father, no matter how much he wanted to protect his own men and their cause. As they locked eyes, both men breathing heavily from the intense exchange, Marco made a decision. He let out a sigh and lowered his swords, signaling for a ceasefire. 'I understand your concern, Zebulan. I was once a father myself, and I can only imagine the worry and fear that comes with sending him off to fight against such formidable foes. But Dylan is not a child. He is a capable warrior and a valuable member of our team. He chose to join us willingly, knowing full well the dangers that lay ahead. I promise you; I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.'

Zebulan hesitated for a moment, his grip on his massive axe still tense. But eventually, he too lowered his weapon and let out a deep sigh.

'I will trust you, Marco. But please, do everything you can to bring him home safe to me.'

It is never easy. Trusting others, I mean. Whether it's to do the right thing, hold to their promises, or to take action when the time for it is at hand. I never felt able to trust the Guard as a child, only being around to see the worst of them. Everett Hart tore apart what was once a true beacon of hope for not just Atlus City, but all of D'accira, and used it to selfish, egotistical ends.

To tell the truth, even after Marco and his band stamped out Everett's coupe and reimagined the organization into their "Heilifolge," I was still wary of what they would do with that power. It was enough to tempt an old archeologist toward delusions of grandeur, "What makes them any different," I thought. But after seeing them put forth blood, sweat, and tears over the 15 years that they've been in control... I wish I had offered them my services instead of them needing to come to me.

So, when Cori asked me to step up and join their ranks, the answer was obvious to me. Given the chance to do good, no, great, things like they always had...

I look down at my hands as the chamber fills with a warm glow. A green energy creeps its way slowly up my fingers, quickening as it reaches my wrists and moves up my arms. A tinge of pain runs down my spine as I begin to feel bone and muscle shift. Something erupts from my back, the forced tearing of flesh resealing itself as a smell like that of a forest grove fills my lungs. I rise, Alex panicking from behind the glass as he removes himself from the apparatus that only he can use; just like this power is something only I am fit to use.

I shake my head as the thought intrudes. It's like the will of another forcing itself into my ears and attempting to grasp my mind. I fight it back, unaware that such temptations came with being one of Marco's chosen. My resolve proves strong, the whispers of wanderlust fading away as I gather control of my new limbs. A tangled weave of vines now lines my shoulders, blanketing my back and unfurling at my command like a pair of wings.

The doors open and Cori steps inside, Alex peering from behind our leader. He places one hand upon my shoulder, the other coming in for a handshake which I readily accept.

While the intent of Cori Achliss in the attempted rehabilitation of the werewolf was meant to be an act of inspiration; a bid at a new ally, and a powerful one at that... this conflicted heavily with the intentions of his superiors it seemed. Two soldiers from the Guard's rank and file made a spectacle of their work, dragging the matted haired youth throughout the city streets, still shackled, all the way to the heart of Atlus City. Passerby stopped, some dumbstruck, others excited. Whispers. Pointing fingers. Shouts of approval. Everything but sympathy to the teenage boy who had been labeled a beast by D'accira's authorities.

"Forgive him!" The maid who had accompanied Cori in caring for the sickly youth while he was imprisoned beneath the city followed after, pleading with the crowds, "He is just a child," she attempted, but soon was met with a kick to the leg which brought her swiftly to her knees. She cried out and Elliot turned on instinct, wrestling against his captors.

"A child?!" The guardsman who had felled her raised his hand in anger. Elliot's eyes widened as he fought harder, but to no avail. He could only watch in a panicked fury as the hand was brought down.

"I believe," in an instant a red-haired youth appeared at the woman's side. His grip found the soldier's wrist and the two of them locked eyes, "we are meant to defend the public. Sir." A spark of electricity rode along Edsel's shoulder blade and the eyes of his opposite narrowed before the hand was jerked from the teen's grasp.

"One who would spout such drivel," the man spat, straightening his vestment and turning away, "She could be charged with treason, you know? This monster killed countless citizens in his time free."

Anger getting the better of the soldier, he wrestled Elliot forward by the hair of his head, forcing the troupe to continue toward the Guard's headquarters. The two left behind in their wake could only watch in disapproval.

"Please, you must help him, Master Turner," the girl's tears flowed freely as she cradled herself and fell forward, "He is not evil. He is an orphan; scared and confused,"

"I know, Miss Pratt," Edsel gritted his teeth and his fists clenched as he made quick judgment in this situation, "I know." Repeating it for emphasis, the young mage was gone in a flash just as he had come.

Joshua gasped, pleading with his body to remain as the storm tore through the empty city streets around him. The battle with Oblivion waged on in the distance, the Heilifolge holding out for time until Marco would arrive. The boy's allies were specks in the distance, though his eyes still followed their every move.

"This is it then, eh?" His head turned at the unfamiliar voice. A man with hair tinged green squatted next to him, his coat collar obscuring his lower face to the dying youth, "You struck a chord in that one." He pointed to the gargantuan black beast in the distance, blasts of light illuminating its tarry skin. Marco must have arrived.

"Leave me," a cough, blood splattered atop Joshua's pale chest, "I've," a gloved hand pressed itself upon the boy's forehead, cutting him off in surprise.

"You will meet with my brother soon. Your purpose is not yet fulfilled."

"But" he struggled to feel them but couldn't, he knew it was useless. He had watched his wings fall to the ground along with him after Oblivion's killing blow, "what use am I now?"

"This body is only temporary. Another awaits you." As the stranger spoke, a blackness seemed to envelop the world around them. Dark tendrils erupted from nothing, smacking at the world around them in defiance to some unseen force. Joshua could feel them grasping at him as he grew weaker, eyes closing. Even then, he could still see what all was transpiring with the Heilifolge, the green-haired man's voice becoming like a narration, "You are so much more than the son of a catalyst. Duty drives you forward when most would give up the ghost. You speak through action, and through action find solution. That is the making of a Heiromancer. A sign of justice."

The teen fell into the darkness, chaotic energies swirling about him and slowly rebuilding his tattered remains. A new body, much the same as the old one, just as the stranger foretold. When his eyes opened once more, though his vision was blurred momentarily, he found himself capable of rising to his feet easily enough.

The world around him now was a bleak reminder of Oblivion's aimless fury. A place he had only heard Marco mention once before, the details of which were left to nothing. Seeing it for himself, however, the boy understood why the Heilifolge's commander had not told them the full tale.

Red skies. Mountainous deserts to the horizon. A world no more.

"It is time then, I see," an elderly man approached from the distance, waving his walking stick as to get Joshua's attention.

"You knew I was coming?"

"Of course, of course. The totemic can feel these things after an age." The old man chuckled, "Stelzkan will be your guide from here."

I look down. A surge of wind threatens to blow the hood of my cloak from my head, my mechanical prosthetic reflexively clutching at the fabric to hold it in place. The glint from the sunlight upon its clawed fingers is further reflected by something within the crevice.

A pair of glasses. Something which most would choose to simply leave behind once lost in a place like this. But no. These... These are special to me. Remind me of where I came from.

They remind me of who Elliot Hunt is.

I pull a length of rope from my belt and test the distance. Barely enough to reach them, but I keep faith. Tying the end to a spike, I drive it into the stone wall easily with my robotic limb. I grasp the rope firmly and give it two tugs before leaping. With only a few seconds' time to react, I grasp the glasses with my proper hand. The momentum allows me to swing forward enough for my feet to touch the cliffside.

As my boots make contact, I grit my teeth and hold myself to the stone with my geomancy. Holding my concentration, I carefully release the rope and begin to climb my way back up to the top. Just a day prior I was capable of moving this entire ridge with but a thought, but I had used too much energy in the last 24 hours to manage more than this.

Stelzkan and Everett had warned me of how powerful the Angels were. I hadn't a clue until I had come face to face with one, and it was then that I understood why the two men had kept me hidden from them. The one who called itself Death had nearly lived up to that title. Luckily, I was always the smartest of the Heilifolge.

Though I escaped with my life, I wasted the best shot I had at getting back to my own world and outside of this box. Breaking the moon shard that I had recovered from the crater where Marco's palace once stood when this place was still called Light's Cradle... It was the only move, I keep telling myself that, but the magics expelled from the rock had removed me so far from my original location that I couldn't find my way back to Stelzkan's place. Worse yet, the stars here seem to move with the day; chaotic balls of gas that don't allow for one to find direction by them, far removed from those I remember in the blue skies of Gaia.

I throw myself to safety as I reach the top, gasping for air. My hand moves to the side of my neck. The wound Death had left upon me throbs with each breath I take. The black ulcer will be the end of me, but I have to press onward. I have to find a way to combat them.

=== UNAUTHERIZED REDIRECT DETECTED ===

//do not be //alarmed //they can find their way without your tampering

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== SYSTEM OVERRIDE ==

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27-year displacement approved. Target: Marco

“Where is he, Marco?” The bear of a man swung his massive axe, forcing the leader of the Heilifolge to catch the blow between his twin blades. The foot soldiers at the redhead’s command, defectors after Everett’s takeover of The Guard, clashed with the oncoming horde of thieves and assassins accompanying Zebulan Carlisle, “Where is my son?!”

Marco flipped backward, the axe narrowly avoiding his abdomen as its wielder followed through with his strike. Landing atop a large stump, the commander let loose a war cry to bolster the morale of his men. He would then point one of the swords at his newfound foe in warning, “Dylan set out with us well aware of the stakes! He is not a child, nor should his resolve in the face of this world’s destruction be disrespected! Not by blood and kin!”

“A Prince of Thieves’ place be with The Trove,” Zebulan spat, twirling his massive weapon effortlessly in the grasp of a single hand, “not upon the battlefield.”

“His trove means nothing,” Marco’s eyes shone brilliantly as the enraged father charged him, “with no kingdom for it to safeguard.”

The leader of the Thieves’ Guild found his blade stuck within the stump as Marco disappeared in a blinding flash. The redheaded warrior reappeared behind the giant of a man, upside-down with blades crossed in mid-air. One fluid motion was all it took.

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“It is over, Elliot.” Lightning struck in the distance, blinding the countryside as two youths stood atop a hill lined with the corpses of fallen friend and foe alike. Their blades hung at the other’s shoulder; the two’s eyes were locked just as their free hands were. The arrogant blonde laughed in his opponent’s face, a bare rasp being muffled only slightly behind the cloth which bound his mouth and throat, “Lay down your weapon. Admit defeat at the hands of the Shaded Legion.”

“Dylan,” the shorter of the two huffed and wheezed behind soaked black bangs, “I cannot. I will not.” The two of them had been friends before this. Only a year prior were Elliot Hunt and Dylan Carlisle comrades in arms against the oppressive force which stemmed from Everett Hart’s rise to power across D’accira--

But in that short time, Everett Hart now had his clutches upon all of New Gaia.

“Dagon.” The blonde corrected his old friend, “There is no more ‘Dylan Carlisle.’” With that he reared back and kneed Elliot in the gut. The latter fell to his knees, and just before he could even hit the ground the legendary blade Nemesis was driven through his torso. Blood began to pool beneath the two, a soft rainfall spreading it throughout the grass.

Elliot Hunt awoke with a start, sweat drenching his hair despite the damp and cold prison cell he had been housed in for the last three days. Torchlight flickered against the dark stone walls, teasing him with just enough illumination to make out the door which would lead to his freedom. If only he could escape this cage. If only he could break the chains keeping him from even reaching the bars.

The young bandit had ascertained quite quickly after his arrival that some sort of magic had been placed upon the cuffs, possibly even the chains themselves, as he could not transform no matter what effort he put in. Lycanthropy was seen as a curse to many, but this was an entirely foreign experience to the teenager. He had been born and raised a werewolf, and it was not until these passing days that the wild haired youth felt ill and powerless to it.

The door to the corridor slammed open as a group of three entered at a brisk pace. Elliot’s golden eyes lit up momentarily as he recognized the smell of one of them, but his head quickly fell once more before they could reach his cell.

“We still can’t be sure if anything he says can be trusted, Cori,” a bespectacled man with short, blonde hair peered down at his pocket watch. He seemed agitated, likely at needing to be here in the first place, “But if you’re willing to vouch for the beast-”

“He is a man, same as you or me, sir.” Cori chose to ignore the displeasure on his superior’s face. The swordsman had spent little time at the guildhall proper since his induction into the Guard, but he had made up his mind on his opinion of Lieutenant Colonel Moz Gileg. Someone in Gileg’s position should be vying for more than the respect of a new recruit anyway.

The third, a member of the medical staff, remained silent as she hurried ahead to Elliot’s cell, unlocking the door and immediately retrieving a towel from her medicine bag. She pressed it to the boy’s face gently. He showed no resistance to the gesture, but still refused to look her in the eyes.

“A sick beast is no good to us either.” Moz sneered, forcing the watch back into his vest pocket, “Are you certain you wish to expend our resources like this, Mr. Achliss? It will all be coming out of-”

“My allowance. I am very aware; you’ve made sure of it.” He smiled cockily but quickly added, “Sir,” as well as a cough before entering the cell himself. Following this, the new recruit looked down upon his first captured prisoner with slight pity, “It’s my fault anyway. Isn’t that right, Elliot?”

There was no response from the vagabond at first. Not until the kneeling nurse brought a saucer of medicine to Elliot’s lips, did he even move. Violently jerking his head back and knocking the glass instrument from her hands, he then glared at the leader of his captors. He would not be forgetting Cori Achliss anytime soon, and he was making it very obvious.

“You will be well soon enough I wager, even if you refuse our medicine. You’re strong, right?” Cori knelt, meeting the sharp gaze head on. Black, cool pools returned a displeased gaze, “But you are in no position to refuse my aide, Hunt.”

Elliot nearly barked in Cori’s face but was quickly brought forward with a stern grip to his jaw. The swordsman forced a newly retrieved sauce full of the serum to the prisoner’s lips. Tears fought their way out from behind the corners of the lycan’s eyes as he unwillingly gulped down the bitter liquid.

“You owe me your life and potential freedom,” Cori smirked, “So you will stay strong for now, got it?”

Elliot coughed as he was released from the grasp, his head falling back down and hair obscuring his face. After he spit the vile aftertaste from his tongue, the boy growled.

Two clawed fingers rapped against the mahogany surface beneath them. Neil Vermuse stared down at the VHS tape which one of his new pets had acquired in his time retrieving the mysterious flash drive. It was this very tape which had convinced the former servant of Everett Hart to not go through with his original plan. It was something epiphonious which had struck the man-turned-beast, his cruel visage still hidden to this world beneath the white and red mask. Freedom. True freedom was now at Neil’s disposal. Not just something so simple as resining himself to seeing through a would-be godking’s final order; he was now at the reins. This world, a third world far flung from the primal forces which oversaw New Gaia or even Light’s Cradle, was Neil’s chance at starting anew. Earth would be his playground, and he had one Dr. Phineas Montgomery to thank for it all.

A jitter of excitement crept up the creature’s skin as he gave a staggered exhale. His hands fumbled with the tape momentarily before forcing it back into the VCR. It couldn’t hurt to watch it over again. Just once more.

As he slid off the mask, a wicked grin of pointed, white fangs revealed themselves for the first time to this unsuspecting realm.

“Once more, doctor. Go on.”

The television set flickered as the recording began to play across it. An older gentleman in lab attire stared silently into the camera for a moment before introducing himself.

“My name is Phineas Montgomery. Over the past two years I, along with my trusted assistants, have been developing a miraculous piece of technology. Something which could change,” the doctor pauses, a hopeful glint appearing behind his thin, ovular spectacles, “everything.” He almost looks as if he could cry as he goes on, a powerful momentum driving his speech forward, “Our goal at first was to save my daughter, Pandora, from her impending demise at the hands of cancer. Her conscious mind was converted into data, housed within a program which would be able to see her perhaps one day remanifested.”

The old man gives a pained expression, “They called me a fool. I was laughed out of practice. Only those who understood the importance such research held for the future stood by me, and with their help I succeeded,” Phineas falls into a fit of coughs, taking a moment to retrieve a glass of water before continuing, “But it is not time. Nor will it be in my lifetime, I’m afraid. I leave this to the capable minds which come after me. Please. Please see to it that Pandora-”

The tape ends with another fit of coughing followed by the doctor’s demise at the hands of whatever illness ailed him. All of it a golden, beautiful moment which Neil would cherish from then on. In this grotesque and morbid revelation, Neil Vermuse saw only beauty and poetry.

He would be all that remained of Phineas’ painstaking labor of love.

"Ah, so you seek the aide of the guild?" A bearded barkeep leaned curiously against the countertop, nose dipped as he peered into Stelzkan's eyes. The thief waved his hands in caution, looking around nervously.

"This is a message, nothing more," he stood from his seat, "There's no helping the matter unless I see to it myself. Just tell them to plan for the worst." His lips stiffened as he turned to the doorway of the old bar that rest beneath the kingdom's main wall.

"You can't be serious?" The barkeep was stunned, but left to only ponder the matter to himself. Stelzkan was already heading off the main cobblestone walkway and scaling the waterway exits.

Looking about himself with utmost concern, the demigod retrieved a scroll of parchment from his belt pouch before perching atop the final archway that led into the sewers below. Unraveling it, he began eyeing the map he had received from his friend at the bar.

"Amateur," he spat, before tossing the thing and flipping himself inward, landing upon his feet safely just inside of the sewage system. If it could be trusted, there was said to be something hidden here. A poison a fair bit more potent than most. Perhaps strong enough to bring down even an actual god.

The problem? The chest it lay within was guarded by two titans. Creatures birthed by the goddess Echydna, so powerful were they that no man lived to tell of them but King Marco himself. And the words he had spoken to the thieves' guild regarding them were none too pleasant; describing them as monstrosities which should never be.

The first's name: Kerberos. A massive, twin-headed hound of red with the torso of a man. It wielded a great axe between its clawed hands, both sets of eyes always watching for movement within the darkness of their labyrinth.

The second: Chulainn, a massive pantherlike creature with a head and neck reminiscent of a great, black serpent. Its twin tails lash about wildly, the barbed ends seeming to seek any living thing which would get within their owner's personal space.

"Who dares enter our chamber?" The ears of the first were sharp, even hearing the breathless steps of Stelzkan as he crept to their doorway, "A sneakthief dares, brother!" The beast's chains rattled as it inched its way forward.

"Indeed, brother," Chulainn hissed, its neck whipping forward as it drew its lumbering form from the ground. It seemed their company had caught him in the midst of a nap, "But no normal sneakthief." It rasped a chuckle, "None before this one have ever smelt so much of shame!"

It yelped as it was pulled back from its leap by its chains, Stelzkan revealing himself to the two of them once he was certain of just how far they could reach. He flipped his dagger within his palm impatiently before pointing it to the monsters.

"No shame in doing what you're good at. Too bad the only thing our resumes have in common is murder." He snickered as the two of them growled, his form being cloaked by the darkness around them. The brothers turned about themselves, smelling at the air as they were left blind to their foe's approach.

"It's no use, little one," Kerberos' first head spoke, its other giving a whining yawn before snapping to attention, "We have stronger senses than our sight!" It slammed its axe forward as it snapped around, a black blur escaping the arch of the strike before planting itself atop the back of Chulainn.

"Aye, but I am faster," Stelzkan gritted his teeth before drawing his dagger across the scaly throat he rode behind. A black, tar-like blood oozed from the wound before sputtering about the floor as the snakehead screeched in shock and pain. The creature flailed about wildly, its attacker leaping from it and twirling his weapon between his index and thumb.

Kerberos roared, running at the thief at full speed, but just as well proved no match for him. Stelzkan disappeared just before they would clash, reappearing behind the beast. A spray of blood cut itself from its chest and back. Both of Echydna's spawn had been slain in an instant.

The great black beast soared high above the outskirts of Atlus City. Finally, after all this time, Oblivion was certain he would bring this little game with Marco to an end. All would pay who stood against his split selves and their goal of becoming whole once more. The cost to a primordial for destroying a plane was nothing, but now the leader of these foolish child soldiers who called themselves 'Heilifolge' would have the blood of two worlds on his hands.

Joshua Hart stood atop the outer wall of the city, eyes ablaze as he stared down the pitch demon. His hand gripped tightly to his bow, he raised the opposite to the air and the winds picked up greatly from his back. The angelic archer's wings flapped steadily as they began to lift him skyward.

His bow was suddenly lifted, an invisible projectile being notched in its string. Joshua's control over the force of air had progressed to an amazing degree over the course of the Heilifolge's campaign against Everett Hart.

"What is this?" Oblivion roared, the ground beneath them shaking within its wake, "Marco would dare send you to face me?"

"I came of my own accord, hellspawn. And I will end you here." A volley of arrows were forged and cast from the winds, the son of Everett Hart striving for first blood. Oblivion's wings wrapped about the beast, however, the air constructs unable to break their magical hide.

"No. You will die here, child." The primordial disappeared in an instant, reappearing behind the winged youth just as Elliot Hunt arrived on the scene. The rest of the Heilifolge, sans their leader, filed in behind him. Sadly, they could only watch in horror as Joshua's body fell from the sky and crashed to the ground.

Oblivion cackled, electricity sparking against the now darkening clouds above the primordial. Its claws lifted the wings of the first victim of its wrath, having ripped them completely from the foe's back.

"He's too cautious," Cori and Alex watched, seated within an observation tower that stood at the edge of the training ground. Below them, Raphael was utilizing his newfound powers in an entirely defensive manner as several soldiers took turns attempting to strike him with their blades.

As expected, using the same stone which Marco had channeled the energy from into Joshua had given the youth similar control over wind. Raphael's affinity for the element seemed eerily natural, his use of gusts to propel himself at high speeds to avoid danger already seeming to be becoming second nature. The air itself was an extension of himself now, though the boy would not bring himself to take an offensive.

The blonde sighed, "Well, he is still a kid." Alex arched an eyebrow before leaning back in his seat and propping his feet atop the windowsill, "Could take years to get him ready, we can't-"

"We don't have that time," Cori snapped, looking up at his old friend. His normally stoic visage was abnormally serious now. Deathly so, "If that gate can take Jessen, than it can certainly spit things out too. It's only a matter of time."

"We don't know that," Alex waved a hand at his comrade coolly, "Jumping to conclusions isn't going to get us anywhere, we just need to take everything a step at a time."

With a disapproving grunt, the commander of the Heilifolge rose from his seat. He gave another look down at the training grounds before shaking his head and exiting.