Everyone was asleep around the fire. They had agreed it would be best to wait till light before heading back to Veldenreach – they didn't know what waited in the dark.
Ren had offered the first watch, and his shift was about to end.
Soren.
"Yes?"
Do you think Prodigal has something to do with us? Like, you in my brain?
"Do you want the truth?"
Yes.
"They are responsible for something. For my missing memory fragments. For your insistence that this is a game. However, I do not know how."
Thought so. I'm kind of glad though.
Ren stared at the dancing embers.
"How so?"
You're an asshole, but you're my asshole.
"Likewise, Ren. You have become a major part of my life too."
Thanks, Soren.
Ren felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Ren, shifts over. Get some rest." Ishida said.
"About that… Ishida, I'm going to that island."
Ishida stood there. Stunned.
"Why?"
Ren sighed. "It's personal. I need to figure out why Prodigal sent Yui and her team there, and why they sent us here. They're connected. I feel it."
"And there's no stopping you?"
"My sword's already on my waist. Yours is on the floor."
"...Alright then. You know we can't wait for you, right?"
"I wasn't planning on it."
Ishida walked over to his bag, and threw it over to Ren.
"It has healing potions. I have a feeling you'll need them."
"Thanks, Ishida. Can I ask a favour?"
Ishida nodded his head.
"Get Haruki, Daichi, and the others back safely."
"I promise. Good luck. You're perhaps the only person that can do this and walk out alive."
Ren turned and walked into the darkness.
"It's to do with Steelthorn Lockdown, right? Why you can use it? And who or what you got it from?" Ishida asked.
You're sharp, Ishida.
"Yes." Ren said, back still turned.
"I hope you find some answers."
***
> LOCATION: HALF A DAY DUE WEST OF THE EASTBOARDEN MOUNTAINS
11:21 AM
Ren crested a ridge, legs burning, back aching.
This sucks.
"You have the healing potions at your disposal."
Nah, I wanna save them for when I need them.
Also, Soren, a question.
"Yes?"
Remember that time we went up against the Shadow Sword guy? And that time I got buried?
"I remember."
Both times, you refused to tell me why I couldn't use Steelthorn Lockdown. Was that because it would've taken away the 'chivalrous' aspect of unlocking it?
"Yes. When I first used Steelthorn Lockdown, it was to protect others, not myself. So I believe that chivalrous intent is necessary for using it."
So, my first time using it was like your first time? Who were you protecting?
"I do not know."
A pause. There Ren went again, bringing up Soren's memory issue.
So, uh, how'd Shadow Sword guy unlock his signature. What did he have to meet?
"I'm unsure. I remember fighting someone else who used that technique – they unlocked it because they believed they were a liberator."
Huh. Interesting.
Just as the conversation died out – there it was. The lake, covered in a shroud of mist, and more importantly, the island – ruins, broken towers, crumbling walls.
Yui was right. I'd have thought this place was abandoned too.
Ren descended the ridge, and hugged the treeline. He didn't want to risk getting spotted. He still didn't know where The Faceless were.
Then he spotted them. The boats that Yui and her squad ditched. Ren ran up to them – three boats in total – inspecting the damage.
Alright, this one has a hole. No can do. This one too… come on. Hail Mary, last one…
Score! This one's clear!
Ren chucked his gear into the boat, and started pushing it into the lake–
THWIP!
An arrow whizzed past Ren's head.
The Faceless.
Dozens of them.
Fuck. Gotta move faster.
He pumped his legs. Just a little further and he'd be able to hop in.
Come on… come on…
He felt the pressure lift. The boat was in the water.
Practically throwing himself in, he grabbed the oars and rowed for his life.
THWIP!
THWOOSH!
THWIP!
Stormtrooper aim, please have stormtrooper aim.
THWIP!
THWOOSH!
He rowed more and more.
THWIP!
THWOOSH!
PLOP!
PLOP!
PLOP!
Ren lifted his head and looked towards the shore. The arrows were falling short – he had barely made it out of their range.
The arrows stopped. The water carried him forward. And for the first time since dawn, Ren exhaled.
That was close.
He leaned on the oars, breath shallow, shoulders aching.
"Ren… What about the dragon?"
The what?
The surface stirred.
At first it was subtle. A ripple beneath the boat. Then another. Stronger. Larger.
Please don't tell me that's the dragon.
Ren leaned over the side. Nothing.
But the water had gone still. Too still.
I don't like this, Soren.
SLOSH.
A shadow passed beneath the boat. It was massive – darkening the crystal clear water into a murky void all around the tiny little boat.
Then – it vanished back into the deep.
Ren rowed harder.
Please don't resurface. Please don't resurface.
And harder.
The island was maybe thirty meters away now – Ren couldn't tell. His back was facing the island.
Please don't resurface. Please don't re–
The boat hit something.
He turned around.
The island. Ruins now visible. Pillars broken, towers slouched against one another like tired old gods.
"Thank the heavens."
Even Soren was relieved – and that wasn't a good sign.
Ren lunged forward, grabbed his gear, and leapt into the shallow before he could even think about the dragon.
He sprinted through the ruins, under a collapsed archway, boots slamming over moss-covered stone. The island was smaller than he thought. A single path led inward – up worn stairs, through crumbled marble, past a shattered colonnade.
And there it was.
At the center.
A raised platform. Altar-style. A strange script was etched into the stone – something Ren didn't recognise.
You know how to read this, Soren?
"Not the faintest idea."
And buried halfway into cracked stone – a blade.
It rested at the center of the stone altar like it had been waiting centuries. Waiting for what? Ren didn't know.
He stepped forward to inspect it more.
The blade was long and unpolished – a plain silver-grey, dulled by time but somehow untouched by rust. Not flashy. Not gilded. It didn't gleam. It didn't ask for attention. It simply was.
Ren grabbed the grip.
The hilt was carved from dark, near-black steel – cold to the touch, but textured like old obsidian. Along the guard, barely visible, miniature dragons etched into the metal, twisting and spiraling down each side. Not roaring. Not flying. Just coiled. Watching.
Just beneath the hilt, set to the base of the blade, was a single gemstone.
A purplish-black hue, like obsidian drowned in violet flame. It pulsed, slow and deep, echoing the rhythm of something ancient. Not a gem. An eye that never blinked.
"It is beautiful."
So this is what Prodigal wanted, huh?
"For what, though?"
Let's test it out.
Ren readied himself to pull the blade out–
SCREEEEECH!
Water exploded behind him.
An obsidian mass burst from the lake – wingspan blocking the sun, claws raking through the mist. A shriek so loud it cracked the stone around the altar.
Ren stumbled back, sword still in the pedestal.
The dragon landed between him and the blade. Eyes like molten violet. Horns curled like gnarled roots. Its body, plated in obsidian scales, rippled with power.
It reared back and roared.
"That was not just for show."
A roar of: get away from the sword.
Ren raised his arms. "Wait! I'm not–!"
The dragon didn't want to hear what Ren had to say. In its eyes – Ren was here to take the sword. It lunged.
Ren rolled aside, the stone platform where he'd just stood now a crater. Dust and debris rained down.
Steel flashed – drawing his blade from its sheath, he charged, scraping down the beast's flank. A clean hit, but it barely nicked the scales.
"Ren, you have to find a way out. You cannot beat it."
Working on that. I need a distraction. And why's this thing attacking me anyway?
"I assume it is protecting the sword."
Ren grit his teeth, ducked under another swipe, and slashed at the creature's side. Sparks flew. His blade bounced off.
Useless.
The dragon roared, mouth parting to release a cone of searing heat–
But it stopped.
Because something had arrived on the shore.
Voices.
Ren turned – eleven, no, twelve new figures had stepped out from the ruins. Black-and-gold gear.
Another team.
"Well, well. Looks like someone did the hard work for us," the lead player grinned.
"Don't come closer!" Ren shouted.
"Why not? You planning to solo a dragon and twelve players?" The lead one laughed, drawing a curved blade.
The dragon's gaze snapped toward the intruders. Its pupils narrowed.
It moved.
A second screech. A flap of wings.
It launched.
The newcomers screamed. One got incinerated immediately, another flung into the lake. Ren took cover as fire blasted over the stones.
Looks like I found my distraction.
Concealed by a pillar, Ren took his sword and plunged it into the earth.
"Steelthorn Lockdown."
The world answered.
Iron vines screamed out from the earth – more violent than before, more alive. They wrapped the dragon's limbs, tightening with a shriek of metal. It roared and thrashed – wings snapping, jaws wide.
It was bound. Not dead.
It survives Steelthorn Lockdown?
Ren emerged from the pillar, blade drawn, and confronted the remaining ten players.
"Prodigal sent you, right?"
"That's right."
So they're like Yui's team.
"For the sword, I take it?"
The lead player chuckled. "Why? You gonna stop us?"
"You cannot let Prodigal get this sword, Ren. Not until you figure out what's going on."
I know.
"Yeah I am.."
The group erupted into laughter.
A player from the back spoke up. "That's a neat ability you got there, buddy. Too bad you used it on the dragon."
"I don't need abilities."
Ren dashed with lightning speed, taking out the weak links – the two mages at the back.
SLASH!
SLICE!
Two down.
Ren pulled back. Their guards were down. The rest wouldn't be easy.
The others advanced.
Eight left.
Their formation tightened instantly. Shields raised. Blades drawn. They weren't panicking. These weren't randos from a pickup queue – they were a guild.
"Come on, then," Ren muttered, adjusting his stance.
The first attacker came in low – sword arcing toward his ribs. Ren stepped back just enough to let the blade whistle past his chest, then countered with a tight wrist strike that disarmed his opponent in a single, snapping motion. The sword clattered across the stone.
Ren ducked left – another player tried to flank him. He grabbed the second attacker by the collar and pivoted, using their own weight to toss them into the disarmed fighter.
CRASH!
Two collapsed in a heap. That made four.
But the others weren't stupid. They closed ranks. Flanked tighter.
One lunged from the right with a polearm, another from the front with twin daggers.
Ren ducked the polearm, parried the first dagger, sidestepped the second, and countered with a quick, brutal kick to the twin-wielder's chest.
He staggered. Ren surged forward, blade flashing.
CLANG!
A heavy sword came down – not from the one he'd kicked, but another who'd waited for the right moment.
It didn't hit Ren – it hit his sword.
The force knocked it clean from his grip.
It clattered across the ground and skidded to the edge of the platform.
Shit.
Ren pivoted, backing away.
It was still six against one. But he was unarmed.
The leader stepped forward, expression smug. "Thanks for taking care of the dragon. This is where you die, kid."
One player charged – Ren ducked the first swing but was forced into retreat. Another came from behind. He twisted, dodging barely in time. A third jab sliced his stomach.
That hurt.
They were surrounding him.
Pincer closing.
Sword nowhere to be seen.
SCREEEEECH!
The steel vines shattered like glass – freeing the dragon.
Its wings unfurled like storm clouds, and slammed down. The shockwave flung dust and flame outward…
BOOM!
…knocking everyone off their feet.
Ren staggered back, arms raised, boots skidding uncontrollably across the platform. He grabbed the nearest thing he could find.
The obsidian sword.
SKRRRRT!
He came to a stop.
A clawed limb slammed down inches from him, cracking the ground where he stood. The dragon's head dipped low, violet eyes locking onto his – molten and ancient, as if staring into the soul beneath the skin.
You are not like them.
A voice echoed in his head. It wasn't booming like a shout – no, it was quiet. Confident. The kind of voice that didn't need to raise itself to be heard.
Soren, that you?
"No. A new being has entered your mind."
Great.
You do not wish to take the sword.
No, I was just checking it out–
Either of you?
You know Soren is here too?
I can sense his presence. He used to be a warrior of this land.
"I was?"
I shall explain later. Take the sword.
Take it? You're not going to incinerate me or anything Mr. Dragon?
No. Help me eradicate these pests.
Sure, but I don't really think you need–
The dragon had already flown up.
Sick. Alright, here goes nothing.
Ren gripped the hilt tighter.
SKRING!
The sword slid from the stone – not with resistance, but with weight. Like the altar wanted to let go. Like it had been holding its breath for centuries and was finally allowed to exhale.
The blade pulsed once in his hand. It felt natural.
Then came the footsteps.
Steel boots. Shouts. Six remaining players, scrambling up to the altar.
"There! He's got the sword!"
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah. I do."
CLANG!
The first enemy swung wide – Ren ducked under and slashed up across his chest.
SLASH!
Down he went.
Second one lunged with a spear.
Slip. Step. Thrust.
Ren pivoted, drove the blade under their arm. They fell without a sound.
He stood tall now, blade loose in his grip – cape snapping behind him, the purplish gemstone pulsing just once at the base of the hilt.
Two down.
"Who's next?"
SCREEEEEECH!
The answer came from above.
The dragon plummeted from the clouds – claws out, jaws burning.
The rest of the squad turned just in time to see death descend.
FWOOM!
Fire engulfed one of them. One jumped into the lake. Another was caught mid-run and crushed beneath a wing.
Ren winced.
Damn.
The final player – the cocky leader from earlier – crawled backward, hands raised.
"W-wait! We didn't know! We were just following ord–!"
CRUNCH!
The dragon landed full-force. The last thing that was heard was the sound of armor folding in on itself.
And then… silence.
The altar cracked. The flames died down. The air smelled like smoke and old stone.
Ren lowered his sword.
The dragon perched next to him.
Thank you, Knight.
No problem, dude. Actually, do you have a name or something?
My name is Voil, Warden of the Deep.
Awesome. Nice to meet you, I'm Ren. And the other guy is Soren. Never actually had to introduce him before.
So, uh, what's the deal with this sword, then?
It is used to summon me.
Like, fight-for-you summon?
Yes.
Damn, that sucks.
No, because only the worthy are able to claim the sword. I am proud to fight alongside righteous warriors.
And the unworthy?
Incinerated.
So, uh, why I don't really think I'm worthy, so what's the deal. Why have you not smoked me yet?
Because you are not one of them.
One of them?
The endless pests that arrive at this island, hoping to control my power.
Prodigal…
Is that the mastermind behind this all?
I don't know. Maybe.
Ren. What are your intentions in this world?
I mean, I intended to just kick ass and level up. But, between this knight in my head, the sketchy Prodigal stuff that's happened over the last few weeks, busted enemies, and a telepathic dragon? I don't know anymore.
If I bestow this sword upon you, will you hand it over to this 'Prodigal'?
No.
I'm glad. You are a brave warrior – willing to lay down your life, despite the overwhelming odds.
Thanks.
Take the sword. It is powerful, but not absolute. You must continue training yourself, and not rely on its power.
Score. Sick sword – acquired.
Wait, does this mean I can summon you and shit?
Yes, but only if completely necessary. I have a lot to catch up on.
Ren held in a stifled laugh. Talk about a change in tone.
Yeah, sure, I'll try not to.
And, uh, what's this thing's name?
That is for you to decide. Once you name it, the sword is yours, and I am at your service.
Only if I really need your service though, right?
That is correct.
Wow. Thanks, Voil. Appreciate it. If I find out anything more, should I tell you?
If you wish.
Cool, I guess I'll be seeing you, then.
Farwell, Ren.
Voil blitzed into the air, and flew off into the distance.
Guess there's nothing left to guard, huh?
"Ren."
Yo.
"I believe that is why Prodigal sent so many warriors. They wish to control Voil and use his power."
Yeah, but, why? What do they gain from controlling some coded dragon? It's their game. Just programme him onto your side or something.
…
Unless they can't…
But why?
"That is for us to figure out. In the meanwhile, I suggest you keep the true nature and origins of your sword a secret."
Good idea, Soren. I'll just say I found it in a cave or something.
"Think of another idea. This sword is too dignified for such a lowly origin."
Uh, okay. I guess…
What about this: I got lost on the way to the lake, and stumbled across a mountain, so I climbed it to get a better view, but at the top, encountered a massive frost dragon. Then, because I'm awesome, I single handedly slayed it, and it dropped this.
"Far better."
Oh, and I still have to name this thing too.
What about… Doombringer? Doomslayer? Doomsplosion?
"No, no, and no."
Alright, alright…
Ren thought, then it came to him.
Apollyon.