"A detached army of the Bloodwall theater was ambushed by the Narkal tribes." Sabrina got straight to the point.
The duo's faces hardened in response.
"This force's main task was using guerrilla tactics to harass and slow down the Narkals, but now that they're wiped out..." Sabrina let the words hang, but Alice finished the obvious conclusion for her.
"—They'll need a replacement."
"Yes." She nodded resolutely. "And this place's official name is the Last Reserve."
"...So we're the replacement." This time, it was Ashen who chimed in, his face grim.
"You're correct, Mr. Hart." Sabrina, who had her ever-vacant look back in place, nodded affirmatively.
"And from the way you're saying it, it's a forced draft." He added.
"Indeed." Sabrina nodded once more in response.
"..."
"..."
The atmosphere tensed, but Sabrina acted as if she didn't feel a thing. She even allowed her eyes to roam Alice's form, tilting her head as she paused at certain parts. 'Was the lady this perfect before?'
"Miss Sabrina, let's forget about me for a moment, but what about the other domains' possibility of kidnapping Alice in the confusion? Isn't she precious to you anymore?" Ashen broke the stretched silence at last, eyes narrowing.
"That is not the case, Mr. Hart. Our lady would be dispatched to Ashbastion to help prepare the defensive perimeter around the citadel. That's the safest place currently in the Wrath Domain." Sabrina shook her head composedly.
"Aside from that, in such an emergency, the other domains won't be foolish enough to incite internal fighting. In fact, every other domain is sending reinforcements as we speak."
"...Can we rely on their integrity?" Ashen's voice was skeptical, while Alice just kept silent, enjoying how her man fought for her safety as she leisurely relaxed on his lap.
Sabrina shook her head. "The Council is impartial when it comes to humanity's survival. Our case is exactly that right now. Especially with the precedent that happened two hundred years ago..."
Alice tilted her head as if she didn't understand, while Ashen's face darkened. "Are you talking about the demise of the Pride army?"
The duo probably knew much more than Sabrina about that period, but they couldn't clue her in on that fact, so Alice just acted like she didn't understand. Ashen couldn't do that, though—his Step IV epithet was recorded as Historian.
Feigning ignorance would have been more suspicious.
"Exactly, Mr. Hart. This situation and the way the Narkals are behaving is reminiscent of that time, and we lost the Pride Domain when it happened."
She then added, "So you only have the Narkals to worry about, Mr. Hart. Backstabbing allies at this juncture would only brand someone as humanity's enemy and ultimate sinner."
Ashen raised both hands. "Alright, alright, Miss Sabby, I'll trust you. You've never let me down, and I'm just a little prisoner when all's said and done, so I shouldn't even talk here. I'll just pick up my spear and fight once more."
"Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Hart." A faint smile finally graced her lips. "And there's a good thing about this deployment: gathering war merit. If you gather enough, you may get pardoned and released afterward."
"That's neat..." Cornelia had already taught him his lessons, so he wasn't optimistic, but he nodded his head nonetheless. Who knew? Maybe it was legitimate after all.
Sabrina did a final deep bow before retreating. "The organization of the Pit's army will start tomorrow. I have faith that you will do splendidly, Mr. Hart."
"I wish you luck as well, Miss Sabby." He smirked.
Her smile widened. "May you be victorious."
Grrr—Ka.
"..."
"..."
The silence stretched for a full minute before Ashen suddenly jumped up, Alice now in his arms.
"Fuck yes! We're finally getting out of this hole!"
Alice watched in amusement from his arms as he ran all over the ten-square-meter cell like a happy kid who'd just received his birthday present.
All the fake gloominess was instantly wiped away, giving way to a wide grin.
'Well, let him have his moment.' Alice wanted to slide in a snarky remark about Sabrina, who was becoming his fan for who knows what reason, but decided to relent, seeing his happy face.
"Whoo hooo!!!"
"Okay, that's enough!"
She put her foot down when he started throwing her toward the ceiling, however.
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Behind the cheerfulness was a seed of fear that neither of them noticed.
Ashen may have thought of himself as invulnerable after all the things he'd been through, but the truth was that despite everything, he was still human.
And the most ancient emotion known to man was fear.
He feared living as an endless Narkal-killing machine.
He feared experiencing Cassius's torture once more.
He feared what Alice and Seraphine would feel if he fell.
He feared the pain and agony his family might experience if their son didn't come back. He was already late as it was.
And above all, he feared… was so terrified of… the incomprehensible entities that called themselves Outer Gods.
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A ragged group of soldiers gathered together atop the last standing citadel of the human race.
The symbols indicating their allegiance on their battered armor were diverse. They were survivors gathered from every fallen Domain to the last one standing: the Lust Domain.
All their eyes were fixed on the horizon, where kilometers away, an apocalyptic scene could be seen.
Raging storms were given birth by the human silhouette's movements, then erased by its next. Lightning struck with every step, and in between, black lights flickered out… too unnatural to be explained by any natural phenomenon.
The human silhouette faced a humongous crow that blanketed half the sky.
Whenever it opened its beak and let out a screech, every soldier started trembling violently. It wasn't that there was anything magical about the screeches… it was simply trauma.
That crow was The Keeper of What Should Not Be Known. An Outer God. And whenever it appeared, everyone who survived by the mercy of its amusement was left traumatized.
"Do you think he'll win?" someone asked hopefully.
"Don't even think about it..." and he was promptly shut down.
"Yeah... Even the Mistress of Lust herself eventually fell. There's no beating that calamity." Another added hopelessly.
"...Now, our only bet is to believe that such an entity will keep its promise. We did send that man alone as it demanded, after all."
ScreeeeeeeeeeeeeSHHHHH
"..."
"..."
"Do you think it was right to confine the Saintess just like that?" The first man who'd asked about the man's winning chances asked once more.
Guilty expressions instantly colored everyone's faces.
The deal had been clear: Send that man to face it alone. Everyone had been left too traumatized to raise their weapons against that thing anyway, so the demand wasn't hard to fulfill.
One woman had never let fear rule her, however.
One who was able to use love to triumph over dread, and one whom everyone was sure would follow that man if she were allowed.
So, taking advantage of her lack of offensive and evasive means, they'd confined her to the underground cells in the Chapel.
Despite all her help and benevolence, despite healing their wounds and saving their lives, she was ultimately betrayed when all she wanted was to fight alongside the man she loved against humanity's extinction.
It wasn't about ingratitude. Secrets was just that treacherous, monstrous, and terrifying.
And He wasn't even the only one. There were more of His kind. So everyone had already given up… aside from the Saintess. But even she only fought because someone else refused to stay down.
Ashen Hart. The Godkiller.
He'd been given that moniker after the Saintess and her army had found him in the destroyed Wrath Domain as the only surviving man.
After the initial strike on Wrath and the death of their Sin Lord, Cornelia Arde, everyone gave up on it and refused every call for help.
The Saintess had resolutely marched there nonetheless, even though she knew it was futile.
When she came back, rumors spread that this man had killed one of the Outer Gods—Miserys.
But only the ones who wanted to cling to anything, even such an outlandish story, believed it. They made up stories and glorified the only survivor of the whole Domain, even giving him absurd titles such as Godkiller.
Some even started worshipping him.
The majority, however, simply believed that it was another Outer God. Only a monstrosity could deal with its own kind, after all. The logic was sound.
And the most likely culprit was the treacherous Secrets, who'd just come to finish the job and erase evidence by killing the last survivor of that massacre.
Boom! Boom! BOOM!!
The sounds of fighting grew more intense as time passed, contrary to everyone's expectations, and it was noticed.
"Hey... Isn't he holding on longer than the Lust Sin Lord? It's been more than two days now."
"True... the Sin Lord died on the second day. But holding for a bit longer doesn't mean anything, does it?"
"It's impressive either way. That man is the only one who isn't afraid of Them."
"Ha—hahahahaahahahaa." Suddenly, a hysterical laugh rang out. This wasn't a rare case anymore—crazies kept popping up everywhere.
But this laugh wasn't tinged with the usual despair. The tone was almost... gloating.
Heads turned, some exasperated, others more annoyed at having to drag another one away simply because their nerves had frayed.
The laughing man didn't seem to pay attention to them. His eyes were glued to the distant figure that kept fighting.
"All of you will regret it!! You dare confine the Saintess?! I was one of her guards and accompanied her to the Wrath Domain!!"
Everyone's attention honed back on him, and even the ones dragging him slowed down. It seemed the man wasn't completely out of his mind and had something to say.
"I've seen it!! I've seen it with my own eyes—every Narkal had an identical spear wound!!! Every damn one died the same way! Millions of them!!! He is undoubtedly the one!!! The Godkiller!!!"
Faces started darkening. It was another fanatic of Ashen Hart.
"You're wondering why he's not afraid like the lot of us? Why he's not traumatized like the rest of us?! Well, how can you be traumatized when you're the traumatic event itself!!! HAHAHAHAHAA...."
The soldiers had heard enough and resumed dragging him. Some had already changed their expressions, however.
And those expressions shifted even further when they heard the distant shouts of the dragged man: "He will come back after he slaughters that bird!! And when he does and finds out what you did to the Saintess... it will be your turn!!! HAHAHAHA—"
Screeeenchhhhhh
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The distant screams and explosions suddenly sounded more ominous for a whole different reason somehow.
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"Ahh... Why? Why?!! WHY???!!! I did everything correctly! I know EVERYTHING! I AM SECRETS."
The humongous black crow was barely able to unfold its wings anymore—not with the countless holes decorating them, courtesy of the bloody man steadily advancing toward it.
"...I'm the Keeper Of Secrets... So why can't I see the secret behind your strength!!??"
The Outer God had already known that the man before it was a real threat. More than that—he was humanity's only salvation. This was humanity's secret, a secret that even they themselves didn't know yet, or refused to believe in.
But even he shouldn't be able to survive two consecutive battles against Outer Gods at this point in time.
BOOM!!!
Another spear thrust struck true to its right wing, finally felling the bird from the rumbling skies.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEECCHHHH"
Unbearable pain assaulted Secrets, followed by numbness that made him unable to move the struck part, making him all the more confused.
The man's strikes had barely fazed it at first, but now... Now, each spear was more deadly than the last, and it knew it was probably done for.
'And I can't even tell the others about him…'
Secrets's concept bound it as tightly as it bound those it infected. Otherwise, it would have already told every other Outer God about this threat. Unfortunately, it was the weakest among the surviving Outer Gods.
Even Miserys had been stronger than him—which had led to his death, ironically, due to Secrets not being able to warn him about this anomaly.
Step—Step—Step—
The steady steps echoed like bells announcing the countdown to the end of his miserable life.
Secrets lifted his beak, spitting out another concentrated space shard toward the battered man who refused to go down.
BAM!
But it was as futile as its curses. No secret was able to outright kill this anomaly, so it had stolen his sight, hearing, and then touch, but he'd kept going as if he'd never needed his senses in the first place.
The fourth curse had given him the most horrifying hallucinations, but he'd shrugged them off.
The fifth curse was supposed to cripple his magic circuits, but they were already crippled, so it had stripped most of his mana instead. The crow was still rendered helpless with just the drops he had left.
The sixth, the seventh, the eighth—it kept cursing until it could not anymore. The man had somehow eclipsed it in strength mid-fight, and the curses could no longer work.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
Now all it could do was rely on its concept of space in a last-ditch effort.
"This is incomprehensible!!!!! What's the secret behind it?? How can you still stand, how can you get stronger?! TELL ME!!!!"
Step...
"...There is no secret." A hoarse voice finally echoed.
Step... Step...
"If the body breaks, the will carries it."
Step... Step... Step...
"...If the will falters, the body drags it forward."
His spear rose.
"As long as both keep moving... I am... invincible."
"So... there is no Secret?"
Thrust—Crack.
"No. Not anymore."
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