Squad Six was a rock, they'd said. With the famous Sea Silencer in
charge, they were the elite. They stood firm. Nothing got past them.
No matter what came out of the Gate, they had nothing to fear.
She'd gotten that bad feeling right away. She was usually right about
these things. And no one rocked the boat like Chloe Halford. She'd
earned that rep while still in school.
And so the night before they embarked, at the party, she'd cut
herself off after her second drink and made her way to another table
without so much as a by-your-leave.
"Watch your asses if you don't wanna wipe tomorrow."
It was hard to take that warning as anything but an insult. Back at her
table, her two colleagues were doing spit takes. And the Gnostic
Hunters at the table Chloe faced were all battle-scarred veterans—
the last people in the world you wanted to start trouble with.
"Sorry! She's had a bit too much!"
"Let's get you some fresh air, Chloe!"
Her colleagues caught up to her, each grabbing an arm. But she
stood firm, not budging an inch. She even wound up one arm like she
wanted to throw a few punches.
"Wait—was that an augur just now, Two-Blade?"
One man had taken the trash talk in stride. Even in a crowd of
hunters, this individual was built like a tank. The commander of
Squad Six, Jacob Rutland—the Sea Silencer. He was over fifty years
old, had never failed a mission, and had kept his squad turnover
under 5 percent. In a job where full-squad wipeouts were all too
common, that in itself was astonishing—but what had sealed his
claim to fame was an incident at a harbor town.
A giant sea monster's death throes following a naval battle had
caused a two-hundred-foot tidal wave. It was headed right for a
coastal town, and doom seemed all but certain—but his squad had
saved it. The stormy night passed, and the residents woke to calm
waters, upon which stood a mage: Rutland, who'd silenced the seas.
The origin of his epithet.
"Nah," Chloe replied, like the Sea Silencer's legend meant nothing to
her. "Just a feeling. My family's into auguries, but it was never my
style. Can't do squat with a crystal ball."
But despite her flippant tone, there was a grim look in her eye. Not
taking her gaze off the mages before her, she added, "But sometimes
my gut is right on the money. This feels like one of those times.
There's a nasty bit of discord ahead of you. And I'm getting some
glimpses of specifics… You two over there! Feeling something off in
your mana circulation? Left leg and right shoulder? That could cause
a wipeout."
The mages she pointed at didn't say a word. But the Sea Silencer was
listening. He'd mentioned the same thing the day before. And
Chloe's squad had just arrived that evening—unlikely she'd had time
to dig up that sort of intel.
"…You have the knack, but never made a craft of it, then? Well, shit."
Jacob knew now she wasn't just stirring the pot. He stilled his squad
with a glare, electing to hear her out.
"You guys do solo raids, right? I hear that's 'cause every squad you
were on threw in the towel."
"Yeah, I could've opened a day spa," Chloe snarled. "But the same
goes for all Gnostic Hunters. Every squad's kept together by a razorthin margin. And once you're in the thick of things, everyone does it
their way. We're mages, that's why."
"True enough." Jacob chuckled. "You're covering a chunk of the
Bangash?"
"Yep, but I don't sense a thing," she said, finger on her brow. "Not
even a tingle."
"Nobody can predict where the Gates'll open." The Sea Silencer
shook his head. "Augury pros narrow it down as best they can, and
then we're placed accordingly. We've got our orders. Or are you
saying these hunches of yours are more accurate than real oracles?"
"Nah. They're just hunches. When they're wrong, they're wrong. No
more use than that."
"So what use is your warning?" he asked, probing her intent.
Chloe scratched her head, looking sheepish.
"…Some things make a difference," she said. "How long you hang on.
Whether you know someone's coming or not."
"...?" Jacob and his group frowned, not sure what she meant.
Conscious of their eyes on her, Chloe leaned back, letting her words
sink in for a moment. Then she slammed both hands down on the
table.
"If anything happens, I will come and rescue you. Don't you dare give
up. Get that into your skulls."
She spat each phrase like she was chiseling them into the hunters'
bodies. She went from left to right, staring each squad member in
the eye with a look like a command: Don't die. Survive.
And that silenced even these hardened hunters.
No one answered her. They knew this was all she'd ever meant to tell
them. Chloe Halford was at their table for that, and that alone.
"This drink's on me," the Sea Silencer said. He used his white wand
to pull over a stool, and Chloe parked herself on it. Her two
colleagues watched, nerves frayed.
Jacob pulled a little bottle out of his coat pocket and tipped just a
few drops into an empty glass. Chloe looked baffled. There was
already a big bottle of spirits on the table, and everyone else was
helping themselves to it.
"…Mixings? Let's stick to straight shots."
"Of cheap gin in a backwoods watering hole? This town's deep
country, and I ain't griping, but you'd be better off choking down
fresh-squeezed mandrake."
"I don't hold with the sweet stuff. I want my booze to sit up and
smack me."
"Sheesh, you drink like an asshole. Don't worry, it's bitters. It won't
make it sweet."
With that, the Sea Silencer poured gin on top of the brown drops. He
put the glass in front of Chloe; she shrugged and took a gulp.
"…Mm?!"
She let out a weird noise, then tilted the glass all the way back. Once
drained, she slammed it down on the table and barked, "Another!"
"'Fraid not," Jacob said, holding the bottle of bitters upside down.
Chloe looked crestfallen; the Sea Silencer looked rather pleased with
himself. "I could have another for you the next time we meet. After
this battle's done."
"Argh, you're gonna do me like that?!" she wailed, clutching her
head.
The Gnostic Hunters were all laughing now. Chloe let loose several
curses that would make high-society types blanch, then got to her
feet with tears in her eyes.
"I'll hold you to that!" she yelled. "Don't you dare forget!"
"Same here," he said, arms folded. "You wind us up like this and die
first, I'll make sure people are laughing about it for centuries. Just
you watch."
"I'll keep it in mind." Chloe snorted. She turned on her heel, flinging
an arm over each of her two companion's shoulders. "Good night—
and good luck, Jacob the Sea Silencer."
"Same to you, Chloe Two-Blade."
And they went their separate ways, leaving behind a small promise.
One that should not have taken long to keep.
"…Ha-ha… You really did get here first…"
His voice a rasp, his face ashen, the Sea Silencer was propped against
a rock on a hill. To say he'd been beaten to a pulp would be an
understatement.
"..."
Chloe was staring down at him. He'd lost his left leg from below the
knee, and his sides were torn open in three places, broken ribs
peeking out. The rest of his wounds were too numerous to count.
And given the extent of his injuries, most unnerving of all was how
little blood was flowing.
The cause was the brown fibrous substance buried in the gaps of his
flesh: arcane roots woven through his entire body, draining him of
blood and magic. Chloe's two companions went to heal him, saw
that substance, and froze. They knew. The Sea Silencer's life was
finished; his bodily functions served only as a seedbed.
"…Don't look so upset," he told Chloe, who remained speechless.
"We didn't give up. Not a one of us. I swear."
He glanced down at the body cradled in his arms—one of his squad
members. There was no need to check for signs of life. Not even a
mage could survive losing half their head.
"…Your hunch was right. The augurs totally blew the scale of the
invasion. Look at the state of things; they've swallowed up the whole
valley. We're a step outside the tír…"
Chloe and the others followed his gaze. The sight before them was
literally not of this world.
Once, there had been a town in this valley, decent sized for these
parts; nearly two thousand had lived here. They grew cotton and
carrots and raised magical silkworms. The ten mages who lived here
had convinced the villagers to evacuate. Abandon everything they'd
ever known.
And now, as Chloe's group peered down into the valley—there was
no town. No trace of it remained. The massive wyrms swimming
through the soil had demolished everything, churning it to oblivion.
They'd scattered countless seeds that grew until the land was
covered in a towering forest within a matter of hours. Their role
complete, some of the wyrms' corpses were already entangled in the
trees' roots, fertilizing them—a sight that proved who was in charge.
Plants held sway, and beasts served at their whim—the polar
opposite of this world, an attempt to impose an alien order upon it.
Above this alarmingly luxuriant forest lay the swirling black portal
through which they had arrived. Even as Chloe watched, another
deluge of seeds fell from it and burrowed themselves into the wyrmplowed land, devouring nutrients before proliferating.
Several figures watched the invasion's progress from the skies above.
Each twenty feet tall, their forms were dubiously reminiscent of a
man in a straw cape. But their bodies were made from tightly woven
roots, their outstretched limbs two thick branches, the tips of which
were shaped like jagged shears.
These figures weren't human, nor were they any sort of magiflora.
They were something distinct even from the writhing plants below.
Shuddering from their palpable might, Chloe spoke.
"Those are…gardeners? Twelve…no, thirteen of them?"
"Fifteen. We managed to take two down…barely. The moment they
appeared, we knew how it would end. Sending seraphs in right
away? Proof their god means business."
Jacob's voice was a spiteful whisper. When Chloe still offered no
response, he looked back at her, adding, "You came all this way for
nothing. We've already lost. Retreat and regroup. Two or three
squads coming can't do a thi— Gah!"
He groaned; the roots were digging deeper. Vines stretching up from
his wounds wove together, replacing the missing pieces of his body
with new ones. The thing inside him would not even allow him to
die. It was now robbing him of the last lingering trace of his own
mind, forcing him to serve as their puppet.
"…Can I ask one last favor? Afraid I missed my shot at ending things
myself."
The Sea Silencer saw the writing on the wall and spoke his piece.
Chloe nodded and drew her athame. As his chest rose and fell, she
placed the tip off-center, directly above his heart.
"…Sorry I failed to keep my promise."
"Don't worry about it. We both did."
And with that, she sank her blade into his chest, destroying his
heart—the lynchpin of the circulatory systems for both blood and
mana. She was delicate, to avoid causing him pain; thorough, so that
nothing could make use of him once he was gone; and respectful,
honoring the great mage and the life he had led.
"Ignis."
Once the Sea Silencer had slid, relieved, into eternal slumber, Chloe
set him on fire. When a corpse became infected by a tír being, it had
to be burned on the spot, reduced to ash—lest it cause greater
calamity. Destroying the heart beforehand prevented the inhabiting
creature from resisting while the corpse burned.
This funeral rite was the first thing every Gnostic Hunter learned.
Ever since her first day on the front lines, Chloe Halford had repeated
this procedure more times than she could count.
"…Chloe…"
"…We're here with you."
Her two colleagues spoke but did not move. Chloe watched as the
corpse burned into oblivion.
"…What do we do?" she murmured.
The pair glanced at each other. It was always their job to make the
rational choice. Chloe—their leader—was horrifically bad at that.
"I'm afraid he was right. We should retreat and find other—"
"Not that."
She cut him off, not allowing him to play his role. That was all it took
for them to know how bad things were. Their leader was in no state
to listen to a rational argument.
"Once this fight is over, where do I drink, and what?" Chloe roared,
clenching her fists. A broom shot down from the sky above, as if it
sensed her frustration.
Chloe's companions tried to grab her shoulders, but she slipped
away, her feet on the broom's handle, riding it like a surfboard.
She hurtled toward the base of the valley and the sinister forest
within. Sensing her approach, the wyrms ceased plowing and
attacked. They swam through the soil like sea serpents through
waves. In the face of a threat so great it had swallowed up a town,
Chloe could have flown upward—but instead, she jumped off her
broom, falling toward them.
"Gladio Ferrum Directum!"
Pouring all her fury into a triple incantation, she drew both her
athames—dual wielding these had earned her the Two-Blade
epithet. Swinging right and left, she mowed down everything in sight,
slicing the worms like carrots. Still not satisfied, she felled a hundred
of the uncanny trees like a scythe through tall grass. By now, she had
the attention of the gardeners above.
"This is our garden, you sons of bitches! Get your nasty hands off it!"
Her roar shook the skies, issuing an ultimatum to every tír fragment
her eyes met. Countless eldritch creatures swarmed from beneath
the fallen trees; like the wyrms, they served the needs of their flora
masters. If she inhibited the forest's growth, then she was their foe
and must be attacked.
"Come back! You'll get yourself killed, Chloe!"
"You don't even have a plan! We can't fight all this on our own!"
Her teammates caught up with her reckless frontal assault, athames
raised, guarding her flanks and back. The hit-and-run squad was
thirty strong, but the wave of twisted creatures was too much for
them. Even if they managed to weather this assault, the gardeners
waited in the skies—the same foes that had massacred the Sea
Silencer's squad. On any other day, a swift retreat would have been
their only option.
"Yeah, you're right! That's the correct response! So obvious even a
child would know it!" Chloe roared. "But I say, 'Nope!' and when that
happens, reckless and crazy don't get to argue. You know that!"
Her spells mowing down the advancing horde, always leading the
charge, Chloe never had much truck with reason.
"This grief! Frustration! And rage! It's all part of me! It is me! If I
choke that down, if I even try and stop it from gushing out—I won't
be me anymore! There'll be no trace of Chloe Halford's soul!"
Her colleagues shook their heads. There was no arguing with her
now.
Chloe's team had never once had anyone on it who wasn't there by
choice. And there wasn't a Gnostic Hunter alive who didn't know full
well just how peerless Chloe Two-Blade was. Everyone knew she was
prone to stunts like this. And because she was like this, because she
insisted on following her heart, no matter where it led—her team
followed her.
"So this is where we die? We could clear a path for you to run,
Emmy."
"…Right back atcha, Ed."
Her two closest colleagues were chatting behind her. Not a
snowball's chance in hell that either of them would leave her side till
the bitter end. All of them were laughing. Their camaraderie had
been set in stone as students, and it seemed clear they were taking it
to their graves.
"I knew you'd be doing something stupid. You always are!"
But that indulgent fantasy was blasted away by a rain of fire. The
encroaching swarm was replaced with a wave of death, one that
almost swallowed them with it.
"...?!"
"...Huh?"
Scorched earth and countless corpses. Chloe's companions gaped,
clueless as to the cause. But her eyes had already locked onto it on
the high ground to the northwest: a row of golems along the
horizon—and the diminutive old man leading them.
"…'Sup. How you been, Instructor Enrico?" Chloe waved at him like
she'd spotted a friend arriving late at a party. "What's with the
army? Couldn't let your favorite students go?"
"Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! Indeed, I've been fit to be tied! So worried poor
Esmeralda and Edgar would get swept up in your latest harebrained
scheme!"
"Don't try and hide it! You know you love me, too."
She stomped her feet in protest. Leaving his golems to continue their
bombardment, Enrico hopped on a small hover golem, flying into the
basin. Joining his former students, Enrico Forghieri glanced skyward
at the portal.
"They sure did punch a big one! We were way off about the scale of
their faith," he said.
"Must have been a pretty fair number hidden, out of HQ's grasp,"
Chloe replied. "Nothing else explains the size of this invasion."
"Clearly, our surveillance practices need review. But first, we'll have
to clear these out!"
The old man never took his eyes off the sky. The gardeners had
simply watched him this whole time, but now they were on the
move. Chloe had sliced up half their wyrms, and Enrico's golems had
burned away their forest. A major setback to the task their god had
entrusted to them, and their fury was palpable.
Chloe was grinning. As it should be. Come and get some.
Didn't matter to her what world her foes came from. Didn't matter if
these things weren't even technically alive. If they had a mind to go
against her, she didn't give a damn if she was fighting a bad drunk or
a tír invader.
"Leave the rabble to the golems. Only the gardeners matter.
Instructor, can you take half?"
"You never did have a head for math. You clearly meant two-thirds."
"Now you're talking, grandpa! What say we go first come, first
served?"
Even strategy sessions were a fight with Chloe involved. Her team
rolled their eyes, but these powerful reinforcements had every
hunter present back in the game, ready to win. Light was building at
the tips of every athame. And no mage alive was generous enough to
take a beating lying down.
"Oh, lemme add a clause! Whichever side loses picks up the bar tab!
Whaddaya say?"
"Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! I certainly don't mind! I love it when old students
buy me drinks. A fine way to respect your mentors!"
With the afterparty planned out, there was only one thing left on the
agenda. The harshest task of any and all mages—protecting the
safety of the world, as Gnostic Hunters do.
The boy's consciousness drifted up from the sea of ancient
memories.
"..."
He gritted his teeth. This was hardly the first such dream he'd had
since he began harboring her soul. But this one was unusually vivid,
and the contents particularly galling.
All of that had been trampled on. Friendship, trust, his mother's
soul—and all at the hands of that mad old man. The shadows of that
betrayal as dark as their bond had once been bright. A maddening
storm of queries and anger swirled through Oliver's mind.
"…? What's wrong? You look awful."
In the next bed over, Pete had woken up. Suddenly conscious of the
tension in his cheeks, Oliver tried to relax them—and failed. Instead,
he looked away.
"It's nothing," he said. "Just…an unpleasant dream."