It was mentioned in the mission log that the storm clouds were permanent. Peculiar, but Victor wasn't going to complain. The light was his sole lifeline as of now. Any form of it would be greatly appreciated.
Under the illumination of the twin moons, he was able to observe his surroundings more clearly. Even though he had the uncanny vision of a Hound, the darkness was other-worldly and sinister - darker than any night he had been through. It was as if a black veil was draped over his face, blocking all his senses. Even his makeshift torches did not last as long as one would expect.
This world had 2 moons orbiting around it: the much grander and brighter Dreamer Moon, the Preserver, the Guide of the Lost, and the smaller and dimmer Stalker Moon, the Bringer of Calamity and Plague, the Thief of Life. The Stalker Moon disappeared from the sky for long periods, reappearing during times of great suffering and havoc, like an omen of catastrophe, and no one knew why this happened.
The storytellers prosed that they had been lovers once. Dreamer died in her sleep, poisoned by their enemies, and turned into a Moon, eternally dreaming of Stalker, while Stalker fell off from a tower in a pitiful struggle to reach his beloved. According to their tales, Stalker hides behind the night sky as he is ashamed of his actions. A classical romance, but nothing more to it except superstitions... Vic thought. He had loved these stories once, as a child - especially the Stalker Moon - he too once had someone he would've given his life for.
Looking at the now clearly visible cathedral, which seemed like a black bridge connecting the ground to the sky, Victor realized it looked even more imposing under illumination - an intricate picture of a bleeding moon was displayed on the single giant painted glass window it had.
Curious… The religious imagery of the former grand city of Styga very much astonished the boy. In the post-war society that he was born and raised in, religion wasn't a common practice - this was all new to him. What mattered was strength, survival, and, most importantly, ridding the world of the remnants of the Great War - the Undead.
Something about the imposing black church called for Victor… Whether it was curiosity or an obscure skill of the Ape - he did not know, but his goal was set in stone. The boy was treading through the unknown - there was no information available on the skills and behaviors of Undead #1027 - the best course of action seemed to be to trust his own intuition. Though, the spec ops rookie did have something in mind but was patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity.
It seemed the fire of the lighthouse was burning out, so he needed to leave. Refreshed after the small moment of peace, the private grabbed his dead companion by the single limb that was somehow left intact and descended the spiraling stairs.
Two cloudy white orbs followed his every move just out of his sight, hidden in the darkest deepest shadows.
The light of the twin moons illuminated his path forward, keeping him safe from the Undead in their embrace. To an outside observer, it was almost as if Victor was being led to the church by the ear, but the young man was none the wiser. His soul was soothed - he felt calm and serene, mindlessly striding towards his destination.
Soon, Victor was standing outside the gate of the black cathedral.
A grand metal door blocked his way in. However much force he exerted, the thing would not budge. It was tall and thick - he was confident even a squadron of tier 2 Classes wouldn't be able to nudge it. Just as Manon was giving up hope and about to somehow sneak in through an open window or something similar, blood from the corpse of Niki Briggs flowed and touched the mysterious black metal. The ominous gate slowly churned open as if pushed from the inside, releasing an ear-splitting cranking that told greatly of its age and might.
Ah, I was pushing, not pulling… Victor, blissfully ignorant of the real key to the door, reignited his torch in a hurry and hesitantly stepped inside the impenetrable darkness that had been hidden behind the metal gate for who-knows-how-long, seemingly containing ancient secrets too sinister to uncover. But the brave soldier holding hands with a mutilated corpse was determined to expose them.
Instantly, the musty smell of rot assaulted his superhuman nose. His stomach churned, but he was unfortunately all too familiar with the smell of death - Victor was a seasoned soldier, after all. Locating the source of the rot was impossible - the torch only illuminated his immediate surroundings, comprising a radius of barely 2 meters.
The private was walking on cold grey stone; the air was unnaturally cold, sapping him of every positive emotion, chilling him down to his very core. Victor was scared, frightened even: the Ape could've been standing an arm's reach away, and who knew what kind of horror was holed up in this den of shadows and death? Nobody knew the extent of horrors that had been created during the Great War, currently lurking around unrestrained, searching for human flesh. For all he knew, his echoing footsteps might have already awakened it.
The gate closed behind the private. It seemed the Ape had come in.
***
Manon wasn't sure for how long he had wandered around, searching for something - anything except the monotonous cold stone floor. His raging alertness had calmed down significantly at this point - nothing had jumped out of the darkness so far. Thankfully, soon, he encountered a stray piece of paper lying on the cold floor, patiently waiting for a wanderer to be picked up and read.
Dear Maria,
It seems like lady luck has finally blessed us. Our small city of Styga has been largely ignored by the children of the night, up until now! I have personally visited the meeting held annually at Mt. Ovu, and one of the high-ranking preachers, a Pale Maiden who goes by the name Anwen has agreed to bless our humble settlement with her presence. You know what this means - the lady has promised us Jennie's Blood! Finally, our dreams have come true! All these years of prayer and worship have not been for naught. Jennie has finally chosen us as one of her children. Rest easy, dear sister, for the night is fair to those who love. Please, come back to Styga as soon as you can. I look forward to your arrival impatiently.
With love,
Jonas Quinn
August 14th, 19789
…the night is fair to those who love… This place was overly obsessed with the night, he thought.
The most curious thing about the letter was that it was written right before the start of the Great War. This fact prompted Victor to analyze it carefully, going over every single detail - after all, documents and information about society before the war were extremely scarce. …children of the night…Mt. Ovu…Pale Maiden…Jennie's Blood… All mysterious and unprecedented terms for the girl. …small city…? ...humble abode?... But Styga is the grandest metropolis Victor had ever seen! Maybe it was due to inexperience since he had only patrolled and trained around the main human-occupied areas, but imagining bigger cities was simply impossible for the boy.
Painfully aware of the ever-dimming light of his torch, Manon pocketed the piece of paper and continued onwards.
However, the private found another piece of paper just a few steps ahead.
Dear Maria,
Our city is in ruin. We hide in the cathedral, praying to Jennie of the Hill. Lady Anwen brought something with her - a perverted creature of darkness that fiercely loves its mistress - her Twin Moon. We do not know why such a strong magician decided to come here with the purpose of killing us all. Our single wish was to become Children of the Night. Have we angered Jennie of the Hill?
The great metal gate keeps ringing - I'm afraid it will break soon. We only pray for the saving grace of the Dreamer.
Please, do not come, and don't forget about your own dear brother. I pray for your safety.
Jonas Quinn
October 2nd, 19789
Judging from their presence, the letters had never left the cathedral, and Jonas eventually disappeared like the rest of the population. Or more accurately, killed.
A rough theory was starting to form inside the calculating mind of the private. The city of Styga had been a society that deeply worshipped the Dreamer Moon - evident from the illustration of the single colossal bleeding moon he had seen from the lighthouse. The population consisted of humans, but due to their religious beliefs, the people of Styga had decided to invite a preacher, who was supposed to provide them with Jennie's Blood - most likely an artifact that was capable of changing their race to Children of the Night... Victor had never heard of such a thing before. And the Ape was Lady Anwen's Twin Moon...
Twin Moon... Must be a special type of connection, almost sounds like a Soul-Bind... Victor fetched another oil-dipped piece of wood from his rations bag while theorizing about the nature of the Ape and hurriedly lit it up before the one he was carrying went out. Sighing with relief, the boy kept walking.
Hours passed. After 3 more torches, he was panicking. He didn't have any more. The darkness was endless. His hand held the corpse's hand tightly, seeking comfort from the cold flesh in desperation. With no destination in mind, the young man started reminiscing about his past: about Gwyn, his twin sister; about his parents; about how the Frogman - the captain of the Frogmen Corps - had slaughtered each and every single member of his family. The tall sinewy man clad in fearsome pitch-black armor and covered in the blood of Victor's kin had for no discernible reason left him alive to suffer in agony and guilt. The child had vowed revenge, dedicating his entire existence towards slicing Frogman's head off. To reach that goal, he had to join the ranks of the Frogmen - no other person ever interacted with the elusive legend. He would not be able to accept it if his quest for revenge ended with his neck breaking in a dark church in the middle of nowhere the moment the light went out, and would probably return to the waking world as an Undead to haunt the valiant murderer.
He had to think of something - anything. The private racked his mind: tried running like a lunatic, screaming like one, but did not resort to his single and only plan, since he had no confidence that it would work out in his current situation. Grabbing a handgun from underneath his cloak, the soldier shot in random directions. The light from the firearm failed to help Victor procure any useful information on his surroundings and destination. It had only accomplished in momentarily revealing a huge figure a few shades blacker than the abyss itself standing just outside the range of the illumination of his torch...
Just as hope was fading and the private was begrudgingly starting to come to terms with his pitiful but unpreventable death, a soft glow smiled upon the lost soldier, illuminating his dark prison. What greeted him was a huge church hall with rows and rows of seats facing an open altar. It seemed like the clouds miraculously parted again, the moons momentarily revealing his path forward.
The gargantuan painted window he had seen earlier from afar was looming ominously behind the altar. It glowed an eerie red color after letting light pass through the exquisite illustration of the bleeding moon.
He had been inside this hall the whole time. It was grand, but not hours-of-walking grand. Realization hit him that the unnatural darkness itself was an endless prison. An abyss as deep and cold as the great oceans; an unbeatable predator waiting for the moment the final glimmers of hope and warmth burned out to execute him in a heartbeat - the same way it had killed 2 entire squadrons of seasoned troops, all having reached tier 1 Classes, before the poor souls could even register that something had been off. Victor had survived then solely thanks to his skill - he was a tiny bit quicker than the rest, both in movement and uptake. However, he was still not good enough to become one of the Frogmen until he completed Operation Zero Dark Twenty. No matter the odds, the mission must be completed...
The main attraction of the church seemed to be the altar - its surface was smashed in, revealing a gaping black hole. Lines of ancient rotten blood were imprinted on the ground, all leading into the abyss beyond the altar.
Victor grimaced after realizing the source of the smell of rot was hiding down there.
Finally, he had found the key to his victory. Whatever was down there, the Dreamer and the Stalker seemed to be helping him along his path. Surely, it must've been a good sign, as he was in a land that worshipped the night.
Snake Eater dashed towards the pit before the light of the moons could be extinguished by the sinister clouds. The soldier had decided to gamble with his life - if the Ape had managed to enter the altar when the hall was illuminated - he would be instantly killed, but if lady luck was on his side and the Undead retreated backwards, away from the altar to some other unseemly shadow, then the pale light would serve as a blockade against it, barring its entry into the abyss beyond the altar, buying the boy time, at least until the sky would inevitably go dark once again.