The battle raged on, a cacophony of chaos and destruction that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night. Shadows writhed like living things, twisting and coiling around Evelyn, Spider, Lysandra, and Thalos as Maltheris stood at the center of it all—calm, composed, and utterly terrifying. His crescent-moon mask gleamed faintly in the flickering firelight, his expression unreadable yet suffused with an eerie amusement. It was as if he wasn't merely observing the fight but orchestrating it, pulling invisible strings to ensure every move unfolded according to some grand design.
Evelyn watched from a distance, her mind racing. She had seen battles before—not in this life, but in another, during her days as a player navigating Chrono Nexus. Yet nothing could have prepared her for the sheer horror unfolding before her eyes. The air itself felt heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that made breathing difficult. Every shadow seemed alive, whispering secrets too terrible to comprehend. And amidst it all, Maltheris smiled—a smile that reminded Evelyn of Stephen King's most chilling villains, those who reveled in humanity's suffering while remaining untouchable.
Spider grabbed her arm, snapping her out of her daze. "We need to move!" he hissed urgently, his voice barely audible over the din of combat. "Now!"
Evelyn hesitated, her gaze darting between the fighters and the path behind them. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, but guilt gnawed at her conscience. Leaving Lysandra and Thalos to face Maltheris alone felt wrong, even cowardly. Still, Spider's grip tightened, his masked face tilted slightly in warning. "They're buying us time, Captain. Don't waste it."
She nodded reluctantly, forcing herself to focus. Survival came first. Whatever happened next, they needed to escape—and regroup.
---
The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos, where light clashed with shadow, steel rang against steel, and the air itself seemed to writhe in agony. Evelyn stood frozen for a moment, her violet eyes wide as she watched the carnage unfold before her. Maltheris remained eerily calm amidst the destruction, his crescent-moon mask reflecting faintly in the flickering glow of Thalos's emerald staff and Lysandra's mechanized blade. His confidence unnerved her—it wasn't arrogance; it was certainty, as though he already knew how this story would end.
Lysandra moved like a storm, her silver hair whipping around her face as she swung her weapon—a massive sword forged from an alloy that shimmered like liquid mercury. The blade hummed with energy, each strike sending shockwaves through the air that shattered nearby debris into dust. It wasn't just any weapon—it was Aetherfang , one of the most powerful artifacts in the Church of Machines' arsenal. Evelyn recognized its name instantly, recalling fragments of knowledge from her time as a player in Chrono Nexus .
Artifact Name: Aetherfang
Level: High-Tier (Estimated Level 5)
Description: A colossal greatsword imbued with unstable temporal energy, capable of slicing through both matter and time itself. Its edge distorts reality, creating brief anomalies such as slowed movement or reversed momentum. However, prolonged use risks destabilizing the user's perception of time, leading to disorientation, memory loss, or complete mental collapse.
Origin: Forged by the Church of Machines during the Temporal Wars, Aetherfang was designed to counteract divine interference from the Seven Gods and their corrupted counterparts, the Seven Shadows. Its creation required sacrificing countless lives, channeling their essence into the blade to fuel its immense power.
Impact: While devastatingly effective in combat, Aetherfang carries catastrophic side effects. Users must possess Phase 4 capabilities at minimum to wield it safely, and even then, extended exposure can erode sanity.
Watching Lysandra fight was like witnessing a force of nature unleashed. Each swing of Aetherfang tore through Maltheris's tendrils of darkness, leaving behind ripples in the fabric of space-time. But the cost was evident—her movements grew increasingly erratic, her breathing labored as if the weight of the weapon were crushing her spirit alongside her body. Sweat dripped down her brow, mingling with streaks of blood from minor wounds sustained during the battle.
Thalos fought beside her, his approach starkly different yet equally formidable. His staff, adorned with intricate carvings resembling vines and leaves, pulsed with radiant green light. With every chant, bursts of energy erupted from its tip, forming barriers that repelled shadowy attacks or healing allies caught in the crossfire. Yet his true strength lay not in offense but in support—his prayers invoked blessings from Sylvara, Guardian of Nature, granting temporary boosts to those fighting alongside him.
Artifact Name: Verdant Resonance
Level: Mid-High Tier (Estimated Level 4)
Description: A ceremonial staff infused with divine energy tied to growth and renewal. Capable of generating protective wards, accelerating natural healing processes, and purifying corrupted areas. However, overuse drains the wielder's life force, aging them prematurely or causing fatal exhaustion.
Origin: Crafted by the highest-ranking priests of the Church of Nature, Verdant Resonance serves as a conduit for Sylvara's blessings. Its power is amplified when used in harmony with natural elements, making it particularly potent in environments rich with flora or fauna.
Impact: While invaluable for sustaining prolonged engagements, Verdant Resonance demands careful management. Users must maintain balance between giving and taking, lest they sacrifice themselves entirely for the sake of others.
Despite their combined efforts, neither Lysandra nor Thalos could land a decisive blow against Maltheris. His form shifted constantly, dissolving into shadows only to reappear elsewhere moments later. He toyed with them, his laughter echoing unnaturally as he dodged their attacks with ease.
"This is futile," Thalos muttered under his breath, his voice strained. "We're merely stalling the inevitable."
Lysandra didn't respond immediately, her focus locked on Maltheris. But when she finally spoke, her tone carried a grim determination. "Then we stall until reinforcements arrive—or until I run out of options."
Evelyn winced at the implication. She had seen enough battles in Chrono Nexus to know what happened when players pushed beyond their limits. Using high-tier artifacts without proper preparation often led to disaster—not just for the wielder, but for everyone around them. And judging by the strain etched across Lysandra's face, Aetherfang was already beginning to take its toll.
Spider, meanwhile, fought furiously to protect Evelyn, his daggers flashing as he parried strikes from sect members attempting to flank them. Blood trickled from fresh cuts on his arms and torso, but he showed no signs of slowing down. "Captain!" he shouted over the din of battle. "We need to move—now! This isn't our fight!"
Evelyn hesitated, torn between staying to help and retreating while they still had a chance. Her mind raced, searching for a solution—but none came. Instead, she nodded reluctantly, signaling Spider to cover her as they prepared to flee.
---
Far removed from the chaos engulfing the enclave, Admiral Darius Veylor sat comfortably in the port office, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup. Despite the urgency of the situation, he exuded an aura of relaxed detachment, as though the fate of Port Solace mattered little to him. His subordinates bustled about nervously, relaying updates via encrypted channels, but Darius paid them little heed. Instead, he gazed out the window, observing the distant fires illuminating the night sky.
"Such a spectacle," he murmured to himself, his lips curling into a faint smile. "And yet, so predictable."
His amusement stemmed not from cruelty, but from understanding. Like Maltheris, Darius operated on a level far above ordinary mortals. To him, the conflict unfolding below was merely another chapter in a larger narrative—one he had anticipated long before setting foot on this cursed island. Whether the church succeeded in dismantling the sect or failed spectacularly made little difference; either outcome served his ultimate goal.
"Sir," one of his aides interrupted cautiously, holding a scroll bearing fresh intelligence. "Reports indicate significant casualties among both sides. The artifact remains unsecured."
Darius waved dismissively, setting aside his teacup. "Casualties are irrelevant. What matters is timing—and patience. Let the pieces fall where they may."
His cryptic response left the aide visibly unsettled, but Darius offered no further explanation. Instead, he rose from his seat, adjusting his uniform with practiced precision. Whatever game he played, it was clear he held all the cards—or so he believed.
---
Back in the heart of the enclave, Maltheris continued to observe the battle with detached fascination. His smile widened as he noted the growing desperation in his opponents' movements. They fought valiantly, yes—but ultimately, they were pawns in a game orchestrated by forces far greater than themselves.
"You see?" he said softly, addressing Evelyn directly despite the distance between them. "This is why I came here. Not to conquer, but to witness—to bear witness to the unraveling of fate itself."
Evelyn shuddered, his words resonating deep within her psyche. She recalled, where characters often found themselves trapped in scenarios beyond comprehension, driven to madness by forces operating on cosmic scales. This felt eerily similar—a nightmare brought to life, where logic crumbled beneath the weight of inevitability.
As the skirmish intensified, casualties mounted rapidly. Sect members fell victim to Aetherfang 's devastating strikes, their bodies dissolving into wisps of smoke. Church soldiers succumbed to shadowy tendrils that lashed out unpredictably, dragging them screaming into the void. Civilians caught in the crossfire screamed in terror, their pleas drowned out by explosions and the deafening roar of arcane energy.
It was a scene straight out of darkest imaginings—a tableau of horror painted in shades of fire and shadow. Bodies littered the streets, some twisted grotesquely by temporal distortions caused by Aetherfang , others reduced to husks drained of life by the Shadow's influence. The air reeked of death and decay, heavy with the metallic tang of blood.
Evelyn turned away, unable to stomach the sight any longer. Spider grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her toward an alleyway partially shielded by crumbling walls. "Go!" he urged, his voice urgent. "I'll hold them off!"
"No!" Evelyn protested, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm not leaving you behind!"
Spider grinned faintly beneath his cracked mask, though there was no humor in it. "You don't have a choice, Captain. Trust me—I've faced worse odds."
Before she could argue further, he darted back into the fray, his daggers gleaming as he engaged multiple enemies simultaneously. Evelyn hesitated, tears blurring her vision as she watched him disappear into the chaos. Then, steeling herself, she ran.
---
Amidst the carnage, Thalos noticed something alarming. As Lysandra swung Aetherfang once more, the blade emitted a low hum that resonated unnaturally, warping the surrounding environment. Time itself seemed to buckle under the strain, causing objects to flicker in and out of existence. Thalos realized the truth too late—the artifact's instability was reaching critical levels.
"Commander!" he called out desperately, raising his staff to reinforce her defenses. "You must stop! The blade will consume you!"
But Lysandra ignored him, her focus unwavering. "Not yet," she growled, her voice tinged with defiance. "Not until this ends."
Her next strike cleaved through a wave of shadows, dispersing them momentarily—but at a terrible cost. The ground beneath her feet cracked violently, fissures spreading outward as reality began to unravel. Thalos shielded his eyes, chanting fervently to stabilize the area, but even his prayers proved insufficient against the overwhelming force of Aetherfang 's unleashed power.
And then, silence.
When the dust settled, Evelyn emerged from the shadows, her expression haunted. The enclave lay in ruins, its streets deserted save for the bodies strewn across the ground. In the distance, Maltheris stood alone, his mask tilted slightly as he regarded her with quiet satisfaction.
"It begins," he whispered, his voice carrying an eerie finality.
---
End of Chapter