On the screen, the old woman's posture was perfectly prim. Her gloved hand rose to delicately adjust the turquoise ribbon at her throat. Then she advanced into their ranks, moving with the unhurried calm of someone taking a leisurely stroll.
One of the Dernselliem lunged with its unnaturally long arms. She sidestepped the clumsy attack, her hand flashing to the head of her weapon. With a single twist, she pulled a thin dagger from its hidden sheath, a whining metallic sound accompanying its emergence. The blade slid across the creature's neck in one clean motion before vanishing back into the sheath. The creature froze, then collapsed without a sound.
She moved between two more, her lace-gloved hands passing over their backs as if brushing away lint. Both creatures took another jerky step, then crumpled to the floor. Two thin wires, visible only by thin trails of blood on them, retracted back into the dagger's sheath with that same metallic whine, having done their work. Her pressed skirt and modest blouse remained pristine. Each kill was precise and methodical, like a clerk filing away messy paperwork. The Dernselliem were merely clutter to be removed from the polished floor.
The feed on the main monitor flickered, shifting to a live shot from Floor 220, just outside a massive, foreboding boss chamber carved from black stone. Zehrina's team was visible. Warrex leaned against a wall, his armor scuffed and a fresh, ugly bruise blooming on his jaw. Lutrian, looking the picture of misery, sagged under the weight of a comically enormous bag of loot that was nearly as tall as he was. Zehrina alone stood apart, looking pristine and untouched by the recent battles.
Then, Lorn Garru walked into the frame.
Roy's hand went to his earpiece, his heart lurching. Serenity's voice was already there, calm and steady. "Stay calm, Captain. I am relaying the drone's audio only feed to you now. No one gets hurt."
On the screen, the Presidroids with Team Two snapped to attention, greeting the stranger with a crisp salute. Zehrina, expecting an arrogant response, offered a flippant, mocking curtsy. In response, the giant offered a slow, deep, unexpectedly respectful bow. The sudden formality clearly caught Zehrina off guard. Her smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of shame at her own action. She quickly corrected herself with a short, respectful nod.
Lorn straightened up, and his voice rumbled through Roy's earpiece, a sound as deep as any Roy had ever heard.
"You…" Lorn said, his white eyes fixed on Zehrina. "You stand clean in a filthy world. I can see it clearly…you possess strength and purity both, as rare as they come. But… you're also a sculpture made of things that were never meant to live. No soul. No scent of birth. I pity you. May Loe's grace save you from your nothingness. I am sorry."
Zehrina was stunned into silence. Warrex, however, exploded with protective fury, pushing himself off the wall. "That how you greet people? Preach at 'em and call it pity?" he growled, stalking forward.
"The mouth speaks what the spirit fears to swallow. The Tri-Charmic Sanctum carved the rot out of me and left only confession. I am never to lie," Lorn explained. He closed his eyes and serenely offered Warrex his neck. "Here. If I've sinned again, exact your justice, please. I won't stop you."
Without a moment's hesitation, Warrex spun, throwing a punch with all of his strength behind it. The blow landed squarely on Lorn's neck. The impact was deadened completely; Lorn's skin didn't even ripple. Roy saw it clearly on the monitor, fear. For the first time since Warrex joined the crew, he saw a look of pure, undiluted terror flashed across Warrex's face.
Lorn's arm moved too quick to follow. Before Warrex could even think to recoil, his fist was already cradled in Lorn's palm. Lorn lifted the hand, careful not to lift Warrex off the ground. He slowly opened his eyes as he brushed a kiss across Warrex's knuckles, and lowered his forehead against them.
"You've shown mercy. That's rare," Lorn whispered, lip quivering lightly. "Be the anchor for that creature from beyond, the one the world won't forgive. It will need someone who still remembers warmth."
He gingerly released Warrex's hand. But as he did, the space beside Warrex suddenly filled with a small figure. Momma Tristaphene was there, her placid expression gone, a thin knife already arcing toward his throat but Lorn's hand moved faster. He thrusted his own massive palm in the path of the blade. A wet slap echoed through the audio feed as the knife pierced clean through the center of his hand, its tip stopping just inches from Warrex's neck.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mr. Garru!?" Momma Tristaphene screeched. "Rules are rules! We can kill all who try to harm us!"
"Not if their intent was justice," Lorn said, gripping the blade between blood-slick fingers. "The Sanctum teaches to bleed before we blame."
A new voice, a sibilant hiss, came from just behind Lutrian on the monitor. Jintase Gordian had appeared, his singed blond hair a chaotic halo and his manic eyes gleaming. He gently, possessively, ran his fingers through Lutrian's hair as small, harmless flames danced around his knuckles.
"Words hardly require 'justice', right?" Jintase's voice whispered through the audio feed. "Disproportionate, as they say! We must burn them all, right here, now… now!"
A chorus of screams suddenly rang out. On the screen, Jintase and Momma Tristaphene's forms began to violently stutter, as if the fabric of reality was denying them the right to exist and then allowing it again, dozens of times a second.
Then a new voice cut through, friendly and slow, accompanied by the sound of lazy clapping.
"People, people, please… do play nice."
Ardent Blacktide walked into view with the Emberforges and their attendants in tow. Warrex, who had been readying himself to defend Lutrian, suddenly went rigid. His head turned slowly, mechanically, toward Ardent. It wasn't a choice, he moved as if compelled by a force beyond his control. As Roy watched, horrified, he realized he was witnessing the effect of Ardent's power, the feeling that destiny itself was demanding Warrex's full and undivided attention.
"Bad kids face an early bedtime, you know," Ardent said, his friendly tone trailing into something sadistic as he approached his two writhing crew members. "And you two are bein'… very… bad."
The stuttering effect ceased instantly. Jintase and Momma Tristaphene collapsed to the ground, gasping. Warrex, though the pressure on his will had lessened, still found his eyes locked on Ardent.
"Wh-who are you guys?" Warrex finally managed to ask.
"Ardent Blacktide's the name," Ardent said, his voice now pleasant. "More of a title, really, but regardless. I do apologize for my friends here. Do tell the big boss Mr. Gunn I do sincerely apologize for causing his friends such unjustified fear."
Warrex could only manage a single, stiff nod.
"I hope you don't mind, but we are goin' to move on ahead of you," Ardent said. He tapped Warrex on the shoulder as he passed, never once making eye contact. "Lorn, dispatch the boss here so we can continue."
As Ardent, Lorn, and the Emberforges moved into the boss chamber, Momma Tristaphene and Jintase struggled to their feet. The struggle quickly turned into a low, unhinged cackling as they finally managed to hobble after their team.
Takara leaned close to Roy, whispering. "Warrex took down Kaelor. If even Ardent's lackeys can beat Warrex, his crew is basically an Abyssforged Alliance inside the Abyssforged Alliance."
Takara's whispered analysis of the power disparity hung in the air, but Roy's attention was already gone. He immediately opened a comm channel to Zehrina. Her voice came through, trying to sound upbeat but laced with a clear touch of sadness.
"Hello, my handsome Capta—"
"What the hell happened!?" Roy yelled, his voice cracking with a rage that cut through the low murmur of the Central Court. Shalira flinched behind the admin desk. Takara, Andri, and the others in his group turned to stare at him. Nearby, a few adventurers waiting in line looked over, their eyes wide.
A flush of shame and anger burned Roy's cheeks. He turned his back on them, stalking down an empty, unfinished corridor to continue the conversation out of sight and away from prying eyes.
"I take it Serenity has inform—" Zehrina tried again.
"I watched it myself!" Roy's voice was a raw bark, now that he was alone. "Why didn't you do anything?! Why didn't you fight back?! You were supposed to protect everyone!"
"I… I couldn't," Zehrina's voice broke, her practiced confidence shattering, replaced by the raw, ragged edge of held-back tears. "Everything I tried… my Navi'N, my spells… they wouldn't start. I wasn't scared, I couldn't do anything! We were completely powerless against him. So pathetic! Weak!"
The sudden, vicious burst of self-hatred in her voice cut through Roy's rage like a knife. The anger drained out of him in an instant, leaving a hollow ache in his chest.
"Just… stay safe," he said softly, his own voice now quiet and strained. "Find a secure spot on a good floor and stay put. We'll meet you there."
"I won't let you down again, Roy," she said, her voice turning hauntingly cold. "I bet my life on it."
"Stop," Roy insisted, the words catching in his throat. "Please. Just be safe."
He ended the call and stood for a long moment in the silent corridor, the weight of Zehrina's despair settling over him. He turned and walked back to his group to find them waiting, but the atmosphere was anything but calm. Eryndra was seething, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, her jaw set. Roy felt an insistent tug at his own mana pool as she subconsciously drew from his reservoir, storing more and more power in her core. He could feel the heat radiating from her from a dozen feet away.
"Eryndra, no," he said, his voice low but firm. "Don't even think about it. Let it go."
She looked at him then, and it was like looking into the heart of a frozen star, all cold, compressed fury.
"We are at his mercy for now," Roy said, his voice barely a whisper. "This is our cage… and he… he is the bigger monster."