February 5th, 2033, 4:00 AM.
Viroth had carved his laboratory into the hollow remains of a section of the cathedral buried within the Ruin Zone, where faith had long since been stripped down to function, and towering arches now loomed over rows of cold metal desks cluttered with glass instruments.
Test tubes rising in uneven clusters—some the size of a human body, others small and precise—while dim screens flickered quietly in the background, their glow reflecting off a floor so unnaturally white it seemed to erase depth itself, blending seamlessly into a ceiling that mirrored it in sterile perfection, leaving the entire space feeling endless, contained, and suffocating all at once.
The air reeked of sterilization, sharp and invasive, as if the room itself rejected anything resembling life.
Seated at one of the metal tables, Viroth typed in steady, controlled motions, his focus absolute, his posture rigid as if even the smallest lapse in attention would cost him something immeasurable, the quiet hum of machinery blending into the stillness until it became indistinguishable from silence itself—until a series of firm knocks cut through it, sharp enough to pull him from his work.
His fingers stilled. He turned.
Eclipser stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with casual disregard, his presence heavy despite his relaxed posture. "Kristella says to get ready. We're going soon." His voice rolled through the room, deep and resonant, carrying enough force to make nearby glass tremble faintly.
Viroth gave a small nod, offering no words as he closed the laptop with a soft, final click, rising from his seat as if the interruption had already been accounted for long before it happened. "How are they taking to the information?" he asked, sliding a silver ring onto his right ring finger with practiced ease, the motion absent-minded yet deliberate.
"Everyone except Kristella, Chelsea, Kyle, and Alex are upset that their previous methods were so useless in reality," Eclipser replied, shifting slightly as his gaze lingered on the lab.
"I figured," Viroth said, the faintest trace of amusement threading through his voice. "I only wish I could have seen their faces when you showed them the Beasts of Ruin I teleported after Keaton told me to." A quiet, restrained chuckle almost surfaced, but never fully formed.
"Yeah, they were good," Eclipser admitted, though his expression tightened slightly. "But I don't get why you can't handle that instead of me. You live with them too."
Viroth began walking toward him, his steps measured, his gaze drifting briefly across the room as though weighing it against something unseen. "Because my time is spent refining something that actually matters," he said, his tone sharpening just enough to cut. "Their method relied on stripping souls away piece by piece until only one remained, forcing it into the husk of a Beast of Ruin that once held thousands—inefficient, crude, and embarrassingly slow." He stopped beside Eclipser, his presence now close enough to press against the space between them. "My method is faster, yes, but even that…" He paused, his eyes shifting toward the empty hallway ahead. "Already feels outdated."
The words lingered, heavier than they should have been.
"Everything is accelerating," Viroth continued, quieter now, almost as if speaking to the space itself. "Existence doesn't slow down for anything, and if we fail to stay ahead of it, we fall behind—simple as that."
He leaned slightly into the doorway, his gaze unfocused for a moment. "I've never felt this before…" His voice dipped, losing its usual certainty. "Usually, I'm the one who creates this feeling in others—I understand it, control it—but now…" He exhaled faintly. "I don't."
Eclipser tilted his head, the confusion on his face immediate. "How come?"
Viroth didn't answer right away.
"It feels like something is wrong," he said at last, the words slower, heavier, as if dragged out of him rather than spoken freely. "Not in a way I can isolate or fix—just wrong. It could be our methods, it could be this place, something embedded in these lands that twists thought itself…" A brief pause followed. "But that doesn't feel right either."
"Then what is it?" Eclipser pressed.
Viroth's eyes narrowed slightly. "Kristella said that Humans of Ruin are evolutions of the Beasts of Ruin," he began, his tone shifting into something more analytical, though something beneath it faltered. "But she also said that our evolution exists because of Alma Alastor—not naturally, but because of him." He turned his head, meeting Eclipser's gaze at his shoulders. "Is that really all we are? That we exist because he does? If that's true, then everything we are—our purpose, our existence—is reduced to nothing more than a consequence of one man."
The moment stretched—and then Eclipser grabbed him, pulling him back into the lab with sudden force, the door shutting behind them with a dull, final thud.
"Sit down."
Viroth did.
Eclipser took a seat across from him, leaning forward, his tone more grounded now. "I've felt something like that too," he admitted. "Not that our methods are wrong, but that maybe we're meant to be doing something else… something more." He paused, searching for the right words. "But our existence doesn't depend on one man. It can't. If everything we are only exists to oppose him, then what are we without him? Nothing? That doesn't make sense." He shook his head slightly. "We exist because we're different—because we're something beyond what came before—not because of him."
"I understand," Viroth said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But the feeling doesn't go away." His fingers curled slightly, tension slipping into the motion. "I've tried burying it, covering it with logic, work, anything—but it keeps coming back, like something digging its way out from underneath everything I put over it." He looked up again, his expression tightening. "And the worst part is… it doesn't have a source. Or at least none I can find." A faint edge crept into his voice. "I hate that."
Silence settled between them.
"But maybe we should start shifting the others," Viroth said after a moment, his tone steadier now. "Slowly. Subtly. Push them in a different direction without them realizing it."
Eclipser blinked, incredulous. "Are you serious?" He leaned back slightly, exhaling sharply. "We barely managed to stand against the weakest among them, and now you want to risk everything because of a feeling? We just stabilized things with Kristella—and barely with Legion—and you want to throw that away?"
"I'm not saying we act now," Viroth replied immediately, his voice firm, cutting through the tension. "We wait. We build strength. We make sure that if things go wrong, we can survive it." His tone softened slightly. "I don't want to fight them. They're still our kind."
Eclipser sighed, long and reluctant. "…Fine. But if this goes wrong, it's on you."
Viroth smirked faintly. "No. It'll be on both of us—if we're still too weak by then."
The tension eased just enough.
They stood, moving toward the door—and before Eclipser could reach the handle, it swung open.
Kristella stood there, her presence bright against the dull corridor, her smile soft and effortless. "Good morning, you two. We're about to depart to Atoria. Are you ready?"
They nodded.
Her smile widened. "Very good. I'll come by in ten minutes to get you. Bye-bye~!" She turned and walked away, her steps light, almost out of place against the oppressive stillness.
Viroth closed the door with a quiet exhale. "Well… we should get ready. I'm interested to see what that place has in store for us."
"Yeah," Eclipser said slowly. "A country built in the Ruin Zone… do you think humans could be there?"
Viroth shook his head without hesitation. "If they were, they'd already be dead. No living matter survives here—and besides, Kristella said the kingdom fell. Everyone's gone."
"And the Monarchs?"
"If they're there, they're being sustained—protected—by their Mythical Beasts."
Viroth turned toward the door. "Let's go meet the others."
"Indeed."
They left the laboratory behind, stepping into the cathedral's vast interior where twin staircases rose along either side, their room positioned between them like a forgotten midpoint, and below, gathered upon a stretch of red carpet that cut through the pale expanse, stood Legion, Mercy, Chelsea, Cannon, Kyle, Alex, and Kristella, all of whom turned in unison as Viroth and Eclipser approached.
"Oh, are you two ready?" Kristella asked, receiving a nod from both. "Perfect! Then stand close to me."
They exchanged a brief glance, shrugged, and stepped in beside her—and without warning, dozens of white wax candles manifested around them, already lit, their flames flickering unnaturally in still air before being snuffed out all at once, plunging the space into a single, suffocating instant of darkness—and then the cathedral was gone.
Before them stood a massive castle, towering over an equally vast city that stretched endlessly beneath a suffocating sky, its scale overwhelming, its presence immediate, as if they had not traveled at all—but had instead been dropped directly into something waiting for them.
Everyone's eyes widened at once, not gradually, not as realization crept in, but as if something inside them had been forced open all at once. There were… people—actual people—moving, speaking, existing in ways that should not have been possible here. Not humans of flesh and blood, but their people, Humans of Ruin, walking the streets with purpose, interacting, living in a way that felt disturbingly natural.
Above them, the sky hung low and suffocating, a dense gray mass like smoke that had thickened into permanence, pressing down over a city that should have collapsed long ago. Buildings stood broken and hollow, walls split, roofs caved, entire structures reduced to shells of what they once were—yet Humans of Ruin moved through them effortlessly, entering and exiting as if ruin itself had become structure, as if decay had been redefined into something usable, something stable, something alive.
They had barely begun to process it when movement cut through their thoughts. Figures rushed them from all sides with immediate precision, uniforms a striking blue against the deadened world, their formation tightening in seconds as silver spears were raised and aimed—not hesitantly, not wildly, but with exact intent, each point leveled at a specific target.
"Who are you," one of them demanded, his voice firm and controlled, "and what are you doing in our town?"
Kristella reacted first, lifting her hands quickly, palms open, her voice steady despite the pressure tightening around them. "Hold on! We mean no harm—to you or anyone here."
The officer did not lower his weapon. "Then explain why you've teleported into our city without prior announcement. Did America send you?"
There was the briefest pause, a moment too small to notice unless one was looking for it. "Uh, yeah," Kristella answered, forcing certainty into her tone. "I thought the President informed you already."
The officer held her gaze for a second longer—then something shifted. "Oh." His posture loosened just slightly. "My apologies. If America sent you, then there is no issue." As if bound by the same motion, the surrounding officers lowered their spears in unison, the tension dissolving so quickly it felt unnatural, leaving behind something quieter, something more unsettling.
The group exchanged glances before looking back at them.
"Come," the officer said, already turning. "You are to be brought before Mr. Avallon."
"Avallon?" Legion echoed before he could stop himself.
The officer glanced back, brow tightening faintly. "Yes. Avallon—the first President of Atoria. Don't joke about that."
"My fault," Legion replied immediately, his tone flattening. "Tasteless joke."
The officer's expression eased. "You're not from here, I'm sorry. Different places, different humor. Forgive me for not realizing that sooner."
"Oh, you're okay." Legion said, while Chelsea let out a small, awkward chuckle that didn't quite belong.
They were escorted forward, the castle looming larger with every step until it swallowed the skyline entirely, its scale oppressive, ominous, as if it had been built to dominate rather than shelter. Inside, that feeling deepened. The foyer stretched wide and impossibly tall, twin staircases rising in perfect symmetry, red carpet threading upward and outward like a path already chosen for them.
Red carpets are everywhere.
The walls gleamed with a preserved richness that refused decay, untouched by the ruin outside, and above them hung a golden chandelier, its candles burning steadily, their light soft yet persistent, casting shadows that seemed to shift when not directly observed.
They were led up the stairs, footsteps echoing faintly, then through a narrowing hallway that forced their focus forward until it ended at massive double doors. The officers pushed them open with effort, the sound heavy, final.
Beyond it, the space expanded violently.
A vast chamber stretched out, lined with pillars that guided the eye forward, each one reinforcing a sense of scale that bordered on overwhelming, pulling everything toward the far end where a throne sat elevated upon a pedestal with four wide steps leading up to it.
And on that throne—something sat.
Everyone's eyes widened again, but not in awe, not in fear—confusion, immediate and absolute. It wasn't supposed to exist. It shouldn't be in creation.
Its form was wrong in a way that resisted comprehension, massive and uneven, its body swollen into a poorly defined ball shape that dipped and rose in unnatural lumps, as if it had been created without a final decision. Its legs, though large, felt insignificant beneath the sheer bulk above them, while its face—if it could be called that—was a smooth, white void carved with hollow eye sockets, no nose, no ears—only a mouth, and a tongue that rested within it, both completely black, consuming the light that touched them.
And yet that wasn't what unsettled them most.
They understood immediately, without needing words, without needing confirmation—despite seeing it, despite it existing plainly before them, despite reality itself allowing it to remain—it was a mistake. Something that should not have been permitted to exist, something that had slipped past whatever governed creation itself. A fusion—no, a violation—between a Human of Ruin and something far worse, something closer to an EF-5 Beast of Ruin, forced together into a single, irreconcilable existence.
But the worst part—the part that refused to be ignored—was the faces.
They were embedded across its body, scattered yet intentional, most densely across its torso where they clustered in silent abundance, fewer along its limbs where only two marked the beginning and end. None of them moved. None of them breathed. Their eyes remained closed, lifeless, yet their presence felt oppressive, as if each one contributed to something watching.
Its arms thickened near the shoulders before narrowing unnaturally, its hands stretching into long, slender forms that shifted subtly, never fully settling—at one moment resembling elongated limbs, the next something closer to weapons, their ends hinting at the shape of battle axes without ever fully becoming them, leaving the eye unable to decide what it was truly seeing.
"My lord," one of the officers said, stepping forward with controlled formality, "we have brought the American Messengers. They wish to speak with you."
It did not move.
Not even slightly.
And yet all of them felt it.
Its attention was already there, pressing down on them all at once, heavy, invasive, undeniable, something that settled into their thoughts and refused to leave, enough to make even Kristella's composure falter.
"Ah… I see you have come at last."
The voice reached them—and it was wrong. It began deep, grounded, unmistakably male, then shifted seamlessly into something smoother, quieter, undeniably female, the two overlapping just enough to never settle into either.
"I was beginning to think… the west had forgotten us."
The tones blended at the end, neither one nor the other.
The faces across its body remained still.
Unmoving.
Dead.
"Y-yes," Kristella managed, her voice tightening despite her effort to steady it. "It has been some time. Our humblest apologies, Mr. Avallon. We hope we did not offend you."
"No need," it replied, now entirely male, the shift immediate yet fluid. "Such delays occur more often than not."
Its head angled slightly.
"If you would," it continued, addressing the officers, "be kind enough to gather refreshments for our guests. I would prefer not to appear inhospitable."
They obeyed without hesitation, exiting the chamber and leaving the group alone beneath its presence.
"I know why you are here."
Both voices spoke at once.
The effect was immediate—something subtle yet deep moved through the group, not physical, but enough to unsettle something beneath the surface.
"And I know why you wish to be here."
Before anyone could respond, a mouth opened along its torso, splitting the surface as an old, worn map emerged, unfolding itself as it rose until it stretched across the air above the throne, expanding outward to display not just Atoria, but continents—North and South America, the entire world rendered in suffocating detail, nothing missing, nothing overlooked.
"You intend to erase humanity," it continued, both voices threading through each word, "and rebuild it in the image of the Humans of Ruin. And this place—my castle—holds a concentration of Ruin that will accelerate that goal beyond measure."
A pause.
"Am I incorrect?"
Silence lingered.
"Forgive me," it added almost casually. "I have yet to introduce myself. I am Yada—the King of Atoria. Avallon."
"How did you—" Legion started, then stopped, because despite nothing moving, despite the stillness of every face—It felt like it was smiling.
"So that is your plan," Avallon said lightly. "I jest." A shift followed. "I am the All-Knowing. I perceive the actions of every being before and after my creation."
"You were created?" Viroth asked, drawing its attention fully.
"We all are," Avallon replied. "But the reason behind my existence…" A pause, deliberate, almost thoughtful yet at the same time, intentionally not. "That alone escapes me." A dry laugh followed, both voices layered together. "How beautifully ironic."
The tone lowered.
"But that is irrelevant. You are here because this place will strengthen you. Because you need it."
And then—"Understand this."
The weight deepened.
"There is no alliance. Not with the west. Not with any nation."
A pause settled, long and oppressive.
"They do not know Atoria exists."
And the way it said it made one thing clear—it was never meant to be found.
"But the people here… they believe there is one," Viroth said slowly, his voice measured but edged with something uneasy, his gaze narrowing slightly as the thought settled into something heavier. "Doesn't that turn this entire place into a ticking time bomb?"
"No," Avallon replied, its voice grounding itself firmly into a single, masculine tone, calm and assured in a way that felt far too deliberate. "You misunderstand the nature of belief. These people love America—deeply, irrationally so—but that devotion is precisely what makes them vulnerable." A faint shift followed, subtle yet intentional. "If an event were to occur—one carefully constructed—where America appears to act against them, to persecute them, to attempt their eradication simply for existing, then that love fractures." The air seemed to tighten as it continued. "Outrage follows. Loyalty collapses. And when that happens, my actions—no matter how violent—will not be seen as cruelty, but as justice." A pause. "Some will even assist."
"But how?" Eclipser cut in, his voice sharper, more immediate. "The United States has Alma Alastor. He'll wipe this entire place clean."
"He will not," Avallon said, and the certainty in its voice did not waver. "He cannot." The tone shifted—feminine now, smooth, almost instructive—as its body angled slightly toward Viroth and Eclipser, that invisible pressure sharpening around them. "Beyond this kingdom lies a pedestal—one that contains a portion of my power. One of you will approach it and release a fraction of what rests within." The words came slower, more deliberate. "That power will ascend into the sky, spreading outward, saturating the continent with Ruin. It will not go unnoticed. Every Monarch will sense it—save for the Dragon, Phoenix, and Chimera Monarchs—and in that awareness, the stage will be set."
It shifted again, turning its attention back across the entire group, voice still feminine but quieter now, almost contemplative. "There are over a thousand Humans of Ruin living here. None of them were created directly. None of them were forged by another's hand." A slight pause. "They were born from want. Not need."
The distinction lingered.
"One year from now," Avallon continued, its voice returning to a masculine tone, heavier now, more final, "a Human of Ruin will be born with barrier abilities. She will die—and in dying, she will become the barrier itself, sealing Atoria from the rest of the world." A breath of silence followed. "Weeks after that, we will strike the United States—our only true obstacle—and once that resistance is removed…" The pause stretched just enough. "The rest of the world will follow."
"And you're certain this works?" Legion asked, his voice lower than usual, cautious in a way that didn't suit him.
"I know all," Avallon replied simply, both voices speaking in perfect unison, the weight of it settling deeper than the words themselves.
At that exact moment, the officers returned, their timing so precise it felt rehearsed, each one carrying a chilled glass that faintly fogged in the stagnant air. They distributed them without hesitation, placing one into each of their hands. The contradiction was immediate and unavoidable—they had no need for sustenance, no organs to process what they were given—yet they drank anyway, the action instinctive, unquestioned, as if the act itself held meaning beyond function.
"Please," Avallon said after a moment, its voice once again singular, composed, "escort them to their rooms. They will remain here for a few days."
The officers nodded, dispersing the group and guiding them through the vast corridors one by one.
Minutes passed—quiet, disjointed—as they settled.
Viroth and Eclipser found themselves placed together, the room expansive yet controlled, its design carrying the same unsettling balance of elegance and intent as the rest of the castle. Neither spoke at first, both silently noting the detail, the placement, the structure—wondering, distantly, if the others had been paired the same way.
Then—a knock.
Sharp enough to pull them both toward the door.
Viroth opened it, and immediately paused.
Standing there was a figure—entirely white, featureless in form save for a face that was completely black, the contrast so stark it almost felt aggressive.
"Hey," it said, its voice distinctly feminine, though something about it didn't settle properly. "I am an aspect of Avallon. I've come to greet you."
"H…ello?" Viroth responded, the hesitation slipping through despite himself, earning a small, casual wave from the figure as if nothing about the moment was unusual.
"Hey," it continued, almost abruptly. "I need you to come outside and release my power into the sky."
Eclipser stepped closer, his expression tightening. "Why? Why can't you do it yourself?"
"Power I bestow, I cannot reclaim," the figure replied without pause. "Because of that, I require someone else to act in my place." A slight tilt of its head followed. "It benefits all of us."
Viroth nodded.
Without another word, he stepped out, pausing only briefly to glance back at Eclipser before the door closed behind him.
They began walking.
"You said you're an aspect of Avallon," Viroth said after a moment, his tone thoughtful, his eyes forward. "Does that make you part of its ability?"
"No," the figure replied. "I am an extension of her. I cannot exist independently, and I cannot act beyond what he commands once I am summoned." The contradiction sat plainly in its words. "You cannot see it, but I am directly connected to her body."
Viroth's gaze shifted toward it, confusion sharpening. "Her? His? What exactly is Avallon?"
"She is all. He is everything." The answer came without hesitation. "Avallon is one."
The explanation clarified nothing.
"…Right," Viroth muttered, the uncertainty lingering. "Then about the pedestal—if you can't reclaim the power you give, why not have one of your servants handle it?"
The figure stopped.
"I would ask that you not refer to them as servants," it said, its tone flattening just slightly, enough to make the correction feel deliberate. "Despite what Avallon intends, they are seen as family. That distinction matters."
It resumed walking.
"As for your question—it is because they cannot touch the pedestal. If they do, they will grow stronger." A slight pause. "And more difficult to control."
Viroth hummed quietly in acknowledgment.
"So releasing that power strengthens whoever interacts with it," he said. "Then why aren't the Humans of Ruin here constantly growing stronger? Shouldn't they be affected just by being here?"
"No," the aspect replied. "There is a barrier surrounding the kingdom. The pedestal exists north beyond it."
They turned a corner, descending the stairs into the grand foyer. Viroth noticed the specific direction, but did not comment on it.
"Do you remember the woman Avallon mentioned?" it continued. "The one who will be born in a year with barrier abilities?" A brief pause. "Her purpose is to replace the current barrier—to perfect it."
"So the current one is flawed," Viroth concluded.
"Correct."
They reached the lower level.
"But strengthening the barrier is not the primary objective," the aspect added, its tone lowering slightly. "Its true purpose is to keep someone out. That someone being Alma Daedulus Alastor."
They stepped outside, crossing the bridge that connected the castle to the city beyond.
"Alma," Viroth muttered, the name carrying clear disdain. "It's all anyone ever talks about."
"Understandably so," the aspect replied. "He is a legitimate threat. He nearly exterminated every Beast of Ruin within the United States." A slight pause followed. "He would have succeeded, if not for Beatrix."
Viroth's head turned slightly. "You know about Beatrix?"
"Of course," the aspect answered, offering nothing further.
They continued walking, passing through the massive gates and into the wasteland beyond, the city falling behind them as the land returned to ruin in its purest form.
"Alma is dangerous," the aspect went on. "In all the time our kind has existed, there has never been a threat—nor a Monarch—as dangerous as him." A quieter note slipped in. "And there is no certainty in what he intends to do."
Viroth said nothing, only nodding faintly as they moved deeper into the desolation until they reached a cluster of massive stones. The aspect approached one of the larger boulders and tapped it twice, paused, then shifted its position, tapping again along the side before stopping short, adjusting, then striking three times along the opposite edge, and once more—three measured taps across the top, each one deliberate, each one part of something unseen.
After a few seconds, the boulder cracked—thin fractures splintering across its surface—before it gave way entirely, collapsing outward in a sharp, violent break that revealed a staircase descending into darkness, torches lining the walls below, their flames steady and unnatural, casting a dim, wavering glow down into the depths. The aspect moved first without hesitation, stepping forward and beginning its descent, and Viroth followed close behind, his eyes lingering for only a moment before the surface above disappeared from view.
"Why didn't Avallon come with me?" Viroth asked as they descended, his voice echoing faintly against the stone. "Why did he—or she—send you instead?"
"You ask a lot of questions," the aspect replied, not slowing, not turning.
"What? I'm just curious," Viroth shot back, a hint of defensiveness slipping in despite himself.
"Because Avallon cannot move," the aspect said plainly. "She is confined to that throne until further notice."
The answer landed—but before Viroth could press further, something else hit him.
A sudden, crushing wave of force slammed into his body, stopping him mid-step, his breath catching as his legs nearly gave out beneath him. He staggered, barely catching himself against the wall, his hand pressing hard into the stone to keep from collapsing entirely.
"What… is that?" he forced out, his voice strained.
"Ruin," the aspect answered simply, continuing its steady descent as if unaffected.
They reached the bottom, where the staircase ended at a solid stone wall. The aspect walked directly up to it without pause, and for a brief moment, Viroth could only stare, his vision still unsteady, his thoughts lagging behind what his body was trying to process. Then the aspect raised its hand and placed it flat against the surface.
The response was immediate.
The wall slid upward into the ceiling without resistance, revealing what lay beyond.
Viroth pushed himself forward, one hand still dragging along the wall for support as he stepped through—and then stopped completely.
The room was vast, yet contained, its boundaries forming a perfect box, every surface stark white in a way that felt sterile and wrong, as if it existed outside of natural structure. At the center stood a pedestal—and embedded within it, driven into the ground like something forced into place, was a pole.
From it, Ruin poured.
A thick, black mist spilled outward across the floor like dry ice, rolling and spreading in slow, unnatural motion, while above it, dense smoke rose in a constant stream, pressing against the ceiling in a suffocating layer that refused to disperse. The longer Viroth stared, the more the shapes within it began to shift—forms emerging, distorting—faces, or something close to them, stretched in silent agony, rising and fading just as quickly, as if trapped in an endless cycle of dissolution.
"This…" the aspect said, turning slightly toward him, "is the Pedestal of Power."
Its voice carried differently here—quieter, but heavier.
"Embedded within it is the source of all Ruin. Mephastophilis."
Viroth's body trembled, not from fear alone, but from the sheer pressure pressing against him, sinking into him, testing the limits of what he could withstand.
"Come," the aspect continued. "I cannot assist you beyond what Avallon has allowed. I can only ensure you reach the pedestal. From here, you proceed alone."
Viroth let out a strained breath and forced himself upright, pulling away from the wall with visible effort. Every step forward felt heavier than the last, his body resisting, his mind struggling to keep pace with the overwhelming force pressing into him. The closer he got, the worse it became—until standing before it felt like standing beneath something impossibly vast.
"This pressure…" he muttered, barely audible.
It was suffocating.
Equivalent to hundreds of thousands of times the weight of his own being—not physical, but spiritual, pressing into every layer of his existence at once.
"Extend your hand," the aspect instructed. "Touch the All-Ruin. Do not allow it to control you—but do not resist its flow. You must merge."
Viroth hesitated—just for a second—before extending his hand forward.
The moment he did, the mist reacted.
It coiled upward, wrapping around his arm before he even made contact, tightening, pulling, responding as if it had been waiting. His jaw clenched, but he pushed through, forcing his hand forward until his fingers closed tightly around the source itself.
And then—It erupted. The mist and smoke surged violently, spiraling upward into a full vortex that consumed him entirely, a tornado of Ruin encasing his body as it began to pour into him from every direction.
Viroth's breath hitched—then vanished entirely.
He could feel it.
Not just around him—but inside him.
Ruin flooded through every part of his being, seeping into his limbs, his core, his mind, amplifying everything at once. Strength surged, awareness sharpened, his very existence expanding in ways that felt intoxicating, overwhelming, addictive—
And then it took something back.
His control began to slip.
The power wasn't free.
It demanded something in return.
Not energy. Not effort.
Him.
His identity—the core of who he was—began to blur at the edges, as if being pulled apart, piece by piece, replaced by something else entirely.
The one who touched Ruin became the sacrifice.
Viroth's thoughts fractured, but he fought—clinging to whatever he could, repeating it over and over in his mind, anchoring himself to something solid.
His name. Who he was. Why he existed.
But the Ruin wanted more—and its hunger was stronger than his will. It pulled harder.
Deeper.
Closer to the point where resistance meant nothing—and just as he began to slip—the connection broke.
The vortex collapsed instantly, the spiraling force vanishing as quickly as it had formed, the smoke returning to its place along the ceiling, the mist settling back across the floor as if nothing had happened.
Viroth dropped to one knee, then both, his body shaking as he struggled to breathe again.
"Very good," the aspect said, looking down at him. "You lasted thirty seconds while it attempted to consume your existence."
Viroth let out a strained laugh, pushing himself slightly upright, a smirk forcing its way onto his face despite everything. "Thanks… that's probably more than I ever will."
"The irony is noted," the aspect replied flatly.
Viroth exhaled sharply and pushed himself to stand, still unsteady. "So… what now…?"
"Now, you rest," the aspect said. "For one day. What you have gained is substantial—not only an increase in your current capabilities, but an expansion of your potential. You will grow stronger more efficiently than before." A pause. "But reaching that strength will require more effort."
Viroth let out a tired breath. "Great. I'll deal with that tomorrow."
He turned and began making his way back toward the staircase—only for the aspect to grab his arm, stopping him instantly.
"We do not return the way we came," it said.
Before Viroth could respond—the world shifted.
In an instant, the space around him collapsed and reformed, the white room vanishing completely as he found himself standing in front of the door to the room he shared with Eclipser, the transition so sudden it left his mind struggling to catch up.
"What—how did—?" he started, turning back.
"Rest," the aspect said, its voice already fading. "You will need it."
And then it was gone—pulled away faster than he could react, leaving Viroth standing alone in the hallway, his body still shaking, his mind still reeling, and the weight of what had just happened settling in all at once.
Viroth blinked a few times before stepping into the room, his vision still adjusting as he spotted Eclipser lying flat on his back across the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if he had been waiting; the moment Viroth entered, Eclipser turned his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Viroth's disheveled and distant state, then pushed himself up, the bed creaking faintly beneath the shift in weight. "So? How did it go?" he asked.
Viroth didn't answer immediately, instead moving past him and lowering himself into the chair at the desk, his hands dropping loosely into his lap as he leaned back and stared upward, drawing in a slow, deep breath before letting it out in a long exhale. "It was… something," he said at last, his voice quieter than usual. "There's something to it, at least."
"But what is that something? Don't leave me guessing," Eclipser said, standing now, his tone sharpening.
"It wasn't just one thing," Viroth replied, straightening slightly as he tried to organize his thoughts. "It was everything, all at once, layered on top of each other, and I'm not sure how to describe it properly, but… maybe I can break it down." He paused, then continued. "The strongest thing I felt was power, overwhelming power, and right alongside it was fear—not normal fear, something deeper, something primal, like it existed in everything, like every human, every Human of Ruin… everything feared it." He glanced up at Eclipser. "Then came pride, or maybe happiness—I felt untouchable, like nothing could take that feeling away from me."
He hesitated for only a second before continuing. "And then there was confidence, absolute certainty in what I could do, that I could destroy anything I wanted… but at the same time, there was futility, like I would never truly be able to use that power, like something was holding it just out of reach."
Eclipser tilted his head slightly, studying him, while Viroth exhaled and continued. "There's a pattern there—six emotions total. Four of them balanced each other out, kept each other in check, but the last two… they stood on their own, overwhelming everything else." He shook his head faintly. "There's more to it. I just haven't figured it out yet."
"So it gave you six emotions, four controlled, two unrestrained… that sounds less random than you're making it out to be," Eclipser said, crossing his arms. "It sounds like it was testing you."
Viroth nodded slowly. "Yeah… that's what I was thinking. Like it was trying to see what I'd break under, or what I'd lean into the most. Maybe whichever emotion took over would define how it affected me." He sighed. "But I don't know. Another thing I can't fully understand."
Eclipser gave a small nod, but before he could respond, a knock echoed through the room; he turned, walked over, and opened the door, revealing Kristella standing there, her expression tight and urgent. "We need to talk. Viroth, come on," she said quickly before turning and walking away.
Eclipser glanced back at Viroth, confusion flickering across his face, and Viroth only shrugged before pushing himself out of the chair and following; outside, the rest of the group had already gathered—Legion leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Chelsea seated on the floor opposite him, the others standing in uneasy silence.
"What's going on?" Viroth asked.
"Come here," Kristella said, her voice carrying urgency laced with fear.
Without hesitation, Viroth and Eclipser stepped forward, and in the next instant Kristella slammed her hands against the ground, a flash of light swallowing everything around them; the castle vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar interior of their cathedral, and Kristella collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily as she struggled to steady herself.
"What's wrong?" Eclipser asked immediately.
"Something's wrong," Legion said before she could answer, his tone low and certain. "Something bad."
A moment passed before Kristella pushed herself back up, her breathing still heavy but steadier now as she looked between them. "One of you had an aspect of Avallon come to your room, right?"
Viroth and Eclipser nodded.
"Then we all went to the same place," she said, her voice tightening slightly. "Or at least… we were supposed to." She exhaled slowly. "We all went to different directions. I went south, Legion and Chelsea went east, Alex, Kyle, and Cannon went west… and you—"
"Went north," Viroth finished.
"Yes," she said, nodding. "But what we experienced wasn't the same."
"My room was nothing but flowers and forests," Legion said.
"Mine was office buildings. Quiet ones... and extremely boring," Chelsea added.
"Mine was just a massive chalkboard—floor, walls, ceiling, everything," Kyle said.
"Same, but a whiteboard," Alex followed.
"And mine was… futuristic," Cannon said. "Flying cars. Everything moving forward."
Kristella's gaze lowered slightly. "Mine was people aging. Rapidly. From children… to ashes."
Viroth took that in, his expression tightening slightly. "Those are…"
"The opposites of our birth," Kristella said.
Viroth leaned back slightly, thinking. "Mine was just a blank room. Completely empty. White walls, nothing else." He paused. "So we were split apart, shown different things… but why?"
"Did you go?" Kristella asked, looking at Eclipser.
He shook his head.
"No," Viroth answered for him. "But if he did, it would've probably been darkness… or blinding light."
"That depends," Kristella said. "On what created you."
"What do you mean?" Viroth asked.
"I was born from my fear of aging," she said, her voice quieter now. "Before becoming a Human of Ruin, I was fifty-five. I was terrified of losing myself over time."
"I was born from the fear of civilization progressing," Cannon added. "We forget the past too easily."
Viroth nodded slowly. "I get that… but I wasn't born from fear. Neither was Eclipser. We just… exist." He glanced at him, earning a small nod in return.
"Then that's why your room was empty," Kristella said. "No fear or defining cause. Just existence."
Viroth thought for a moment, then frowned slightly. "But that still doesn't explain why we were sent to different places… or why we're even talking about this now."
"It was probably meant to make us fight," Eclipser said. "That power you all felt—it was addictive. If we all thought it came from different places, we'd argue, maybe even turn on each other over it."
Viroth nodded. "Yeah… and that would also show who's loyal to him."
"A devotion test," Kristella said, her tone tightening, something darker slipping into it. "He says he knows everything… that's what I don't like."
"But you control time," Eclipser said, gaining her attention. "Can't you do something similar? See outcomes?"
"My power doesn't work like that," she replied immediately. "And even if it did, it wouldn't be that simple. I can't go into the future, and when I go into the past, I lose everything from the present." She paused. "It's not worth it."
Eclipser nodded slowly. "Yeah… I understand."
"This wasn't exactly the trip we had in mind," Viroth said, his voice cutting cleanly through the lingering tension in the room and pulling every gaze toward him. He leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose as if trying to steady himself. "I thought it would be a history lesson—something controlled—something where I could actually observe, learn, understand… not whatever this turned into." His tone dipped at the end, quieter, heavier.
"Yeah… I hear you," Legion replied, his voice low, followed by a ripple of murmured agreement that spread through the group like an echo no one wanted to fully voice.
"I looked into Atoria before we went," Kristella said, her eyes unfocused for a moment as if replaying something she wished she hadn't seen. "From afar, from outside… everything was destroyed. Completely. There was nothing left—no life, no movement, just ruin layered over ruin." She swallowed faintly. "Nothing could have prepared me for what we actually saw in there. Not the city… not those people… and definitely not… that thing." Her words lingered, and the group responded with quiet nods, unease settling deeper into the space.
Then—a knock.
Sharp. Hollow. Out of place.
Every head turned toward the cathedral doors.
Another moment passed, and a faint distortion formed in front of Kristella, a portal opening with a soft ripple that revealed the entrance beyond—but there was nothing there. No figures. No movement. Just stillness.
Then—three more knocks.
Without thinking, almost instinctively, Kristella's hand lifted, and the doors creaked open.
And the moment they did—they were already inside.
Two figures stood before them, unmoving, silent in their arrival. One was entirely black, its surface absorbing light, contrasted only by a stark white face; the other was the inverse, a pure white body broken only by a featureless black face. They stood side by side, identical in posture, different only in form.
"Greetings," the male aspect said, his voice low and steady.
"We come bearing news," the female aspect followed, her tone smoother, yet equally cold.
Both of them opened their mouths at the same time, their movements perfectly synchronized, and from within emerged torn strips of aged, brown paper, curling outward unnaturally before meeting in the air between them. The pieces connected seamlessly, forming a complete map that hovered before the group—its surface shifting, lines and symbols moving across it as though time itself was being traced in real-time.
"The Cerberus and Cetus Monarchs have been deployed to the location of Mephastophilis," the male aspect stated.
"Estimated arrival… thirty minutes from now," the female added.
"W-what??" Kristella's voice cracked slightly as she stepped forward. "I thought we had another day!"
"Unfortunately," the male aspect replied flatly, "that is not what Avallon relayed. Perhaps the wording was too complex for a degraded mental function."
The insult landed without emotion, but it ignited something immediate in Kristella's expression.
"As per Avallon's design," the female aspect continued, her voice flowing over the tension, "only two of you shall go and intercept them. As for the rest…"
She trailed off.
And the world shifted.
In an instant, the cathedral vanished, replaced by a confined space split down the middle—one half pure white, the other absolute black, the division between them unnaturally sharp. The group staggered slightly as they reoriented, instinctively gathering together—only to realize something was wrong.
Cannon and Chelsea were gone.
Kristella turned sharply toward the aspects, her voice no longer strained—but sharpened into something dangerous.
"What did you do with them."
"They have been sent to confront each Monarch," the male aspect replied without hesitation.
"If they perish, their sacrifice will not be in vain," the female added. "And if they succeed, they will return… greater than before."
The words didn't calm anything—they ignited it.
Kristella's anger surged outward, the air around her warping, draining into a dull gray as the pressure in the room thickened. The others reacted instinctively, irritation and tension rising alongside her fury—but before anything could escalate further—they dropped.
One by one, bodies gave out, knees slamming against the ground, followed by the rest of their weight as they collapsed onto their sides or stomachs, writhing as if something invisible was tearing through them from the inside.
Everyone—Except Eclipser.
He remained standing.
For a split second, he didn't move—then he dropped to a crouch beside Viroth, gripping his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Viroth?" he called out, his voice tight.
No response—only strained movement.
Eclipser's head snapped upward, his gaze locking onto the two aspects. "What are you doing?!" he shouted.
"Containing them," the male aspect answered calmly. "We are aware of your nature, Eclipser—the ability to overcome."
"You may leave this space if you wish," the female aspect added, her tone almost gentle. "However… doing so will result in severe harm to your companions."
"They will all dieeee," both voices echoed together, their tones blending into something warped and unnatural.
Eclipser's grip tightened for a moment before slowly loosening, his jaw clenching as he rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving Viroth—or the two figures before him.
"So sit tight," the male voice began.
"And do not interfere," the female continued.
"And you and your friends will remain unharmed," they finished together.
Silence followed—broken only by the strained movements of the others on the ground.
Then, almost as an afterthought—"The price for Ruin…" the male voice said.
"…is your soul," the female completed.