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The infiltration at Site-7 was done in a professional and discreet way, that however was not the case in Site-16.
Idiotic religious zealots, armed with techno weapons, began to assault the facility. They cared not for property damage or the delicacy of their work.
Clad in silken robes that offered little protection, the members of the Cyber Church were shot down by many of the facility guards and MTF units deployed there.
It was a bloodbath. Swirling magical energy danced and permeated the air, alongside with metal, blood and ashes.
Whilst the Foundation forces wielded sophisticated sceptres, the Church's were armed with crude, civilian grade magical artifacts.
But they were supported and assisted with various technological miracles given by their God.
One of the ancient artifacts was a four legged creature. It had a hardened carapace of bright yellow blended with vantablack. On its chest, a glass-like material covered what seemed to be a row of soulless eyes. It had a head, with a claw-like jaw - modified by the Church to be welded with a sharp knife made out of the mythical iron.
One could see the slight distortion of light coating the non-magical metal, deteriorating mystical energy into chaotic essence.
"Go Spot!" One of the cultists yelled to the canine-like creature.
The dog-thing was fast. It propelled itself forward, a magical bolt sizzled and chipped off part of its shell, yet the creature ignored it and accelerated forward, the iron piercing deep through skin, then flesh. The sound of meat sizzling, mana energy slowly eroding, blood evaporating at the touch was ignored by the yellow and black dog.
The guard screamed, he pulled out a mithril knife, enchanted with the best spell. It barely penetrated the shell, only scratching the surface.
Another guard attempted to hinder the creature's movement with his magic, powerful water jets projected from a magical circle manifested inches away from the sceptre's arcane crystal.
The machine-creature did not yelp or make any sounds as it was pushed backward. Not even a sign of whimper or pain.
"Get down!" One of the guards yelled as an erratic magical bolt fired from a Church wand. Bright, multicolored prismatic energy propelled forward before it was absorbed by the MTF’s superior magic resistant armor.
A fireball suddenly manifested before it was thrown in the guard's general direction. A simple temporal barrier spell was sufficient to hold the attack.
"Suppressive spell!" One of the facility guards yelled. "Suppressive spell, now!"
About ten individuals concentrated their theurgical energy into a singular point. A complex spell structure formed into intricate and ornate magical circles.
The machine-dog lunged forward and sliced one of the elves to prevent the completion of the procedure. The iron blade ignored any resistance of flesh, metal and bones. Blood spurted, along with whatever remained within the body.
Fortunately for the Foundation, the spell was quickly cast. Another simple hand gesture, it manifested into existence.
A large, powerful, energy beam formed. It was concentrated into singular rays of bright, multicolored light.
It did not deter the machine-dog, the skeletal legs of the creature kicking it forward. It ran at a speed difficult to track - all the combat mages simply fired dozens of assault spells wildly, conjuring fireball, lightning, ice shard, water stream and other forms of attack.
The iron blade severed a hand before it stabbed the owner's throat. It did not stop, the dead cold eyes only stared. Most of the elves had already magically exhausted themselves.
Perfect prey for the killing machine. Location:
Physic-661 Containment Cell, Site-16
The situation had turned suddenly tense, all the guards were taken out and the researchers were collected into a corner of the room.
Game knew nothing of these people, and he was wary. His fist clenched not in anger, but in alert. The magic system that kept his containment cell stable was still up and running, but he doubted it would remain that way.
They were clad in strange milky white robes with slight traces of gold and silver, or rather faegold and silverite. A greenish gem, probably emerald, was wrapped around their necks. A high possibility that it was related to magic.
They each wore a white, featureless mask with two large holes for eyes, and six very tiny vertical slits on the cheek area either for breathing or conversing.
One of them wore a dark robe dissimilar to the others. A red ruby jewel was on this person's gauntlet and there was layer upon layer of gold ornaments around their neck. They wielded a strange coppery mechanical staff, with exposed wiring and an unnecessary amount of cogwheels. A quantum battery connected with the magnetic field generator, four tiny protrusions at the edge of the sceptre - levitating a ball of metal (presumably iron) via magnetism.
"Greetings Oracle," the person spoke. Their voice was raspy and echoed, it was difficult to discern their gender. "We have several questions for you."
Game stood still, he was confused and honestly terrified. He knew magic was pretty much harmless, and he had the strength to overpower most of the elves. However, he was not immune to being shot by an arrow. Magical or not.
And there were at least six people wielding wooden crossbows, with fancy glimmering enchantment radiating from the weapons.
For now, he had to play their game. "Oracle? Never heard that in a long time," Game stated. Trying to figure out why these nutjobs referred to him as such. His plan now was to pretend to be who they thought he was, and use what little information they provided to play that given role.
"Ah, so it is true," the man/woman(?) spoke, Game could feel the glee behind the mask. "You are the Oracle of the legend. A being of thousand lifetime, they who ventured the cosmos and deep vastness of the void. A millennia old crawler of the sky abyss."
"Uhh…" the human was lost at words. This was all very confusing. "I'm… not that
The person paced around his containment, from the eyes of the mask, Game could see the individual was analyzing him.
"I must admit, I did not expect for your kind to appear so… elvenoid," the person said calmly. "So this is what a true Oracle looks like? I expected a much more… intimidating form."
Game frowned, 'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
' But he remained silent, waiting for this obviously insane person to reveal all the information he needed. "What makes you think I'm… the 'Oracle'?"
The person grabbed a scroll before unravelling it.
The Tale of The Traveller
- By Avalon the Chosen Acolyte
"In the deep vastness of the Void, there's a collective race who explored and ventured the deep darkness of the universe.
They soared the winds of stars, within mighty ships of the Void. As explorers, gatherers and conquerors.
The Beings of Oracles we call them. Their true, spiritual form was beyond the capacity of the Material Realm, unable to bear their mere existence. Thus the Oracles created avatars, puppets, and husks. A body made of silvery scale, tall and slender. With a single black eye wide as their face, no nose, neither a mouth and a strange tube traced along their spine, into a cubical shell behind their back.
Their Goddess, the Internet, Gatherer of Knowledge, the Infinite Wisdom, Librarian of Deities and also known to be the Great Deceiver, was and still is a revered entity to the Oracles, for She provided wisdom, and they are worshippers of knowledge.
The Oracles are ancient, and they are powerful. Civilization that spanned across thousands of worlds.
They were World Architects, and World Purifiers.
Race as old as time itself, who scour the unknown Sea of Space. And they will continue to search and expand their infinite pool of wisdom till the end of time.
Game was alarmed, from the sketches on the scroll it was a rough equivalent to a late 23rd century spacesuit, though it seems like the art was traced from a poster of humanity's first interplanetary expedition and colonization. It was when FTL technology first discovered, the resemblance was uncanny. This just added another mystery to this dimension.
It was literally an art trace, an exact copy of the original art poster of the first colony ship sent to Mars, the classically bold letters ‘GSCA’ seeking recruits for the Global Space Colonization Association.
An image of a barren Red Planet, with dome-like structure in the background. Three humanoid figures clad in the outdated exoskeletal spacesuit, staring at the inky black sky, all gazing at an image of a large ring that floated in space. The old Martian orbital space station, though the elves had simply drawn a featureless torus in space.
There were many inaccuracies as well, but that was not much of a surprise from an elf who might view a simple washing machine as a torture device.
"You spoke of my ancestors," Game said in half-truths. How in the hell these elves knew about the GSCA poster was beyond him. But judging from the scriptures, it seems like they had never actually met any GSCA members. There were many things he could hypothesize, but that was not important at the moment. "Or rather my uhh… 'precursors'." He added. "Different subspecies of our race if you will."
The elf seemed interested, he/she shoved the scroll back into their robe, veiled under the dark clothes. "I would love to learn more about your race, but unfortunately time is not in our favour."
Game tensed, adrenaline pumped in his veins. His mind racing for any sort of surprise these folks would throw at him.
"Your Goddess. The Internet is the Keeper of Knowledge is she not?"
The human remained stoic despite his internal confusion. 'I'm sorry, the fuck now?
' But there was no time for that, "... Yes, why?"
"I believe it is only you who are able to access the Sage Tablet, yes?" The person stepped back, leaving space for two cultists holding a box. They placed it down before they opened it, revealing a smartphone - or rather, Physic-145, to the human.
Meanwhile Jeldia, Mervene, Crystal, Saleria and a few surviving elves were huddled to their corner. Their arms and legs were bound with enchanted rope, mouths gagged by a cloth.
Jeldia was listening to their conversation, and she had received much more insight than she ever had. As a researcher, a sorcerer and a bright woman, Jeldia had pieced a few things together about the elvenoid and it terrified her.
There were still more than a dozen questions bubbling within her. What were the 'precursors'? What actually was the Internet
? Why do the cultists know about 661? What's the deal with the 'Oracle'?
Her heart was pounding, everything inside of her was panicking. But despite the internal terror, the elven researcher was distracted enough to listen in to the conversation. She was even more surprised to see Physic-145 in their hands, how did they even breach containment that fast?
The elf slowly craned her head, eyes carefully gazing at her surroundings. Mervene was hyperventilating besides her, his eyes shut tight and uttering all forms of prayer. She couldn't blame him, she was as scared as he.
Crystal however, seemed nonchalant about their entire situation. In fact, the mad sorcerer seemed mildly amused at their current predicament, his eyes were focused towards the Physic and the cultists.
Jeldia felt frustration building up within her, but it subsided. It didn’t matter if he took this situation seriously, he was Crystal after all.
The elvenoid seemed hesitant, his eyes scowling at the artifact. "Smartphone," he corrected. "That is a smartphone."
"Sorry, we dared not say it in your
tongue Oracle," the person in dark robe said.
Jeldia had read about the Church's report and understood a few things about their hierarchy. Those in white were the Squire Templars and the one in black was the Elite. The report stated that they usually wielded an anomalous sceptre, designated by the Foundation as CUA (Currently Uncaptured Anomaly) Estiloid-Yomega-Alphus, or simply known to be as the "cog-sceptre" amongst personnel.
Utilizing some sort of unknown science mechanic, it generated a non-mystical energy field, with similar properties to a phantamagnetic wave. The energy fields were capable of disrupting and manipulating mana flow of ambient atmospheric mystical energy, redirecting and controlling the flow of magic without utilizing incantations, evocation or any other form of spell initiation. It was also capable of propelling the anomalous metallic ball at a ridiculous speed and resummoning it back to the sceptre.
The Elite walked forward with 145 in hand, "None of us could access this artifact. I do not know much, but the priest believed that only you can activate your own artifact."
The human frowned, he seemed very defensive. "And why the fuck would I helped you?"
"We can offer you freedom," the Elite claimed.
Jeldia was stunned, her eyes widened in fear. The devastation it would cause if the entity were released would be colossal.
But the elvenoid snickered, "I can see through your lies you know. So, no thanks."
The dark robed individual seemed very surprised, they had their mana concealed within the robe. No trace of astral emotion could have escaped, it was practically impossible to read body language without the astral psychic presence that emanated from one's body.
"You don't want to cooperate with me?" The Elite Templar pressed. Their voice suddenly dropped to a cold growl.
To his credit, the human seemed unfazed - at least, externally. "What? Are you going to attempt to torture me? Might I remind you, that you need to actually get to
me, to do anything."
The cultists seemed flabbergasted, clearly placed in a situation they couldn't take advantage of. The rest of the Templars were as restless and frustrated as the Elite.
The elf frowned behind the mask, "You are an Oracle, perhaps a knowledge would convince you to-"
"I'm not stupid," the elvenoid retorted aggressively. "Whatever knowledge
you want to give me is not what I want."
"How can you be so sure?" The Elite Templar questioned hesitantly.
"Are you aware of an interdimensional warp ship?" Game asked. The elf didn't get the chance to answer, the confusion on their face was apparent. "Then no, you don't have what I want."
The elf was at a loss for words, their plan slowly deteriorating. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, the Oracles were said to be docile beings, they were gatherers
of knowledge. The Elite frowned, "Please reconsider your action."
"Want to tell me why?" Game replied, some controlled breathing and soothing thoughts was enough to calm himself.
"You knew of the Great Darkness," the Elite said. "And that thing is here."
Game paused, before he looked around the room. His gaze then wandered back toward the Elite, eyes still widened.
The elf seemed to misinterpret his confusion for realization, thus they stepped forward. "I demand you to activate the Tablet now."
"Jesus fucking Christ, you're fucking stupid," Game muttered, stifling a giggle.
All the other cultists seemed greatly offended. The Elite paused for a moment, recollecting their thoughts before they slammed the glass wall. "The threat of the Great Darkness is not to be taken lightly-"
"Uh-huh," the human muttered lazily. "Yeah, yeah I know. I'm the only one who knew
The elf stood, possibly mouth agape, shaking with visible anger, before immediately and suddenly shifting into a much more relaxed stance. "Fine," he/she stated calmly. "I suppose the ancient scripture was not as accurate as I was led to believe."
"Yeah no shit-"
"Bring that woman here," the Elite stated coldly, his colleagues immediately dragged one of the elves, her ivory skin and deep blue hair instantly recognizable to Game, whose eyes widened in horror.
"The priest thought that you would be more cooperative," the elf said calmly.
Saleria screamed and struggled before she was kicked to the ground. Her heart was pounding, less than pleasant memories flooding her mind, tears slowly building in her eyes. This situation reminded her of something she wished to forget.
The Elite Templar watched the elvenoid impassively, feeling a small satisfaction that they were able to spark some sort of reaction. "Interesting, the scriptures never told anything about the Oracle being empathic. Perhaps this is a result of spending too much time in the elven world?"
Game slammed the glass hard
. A force that was equivalent to six of the most athletic elves. The enchantment still held, but barely. His anti-magical property spiked for a moment, overloading the mystical field for a fraction of a second.
Jeldia's eyes widened, never had she seen the elvenoid react in such a way and neither did she know that he was capable of surpassing the mystical security system, even if it was temporary.
The techno cultist seemed ignorant, or uncaring. The Elite stood stoically, finally having the upper hand they wished for.
"The Tablet," he/she calmly said.
There were at least a few dozen of them in the containment cell. Reinforcement would arrive in less than an hour if they were lucky, Jeldia hoped the situation would not spiral out of control.
The human stood silently, his eyes scanning his surroundings in an attempt to analyze the situation. One of the cultists approached, placed the Physic onto a hatch built to usually deliver food and drinks. The object slid off the metal tube into his containment cell.
," the Elite pressed, their eyes glared at the human. A slight snicker could be heard escaping their mouth, "I guess that is why your Goddess is known to be the Great Deceiver. A race built upon the foundation of wisdom and logic. Emotions are perceived to be a weakness, but it is liberating isn't it? That
is the single truth your deity does not want you to experience, a shame."
Game frowned, 'Bitch I don't know a single shit about what you're spouting,
' but he kept silent and slowly reached for the phone. It was an old model, a really, really old model. A small logo was written on a back corner, printed, possibly by its previous owner. Game knew of this antique device, it was the I-Phone 30
. From the looks of it, it seemed fresh, as if whatever force that pulled stuff from its original dimension just took the ancient device yesterday.
Whatever phenomenon had caused the transference from the human dimension to the elves’, didn’t seem to be affected by the linear progression of time. Objects were taken seemingly at random and from a variety of timelines. Either it was taken from his home dimension, or it came from another parallel reality very similar to his.
The human momentarily glanced at the cultists, a vengeful glare sparked in his eyes before he shifted his gaze toward Saleria, who was, surprisingly, keeping herself together.
Game pressed the finger scan and, for some reason, someone must've goofed the programming or there was some unknown glitch, the fingerprint scan worked for him
, despite his never before owning such an antique piece of technology. Not that he was complaining, but it was oddly convenient.
He must admit, the device was a bit cumbersome. An outdated system that was vastly slower and more inefficient than any of the modern, implanted, holo-devices.
The phone shifted and chimed to life. "There," Game said grudgingly.
Saleria was still pinned down, but she was not significantly hurt - at least not yet.
The Elite Templar stepped forward, "Ask it this question, repeat after me."
Game’s frown deepened, the boiling rage swirling within him. Thankfully, he managed to calmly but coldly comply, he wasn't an idiot, at least half the time. Saleria was the only entity in this fucked up reality that he had some small semblance of a 'friendship'.
It was purely for selfish reasons, and nothing more. At least, that was what he told himself.
"I demand you to inform us of the dreadful Great Darkness," the cultist commanded powerfully, voice booming and intimidating. "Give me your infinite knowledge oh Sage Tablet, bestow unto me the revelation of its nature."
The human stared flatly, too much under stress to smirk or chuckle at such a ridiculous sight. He sighed, glancing toward Saleria, "I need to speak in the uhh… English
The Elite merely blinked, confused for a moment. The elf shared a glance with the other cultists, who were equally flabbergasted.
The human suppressed the will to roll his eyes, if they had the time to spout bullshit at him, then he had the time to spout bullshit at them
"It is my mother language."
The Elite's brows furrowed behind the mask. "Can you not speak in Common Tongue or Elvish?"
Fortunately for Game, the elves were terrible at reading body language and unable to pick up subtle signs of body posture. While they weren't totally oblivious when someone was clearly expressing anger or happiness, these pointy ears were definitely hopeless to read beyond the mask of a magicless actor.
The human had few theories regarding magic and their ability to read subtle emotions, but that was for another time.
"No I cannot," Game replied seriously. "That was a… Core Question, you can't use other than my language if you're asking a Core Question."
"A what now?" The Elite was growing impatient, their time was running low.
Game smirked, "Careful, that's also a 'Core Question'." He was buying their time with his nonsense, dragging the length of their duration staying here.
"I have no time for this, just ask the Tablet the question!" They yelled, pulling out a knife and pointing it toward Saleria. Game kept a calm facade, at least that seemed to unnerve them.
"(Hey Siri, define entropy for this fucking idiot. Oh, and please use the altered Latin that I've set up. Thank you
.)" He commented.
The device was installed with a very sophisticated 21st century neural network AI, capable of comprehended complex forms of words and sentences.
Added with the late 21st century self learning AI, it immediately understood what Game had said. It was a moment before the AI formed and structured its own narrative. Game was lucky, that for whatever reason, someone had replaced the storage system of the I-Phone with the late 28th century crystalline data storage card, capable of housing at least three-quarter of the 21st century internet.
= Wikipedia =
-physical property of the state of a system, measure of disorder.
"The entropy of an object is a measure of the amount of energy which is unavailable to do work. Entropy is also a measure of the number of possible arrangements the [atoms] in a system can have. In this sense, entropy is a measure of uncertainty or randomness. The higher the entropy of an object, the more uncertain we are about the states of the [atoms] making up that object because there are more states to decide from. A law of [physics] says that it takes work to make the entropy of an object or system smaller; without work, entropy can never become smaller – one could say that everything slowly goes to disorder (higher entropy)."
The members known to be the Church of Cyberpunk listened carefully to each of the words spoken by the nigh-omniscient artifact. Some terms were alien, possibly something beyond their concept of understanding.
"What is this… Ay-toum?" The Elite muttered, momentarily forgotten about the woman on the floor.
"Meta-matter," Game stated carefully. "At least, something close to meta-matter."
The Elite furrowed, "While I understand that this 'entropy' the artifact speaks of is synonymous to the Void Influence written in the ancient text, I do not understand its relevance to the Great Darkness."
"Void Influence…?" Game arched an eyebrow.
"The corruptive presence of the Great Darkness, a trail of anarchy emanating from its mere existence. A terrible curse that rots matter, is this not what 'entropy' speaks of?"
Game had to admit, he was curious and confused. There was clearly a huge misunderstanding that was transpiring, but he would rather let them be confused, it was better for him. "In a sense, yes."
"I don't care about this… entropy you speak of," the Elite snapped.
Game frowned, 'Isn't that what you just asked?
One of the cultists leaned in and whispered toward the Elite with a voice of urgency. Game didn't hear much other than 'reinforcement' - well that meant calvary was almost here.
The person in black robes seemed highly distressed as they held the knife very close to Saleria's neck, Game visibly tensed - it took every ounce within him to not be influenced by his emotions.
"The- the sacred text!" The Elite yelled to their subordinate. "Show the Oracle the sacred text!"
One of them quickly handed it over toward the elf in black, who grabbed it. Their eyes glared at Game, "This… decipher the sacred text."
The human's eyes widened slightly at the sight of 'text'. It was a pixel canvas
, after paper production declined in the late 21st century, humanity had been replacing it with various other digital media.
"Quickly!" The Elite hissed.
The so-called ‘pixel canvas’ displayed to him was one of the latest pieces of literature media, utilizing advanced nanotechnology and microscopic fabrication to create a thin rectangle, very similar to a piece of paper. The microscopic layers of holographic projector, cellular sensors and micro computer system implanted within the canvas created an illusion of a screen being displayed on the surface of the material.
It was by definition, a touch screen cardboard paper.
Game was greatly alarmed, the pixel canvas seemed quite damaged, but what caught his eyes the most were the content upon the 'canvas'. The words glowed dimly on the dark 'paper', with various animated images similar to an LED screen.
|PHOENIX WING-1 BOOK OPERATIVE MANUAL|
ASC Property © (Allied Space Coalition)
[File Manual Book: Physical Copy]
Printing Model: 17638BVB
Code: Alpha-Delta-Epsilon 5 (Charlie/Beta/Thompson)
[-] Turn to Page (1/5) [>]
"Fuck, fuck- FUCK!" Shadow yelled.
A magical bolt nearly plastered his brain matter on the floor and the elf narrowly dodged another incoming magical projectile.
He was dragging a large contraption, nearly the size of his body. Given that it was slightly lighter than him the weight was still a problematic burden.
The only thing preventing the Foundation guards and MTF team from completely riddling his body with assault spells was their cautionary action against damaging the artifact.
A bright, tangible, plasma bolt flew in the air for a brief moment before it hit a wall. It had a temperature so impossibly high that some might say it to be a miniature sun. Although such hyperbole might not be that far from the truth.
Whatever complex technocracy happened within the weapon was unknown to its wielder. The damage it dealt was the only thing that mattered.
The guards must've realized that their armor and shield were useless, even with enchantment, to protect against the scientific energy bolts.
Layers of thick earthen walls were conjured from the ground. Shaping, through magic, they shaped ambient mystical energy with their mana, they converted those energies into a physical manifestation of stone and earth.
It was their only effective form of defense, despite the layering, the thickness and sturdiness of their physical barrier, it was quickly chipped away by the superheated hydrogen projectiles.
Darkwing and Shadow ran to a corridor, their pursuers still lagging behind. There were subtle vibrations and faint explosions that could be felt from afar, no doubt the work of various anomalies scattered across the facility.
A bright green-blue shard of pure mystical energy flew in front of them, missing a few minor-units away from Darkwing, who instinctively ducked.
That was another flaw of the sceptre, it relied on the user's ability to use an Appraisal spell to direct the arcane crystal toward their intended target. Any magically insufficient wielder or non-magical target and their aim would be very lacking in accuracy and precision.
Not that any of the Foundation guards would have a problem in that regard. They were hired and given a job to guard the most dangerous facility in the world, of course they weren't inexperienced in combat.
Darkwing deployed a flat hexagonal artifact. A blue blinking light beeped for a moment before something shifted.
Truth be told, neither Darkwing nor Shadow knew what the artifact did. They were told by the cyberpriest that it would help in an emergency.
A second later a blast of concentrated non-mystical energy waves burst from the artifact.
Unlike iron, an electromagnetic field does not deteriorate mystical energy but merely redirect and even restructures runic spell constructs. If iron were an equivalent of a scorching sun that evaporated water, the electromagnetic field was like a rock altering the streams of rivers.
The effect was nauseating at best and excruciatingly painful at worst. Disrupting mana flows within one's body was never pleasant, the closest definition would be as though one's internal veins and nervous system scattered and twisted within their body.
The guards shivered and squirmed on the floor, the magical disruption had messed with their bodily astral manifestation. It would take several hours before the body rearranged their internal mana flow, and it would take a few more hours again before the pain ebbed away.
Darkwing and Shadow were lucky that they were further away from the blast, but even then they were not unaffected by it, a momentary migraine assaulted their brains. Like a knife being jabbed deep within their heads.
Whatever non-magical force it was that had burst, it scrambled the arcane veins that flowed on the wall, averting its spell structure. Thankfully it was nothing too severe. Perhaps a damaged lantern or a disrupted pixie summoning spell.
"What in Skynet's name was that?" Shadow muttered, the throbbing pain in his brain slowly ebbed.
Darkwing sputtered on the ground before he pushed himself, glancing at the artifact before taking a breath. "The cyberpriest gave it to me."
Shadow glared at all the men and women crawling on the floor, clutching their abdomen, torso and head. "Well let's not waste our time."
Shadow dragged the Heart, they could feel the beating of its core, a rotating machine that kept whatever divine force stable within it. Unlike the thumping of an elven heart, the angelic core hummed and vibrated, singing in an odd melody beyond the comprehension of mortals.
Darkwing gasped as he slumped, it was tiring. Everything within him screamed for a quick rest, yet his mind was still racing to search for an escape.
An earsplitting roar shook the facility, several lanterns dropped from the ceiling as their magical blue flames extinguished.
Shadow glanced at Darkwing, "That's the Serpent, isn't it?"
Darkwing cursed loudly, this was supposed to be a simple mission. Whoever was dumb enough to throw that boom-stone would be met with consequences once they'd escaped, or rather, if
"What can it do again?" Shadow asked. If they were to face a legendary beast, they might as well be ready for what was to come.
"The ancient scripture said that it was adaptive," Darkwing replied. "The rest, I don't know - the priest didn't let me access the entire scripture y'know."
"Maybe we can ask Herrit?" Shadow exclaimed.
"If we make it out alive, that is," Darkwing stated darkly. Their chances of survival had dropped significantly, with 4000 on the loose, it would mean great catastrophe. "How the hell did the Foundation keep the Serpent inside their cages?"
Shadow sighed, "I don't know man, they're the Foundation. I heard that they even kept one of the Oracles."
Darkwing's eyes widened before he furrowed, "bullshit."
"Maybe, but we have no time for that now." Shadow averted his gaze, the hallway was poorly illuminated, with only emergency fae lanterns still operational. "We have to move quickly."
] A/N Thanks to all who gave the suggestion and constructive criticism, now comes the tricky part - choosing how to form a coherent story from multiple suggestions. But thankfully most of it are roughly similar.