The Alchemist ran his hand along a wall of the black metal comprising most of this vault. Even with his advanced perception, he could sense nothing out of the ordinary about it. But he connection to Hause pricked at him, drew at him, and he knew what he sought was beyond there.
His mind shifted, twisted, until it settled upon what he needed to be. He would need thirty arms to brandish the weapons to cut down this wall. And as he thought it, so it became. They burst free from his being, containing some of the many weapons they’d stolen from Erlebnis’ vault. He braced himself, digging into the ground… and then became a whirlwind of destruction.
Hammers, blades, spears, and picks rained down upon this seemingly unremarkable wall. The sheer power of the unrelenting artifacts made it buckle and bend, shattering in wake of his power. The wall was deep, and hid many enchanted contraptions, but the Alchemist burst through them all. He fought with feverish hunger for a past left abandoned. And in time, he saw light beyond. The Alchemist walked through, briefly glancing back at the destruction that he’d caused. But when he walked beyond, his eyes raised upward, beholding a sight that brought him unimaginable anguish.
A gargantuan fat raven, easily weighing one hundred tons, had been propped up on the wall by its wings. Two giant stakes kept them spread out, and its head slumped over its chest in death. Its chest had a patch of flesh on it, where a vague lump of flesh resembling a face stared forth in a wicked, twisted smile. And in the raven’s beak, a purple bauble perhaps the size of a normal person shone brilliantly.
The Alchemist stepped forth, recalling the weapons within himself. This was his past—this was the Smiling Raven. And in its beak rested Hause and all her court. He had endeavored all too hard to forget this past, what he had done… but it was inescapable. He had not known Erlebnis had preserved this body of his. Even the Annals did not record this.
His hand clenched tighter around the dimmed spear crafted of Ingo’s blessing. In time, he looked up once more. He raised his hand, and it stretched out to grasp the purple bauble. Despite millennia of hardening, and all the knowledge in his body telling him that the Smiling Raven would not again move, he could not help but feel some twinge of unease, as though it might wake up and end all he’d worked for. The sensation was palpable enough to delude himself that he might still be human, even after all of this.
His thumb and pinky lifted up the Smiling Raven’s beak, and the bauble fell into his palm. He felt it resonate with his being. He had been the one to design this protective sphere, isolating Hause and her servants within it. If he willed it, they would awaken. They would be ignorant, having seen nothing of the past millennia. And the last sight they would remember… it would be the Smiling Raven, his body surging with power, as he imprisoned them.
At the back of his mind, some strange inkling persisted. Perhaps Erlebnis had wanted the Alchemist to come here, to free Hause. Perhaps that had been his goal from the beginning. After all, he had endeavored to free Hause ever since he captured her. No method succeeded. If he did this… if he unleashed her… perhaps this foul deity’s scheme would come to fruition, and Hause would be enslaved in truth.
The thought brought him greater hesitation than he’d felt in many centuries. But… seeing Argrave, witnessing his struggles… to defy beings far beyond his ken consistently, and still live another day… these beings called gods were not infallible. And perhaps, just perhaps, the whole of this terrible cycle could end. But he felt one thing was certain—Hause would need to be a part of that journey.
The Alchemist pulled the orb back down to his body, and placed both of his hands around it. Within, he saw fleeting glimpses of faces he’d tried to forget. As he willed the intangible power that allowed his body freedom within the orb, it twisted and churned. The inanimate faces once again resumed motion. And the orb burst into light, sending scattering flakes that shone like platinum in sunlight.
Hundreds of forms took shape, coalescing in this gargantuan room hidden away in this vault. The Alchemist stepped away, putting his hands behind his back so as to appear non-threatening. He spotted many people, and names he’d suppressed rose to his head. At the front of all of them stood a woman wearing a pink garb. Her blonde hair had the faintest hint of auburn in her roots, showing the signs that she was maturing. It was Hause. It was the goddess he’d once championed.
And at her side was Sonia. She had always been small, but in this monstrous form of his, she was puny. Her short dark hair slightly concealed her green eyes—eyes that looked at him with pure caution and confusion. Once, he had loved her. Now… he had no such luxury. It had died with the Smiling Raven, and lay dormant in its body above.
Everyone seemed prepared to fight—they had been doing so when last they were conscious, after all. As her people rushed forth, Hause held her hand out and shouted, “Stop!”
Hause slowly looked around the room, then turned around to peer up at the looming Smiling Raven. She turned back to look at him.
“Raven… what have you done?” she whispered quietly.
That she recognized him immediately, and said his name… it felt like a bucket of cold water, and at once he was distanced from this reunion. It was as he told Argrave—indeed, told himself. Raven existed no longer. He was the Alchemist, and could never be again the man they remembered. He would not even pretend.
“I am the Alchemist. You have been imprisoned for a very long time, and we now stand in the heart of Erlebnis’ vault,” the Alchemist said, coldly and dispassionately. He forced the numbness into his tone, into his being. These people could not recognize him. It would only make things worse. “This is our only opportunity of escape from this place. Erlebnis returns to this place, and he is aware of our presence. We have little time, but I have prepared measures.”
The Alchemist called forth all of the weapons he’d pilfered, and Hause’s faithful stepped back in alarm. Sonia stared at him like he was an abomination… and he was. He was the Alchemist, an abomination of his own making. And Raven, the one she’d loved, was dead.
With his resolve solidified, the Alchemist planted each of the divine artifacts in the ground before them. “Seize these weapons born of divinity and follow. If you do not, Erlebnis will capture and enslave all of you he does not kill. I will explain further as we return to my allies.”
He turned and walked away, not waiting for their reaction. Redemption? Reconciliation? Idle fantasies. He had destroyed every living thing in an entire continent, and imprisoned Hause’s faithful for millennia. It was best for them all that Raven wither away into nothingness. Let the rotting carcass staked above them remain trapped in this vault. His only purpose was in this struggle against Gerechtigkeit. And the only ray of hope that the Alchemist had seen waited, besieged by a monster… and perhaps Erlebnis himself.
#####
Mozzahr held his hand out, calling upon a large amount of his Emptiness to enhance a ward. A formidable shield arose before him, and the king called upon all of his powers to relentlessly rain attacks upon it. A-rank spells flew from his hands like they were as cheap as bronze coins… but they dissipated against his ward, about as effective as bronze coins.
I’ll kill his allies with a large attack he cannot block, Mozzahr mused, letting the Emptiness flow out from his body. A single bang, large enough to vaporize this entire corridor. The portal girl’s spatial distortions will matter not if I simply get rid of everything. My own attacks cannot hurt me, so it matters not where she redirects it.
He had been hesitant to allow his Emptiness to leave his body in this realm. It was only inside his body that it enhanced his defense—the more that was outside of him, the weaker his flesh grew. But the king… barring that staff that reflected power, his attacks remained weak. It was only his defense that was unbreakable. Mozzahr was best served killing his allies, then figuring out a way to penetrate that defense.
More and more Emptiness pooled out into the corridor around. Mozzahr shielded himself in it, twisting it as a vortex so that it could gather power. He became a whirlwind of unbridled power, swirling strong enough the floor and walls began to shear away. Argrave’s relentless assault against his ward ceased, and Mozzahr caught glimpses of the king. King Argrave stood there, alarm on his face and a bow of blood in his hands. His black blood danced out of his body, fueling this attack. Those maroon doubles of his conjured those foul electric eels in droves, and they filled the corridor with a sea of red stars.
Mozzahr grew excited and curious—the king was preparing a single devastating attack the same as he was. His companions gathered behind him, trembling like newborns. The golden-armored knight rose to his feet and tried to stand guard with Argrave, holding his arm to stop it from falling off his body. Would they perish, or rise to the occasion?
The clash grew ever closer, and Mozzahr felt some rising nervousness as he beheld the power of the weapon the king prepared. His Emptiness swirled faster as some foul mirror into his emotions, and before long he could barely see Argrave anymore. Everything near him started to vanish from the sheer power, and only the spot Mozzahr stood on was unharmed.
He was not quite sure what signaled him that his time to attack was now… but the king released his arrow. It moved terrifyingly fast, destroying everything even remotely near it. The eels trailed it as though following a commander into battle. Mozzahr had not even half a second to respond. His own power surged forth with all of the devastating destruction he could muster, rising to meet its challenger.
Teal and maroon powers met in midair, and pandemonium unfolded. Both possessed the power of continental plates, and Mozzahr, despite his great perception and composure, could barely discern what was happening. There was light, sound, force, and pain, all working in tandem. After an indeterminable length of time, Mozzahr regained sight and sensation. He stared up at the ceiling, his gut aflame with pain.
Using his arm to help, Mozzahr leaned up. There was a great gouge in his gut, about the size of a fist. His Emptiness was the only thing keeping it from pouring blood relentlessly. It hadn’t pierced through… but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been injured to this extent. Though it shamed him, he called upon healing magic to close his wounds. The only thing he’d lost in this fight was Emptiness. He was of lesser power than when he entered this place… but there would be enough to see an end to things, he hoped.
He looked up and around, taking in his surroundings. Nothing remained of what had been around them. The corridor, the museum of artifacts… all of it, gone. A great patch of black and lifeless rock was the only thing left. It was only after a great distance away did the museum enter back into sight, blasted away and awkwardly placed. And opposite Mozzahr stood Argrave.
The king crouched, breathing heavy. He was unharmed… though perhaps that was not the right word. The blood magic had clearly taken its toll on him, but Mozzahr’s attack had been as ineffectual as all of the others had been. Mozzahr felt some wound to his pride—he didn’t think he’d lose the clash. But looking at his companions with him… indeed, some of his power had broken past. All of them bore deep, debilitating wounds. The golden-armored knight had the worst of them all.
The gargantuan mutant appeared, then, sprinting into view quickly. As soon as Argrave spotted him, the king crumpled slightly, yet the mutant supported him. In hot pursuit of the ten-foot-tall mutant were various others—heading them, a blonde woman wearing pink. There was something divine about her, Mozzahr knew. They took their place with the king. A new force to be reckoned with.
Mozzahr slowly rose to his feet, ready to continue. But as he stared… the distant ruins of the museum burst into darkness. Viscous, red liquid that shone like chrome started to drip from the ceiling, forming pools in various places. It started to flow faster, consuming much of the area, and then became a great sludgy torrent that filled this place until it was a burgeoning sea.
As the pools of liquid metal coalesced, a single figure rose up. He was an old man with slicked hair and a dignified beard, and he wore all black finery.
“My twin has arrived,” said the old man, and Mozzahr recognized his voice as the one who’d called himself the Keeper. “I’m afraid it’s over for you. But then… your fate was sealed the moment you broke into this vault.”
The oceans of liquid metal began to writhe and slosh, and Mozzahr walked to higher ground to avoid it. He stared into the liquid, and instead of his reflection… a vast watching consciousness peered back at him, unimaginable in scope and power. A realization came to him. This liquid… it was Erlebnis himself.
The owner of this vault had arrived to deal with the intruders.
