He was finished.

  Kirk took the full fury of the armored fighter's hammer. Why wouldn't he bring the equal might of Macario's ghost flame on him? The impact lifted him off the ground; his legs didn't help stop his back from slamming against the tower wall. A shame to his swordmaster. Old Brynn would have dodged the heavy attack, not block it with a stick — even if the stick was 'enchanted by a revenant' as a giant sword. Was he about to hear an earful from his instructor once he crossed into the Realms Beyond? Would he even see him, given his impending death was that of a fool's defeat?

  He couldn't see how many strides this metal-clad enemy took to get close to him that fast. A tall and strong man would have legs that carried the rest of the body. How did this towering knight possess an agility that made a cutpurse blush? Regardless, his arms trembled; even the will to use his weapon as a crutch felt too heavy to accomplish. Kirk should have evaded that dreaded hammer and not blocked or parried it. Was he expecting renewed strength from the prayer lady? It was a good thing that every blow that sent him flying didn't make his nerves scream in response. He squandered his strength in recovering, but looking back and regretting wouldn't give him the energy he needed.

  "Master Kiergaard! The fight is far from over. Stand up."

  "I can't do that, Macario, I'm afraid."

  Kirk gripped the ghost sword's hilt with both his hands. His knees buckled and faltered in an attempt to stand. The shadow of his enemy before him; that dreaded maul was preparing to finalize his defeat, bringing to an end the journey of Kiergaard of Windstorm in an alien land. His eyes diverted from the coup de grace by a blinding sphere, followed by a piercing clash. Before him stood Euphemia, arm extended; beyond her was a curved, solid light that collided with the heavy man's weapon. His bowed head took a long time to look up. Their enemy renewed his assault.

  He swore he heard a weak puff, a gun fired at a distance. It was a split second, but the afterimage of the projectile was too big for something that came from a rifle. It struck the raging knight on the head.

  An explosion, followed by falling pieces of a compromised helm. This monster of a man's unmasking undid the cleric's resolve. Euphemia's steadfastness broke down in moments, reduced to sobbing, pleading, crying. What did she see in that would-be killer's face?

  No side claimed victory. A battle interrupted, unsettled. The armored brute pulled out of the fight; the prayer lady fell, fainted, as if her life leaked away into the air.

  Did her god make a chance of escaping with their lives possible? Was this in exchange for Euphemia's life? No, not even the power of armed squads got through her barriers. He could at least stop her from feeling the smooth, stony ground.

  Kirk held Euphemia's body in his arms: breathing, losing consciousness, yet mumbling the words "don't go", "come back", and the rest he understood no longer. The field of light wrapping him was strong, even as the source's awareness slipped away.

  Rook went beside him, a face of concern towards the cleric. Meanwhile, the gloomy hue of the Wizards' Wall dissipated — one tower at a time. Above them was a white glow gradually awakening from a nightmarish haze, though not as bright as any of the cleric's barriers. Though the incident's orchestrators failed to breach the defense of three strangers, it did not stop them from taking what they needed elsewhere.

  "Hey Fiend-Co-..." of all the times the boy had to use ridiculous statements. "You took a beating. You okay?"

  "Tired, actually," Kirk replied, his voice losing strength. "I'd be worse for wear, slightly, if not for her."

  "Will she be all right?" Rook knelt and looked closer at the canoness, hesitant to reach out.

  "I don't think she was wounded. At all." Kirk was forced to sit with his legs spread out; his hand supporting Euphemia's head. "Getting her help is still something we need to worry about."

  Rook found an abandoned stretcher nearby; the enemy was looking out for their own. It wasn't hard to figure out how it worked, with Rook spreading it wide instantly. Kirk placed the cleric on it shortly. Slow breathing; waves of cold were leaving through her hands and face.

  "Are there any hospitals around? What are we going to tell them?"

  "Between figuring out why I didn't die in that battle and making sense of everything in this place, I... don't know. Truly."

  "Are those places open? Safe from what happened everywhere? We're the only ones awake in this... sleeping city." Rook looked back at the tower and remembered the glowing stone that they took from the disabled machinery. "We also have that colored rock to worry about."

  "Do you think that tower has somewhere we can escape to? Somewhere underground, maybe?"

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  "I can take a look."

  The boy ran past the main door and found a smaller one when he entered the tower. Locked. He kicked it twice; this door was also heavy and sealed shut by an iron lock. The boy aimed at the shackle using the rifle he stole from Green Eye's men, but thought wasting bullets was a bad idea. Rook dug into his coat pocket and produced a piece of wire; he probed the keyhole, listening for clicks.

  "Lock picking?"

  Kirk followed him inside. With him was the trolley containing the color-changing rock, and rigged above it was a wooden board where Euphemia and the stretcher lay. Rook heard the mechanism freeing the shackle, prompting him to remove the lock and throw it away.

  "Had to 'pick' this skill up." The boy grinned. "Some people don't like sharing their delicious food, and I took that as a challenge."

  "I was right to call you a rat."

  "This rat will lead us all out of here." Rook said, "Now follow me."

  Rook pulled the door open, which led to a set of stairs; the smooth walls and a crude-looking hand railing implied that this part of the tower was older than what was on the surface.

  "Hey, uh, Kirk! This looks like a way down. It doesn't smell sewer-like to me."

  "Great find, boy. We bring down Euphemia first, and then the rock." Kirk was about to collect the stretcher where Euphemia lay when he took notice of the gun on Rook's shoulder. "Hey. Isn't that...?"

  "A souvenir." Rook held his prize by the stock and barrel. "It looks cool. Shoots well, too. I don't think this is enough for the trouble they're causing."

  "I'm unsure of what this country's policy is when it comes to taking guns from criminals..."

  Kirk pulled out the glowing token and pressed its face. The light that enveloped him was drawn back to the crystal. He looked at Euphemia as the protective layer receded from his body: there was no change in her state, her breathing still slowed. The light made Kirk realize that Rook was donning the unusually sleek fabric the attackers wore. He asked:

  "You didn't happen to strip that off of one of them, did you?"

  "Their fault. They can't keep their clothes on them." Rook pulled the winged entity token from his other pocket. "It's much safer with her light, but I can't go after them and fight like I should while being a walking firefly."

  "Rats fight well in the dark, I'd guess."

  "She has the light, and you have... uh, used to have, a sword." Rook jerked his thumb and pointed to himself. "I, am a rat. Doesn't sound like praise, but hey."

  ????

  It was practical to have the magical energy-infused stone at the front while they navigated through the tunnels; the light it emitted was more than enough for them to see through the darkness. The descent was rather lengthy, even made longer because of not only the heavy contraption that held the radiant rock in place but also due to the hurt cleric, who was yet to come to her senses. Light bounced off the tunnels; the occasional gleam created during their passing showed that while this place was as old as it could be, it was not left untended. It showed no hint that it was part of a sewer. There was no body of water inside, plus their footsteps echoed well, making walking in silence impossible when their soles hit the floor. Neither of the two was inclined to talk, given that the noise their feet made surely would lead others to where they were.

  They were right to suspect such. Other footsteps echoed not far from where they were.

  "We have company..." Kirk gripped his iron stick and set aside the cart that housed the glowing stone.

  They could run, but there was no way their cargo would let them go far. It was best for them to face the attackers—and hope there weren't too many of them around. A dozen beams pointed at the duo, with each flashlight attached to a rifle barrel. Two figures emerged from the group: one man of medium build and a woman of slender frame. The man said:

  "We are part of the Imperial Constabulary. Stand down and come with us quietly."

  "An injured woman is with us." Kirk put away his staff. "We don't want to fight, and I don't think we could."

  "None of you should be here. This place is off-limits. What are you all doing here?"

  The lead man went to the trolley that housed the glowing rock. The cleric stirred; her fingertips drawing light from the unknown artifact as threads. The constable tipped his cap and wondered why traces of light behaved this way around Euphemia's hand. He did not part his gaze from her when Kirk answered:

  "Everything was in chaos above. The door to this place was unlocked, and we thought we could be safe by going down here."

  "Any Luminberger knew better than to go down here, but neither of you looks like you're from this city." He continued probing the two while the rest of the men surrounded them. "Come with us for further questioning."

  "They don't look half-bad, do they?" Kirk put away his staff and looked at Rook.

  "I hope they let me keep my trophy." Rook lowered his rifle.

  Kirk put his iron stick on the ground and offered the prop sword he wore to one of the riflemen. Rook smirked at the idea, but ended up surrendering his gun to another member of the group. They were right about the tunnels: there were too many turns and corners, but the leader had no problems choosing the best route out of Luminberg.

  They were brought to a field beyond the city. Burnt hulls of what used to be military vehicles and artillery pieces littered certain areas; the small flames emanating from some of them were signs of a recently concluded battle. Tents were raised where their attendants were taking care of many wounded. Kirk and Rook were brought to a small but guarded tent. The woman in the group spoke to them:

  "I'm afraid we can't let you leave yet. We want to know more about what's going on inside the city."

  "We're fine staying here," Kirk's gaze changed to where the still-unconscious Euphemia was. "As long as you help our companion."