It wasn't a hostile look, though it was imbued with the severe, natural coldness. Befitting a professional like him, ready to carry out his superior's directives without question. In his eyes, there was a silent warning, easy to interpret given the context.
“I don't think I have much time left here at the camp. Neither do several of us.”
With that thought, Tristessa drew back the curtains and entered the large, temporary structure. It wasn't much to look at, beyond retractable metal beds arranged in two parallel rows of ten each, and basic first-aid equipment such as bottles filled with alchemical liquids, bandages, fresh clothing, and whiteboards for performing complex mathematical calculations if the thaumaturgical conjuration required it.
There was only one bed occupied by the sole patient in the camp, surrounded by his associates, the three members of the Mercer-Archeos family, and two more healers keeping a watchful eye on them from a discrete distance.
“Reiden…” Tristessa approached the throng of mercenaries and civilians, seated on parallel beds, all trying to be near their leader. It was a relief to see him without a trace of blood, clean sheets covering him, and no sign of suffering on his face. But she was concerned about how deep he had fallen into that slumber. “How is he?”
“Still hasn’t woken up. It doesn’t look like he will, at least not anytime soon,” Melian replied, sitting at the foot of his leader’s bed with a flask full of a shimmering, silvery liquid like mercury. He took a small sip and winced, as if the few drops he swallowed were burning him from the inside. “His Divinity caused a lot of damage to his soul. If I’m in this condition, and I was just a conduit for our collective energy, imagine how he must feel.”
“Those are the kind of wounds that take a long time to heal. Slower processes than a cut or a stab wound. Something not physical, you know? It’s easier to heal a broken arm than a torn spirit,” Lufreya added, sitting on one of the beds next to Dom. “I know because my younger brother suffered something similar when he was little, when he discovered he owned a Divinity. He overused it, and besides almost causing a disaster in the ecosystem surrounding my village, his soul collapsed.”
Lucahn listened with the attention of a scholar rather than a fearful child. Sitting on the edge of the opposite bed, next to his parents, Jin embraced his silent and resigned wife, both waiting for fate to decide what to do with their lives.
“A-and what happened to your little brother, Miss Solsong?”
“The same thing that happened to the boss: Mako didn’t wake up until three years later. He was your age, little Lucahn.”
“Ah, I promise not to use my Divinity like that!”
That tender reaction from a frightened child like him was the bittersweet touch needed in a situation like this. Even Tiara managed to smile a little, despite detesting the idea that the God of Chaos, Vel’Moran, had blessed his son with a Divinity of Dimension.
In silence, the black-haired girl approached the bed to get a closer look at Reiden. He was so still he seemed dead, his chest rising almost imperceptibly, a sign of weak breathing. His arms were above the bedsheets; his forearms bare and covered in non-elemental glyphs that the healers had applied.
“…”
Tristessa didn’t know what to say. Or if she had to say anything at all. Ask for forgiveness, offer words of encouragement… Would it do any good, seeing him trapped in that dream? Had she known something like this would happen, she would have said all those things to Reiden while she held him in her arms, conscious.
Was it enough to tell him he was a hero?
“I hope you don’t feel like it’s your fault the boss is like this, Miss Discord,” she heard Lufreya whisper, as she watched her take her boss’s hand to offer him the comfort that unspoken words could never provide. “We’re mercenaries, remember that. We obey our employer’s orders; it’s in our contract.”
“But… What will happen to his family? His wives, his children, and grandchildren?”
“And don’t forget we’re with the Fireclaw Company. The association will see how to help the family of an employee disabled from performing his duties,” Melian added.
“You worry too much, girl. The boss has been through worse.” And of course, Dom couldn’t be left out. “He doesn’t like weak women.”
“Ha! ! A shame he happened to cross paths with one of the weakest ever,” Tristessa said and squeezed the hero's hand tightly, wishing with all her heart to see him grimace and shake his head. “Reiden... Wake up soon, okay? I'm hopelessly ignorant, but... I'm sure this world needs heroes like you.”
Coming from a Stranger, it meant a lot, under the attentive and solemn gazes of those present. Everyone except the healers, who knew who she was and where she came from, maintained a complicit silence. Respecting Madame Luchie's wishes, whom they hoped to see soon.
Tristessa sighed and released the mercenary's hand, with some difficulty, still having so much to say. Praying for his speedy recovery.
“Are you coming to Entrana with us?” she asked Melian.
“Not yet: the General said that you and the Mercer-Archeos are the priority,” he explained, causing Jin to hug his wife and son even tighter. “Then we’ll go to the Company headquarters in the city, to see Bran and get the boss under the Company’s healers care. I expect we’ll meet Madame Luchie there.”
“I see. Yes, that makes sense.” The moment the last word left the girl’s mouth, a shadow fell over them all, emanating from the person who had stood in the doorway of the tent.
Zephyr. Imposing, his black armor was clean and without any mark left from his fight against Daiana Mercer-Archeos. His silence and neutral expression conveyed a single message, directed at a limited number of people.
“…well, the time has come.” Tristessa looked at the Mercer-Archeos and nodded, prompting the three of them to stand up.
“Miss Tristessa…”
As she went to the corridor between the beds, she realized she was the center of attention for all of the mercenaries. Especially Melian, who had spoken her name with a hint of fear in his voice; unlike the thaumaturge who had tried to kill her in a nonexistent past, driven mad because of her mistakes.
“Hey, why the long faces?” she asked, smiling at them with a confidence that surprised them. “We’ll meet again soon. I still have unfinished business with your employer, remember?”
That was more than enough to lift the mercenaries’ spirits, and they all reached out to shake her hand. One by one, wishing her luck in knowing silence.
“Reiden…” After greeting Melian, Tristessa glanced sideways at where the mercenary leader lay, the glyphs etched on his arms glowing faintly, healing his spirit. Now she knew what to say, but she opted to send a message from the bottom of her Discord-saturated soul. “I’ll visit you at the house of healing, I promise.”
With that thought, as solid as the unnatural ice that rendered her mind palace unusable, the girl walked straight toward Zephyr, followed by the Mercer-Archeos.
He stepped aside, allowing them to exit and pointing toward the military carriage a few meters ahead. The driver and his escort were already seated inside, both soldiers clad in full gray armor and armed. Kneeling before them was a vilecross clad in ornate armor with Shield Against the Darkness motifs, ready to grasp the chains at the first sign of trouble.
And beside the open door stood Auron, leaning against the wall reinforced with anti-projectile metal and marked with anti-magic glyphs. With his arms crossed and head bowed, his hat obscuring his face, he awaited her companion and ally in the final conflict they were about to embark upon, without detours or pauses.
“Miss Irandell, that object Daiana Mercer-Archeos had, the one that looked like a photograph… Why is it so important to you?” the General suddenly asked her, walking beside her. “How did she get it?”
As Vergil joined them and Tristessa patted the side of his head between the broken horns, she considered her response. Careful not to slip up and reveal what Zephyr, for the moment, didn’t know about her.
“All I know, General, is that I must recover that photograph she stole from me. Without it, I don’t think I can do anything about my amnesia, no matter what thaumaturgical methods healers might try to use to help me.”
“…”
Zephyr said and asked nothing more. It was best for her; better to remain silent and leave the uncomfortable questions for another time. Or comments, or any word that might compromise the integrity of the stillness that had enveloped the camp.
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There was nothing more to say. Everyone knew it, from the few soldiers who remained alive to the very people who were the focus of attention. Even inside the carriage, seated, Auron, Tristessa, Zephyr, and the Mercer-Archeos didn't utter another word, submitting to the command of the authorities who had arrived from that city whose Evil-Warding Pillar could be clearly seen piercing the afternoon sky.
“This is it,” Tristessa thought, forcing a smile as she stared at her aracross yawning and resting his head next to her feet. Dread coursing through her veins, trying to pollute her mind with ominous futures.
The camp's abnormal silence was briefly broken by the two sharp knocks Zephyr gave against the carriage wall, followed by the driver's command, the movement of the large, heavy chains, and the monstrous roar of the lesser demon as he began to pull them.
Soon, the military carriage and the wagon carrying the belongings of the dead soldiers left Camp Argos. A caravan headed north along the closed Meridion Highway.
Toward Entrana, where the woman known as the She-Dragoon of End-World awaited.
DIVINITY OF THE DARK ROOM
BLACK MIRROR – Stats after the stalemate with the Coven - Updates in Yellow
TRISTESSA IRANDELL
MAIN STATS
- Strength: 3 out of 100
- Dexterity: 7(+3) out of 100
- Endurance: 6 out of 100
- Vitality: 6(+2) out of 100
- Intelligence: 7(+1) out of 100
- Spirit: 10 out of 100
- Willpower: 6(+3) out of 100
- Luck: 1 out of 100
SUBSTATS
- Hit Points: 25(+5) out of 10000
- Magic Points: 2 out of 5000
- Spirit Points: 90(+15) out of 5000
- Stamina: 50 out of 5000
- Poise: 12 out of 1000
- Immunities: 7 out of 500
- Physical Resistance: 20 out of 500
- Magic Resistance: 15 out of 500
- Instant Death Resistance: 5(+3) out of 500
- Terror Resistance: 10(+3) out of 500
- Madness Resistance: 10 out of 500
- Karma: -20 points between [-100 and 100]
PASSIVES
- First Echo of Viktor Enma: +3 Dexterity points. Bonus on daggers and knives.
- Second Echo of Viktor Enma: +2 Vitality points. Bonus on HP.
- Third Echo of Viktor Enma: +3 Willpower points. Bonus on Spirit Points, Terror Resistance and Instant Death Resistance.
- Fourth Echo of Viktor Enma: +3 Terror Resistance and Madness Resistance.
- First Echo of Katriel Strauss: +1 Intelligence point. Negative bonus on Karma.
JOBS
- Necromancer – Practitioner of the dark arts, capable of bringing the dead back to life and force them to do their bidding.
- Level 4 – Skills and passives defined by effectiveness of the [Divinity of Accursed Existence] and [Divinity of Whispers in the Dark]
- She-Dragoon - Warrior capable of fighting as a cavalryman or as infantry on foot. High mobility and effective in flanking and surprising enemy forces.
- Level 1 - Skill: Aracross Riding
EQUIPMENT
- Casual Shirt: No damage negation bonuses
- Casual Trench Coat: No damage negation bonuses
- Casual Trousers: No damage negation bonuses
- Casual Boots: No damage negation bonuses
- Hunting Knife: +D physical damage bonus from Dexterity scaling
DIVINITIES
- Death and Resurrection (Dark Resurrection) – Divinity of Death, granted by the God of Chaos, Vel'Moran. Banished from Death, there is no end to the abyss on the horizon. Dying is a straight line. Resurrecting is a spiral.
- Baptism in Ruins – HIDDEN BY UNNATURAL DARKNESS
- Gradient of Madness – The forbidden truth emanates from the overlapping of multiple realities. No sentient being can endure it. The logical result is madness. (Grants +9999 points of Madness-status effect to friends and foes alike after consciously learning about the [Divinity of Death and Resurrection])
- Accursed Existence – Divinity of Life, granted by the Goddess of Order, Xiliarra. Life is a gift, rejoicing in it is an obligation. Even for those who reopen their eyes and beg for oblivion.
- Arising Capacity: 1
- Soul Strain:
- 1 SP per second for Fading Souls – 5 SP per second to use a Divinity
- 5 SP per second for Lesser Souls
- Curse of the Evil Eye – From the Empyrean of Dead Gods, the Shadow Queen casts her malevolent gaze over Nekrom, wishing for an Age of Eternal Darkness where everything bends to her relentless will. (+1 point of Terror-status effect while a returned soul tainted with the malice of the Shadow Queen is active. Incremental in value the mightiest the soul to return.)
- Demiurgic Regression – Nekronomika created all living beings with the idea that eventually all of them shall return to their primal state of pure essence in the epilogue of the everything. She knew that the reverse process was possible, but such a void existence was something She did not desire for her children. (Recompose the body of a deceased in order to make it an acceptable receptacle for its broken soul.) – 10 SP per second + normal values of Soul Strain.
- Whispers in the Dark – Divinity of Power, granted by the God of Balance, Kantrus. It is said that the dead tell no tales. In truth, it is a matter of who is willing to listen.
- Harvested Echoes: 5
- Spiritual Resonance – A premonition of the other side, a message sent with the serenity of the grave. The dead fear oblivion. Show them that they are not forsaken.
- Dark Room – Divinity of the Mind, granted by the God of Balance, Kantrus. The mind can always be a darker place than one believes. Its corridors can be endless, a labyrinth capable of swallowing its owner alive, and no one will hear their screams.
- Room of Knowledge
- Room of Phantom Remembrances
- Negative Altar
- Projector Room
- Assistant’s Offce
- Black Mirror
- HIDDEN BY UNNATURAL DARKNESS
- Unknown Divinity – HIDDEN BY UNNATURAL DARKNESS
“…■ u ■ ■ ■ n ■ e…”
TITLE – Lost
“Still weak and fragile, chasing an inexistent speck of light within the infinite dark. Your allies see you as a tool, ready to discard you after use. Your enemies mock you at your attempts at survival. Even after some small victories, the weight of failure will bring you down into darkness and despair.”