The Bitter King

[Rayse Valentino]

It didn't take long before the scenery of the gray desert was replaced with jagged structures sticking out of the ground. They found themselves in a forgotten city, buried by the sands of time with only the upper spires visible above ground. The ground was harder now, the dust a mere sheath for the buildings that sought to escape their fate. With a quick glance, Rayse noticed that he couldn't see the end of the ruins, and that they were going deeper into them.

"The Black-Bones," Gor'Havah started. "Live at the center of all this, the tallest point of the forgotten city. We'll have to be more alert from this point on."

The similarities to The Warrens were growing as they traversed through the ruins. Maybe this was The Warrens of the Third City, the locus point for buildings that found themselves in this plane. There was no wind, no animals, just an unnerving quietness to accompany them. Rayse wondered how Gor'Havah planned to sneak into this fortress, but there was no reason to doubt the elder ghoul now.

It was when Gor'Havah suddenly stopped and looked at the sky did Rayse wish they had the stillness back. The contractor followed the elder ghoul's gaze and saw something floating very far away. It looked tiny from his perspective, and he had to squint to make sense of it. The most he could tell was that its shape was spherical, and that its front was merely... a face. Was it a floating head? Rayse almost didn't take it seriously until he walked up to Gor'Havah and saw his expression.

Gor'Havah kicked the ground and nearly flew into one of the spires, using it as cover. "Damn it, just our luck to run into a beholder. We need to hide, now!" Rayse followed suit, about to take out his beak dagger when he noticed that the elder ghoul was not even attempting to wield his scythe. It seems fighting it was futile even for him. The contractor looked around for something to hide under, after all the thing had not spotted them yet. It'll go away if they remain unseen, right? Gor'Havah moved into action, motioning for Rayse to follow him as he headed toward what looked like a stone plateau that stuck out of the ground a few feet. He knelt down and started digging until the ground gave way in front of him, flowing into what looked like a window. He slid into the hole without hesitation, and Rayse followed right after.

It was pitch black in there, with the exception of the small ray of light coming from the hole. As Rayse looked back, he saw Gor'Havah finally wield his scythe, and a shocked expression filled the contractor's face, because he knew what the elder ghoul was about to do. Before he could do anything to stop him, Gor'Havah caused the ceiling to cave in and close up their entrance, submersing them in darkness. Even after burying them alive, Rayse still felt apprehensive, as if talking could still incite the monster. Their vision was restored after a few moments as Gor'Havah produced a small stick and cracked it in two, causing it to grow a light along the length of the halves. He gave one of the pieces to Rayse. After calming down a bit, the younger ghoul figured that the elder one wasn't suicidal, and that there was another way out.

"All these buildings are connected," he said, putting his scythe away. "We'll go in from below."

Rayse nodded. So this was your plan the whole time?

The elder ghoul lead the way, heading down a spiral staircase in the corner of the room that lead to the catacombs below. The ordeal made Rayse realize that the Black-Bones lived above ground, in plain sight to monsters like the one they escaped from. If they got discovered, it would mean the end of them.

[Rayse Valentino]

Even with the glowing sticks, it was hard to make out anything than the cracked ground they walked on. Even with the calming fumes of phosphorous coming from their light sources, a pervading sense of claustrophobia grew in Rayse's heart. He woke up in a tomb, and this could be his next one. Gor'Havah was not as nervous as he navigated these tunnels as if they were tattooed on his arms. Maybe he was here once before, or maybe some event in his stay here necessitated learning how to get in here. Rayse could do nothing but trust him, at this point he wasn't even questioning his methods anymore.

Gor'Havah put a hand out in front of him, stopping the trailing contractor. He heard something long before Rayse did, but soon the growing sound of hissing and clacking caught up to them. At the edge of the light, several dark spikes shot out from the darkness. Behind them was a thin figure, its head swaying back and forth and yellow-red dots shined from its eye sockets. It continued to walk towards them without a care, the rest of its skeletal form revealed. Covered in spikes like a hedgehog that extended nearly a foot from its body, the skeleton was entirely black, with chains of teeth and small bones wrapped around its body. At its side was a scimitar, but instead of a handle it had a small skull that looked like it was from an animal Rayse had never seen before.

The elder ghoul sprung into action, grabbing hold of his scythe with both hands and holding it in front of him menacingly. Despite the skeleton's lanky appearance and calm demeanor, Gor'Havah was not taking any chances. Its jaw was hanging open and a low whistle escaped it, following by a deep exhale. Air was just passing through, it didn't appear as though the skeleton could talk. Gor'Havah charged it, swinging his scythe in a wide arc, but the Black-Bone finally reacted, bending its body back so far that its head was touching the ground, and reaching for the scimitar. The elder ghoul retracted his blade and swung downwards, but the Black-Bone had collapsed its body, then somehow reshuffled its bones to propel itself forward, a rapidly-reforming skeleton with a blade aimed at Gor'Havah's head.

Rayse could only watch while shaking the beak dagger in front of him, unable to comprehend this otherworldly battle. As soon as he was thinking of maybe helping however, the battle was over. Gor'Havah had evaded the blade and then spun around to cut the skeleton in two with his scythe. In a normal battle, that would be the end of it, but Gor'Havah made sure to slam his scythe down on the bones a dozen times until they were completely crushed, especially the head.

"Thorough, aren't you?" Rayse cracked.

Gor'Havah put away his scythe, "Leave its head, and it'll bite you to death. Leave an arm and get strangled. The problem isn't one or two of them, it's when there's an entire swarm."

After a few more twists and turns, they finally arrived at another spiral staircase leading up to the surface. Gor'Havah didn't need to tell Rayse to be quiet from this point on, and he had a suspicion that Oslo was being held near the blood pools. As they ascended the staircase, they found themselves in a large room with tall openings along the walls. It reminded Rayse of a church. Walking carefully, they snuck from building to building, noticing that this area was devoid of any Black-Bones.

I thought this place was supposed to be infested with them...

They soon arrived at a building near the blood pools, which Rayse could somewhat see out one of the windows. It was a large, fountain and it was filled with a black fluid. More interestingly, there was something bulbous and covered in fur chained to it, and he could see it slowly moving. Every time it did, it squirted out more of the dark water into the fountain. He almost fell behind when he noticed Gor'Havah standing in front of a stone wall with markings on it similar to the ones Rayse saw in the Crematorium. Gor'Havah put his hand on the wall and willed it to open, revealing a dark, small room with a robed zombie in the corner. Gor'Havah motioned for Rayse to come in, and then the wall closed in behind him, giving them light only from their glowing sticks. The zombie was shuddering and completely covered in what Rayse assumed was the liquid he saw earlier. He was wearing the same robes he saw from the Order, but obviously they weren't white anymore. The room smelled faintly of flesh, but more importantly the stench that Oslo gave off was intoxicating. Rayse nearly gagged and held his nose, staying as far away as he could.

Gor'Havah took out his scythe and pointed it at the zombie, whispering, "Get up."

The zombie stayed in his fetal position, muttering, "nononono."

"I'm not a rotting Black-Bone, so stand up already."

The zombie realized that the voice he head was real, and he lifted his head to see the two, "Ghouls? Then... then... The Ghoul Queen has come to save me?!"

"Keep it down!" said Gor'Havah. "They don't know we're here. And no, we're not here to save you, you just happen to have something that belongs to us."

"W-What?" Oslo stood up, the black water dripping from his face. Rayse couldn't tell much about his appearance due to the black covering him like a coat of slime, but he looked bald with blue eyes and no nose. "Something that belongs to you? I-I d, don't know what you're talking about..." That's when he noticed Rayse. "You!"

"I said can it!" Gor'Havah hit Oslo in the head with the back of his scythe. "Return his belongings to him."

"Quite a negotiator, aren't you?" said Rayse, raising a brow. "You'd think saving his life would be enough of an incentive."

"I don't trust these priests," Gor'Havah snapped. "They're almost as conniving as the Void-Shapers."

"Not me!" Oslo protested. He tried wiping the black liquid from his person, but it was futile. It was sticking to his flesh, making him look as though it belonged to him all along. "I'm different. I'm the one that resisted them, the one who helped The Ghoul Queen!"

"I don't care what you did, just return what you took and we'll be on our way."

"Wait," said Rayse. "I want to know why he did what he did. Maybe he knows about the vial. The key."

Oslo perked up. "Vial? Key? Y-you have it with you? Then maybe all is not lost after all!" Rayse tapped his foot impatiently. "Oh, yes, well, a long time ago I was quite the devout follower. I truly believe in our teachings, even now, that this is our last life and our souls return to The Writing God. We were doing holy work, but, there was a rumor I heard- that- that living ghouls were being thrown into the Pit as punishment from the Liches up above."

"Liches?"

"Ah, yes, they're- liches are sort of the administrators of this world."

"Get to the point," snapped Gor'Havah.

"Sorry, sorry. Anyway, one day I snuck into the Crematorium and I saw this awful practice happening for myself. Watching a ghoul scream in agony before the fires washed over the body, it was quite the sacrilege, and yet I saw the higher apostles doing the deed. I still think we're doing the right thing, but we were being used as tools by the liches. I couldn't sit back and do nothing. As if hearing my prayers, The Ghoul Queen provided me with a solution, and that was the vial. I don't know how she got it, but the plan was simple- I was to bring in a 'Lost One' and put the vial into its chest. The body was supposed to be thrown in, and the vial would squelch the flames of the Pit."

"You were going to burn me alive?" Rayse asked.

"It w, was a necessary sacrifice to end the blasphemous ritual. Honestly, I didn't believe that something so small could put out the flames, but it was all I could do. I never expected you to wake up and actually leave the Crematorium... as a traitor, I tried to flee back down to The Ghoul Queen but I was captured by the Black-Bones on my way there."

"Oh well," Rayse sighed.

"You're not mad?" Oslo asked.

"I've seen a lot of shit today, I don't have the time to be angry at something I'd expect back at home. Give me back my things and we'll call it even."

"I'm... sorry." Oslo looked down. "Most of your belongings were handed off to the ghouls. She has them." Gor'Havah punched the wall. "B-but I did manage to get something! I wanted to remember your sacrifice, so I kept this..." He reached into his robes and pulled out Rayse's necklace and the pendant attached to it. Surprisingly, it was completely devoid of any foul liquid. "The rest of it is likely at The City of Ghouls." Oslo dropped the necklace into Rayse's hands, who stared at it quietly.

"Great," said Gor'Havah disappointingly. "It's time to go. Come on, Vincent." The elder ghoul willed the door open again and motioned for Rayse to follow.

"Wait!" pleaded Oslo. "What about me?"

"Who said anything about you?"

Oslo's mouth hung agape, "Y-you're leaving me here?! B, but they'll... you know what they'll do to me, don't you? They'll chew off everything that isn't a bone, gnawing and crunching for days until I'm nothing but a skeleton like them! You know why they don't talk? Skeletons are perfectly capable of nether-supported speech, these ones have just gone insane!"

"Not my problem," said Gor'Havah. "Your stench will attract every single Black-Bone in the Lower City."

Rayse understood the elder ghoul's point of view. Putting aside the revelation that skeletons can still smell, Oslo would just slow them down. He looked at the necklace, almost forgetting it still existed. For so long, he safeguarded it as the only real possession he truly had. The priest made sure it wasn't tainted by the dark blood.

"Let's take him with us," Rayse suggested. "He could be lying about what he told us. Plus, he hasn't said anything about the key."

"That's because he doesn't know it's a key," Gor'Havah shot back. "Which gives me even more reason to kill him." The three stood there, a bitter glare between the two ghouls. "Damn it, we don't have time for this." He looked at the apostate. "If you don't keep up, you're lost."

Rayse nodded and began to follow Gor'Havah back the way they came.

"You think that beguiler is gone by now?" Rayse asked.

Gor'Havah looked back, confused, "What did you just say?" Before Rayse could answer, they noticed several shadows just beyond the doorway. Gor'Havah looked toward another exit, but saw more Black-Bones inching closer. There was only one exit now, out into the courtyard with the blood pool.

[Rayse Valentino]

"Move!" Gor'Havah barked, charging into the corridor they had entered from, his scythe held threateningly before him to try and ward off the Black-Bones.
But if the ebony creatures felt any fear, they didn't show it. Two darted forward at the trio as they made to exit the room, and Gor'Havah deftly took their heads off with one swing. The creatures pulled themselves back together and stayed in ranks with the rest, hounding the group as they tried to find a way past them.

But it was hopeless. The Black-Bones were too many. The ghoul stopped in his tracks, backing up as more of the creatures made themselves known down the passages and corridors. There was only one path free of the things. The one leading out to the Blood Pools.

Cursing to himself, the elder ghoul waved Rayse and Oslo back, keeping his muscle-bound frame between them and the nearest skeletons edging in on them. He knew he was a fool for allowing the priest to come with them but it was too late to worry over it now. He lashed out with his scythe one more time, smashing one of the closest Black-Bones square in the face, pulverizing its skull before he turned on his heel and sprinted after the other two undead, going the only way they could. He knew they were being herded like cattle, but they were sorely lacking in options.

They emerged in the open square, other buildings ringing the open space around the blood soaked edifice at the center. Rayse had his beak-dagger in one fist, but even he knew it would do little good against the Black-Bones spilling out of the other entrances to surround them, like a pack of feral beasts. They made no sounds other than the rattling of the tooth-and-bone-strewn chains wrapping their limbs. Oslo, still dripping foul, oily fluids, emerged behind him and opened his mouth to shout something.

But whatever it was, he never had the chance to say it.

As Gor'Havah skidded to halt at the doorway, he barely had a chance to register the towering monstrosity that slid from the shadows and lunged at the zombie priest. There was a flash of movement followed by a meaty crunch, and Oslo sailed through the air in a crumpled heap. The zombie landed in the blood pool with the sound of a brick landing in porridge, sending out a spray of inky drops to patter down on the worn stones of the courtyard. There was a moment of stunned silence from the two ghouls as the grisly rain fell.

Then the shrieking started.

It lasted only a few harrowing moments, but in a handful of seconds the screaming zombie dissolved into the thick gore in the fountain. There was nothing left. Not even a scrap of robe floating on the surface of the blood. Even Gor'Havah paused at that, blinking slowly. But the huge black shape turned to him, and instantly had all of his attention. The ghoul stepped softly, despite his size, keeping his scythe in front of him at the ready. He stopped next to Rayse as they both stared at what was obviously the Black-Bone leader.

It easily cleared nine feet, its skeletal frame swollen to grotesque proportions and armored in spikes like daggers. Every bone bore at least one of the hideous weapons, even rising from its leering skull like a crown of thorns. The Black-Bone Servitor put down one heavy foot toward the pair of ghouls, sending faint tremors through the courtyard, hissing malevolently through razor-keen fangs. Its eyes shone like balefire as it glared sheer bloody-minded hatred at them.

"Don't try to run, don't move from this spot. There's only one way they're letting us walk away from this," Gor'Havah said quietly to Rayse, who was unable to tear his gaze away from the goliath before him. But the elder ghoul didn't see the same gut-wrenching fear he knew Rayse must feel, that he felt himself; he nodded in respect, almost imperceptibly.

Gor'Havah turned and pointed at the Servitor, his face set with something like grim resignation.

"You," he called out, his gravelly voice ringing out over the courtyard. "Fight me."

"What?" Rayse blurted out. "Are you crazy? Look at that damn thing!" he snapped.

"Shut up."

Swinging his scythe in a few arcs to loosen up his shoulders, he prepared for what was inevitably going to be an unpleasant experience. But all he had to do was remember the deal with the Void-Shapers, and he knew he didn't have a choice. He couldn't afford to fuck this up.

"The only thing they respect," he growled, looking over the assembled skeletal horde, "is strength. We want to walk away from here, we don't have a choice. Understand?" He turned back to the Servitor, the giant cocking its head as it regarded the puny creature before it. "Fight me," he shouted again, "if you think you can beat me!"

The Servitor opened its black jaws wide in a silent roar at the insult. Rayse bumped into Gor'Havah as he walked closer to the bone-golem, muttering under his breath so only the other ghoul could hear. "Don't make me step in for you."

Gor'Havah almost allowed himself a smile.

"If I win, you let us walk away from here," he said, turning back to the Black-Bone crowd again before adding as an afterthought, "alive!"

The leader hunched over more, and Gor'Havah knew if the thing could drool, it would be doing so right now. But it bobbed its head to show it understood, before raising a finger like an ebony claw to the blood pools where Oslo had less than a few minutes ago melted.

Its meaning was clear; if Gor'Havah lost, he and the other ghoul would join the addled priest in his fate.

Setting his jaw, he nodded slowly. Then without warning, leapt to the attack.

The Servitor readied itself, bringing down its long arm upon Gor'Havah's form. The elder ghoul narrowly avoided the attack, letting the gigantic fist slam into the cold stone, kicking up a torrent of dust. Gor'Havah maneuvered around to the back of the Servitor and jammed the blade of his scythe into one of the bones in the back of the knee. Using the scythe as a lever, he twisted the base and tried to pry off one of the bones, managing to loosen one of the joints and causing the skeleton to drop down onto one knee. Pulling the scythe out, he jumped back just in time to avoid the sweeping fist that threatened to disembowel him.

Unfortunately, Servitors were not so easily bested. The bone was only one of many, bolted together from many powerful beasts that fall into the plane. The Servitor merely stood back up, the bones in its leg readjusting to make up for the loose joint. It charged at Gor'Havah this time, its arms now moving much faster than before, and the ghoul barely avoided the brunt of the flying fists, one of them grazing his shoulder right before he went into a roll. Even with such light contact, it was enough to crack the bones in his right arm and rip the muscles in his shoulder. He could still hold the scythe, but the pain was excruciating.

Gor'Havah was now on the defensive, unable to find an opening throughout the Servitor's endless onslaught. Each time he took a hit, his eyes nearly rolled back into his head and his stomach threatened to come out of his mouth. The Servitor was just toying with him, tenderizing the ghoul's flesh before the big feast. Gor'Havah had only one avenue of attack left, but the risk was great. He put all his strength into stepping into the Servitor's attack, managing to sneak inside its swinging range, and jumped up to its head, shoving the blade of the scythe through its eye sockets. He twisted the scythe and kicked off the plates in the skeleton's chest, managing to twirl the Servitor's head completely around and pop it off like a cork to a champagne bottle.

The Servitor's retaliation was fierce, managing to catch Gor'Havah as he landed and delivering a back hand across the ghoul's entire body. The scythe-wielding warrior's frame nearly collapsed, his ghoulish endurance the only thing that kept him together. His body flew across the courtyard, hitting the ground and rolling to a stop. The headless Servitor had no problem seeing without eyes, no problem hissing without a mouth, but still it reached down and collected its severed head, planting it back on its neck. It clicked back into place, and the Black-Bones stomped the ground with their bony feet, heralding the defeat of the ghoul.

Gor'Havah couldn't move, his entire body aching from the wounds. He could feel that the bones in his arms and chest were twisted and broken. Dark blood slowly seeped out from his injuries, and his scythe lay just a few feet away. If only he could reach it, to imagine it cutting through that decaying Servitor. The ground shook with each step of the Servitor as it marched closer to turn him into an abstract painting.

"Enough!" yelled Rayse. "You're in the wrong fight. I am the strongest of our group." The Servitor stopped. It glared at Rayse, the lights in its eyes growing brighter. "If you're done with your warmup, your real opponent is right here." Rayse pointed a thumb at himself and grinned. His other hand was in his pants pocket.

Gor'Havah lifted his head painfully, his hazy vision catching sight of the confident contractor. He had been with him long enough to know that in terms of combat ability, they didn't even compare. Did he finally go insane?

The Servitor however appeared receptive. It turned away from Gor'Havah and faced Rayse, scanning the ghoul for any indication that he was telling the truth. The only thing it could tell was that Rayse thought he could win, which was markedly different from his previous opponent.

Gritting his teeth, Rayse broke into a sprint, pulling something out of his pocket that made Gor'Havah's eyes widen. It was the cloth that held the vial! When did he- when he bumped into me? Each step Rayse took left a mark in the ground, his body flowing through the accursed fortress like water. With the cloth in his left hand, he put his right on top of it and felt around for the vial's cap. His foot hit the ground again, kicking up the centuries-old dust that likely constituted the previous victims of the Black-Bones. The Servitor lifted its arms and went to take a step forward, wanting to squash flat this little insect. Rayse pressed down on the cloth and twisted it, feeling the cap slide off. With one motion, he lifted the cloth and jutted the vial forward, not letting go but allowing the liquid within splash outwards toward the Servitor. He immediately put the cloth back on with the cap to close it up.

Seconds felt like hours. A luminescence unheard of filled the area, the white glow of the liquid as it swam through the air, leaving an intricate trail of frost. Rayse's eyes followed the trail, the newfound coldness in the air chilling him to the bone. The vial's contents continued toward the Servitor, spreading and completely engulfing it.

The moment it hit the giant skeleton, the sound of a thousand icicles hitting the ground echoed throughout the Lower City. The deafening sound blew out the eardrums of the ghouls, sending Rayse to his knees in pain. Straining his eyes, he looked up and saw a glacier of ice where the Servitor once stood. Its form could still be made out inside of it, frozen in time.

[Rayse Valentino]

"Argh!" Rayse groaned as he held his bleeding ears, unable to dull the constant ringing noise.

The world shook around him and he felt like throwing up, and not just from the pain. When he watched the battle between Gor'Havah and the servitor, he finally felt the impending sensation of death. Fear nearly locked up his body, and only by putting all that aside and acting on instinct could he do what he did. He got up, lowering his hands, one of which still held the cloth-wrapped vial. His entire body shook, and while he had no heartbeat, he felt a strong, fearful thumping from his body. He was good at hiding his feelings when he needed to, but nothing could have prepared him for that.

His hearing was starting to come back, likely a result of his ghoulish regeneration, and the first thing he heard was the elder ghoul cursing him out, "You used the damn key!" Rayse looked over to Gor'Havah, who was now standing and using his scythe to support him.

Rayse broke out of his daze when he realized the indignation, "S-Shut up! I had no choice! How do you know it's the liquid and not the vial, anyway?" There was no way of knowing what the liquid would do, but Rayse decided to believe Oslo's story. It was the first thing he truly believed since getting here. He opened up the cloth and to his surprise, the vial was full again. "It refilled itself..."

"Tch," Gor'Havah spat, limping over to Rayse. "Looks like we're lucky."

"I wouldn't call this lucky." They were still surrounded by the black-bones, and Rayse couldn't tell if they were in shock, angry, or indifferent. Skulls all had the same expression.

"They're not jumping us, so maybe they think you're their leader now."

Rayse raised a brow, "Well then, that gives us quite an edge, doesn't it?"

"If you let them chew off all your flesh first."

" ...Let's get out of here."

Rayse took a few cautious steps forward into the crowd, and they started moving away from him, as if according to his wishes. He was not sure how long they had before the ice melted, if it melted, but he was not about to test his luck. The contractor caught a glance at the bubbling blood pools before they left the clearing, and not a single piece of Oslo came back up. It only took twenty minutes to reach the edge of the city, and by then Gor'Havah had recovered enough to walk without support. Rayse had eyes in the back of his head the entire time, but it appeared that no black-bones followed them. Before them lay the expanse of the Lower City, the endless gray sand dunes. At least that terrible stench was gone from their senses.

"I suppose we're going to see this Ghoul Queen then?" Rayse asked.

"Did that thing he gave you jar any memories?"

"No, I've had this for a long time. Maybe I need to see something more recent."

Gor'Havah slammed the butt of his scythe into the sand, "Damn it." He looked around, and Rayse could tell that thoughts were swirling in his head. Gor'Havah was a blunt man, but he kept his opinions to himself. Despite coming out of this place alive, he didn't relish the thought of going to the city of ghouls.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse struggled to stay on his feet, his legs shaking and his head spinning. A numbness spread throughout his body, starting long before they got to this point. Ghouls did not need to breathe, and yet he coughed through his dry throat. They did not need to sweat, yet his pores ached for relief. Gor'Havah's gaze only made him feel worse, those indifferent eyes that masked his frustration, and deeper yet the boiling rage he held for this place. It was the final leg of their journey, and Rayse's body decided to give out right before the end.

It took them a few hours to reach this city after escaping from the black-bones. At the halfway point, their relatively level terrain turned into an incline, continually growing in steepness until they reached their destination. The last hundred meters were entirely upward, using carved holes to scale the wall. And that's where they were, on top of the wall that used to separate the third ring from the forth; The edge of the known civilization in The Nameless City. Beyond it was a cliff of incalculable height, looking out into the endless mists below. The city itself looked barren, more like a stony campsite than anything. Aside from a few marked structures, most of the ghouls lingered about in makeshift hovels assembled from dirt or dug out from the wall itself. Dry clay cracked beneath his shoes, and the air carried a coppery scent, like tarnished metal. What little architecture remained was massive, climbing into the sky in derelict towers and incomprehensible symbols scattered across them. When Rayse first climbed up, he kept his hand on the bile pouch, but one disapproving look from Gor'Havah made him realize that the ghouls who lived here likely didn't care if servitors hated them.

The ghouls paid them little mind when they crossed the city toward The Ghoul Queen's sanctuary. More than anything however, Rayse noticed that they were mostly the same breed of creature that they saw when they entered the Lower City: Stomphowlers. By the time they reached the doors of the sanctuary, the contractor's body was ready to collapse. For some reason, he felt at ease here, as if the doors lead to a warm bed and a cold drink. His body took the signal to mean that it could rest as well, so the moment they walked in he fell face first into the marble floor. The goggles fall off his face and slid across the ground.

"Get up," said Gor'Havah. His patience had run out. He picked Rayse up by the shoulder and lifted him up to his feet.

Rayse opened his mouth to respond, and at first no words came out, as if even his strength to speak was completely drained, but he managed to stammer out, "W, we've been at this... f-forever..." They walked, ran, fought, escaped, and even Rayse couldn't handle it anymore.

In a past life, Gor'Havah would have made a quip about his broken ribs stabbing into his organs with each step, but he was a hollow shell now. He didn't even know if he would regain himself if he left this place, but he had no choice. He bet everything on this, on him.

"Just a little more."

They took steps together, Rayse noticing that the design of this building was similar to the Sanitarium. Instead of sharp angles, the floor smoothly curved upwards toward the walls. They were walking down a long, wide hall, and at their sides were rows of stone benches. The ceiling looked like it had no end, but along the walls were stained glass windows that amplified the Red Maelstrom into red rays of light. At the end of the hall the ground was elevated. This place... it's like a cathedral...

As they got closer, they noticed someone standing in the shadows on the upper ground. The figure was slightly hunched over, and before they could reach it, The Ghoul Queen herself exposed herself to the light. Her stark white hair parted halfway down her head in long, straight locks that touched the floor. Her dark blue skin had a reddish tint to it, and Rayse realized that he was actually seeing color now, in fact he couldn't notice the mist at all. Was it because they were so high up?

The Ghoul Queen raised her hand, curling her long fingers with equally long nails. Her eyes were pure white, her face sagging to the point where her jaw was partially open at all times. If she wasn't moving, Rayse would have been convinced that she was a statue.

"Returned you have, Burning One," she spoke in a raspy, whisper-y voice.

Gor'Havah dragged Rayse up to the the elevated ground, pulling them both up to face her, "You have been expecting us, Meredith." He laid Rayse down on the ground to let him recover. "None of the ghouls outside stopped us from coming in."

Meredith nodded slowly, "An interesting TALE you have woven for us, and a FRESHER you have brought. Why not just the vial?"

Gor'Havah felt a twitch behind his eye, and words flowed out of his mouth without his consent, "I seek escape from this blasted plane, and he's my carriage out of here. The priest told me you had the rest of his belongings."

"Indeed I HAVE, Burning One. Behind me is your boon, the hope that you seek. A fair trade for the VIAL." Gor'Havah suddenly remembered that Rayse had the vial now, but when he looked down at the contractor he noticed that Rayse was already up, his hands on his knees and coughing.

Rayse reached into his pocket and pulled out the cloth that housed the vial, "This thing?!" He nearly smashed it on the ground, but his anger subsided as quickly as it came. Meredith was the one pulling all the strings up to this point, even their coming back here was part of her plan after he woke up. "This isn't a one-to-one agreement. I want something as well."

"All GHOULS are welcome, songs sung and dances danced, a fresher comes with Burning One for I. A fresher TALKS, but does it know what it wants?"

"A portal. There's one down here that leads to the outer wall, and if anyone knows where it is, it's you."

Gor'Havah's eyes widened, "You... !"

Meredith cackled, "It seeks a portal, yes, a portal to HIM. No escape it shall find. Still wants?"

Rayse put the cloth on the ground, "Where is it?"

"Stop," Gor'Havah demanded. "This is stupid. Just regain your memories and tell me where the door. Your belongings are right here." There was a small box behind Meredith, and Gor'Havah started walking toward it.

"Even if I do, we certainly don't have the key." Gor'Havah picked up the box, placing it under his arm and moving back toward Rayse, seemingly oblivious of his words. "Where do you think she got the vial? Dropped out of the sky? Dug out of the ground? It was made, and chances are it was made by those Void-Shaper people."

"Then you'll remember some other key! Here!" Gor'Havah shoved the box into Rayse's hands. He couldn't deny Rayse's words, and the fact remained that anything made by a Void-Shaper could not be a key.

Meredith reached out, her long, skinny arms stretching to reach the cloth. She picked it up with her nails, bringing it back to herself and cradling it like a child.

Rayse sighed and opened the box, looking inside for anything familiar. There was, at long last, a pack of smokes in there, but no matches. He also found some business cards, a few bank notes, but generally nothing out of the ordinary. Well, except for a pair of brown fur gloves with a symbol of a wing woven into the back of each one. "Huh..."

"Anything?" Gor'Havah asked impatiently.

Rayse wanted to tell him no, but he felt a twitch behind his eye and said, "I don't recognize these gloves. They must be recent... something's wrong." Rayse put the box down and held his head.

Gor'Havah's demeanor changed, a darkness growing under his eyes, "So, who are you really, then?"

"What?" Rayse nearly tripped over himself stepping back. "I'm... ugh... Rayse... damn it! What the fuck is going on?! Why did I say that?"

"Haven't you guessed yet? You can only tell the truth in these halls. Rayse, eh? I've heard that somewhere before."

The younger ghoul grit his teeth, "And what tipped me off?"

"You knew of the portal down here, and when you called the beast we evaded a beguiler. That was a common mistake I made. I remember now, we met before."

"Do you, William?" Rayse grinned. "Looks like I made the right call when sparing you. I hope you're not feeling particularly vengeful today." William Arcus was the elder ghoul's name. He was once a mercenary who was hired to assassinate Rayse, but the contractor caught him and let him go, but not after a rather torturous beating.

"Two years ago, maybe. At this point I have no desires other than to get out of here."

"Wait, I could've known those things anyway. How did you... ?"

"You could read the journal. Apparently nobody told you about that."

"The All-Tongue," Meredith interjected. "Where all TONGUES of different planes coalesce. We speak and hear, we UNDERSTAND."

Rayse blinked, "So we have the ability to understand all languages, and we also speak all languages? Let me guess, this doesn't translate to the written form, so that's how you knew I was from Althanas. Where the hell is this place? Where am I?"

"The HALLS of TRUTH."

"T-The halls..." Rayse started to say, but a twisting in his mind stopped his speech. He felt a memory come to the foreground, but it was too short, too brief to truly realize. There was one thing he knew, however. "The Halls... Sanctuary... Fleeting. Is there a Halls of Fleeting somewhere?"

"Halls of Fleeting Remnants, it asks for?"

"No," said William. "No it doesn't. You can't mean that."

"I think that's our place, it's the only thing that comes to mind when I think of the door."

"It can't be! That's located in one of the central towers of The Upper City! We're at the opposite damn end of The Nameless City!" William pressed his hands against his forehead, driving his nails into his skull. "Damn it damn it damn it!"

Rayse looked down at the box and the gloves within them, "With a door comes a key. When I think of it, all that comes to mind is what Sa'eed said: Freedom. I think that thought is the key. It doesn't seem right, but if that ghoul is right about The Upper City being devoid of any free will then, well, it's a good place for a portal to hide."

"Motherfucker! I'll never get there in time! We have to go, now!"

"Hold on, are you saying I have to go all the back through this shit? Forget it."

"Fine, have it your way! Rot here forever for all I care!" Grabbing the bile pouch from Rayse like a starving dog, William jumped down from the elevated ground and ran out of the sanctuary. "That damn Void-Shaper knew, he knew it the whole time! He knew I would never make it out of here! If I ever find that piece of shit, I'll rip his guts out from his mouth!"

Rayse was left standing there with Meredith, who silently observed the proceedings.

He turned back toward her and asked, "So, about that portal..."

[Rayse Valentino]

It would be one thing if it was darkness, if his lack of sight was simply a matter of light, but he was awash in a sea of rusty red. It wasn't just mist down here, but floating dust as well, and he could feel it floating around his eyes, ears, a dirty taste covering his lips. He had to consciously keep himself from attempting to breathe, lest the chalky substance invade his body completely. He felt around in the mist, mentally cursing the conditions given to him for coming here. He was told to find the wall on his left, and when his palms touched a rough, jagged surface, he sighed in relief.

Meredith did not want to show him the portal unless he promised to go in without the goggles. Rayse thought that it would be impossible to climb in that case, but she assured him that the climb was a simple staircase and nothing else.

So there he was, at the edge of The Nameless City, standing next to the tallest wall and the lowest point. Just judging from the walk up to the ghoul city, he guessed that this trip would be at least three times as long, so he took The Ghoul Queen's offer to replenish his stamina with an infusion of nether energy, which was in the form of lower city beast meat. It wasn't the worst thing he ever ate, but somehow raw meat didn't exactly do it for him. With his hand on the wall, he started walking forward until his foot hit the first step, and upon taking another step his other foot smacked into the next.

This is it...

He would finally be out of this sorry excuse for purgatory. He felt around the start of the staircase and realized that there was no railing or anything. One wrong step and he could fall off the entire thing. He had to start off slow, keeping his balance and moving step by step. The mist around him swirled with every step, the still air disturbed and forming his own little Red Maelstrom around him. It was as if this world was watching him try to leave.

[Rayse Valentino]

It was much faster to get back to The Middle City without Rayse. William practically flew through the air, skipping through The Warrens like a pebble on a pond. He avoided the usual hot spots, passing through alleys so mangled that back home people would have thought a tornado passed through. It didn't take long until he reached the Listrome Bazaar, a neutral ground run by the bastard liches from The Upper City and secured by the Order and their Servitors. It allowed William to relax, as no one who caused trouble there lasted long enough to do so again. Despite his relative safety, he still maintained a lingering feeling of uneasiness, a healthy sensation for anyone who stayed long enough in The Nameless City.

The dim grey dust of the Warrens gave way to edges of the return of normalcy, the abstract architecture replaced with coarse patchwork tents hanging lifelessly in the still, stifling air. Unlike the typical bazaar, no crowds clamored for viciously haggled wares and there were no bright colors or fancy spices lining the pockets of Listrome’s shoppers. The few traders to be found conducted their discussions with downcast eyes and furtive whispers. The liches in this place had not earned enough coin or prestige to set up shop in The Upper City but still maintained a sense of superiority over the meager lives of Middle City folk, especially the corpse-born.

William stepped in front of a nondescript tent, glancing about his surroundings for anything out of the ordinary before approaching the featureless figure within.

“Welcome, Gor’Havah,” the lich hissed, his emotions less than readable with nothing but a blank slate to read from. “What do you need from us today?” Liches were strange creatures, their frail forms covered in lavish purple-red robes, and around their neck they wore a small, golden, egg-shaped container for what little of their soul that remained. The rest of it was in The Upper City, suspended in the tallest spires in a grand collective of souls. The liches were not individuals, but rather a single monolithic entity with many branches. Its head was just a ball of skin, no eyes, mouth, nose, ears, or anything else. When it spoke, William heard the voices of many, even though it had no mouth to speak from.

“I need to know how to get through The Warrens to The Upper City,” William replied, keeping his eyes respectfully on the counter. The Warrens constantly shifted and changed, and even in under a day William's knowledge of its architecture may be outdated. “And a small catapult. I’m willing to part with two Dust Pills for it. Is this acceptable?” Dust Pills were weapons. When swallowed, a corpse would freeze up for an hour, its body violently rejecting the nether that sustained it.

“Of course,” the lich rasped out a chuckle, rolling his leathery palm over to accept the tablets that William grudgingly produced from beneath his waistband. The pills hit the lich’s palm, which vanished so quickly that it was almost as if it had never been there. Almost as quickly the lich’s hand reappeared, bearing a leathery scroll which left no doubt on what it was made out of. It felt discomfortingly moist and supple under William’s rough touch but William paid it no mind and it too disappeared quickly enough. The catapult was only about three feet in length, and it stood behind William as if it was there all along. He departed without another word, the Red Maelstrom clicking through another cycle of its never-ending swirl.

He was running out of time, but if he was going to go out, at least the residents here would know him in all his miserable glory.

[Rayse Valentino]

You've... got to... be... kidding me...

Rayse stopped, his body resting on the stops, audible groans escaping his lips. If he was his old self, the strain on his muscles could be relieved by rapid breath and sweating, but in this form all he had was pain. Rather than regulate, his muscles simply destroyed and remade itself anew. It forced him to stop every couple hours, just so his ghoulish regeneration would return him to a state when he could move without agony. His pace was slow, but he never expected to still be submerged in the mist. He got back up, leaning against the wall and looking up for any sign that the swirling dusts would let up.

A smoke, a gamble, a picture, a word, he wanted anything to distract him, to take him away from here to put this ordeal into the back of his mind. He cursed and started moving again, climbing this never-ending staircase. His body was not ready yet, and his eyes felt heavy.

After a few minutes of walking however, he felt his foot slip. One of the steps was completely missing, and the sickening sensation of losing his balance overwhelmed him. Panic set in, a feeling of dread that he was about to fall to his last death. He crashed into the staircase on his side, feeling his body roll off the edge. With a scream he went over, but managed to grab onto the ledge. The pain from his arms was indescribable, turning everything in his upper body numb and ever fiber of his being told him to hold on. With a heave, he pulled himself back up to the staircase, lying on the stairs and everything twisting around him.

I can't go on... every time I rest I get weaker. Every stop drains what little life I have. I can't see through the mist yet, which means I'm not even at the elevation of The Middle City...

He thought of all the people he wanted to kill when he got back, everyone who ever wronged or failed him.

Pierce is first, that slimy rat bastard. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be in this mess. Then Hedges for fucking up that shipment. Silvaska can also go rot in...

Isn't that where he was? Hell? Where every sorry piece of shit who lead a miserable, evil life went. At least the corpse-born didn't know how good they had it when they were alive. He picked himself up and forced his body up the staircase again, a slower pace than before after that fall. It didn't take long until the strain on his body drained the last of his reserves, his neck drooping and his eyelids closing.

He fell face first into the stairs, unconscious.

[Rayse Valentino]

The wall to the Upper City held the same uniformity of the rest. It rose up sharply, its intimidating height casting a shadow down on much of The Middle City. Those near the wall lived in darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the exalted people that lived in paradise. Although it was still part of The Warrens, its architecture growing towards the tunnel to The Upper City. The servitors assigned to guard the entrance swung massive weapons to destroy any creeping buildings that grew like weeds around the tunnel, making the field of dirt in front of it the largest open area in The Warrens.

Besides the two guarding servitors, several undead gathered around the tunnel, keeping a healthy distance of a few dozen meters away from the entrance. Made up of many bipedal species from around the planes, the undead walked around, keeping their eyes open for any intruders.

"How long must we wait?" asked a dog-like undead. "Gor'Havah is taking his sweet time. Was the information wrong after all?"

"Liches do not lie," a beaked individual replied. "We know that he's going to come here, and as per Deckard's orders we'll be ready to make him lost once and for all." They waited, each seeking the prize for putting an end to the legend of Gor'Havah.

A corpse-born with spider-like eyes noticed something falling from the sky and remarked, "What is that?" The rest of them looked, and within moments a circular object fell and burst like a water balloon on impact. The undead were covered with dark, sticky liquid, each of them immediately retching from the odor.

It was only when a servitor grabbed one of them and separated them into two pieces with its grip that they realized what the liquid was. Panic spread throughout their ranks, some trying to get the bile pouch fluids off of them while others ran for their lives. The servitors were merciless, ripping apart the corpse-born one by one and chasing them down.

In the confusion, a figure ran through the chaos and slipped into the tunnel. William's climb was a feat few had attempted in The Nameless City. He could have likely found the way to The Upper City without the use of a lich, but he needed Deckard to know where he was going, as the scab likely had a tap on every lich in The Middle City. That was why William never trusted anything that came from the so-called paradise. The catapult was just large enough to launch the bile pouch as well.

In his desperate climb, he kept thinking of the key over and over again. Freedom, freedom, freedom. For two years he struggled here, and all he had to do was make it to the door. He was confident in his speed, his will, and his luck. As he ran, he looked up and saw a bright, shining light at the end of the tunnel. It was not a clear sight, for in the way there was a shadow. It had long, flowing robes, its figure almost as wide as the tunnel itself. As William neared, he took out his scythe and prepared to cut down anything that was in his way. Even if his body was so strained that it stopped moving, he would still go on. He believed that nothing would stop him.

The figure in his way had a featureless head like the rest of the liches, but there were runes inscribed on the fetid flesh. Golden rings floated around its neck and arms, and it exhumed a pressure that made everything shake. William didn't care, he pulled back the scythe and prepared for a strike.

The grand lich put out its hand with its long, bony fingers as if to tell him to stop, and that's all it took. The last thing William remembered was his face being engulfed by the lich's palm, the rest of its form encircling him, its robes devouring him.

The fate of any rotter foolish enough to invade The Upper City.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse couldn't tell how long he was walking. Hours, days, weeks? Time blurred in his mind, his body moving on its own to complete each step. He thought he would climb forever, the wall's top never becoming visible, the mist never clearing up. As he thought this, the next step felt soft. He looked down and saw a color he did not think existed anymore: Green. Blades of grass grew around his feet, and he looked up to see trees still in the heyday of summer. The mist was gone, and the sky was a crisp blue color, greeting him like a long lost friend.

He dropped to his knees, unable to believe what was going on. Was he underground the whole time? No no, don't question it. This was his victory, not another time for questions and analysis. He walked through the trees, crushing branches under him and the smell of sap reinvigorating his senses. He was awash with calmness, the trees giving way to a massive lake. He walked up to the lake, bending down and getting ready to duck his head under the water, when he noticed his reflection.

He was still a ghoul.

"Fuck!" he screamed, backing up from the lake and falling backwards. The sky cracked and the scene before him faded away, leaving only a familiar darkness.

In the darkness, two lights appeared on him, both of them similar in origin and circular.

Wait, I know this...

A gigantic skull appeared from the void, its head covered only by a few strands of loose white hairs. The red beams centered on Rayse, nearly blinding him.

"Give it back... My True Name..." it demanded.

"You..." Rayse said. He stood up and grit his teeth. "I've had this dream before."

A great wind pushed Rayse, nearly blowing him away with its intensity.

"Give it back..." it repeated.

Rayse felt something grab him from below, a hand with only three fingers on each ankle. More deformed hands clasped his foot and pushed him forward, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. He raised his upper body with his hands, looking back and trying to kick the hands off, but to no avail.

"You think I have it?! Your damn name... don't you see? It's gone already. You're the same as the damned corpse-born." The black floor around him changed, and in its place was a plane of pure flesh. Eyes and mouths covered the floor, gesticulating and squirming wildly. "To them you're The Writhing God, the first of their kind, but to us... to us ghouls who have memories before this last life, we know something you don't. That's why you haunt our nightmares, your jealously tormenting us. That's why to ghouls, you are The Bitter King."

Blobs of flesh grew from the ground, growing over Rayse's body and pushing him down. He was now gripping some sort of monster face, and if his strength faded the rest of him would be absorbed into this abominable mess of flesh.

"-It back..." the skull's voice trailed off, and the lights started to grow dimmer as it got further away.

"Wait!" Rayse demanded. "D-Don't go! Stop! Let me out of here!" More blobs of flesh covered his body, and then he couldn't hold out any longer, his face being smashed into the mess of flesh.