That's The Wrong Door

[SirArtemis]

All bunnying throughout the thread approved by both parties. Also, a disclaimer, it is highly recommended one does not read this thread until completion, due to the endless changes that will be made to content. Thank you in advance.


A man in loose robes of gray stood among the countless faces before the Citadel, mixed amidst the attendants of the current tournament held within the legendary structure. The robes covered his lanky figure and a hood hid his drained face – a face that wore a twisted smile. His skin was tired, though taut, hugging his jagged features. Quietly, he walked up the familiar stone steps and to the entranceway, turning and looking out over the many attendees. There, he waited.

__________________________________________

Artemis made his way down the stone steps of the front of the Citadel, his wounds freshly healed after his first match against the ink-mage. His steps felt heavy, dragging along the well-worn surface below his feet as he looked for his companion, holding his ribs and testing them for soreness. When he had arrived at the location where they had set up shop not long ago, he found a crowd surrounding the hard working dark-elf woman. She had pulled her silver-violet hair back in a ponytail and her blue eyes were an ocean of joy, overflowing with excitement at the surge of demand for their goods. Seeing her smile as brightly as she was, Artemis could not help but match her expression.

"So I see business is good?" Artemis asked as Jay turned to see who was speaking. Her hair whipped behind her as she gave a quick glance toward him, excitement on her face as she returned her look to the customers.

"Very good! Congratulations on your win, Artie! But why are you out here?"

Artemis waited as she handled a transaction with a customer. "What do you mean?"

"Your next match starts in ten minutes. Why aren't you getting ready?"

Artemis rolled his eyes in frustration. "Are you serious? I just got out of the ward."

"Well, people have been coming up in a hurried manner. It seems they're heading to the viewing room to watch your next match. The plan is working!" She giggled happily that her idea had succeeded. "Just keep winning and we'll keep selling! Think of the favor you're doing for Bazzak and Nalin, not to mention all the others!"

The vagabond let out a sigh and looked up at the Corone sun, begging for an explanation, but it refused to answer. He turned to walk back up the steps and as he did, he felt a familiar slap on his behind; turning to look back, Jay bit her lip and winked at him. "Good luck, Artie," she said before continuing to help the customers, her lavender skin glistening in the warmth and her summer dress billowing in the gentle breeze.

With a warm smile and letting his eyes fall for just a moment, Artemis made his way up the steps, holding onto the fuzzy feeling he felt in his belly. He did not know how far he would make it in this tournament, but the better he did, the more they sold, and that mattered most to Artemis. He needed to win. He walked back up the stone steps, a monk in gray robes meeting him at the top.

"Could you please show me where my next match is?" Artemis asked, confusing the robed man for a monk of the Citadel. The man simply nodded and turned, leading Artemis away. Little did he know what he had gotten himself into.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

A sudden, hard bump in the road brought the drifter out of his drunken slumber. The first thing he heard was the click-clack of horseshoes pulling a rickety carriage down a cobblestone road. The ride sent Victor Valentine bouncing up and down where he lay. With a groan, the drifter brought his arm up over his eyes, shielding his crimson pupils from the unwelcome rays of the bright Corone sun. The carriage stopped abruptly, sending Victor rolling from one side to the other.

“Hey!” Victor complained in a raspy voice, “I’m sleeping back here!”

The man rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows. His jet-black hair fell freely in front of his eyes, covering his gaze. Brushing it back, Victor looked on at a crowded bazaar.

"Where . . . is here exactly?” the man sighed, to no one in particular.

“The Citadel,” a sweet voiced called. A blonde girl sat at the reigns, her body hidden by a lush burgundy cloak. Her large sapphire eyes turned to look at Victor then beckoned him to look at the market.

Dwarves, humans, halflings, and elves of all shapes and sizes riddled the streets, browsing the market for a variety of artifacts ranging from spears and daggers, shields and wands, to orbs of unknown origin and purpose.

“Well this is far as I’m going,” she sighed from the seat of the horse-drawn wagon.

“Thanks,” Victor mumbled, moving past the various hand-made goods that riddled the back of the cart. He made a racket climbing over the crates of clothes and food before finally jumping out from the wagon that was his bed.

“No no dear, thank you,” the blonde woman winked.

“Hey, do you know . . .” the drifter began, but was cut off by the whip of the reins, the whine of the horse and the monotonous click-clack of hooves. “. . .how to get to Akashima?” he finished, watching the vaguely familiar woman ride off into the distance of the crowded streets.

“Was that . . .” Victor squinted to get a better look at the disappearing woman. With a sudden panic, the man began patting himself down. The Bastard still hung off his waist, his weapon and a remnant of the Salvarian civil war. Victor frantically checked the pockets of his long brown coat and found each one empty as he turned them inside out. A soft breeze blew his coat back behind his knees just as he checked the pockets of his pants, also to no avail. Finally, in a rush of urgency, he dropped down to the floor and pulled off his dirty brown boots, turning each over with a good shake to see what contents they might hold. Finding nothing, he slipped them back on in one swift motion and jumped up to his feet.

He ran forward, ducking and weaving through the crowd to chase the wagon. Before it disappeared into the road, Victor crashed into a passing cart and his pursuit ended abruptly. With a deft movement, the blonde hair came off the woman's head, revealing short red waves of hair fell against her lush cloak.

“Safire!” the man screamed in vain, “you cunt!” Victor had no doubt that a smile splayed across her face as she escaped with all his money. He could still feel the alcohol in his system and it did not agree with him, and clearly running had not helped. The world began to spin around him, leaving his stomach determined to push its contents up.

The drifter swayed slightly beginning to wish for unconsciousness. His gaze fell to the floor and he sighed. Victor reached around to the back of his belt and untied a small, thick, leather flask. He took the cork out of the top and took a swig. With a satisfied exhale of the burning liquor, he felt a little better.

“Why do I keep letting her do this to me?” the veteran sighed, his usual apathetic expression finding its home in his eyes. Leaving his despair by the roadside, Victor turned to explore his new surroundings. The insufferable hangover was not getting better, despite the alcohol, but there were plenty of distractions.

'Could have been worse,' he admitted to himself, making sure to admire every attractive woman who passed by.

Victor walked aimlessly, trying to get an idea of where he was. The small courtyard contained countless miscellaneous shops, but beyond them loomed a colossal structure made of large grey stone that overshadowed the entire scene. There were crowds of people going in and out of the massive ziggurat - some clearly warriors and others seemed to be some kind of nobles, likely placing wagers on fights.

His task was put on hold abruptly when he noticed a small unimposing shop crowded by people. Behind the small stand stood a beautiful woman with skin the hue of lavender and hair the color of silver. Before he knew it, Victor was standing right in front of her. Her blue eyes looked on at his red eyes curiously. As the crowd thinned, Victor was the last one remaining, standing before the dark-skinned beaut.

"Is there something I can help you with?” the girl began softly, her voice betraying her true age as it rang with a youthful clarity.

“Do you know Petey?” Victor asked, his expression showing no emotion.

“Who?” she asked innocently.

“He’s a dark elf I grew up with,” he said, looking over the weapons, “I thought you might know him.”

“We don’t all know each other you know," she giggled.

“Huh,” the red-eyed man shrugged, “worth a shot I guess. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know how to get to Akashima, would you?"

Victor picked up a short sword, then spun it around and slashed at the air several times away from the woman. She could not help but think that in some far-off way that he reminded her of someone close.

“You handle a blade well," she said softly with a smile as Victor stopped testing the sword. As the red-eyed man placed the blade down, her gaze fell to the sword hanging from his waist. A long black scabbard hid the blade but the diamond shaped shoulder stuck out. The design was unique, with no cross guard there was only a long thin grip, with enough room for two hands to hold it and a pommel with a dull silver gem imbedded in it.

"I had a good teacher," Victor sighed. The girl noted the brief sadness in his red eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to," the girl started, but was cut off by a laugh.

"You might not know each other, but you certainly act the same. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't act like an old lady. My apologies ma’am, it seems I've lost all semblance of manners; call me Victor, Victor Valentine,” he said with a short nod of his head.

“Well what’s this?” the girl exclaimed. “Could it be we have a gentleman in our midst?” she said curiously. “Well met, Victor Valentine, my name is Jhaelkah, but call me Jay.”

“Dare I say the pleasure is all mine?” Victor said, taking a step closer to the stand, his red eyes looking past his falling hair at the stunning dark-elf.

“Not all,” Jay said, looking away, joining the drifter in his harmless flirtation.

Victor grinned, happy to have met such a captivating and kind-hearted person after the trouble he got into in the port-town of Serenti.

'It could have been much, much worse,' Victor admitted to himself with a chuckle.

“Yes, Akashima,” Jay digressed, “you would just need to find the ferry. It's down the road a bit, though I think they just raised the price once more.”

“Of course they did . . .” Victor scowled, cursing the red-haired harlot under his breath.

“Well I guess I’m walking,” Victor sighed, scratching his head. “Can you point me in the right direction?”

“But that would take weeks,” Jay protested. “You would need to cross a mountain range and pass the forest. There are all manners of vicious beasts roaming between here and there.”

“Beasts don’t really bother me, and I've run across financial issues in the form of a blue-eyed she-devil,” Victor sighed.

“There’s a tournament,” she began, looking at the large structure which towered over the courtyard the small flea-market was in. “There’s supposed to be some kind of prize.”

“What happens if I lose?” Victor asked, turning towards the tower in parallel to Jay.

“It’s a magical kind of place, forbidding fatalities,” she added with a smile, not turning her gaze.

“If I win, we should celebrate with a drink,” Victor said as he started away from Jay, still maintaining eye contact.

Jay could not feign indifference and displayed her surprise openly. Before she had the time to answer, the drifter was already off, making his way towards the large building.

“It’s a deal then!” he said, waving without so much as a turn, nor giving the dark-elf a chance to reply.

__________________________________________________ ____________

He made his way up the stone stairs to the mighty Citadel, meaning to ask for directions. He did not know if he could even join the bouts, but before he could do or ask anything, he was taken by the arm and pulled away by a dark robed man.

“I - uh - is this the place for the tournament?” Victor stuttered, unable to break the man’s grip or stop his stride.

“We were worried you would not make it,” the man explained. “I am a monk of the Citadel and your opponents await your arrival.”

“Wait, how’s-that-now?” Victor exclaimed in confusion, completely oblivious of what he had gotten himself into or what was going on.

“All will be revealed to you soon,” the monk began, a smile hidden by his hood. The long halls twisted and turned, riddled with doors, but the two stopped suddenly at a descending flight of stairs. Victor looked hesitantly down and could not shake an ominous feeling coming from below. Every fiber of his being said to turn and run, but before the drifter could, almost sensing his fear, the monk pulled him down the stairs to a large solitary door.

“This is your chamber. Enter and we can commence.” The monk opened the door and pushed Victor in.

“Wait,” Victor began, but the door had shut.

The noise of the slam echoed in his ears and his headache came back with a vengeance. Victor’s stomach felt like it was in a whirlpool and it took everything he had to keep from throwing up. He looked around frantically at the large hexagonal chamber, with five seemingly endless hallways stretching as far as the eye could see and a man standing at the front of each.

The man closest to his left was a lanky and thin man who wore very little in terms of armor. His hair was dark and thin, while his eyes, draped in shadow from many sleepless nights, stared morbidly at the drifter. He wore nothing on his torso but a tattered old combat vest, leaving his scarred skin bare and within plain view. His pants, also ripped and torn from many years of violence, gave the impression he cared little for the commodities others valued. He twirled twin daggers in his hands menacingly, stopping occasionally to lick the flat of the blades.

'There is definitely something wrong with that one,' Victor thought as a chill ran down his spine.

The next man after him was a heavy-set bald man who was loaded with an equally heavy set of dark armor. With shades of red streaking along the sides of his form, he looked like a metal demon ready to kill. Slung over his shoulder was a great battle-axe with many notches in the blade from years of bloody use. He was of medium height, standing almost half a foot under Victor, staring intently at another of the challengers.

The third combatant down the line seemed the most normal, wearing nothing but plain clothes and glasses. His shoes were scuffed, indicating he was a working man. His kept his sleeves rolled up and he looked around as nervously as Victor looked confused. His red hair fell in awkward curls around his face and gave him a goofy look. He would occasionally fidget nervously to fix his glasses when they slid down his nose.

The fighter standing to the right of the plain looking man was of average height. Simple bronze armor adorned him from head to toe, holding an iron long sword in one hand and a large round shield in the other. His eyes had an apathetic look to them, but locked on the shorter dark-armored man.

Finally, the man standing to the drifters’ immediate right was a little shorter than Victor. His short brown hair fell over his forehead, but Victor’s observation paused when he met the man’s eyes. They were the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. It was almost as though they glowed. Victor noticed the bow that hung over the man’s shoulder and recognized that it was a powerful weapon, imbued with some kind of magic, though he could not guess its true nature. Victor scanned the man up and down noticed a set of daggers of very high quality were a part of his arsenal.

Each warrior looked upon Victor with intrigue as he stared back with an apathetic expression, cleaning his ear with his pinky. The drifter spun around quickly and started for the door, but it had vanished. He reached out and grabbed at thin air, hoping he was imagining things, or, not seeing something that was actually there. He moved his hands up and down, left and right, desperately grasping at the door, which no longer existed. Finally, the red-eyed man gave up and turned back to five men who looked back at him.

"So . . . uh," Victor began, nodding his head. He looked around the room. "Where the fuck'd the door go?" he asked, shifting his weight to the side and pointing a thumb toward the endless hallway behind him.

[SirArtemis]

"Seriously?" Artemis asked, eyeing the man from top to bottom. He seemed more like a drunken pirate than an opponent and warrior, but looks could be deceiving. His posture and movements, though a bit loose due to the liquor, seemed to have a certain grace to them. This man could fight.

As everyone eyed the swaying soldier, who eyed where the door had once been, a hooded figure appeared behind the lot of them.

"It's gone," the figure said in a chilling and deep voice. Everyone turned to face the new arrival, eyeing him as if he were another opponent, taking stock and measure of his features, his size, his equipment. "You are the last opponent, and so we are ready to begin. I will be your guide for the afternoon." The man raised his hands, the skin flawless and darker than dirt, and pulled back the hood. His hair was a rich crimson and appeared to burn with each strand standing on end, a barbed fire. His eyes burned an equally intimidating scarlet, though they appeared more feline than human, a slit for a pupil. He wore an expression of complete neutrality, suppressing all sign of emotion in an almost inhuman way.

"Before each of you is a hallway. Along that hallway are countless doors, each linked to just one location within the endless labyrinth within which you now stand. Some doors work in both directions, allowing you to go back. Others do not. You must choose wisely which path you take. Some will bring you closer to your goal while some will push you farther back."

The figure paused, letting his eyes fall over the participants as they had just eyed him, but his glare seemed like a threat.

"Some doors will bring you combatants together."

As the words left the man's mouth, the sextet eyed one another. The one who seemed to think his blades were a meal cackled menacingly, as if the metal had been laced with poison that made him delirious. The simply clothed man appeared to have a spike in his anxiety, swaying back and forth more than the drunkard and rubbed his hands together like he meant to clean them with his own sweat.

"So," the drunken contender began, "you're saying that my door... has moved." He blinked emphatically, reopening his eyes extra wide to make sure that the blur was what he thought it was.

"Yes."

"So I just have to find it then," the swaying man said matter-of-factly, a smile finding its way onto his face.

The guide ignored the comment. "Good luck."

At that, the hooded figure vanished, a poof that left in its wake a bloody smoke and mist. In the same moment, a barrier rose from the ground, slicing the hexagonal room into a six-piece pie. The steel filled the space between the combatants quickly and prevented any further interaction, forcing each man to turn and face their respective path. The competition was about to begin.

___________________________________

Artemis ran a hand through his hair, the short strands instantly falling back in their place as soon as his fingers passed through. He took a deep breath with eyes closed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and steeling himself for what lay before him. He tried with all his might to suppress the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'Something feels off about this whole thing,' Artemis thought, trying to sort through the confusing emotions. His intuition cried out to him, an unrelenting bombardment of warnings that he knew better than to ignore.

'Something definitely is off, Artemis,' Judicis responded, the voice of the sentient spirit of his bow echoing in the recesses of Artemis' mind. 'My magic is being suppressed. I am fairly certain this is not just another room of the Citadel.'

'What do you make of all this?' Artemis asked as he began to walk down the hall.

'The energy of that man who appeared before you to explain the rules – his essence was incredibly sinister. It very much resembles the spirit of a demon, though there is something slightly different about it as well.'

'What about the others?'

'Two have lost their sense of self and because of that are very dangerous. Two appear to be warriors, well trained at the least. The man who arrived last intrigues me most.'

Artemis ran his hand along the walls of the hallway, the cold and jagged stone blocks reminding him of the interior of a castle. 'What about him?'

'His emotions and intentions seem to be different from the rest. A past haunts him as yours haunted you, though in a different way. It may benefit us to seek him out.'

Artemis nodded, his eyes wandering around the hallway. Down the path seemed a few bends and turns – alternative routes one had the option of taking. Each door also seemed unique, one as simple as nothing more than a few strings of bead that hung over the portal, whereas another stood of solid gold, countless magical stones littering the surface. Even the hallways themselves were a medley of styles. The one in which Artemis started resembled a castle hallway, stones from floor to ceiling. As he passed a hallway on his left side, the stone fell away and became a row of endless planks, stained and varnished to leave a shimmering surface of flawless chestnut.

As Artemis turned right into the next corridor the walls fell away, replaced by a collection of closely strung tree trunks. The trees varied in girth and appearance, a colorful array of barks ranging from grays and whites to reds and browns – a natural rainbow taking on the form of a fence. The air suddenly tasted fresher. Birds sang through the thick canopy that became the ceiling and blotted out the sun.

Suddenly, out of the knot of a massive tree trunk stepped a man. Instantly, Artemis recognized him as the dagger-hungry man.

"That was quick," Artemis said, pulling out his own pair of daggers and preparing to face the unstable man.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

Victor looked at the endless hallway with his usual apathetic expression. The walls and floor were white, glossy and smooth. The corridor seemed to be made of marble and a red carpet stretched down its length, giving a regal feel to the space. Doors stood out from the rest of the hall and seemed very much out of place. There seemed to be a light coming from somewhere, although Victor could not find the source. It was as if there was light coming from the corridor itself; like the walls and ceiling were emanating it.

Deciding it was not worth thinking about, the drifter gave a heavy sigh and started down the path. A feint crackle set the soundtrack for his walk, mixed with a slew of complaints and curses being muttered under his breath.

“Rum’s almost gone,” he frowned, taking out his flask. The young veteran exhaled the burning air with great pleasure and began his walk once more. Victor glanced through the threshold of each door, moving on when the contents failed to catch his attention.

"I need a better plan," Victor sighed, scratching his head. He moved quickly and paid more attention to the doors than the path. He let the design of the doors themselves be his guide.

The veteran focused on the doors, losing track of his surroundings. He inspected each one obsessively, looking for a reason to stop and inspect the contents. But no door gave the man an excuse to stop. Door after door failed to peak the drifter’s curiosity, and before long, he was no longer in the lavish marble hallway.

Victor looked around to find himself in a corridor where walls, floor and ceiling were made out of some kind of membrane. Putting a hand on the wall to examine the strange material left behind a slimy residue. He looked around and lifted his foot to examine the bottom of his boot; which, completely soaked in slime, had thin streaks of ooze connecting him to the floor. A wave seemed to run through the floor, the walls and the ceiling. The entire corridor seemed to pulse, pulling the drifter in.

"Hell no." He stepped backwards toward the way he came, not taking his eyes off the pink corridor, refusing to turn his back on it.

Victor, not caring which way he turned when leaving the pulsing pink tunnel, slid into another corridor and propped himself against a wall. His eyes closed momentarily, hoping to scrub the pink hallway from his memory. A vein pulsed on Victor’s brow and a rage boiled inside him.

“Why does everything I do turn into a fucking mystery and quest?!” the red-eyed man roared. Jumping to his feet, he took hold of the first door to his left and ripped it from its hinges. He turned, swinging the door around and slamming it into the corner of the hallway.

“WHY. CAN’T. I. EVER. CATCH. A. BREAK?!” Victor yelled between repeated slams. With a great, resounding crack, the door broke in half; one broken end sliding off into the pink hallway and sinking into its depths, while the other remained in the veteran’s hands. Victor shuddered and sighed.

Now it was time to pick a door.

Victor walked for a long time, down a hallway that had no doors that he cared to open. Finally, he reached an intersection. The path to the left was made completely out of rotting wood, with a plethora of maggots and insects crawling all along the walls. The path directly ahead was draped in darkness, with only doors visible. There did not seem to be any floor or walls or gravity- it seemed like the purest empty abysmal darkness. The last passage was made out of very dark and damp stones, with chains hanging from the ceiling and skeletons in shackles propped against the walls.

Victor tapped a finger on his chin, propping the elbow of his arm up with the other. He pointed a finger in the direction of each corridor, letting the motion flow from left to right like the needle of a compass.

“Nope,” he said with a sigh, moving back into the simple corridor and taking the first door on the right. Victor poked his head through, into a hallway of greenery. He looked to his left and saw a seemingly endless row of trees. He scoffed and looked to his right, exhaling in relief when he saw the crazy, dagger-licking psycho battling the creepy blue-eyed warrior. The dagger-licking psycho had his back to the head, which was sticking out of the doorway. The blue-eyed warrior could not see past the psycho and was also unaware of the drifter's presence.

Hoping to escape before he was noticed, Victor moved to get back into the simple corridor but a strange, powerful force pushed him forward. Victor skidded out of the portal, quickly turning to open the door again and leave, but it was too late. The door was gone.

“Again?” Victor whispered, turning to see if the two fighters had seen him. But to his good fortune, they were too engrossed in their battle to pay attention. Victor looked frantically around, hoping there was a passage he could escape through. The only one that he could see was past the two combatants.

I fucking hate this place.'

[SirArtemis]

The deranged warrior facing Artemis stared at him with a wicked grin and wide eyes. "Why hello there. It seems I've gotten lucky. So early and I already have something to play with." The man giggled, licking a blade while his eyes rolled to the back of his head while cackling. "I bet you taste sweet."

The man strode toward the vagabond, blades twirling and his steps wobbly. Artemis simply held his twin mythril blades, Justice and Virtue, and crouched down into a defensive stance. "Why would you ever want to taste me?" he asked with a confused look. He shook his head at the man, as though he were eating his own feces.

The crazed man's steps brought him closer to his opponent, and with a forceful scream, he lunged with his right blade. Artemis parried easily, taking a step back in the process. With another shout, the next strike swung in like a hook, the left dagger coming toward Artemis' liver. Another easy parry and step back. His opponent didn't seem to know much about tactics of combat – or at the very least, didn't care to use them at this time. The refined warrior continued to act as he had been trained, watching the opponent and learning their movements so that he could predict the perfect time to strike; that is how his mentor, Hawk, had taught him to fight.

"Come on now, don't fight back!" The wild man giggled, his movements speeding up and becoming more eccentric. "I won't bite you," he said with a laugh. "At least not hard!" He kicked out sideways, causing Artemis to stagger back a few steps, though not harm him. The man's tattered vest and pants swayed as wildly as the person wearing them, spinning and swinging endlessly and unpredictably, making it difficult to find an opening. Overhead swings, sideways swipes, stabs and spins left Artemis confused. The deranged man rushed forward, knocking a blade aside and causing it to stick into the trunk of a very thick and soft tree. Seeing his opportunity, the man lunged with both blades, and only one was parried; the other managed to nick the flesh slightly, and Artemis shoved the man off.

What the young man didn't expect was for his opponent to suddenly stop staggering back. It seemed he had bumped into a man who stood behind him – it was the drunk. A few drops of brown liquid splashed upon the floor as the deranged man spun about to see his new opponent, turning his back to Artemis. The vagabond prepared to take advantage of the opening, but the other dagger wielder spun back around with an empty expression upon his face as he fell down to the ground, a red circle clear upon his cheek. When the body fell away, Artemis could see the black-haired man staring wide-eyed at the falling victim.

"Fuck! My Rum!" he yelled, as he looked down swaying at the blaspheming victim. Only then did both men realize that a dagger protruded from the fallen man's back, coated in a thin film of red as he lay face down. The man leaned down, squinting to look at the object to make sure what it was, and he stood up with a mild look of surprise. "You saw that," he said, pointing to the fallen man, "he fell on his dagger." The statement was more matter-of-fact than a question. It was as if the man didn't want to take responsibility and was blaming bad luck for the dead man's misfortune. He stepped over the body with a single long stride, bringing himself closer to Artemis who stood dumbfounded by what had just happened.

The two men stood staring at each other, as if measuring up their opponent and preparing for a duel to the death before the man's arm quickly and suddenly shot up. "Rum?" he asked with a blinding grin of white as he held out the flask to the blue-eyed warrior, while all Artemis did was stare at the man, not sure how drunk he really must be to act the way he was.

"I'm good, thanks." Artemis reached for the dagger stuck in the tree, pulling it out and letting his arms hang by his side. After all, his would-be opponent didn't seem interested in fighting.

He retracted his arm with a shrug. "More for me," he said before gesturing a cheers to the fallen warrior. He began to motion to pour out a bit as a token to the gods, but stopped. "We'll use what you spilled." He lifted the flask to his lips, chin aimed high, and Artemis watched the gulps slide down the man's throat. After a good swig, the man lowered the container, smacking his lips with eyes still closed. He shook his head vigorously, as if he had just taken unpleasant medication.

While Artemis watched the drunk, a voice spoke behind him.

"I'm glad you are both here."

The vagabond quickly turned defensively, daggers at the ready to ward off what he thought to be yet another opponent. His opponent also seemed to get defensive, covering his flask with both hands and drawing it into his bosom as if the new enemy would take it from him.

"We have much to discuss, and little time."

[Good for Nothing Captain]

The figure stood before them, a reversed image of their self-proclaimed “guide” from earlier. His skin, which peeked out from beneath the bright silver robe, almost glowed. It seemed to gleam like pearls hiding any signs of age. When the man spoke there was a distinct softness to his voice. The sound however, did not seem to come from his mouth, but rather from all around, from the very walls themselves.

Straight streaks of long white hair fell from under his hood, in front of his face; strands draped before his radiant blue eyes. They literally glowed, though they did not betray his nature – the gaze was kind. The ground at his feet was shrouded in a light blue mist, dissipating slowly as he stepped towards the baffled combatants.

“Listen close,” the figure began, his hands moving quickly, forming a magical seal in the air. There was an after-image of the movements with each shift in direction. The two stared in amazement as a light began to radiate from the mysterious man. He began to whisper something under his breath, too quickly for either to comprehend.

Victor, hoping to retain what rum he had left, tied it back to his belt, hiding it from sight. After looking from one blue-eyed warrior to the other, he determined it was safe and settled the flask to hang from his belt. With a relieved sigh, Victor stepped past the over-cautious warrior with his blades drawn.

“Take it easy buddy,” Victor said in a whisper, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder, who twitched at the touch. He motioned with the same hand at the robed figure, “He just wants to talk.”

The young veteran took his hand off the shoulder, but the warrior did not relax, clearly a reflex to a dangerous life. Victor looked at the vagabond, intrigued, but decided the strange silver-haired man was more interesting.

“I must speak quickly,” he began, his hands falling to the side after finishing the spell. “This place is not what you think,” the strange man explained.

The vagabond straightened upon hearing the distressing start, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. Victor looked at him with dead eyed expression; the words meant less than nothing to him as he had no idea where he was in the first place.

“Well what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Victor asked, rubbing the knuckles of his hand soothingly.

“This is not a common room in the Citadel. The same rules that apply normally do not apply here,” the stranger continued, looking at the corpse at the pair’s feet.

“Wait, you mean,” Artemis began, not wanting to face the grim conclusion which inevitably followed.

“Yes,” the white robed man replied, to answer the unasked question, “this place is off limits to the monks which run the battles. Their power does not reach these dark halls. There is no helping that man,” he finished grimly, making sure his point hit the intended mark.

Artemis took a step back, his eyes falling to the corpse of the man as his knuckles whitened while he clenched his blades. He did not want to believe he had just played a role in the death of a man he did not know. Every possibility of what the robed man's words meant ran through his head at once. The world around him began to seem more like a dream than reality. He turned to the soldier, who appeared apathetic to the events, standing peacefully with his rum-induced indifference. Suddenly, he began to feel light-headed, swaying more than Victor even. The world began to change colors and blur, and his energy fell away as his blades dropped to the ground with a loud ring.

“You okay?” the soldier began, turning to the vagabond just before the man fell face down with a dull thud.

“Is he going to be alright?” the stranger said, casting a concerned look at Victor.

“How the hell should I know?” Victor began indifferently, “I don’t even know the guy. My guess is, he got cut by the dead guy, who I’m pretty sure laced his blades with something,” Victor concluded matter-of-factly, taking a blade off the corpse.

Victor examined the substance lining the blade; first he observed the color, then the smell, finally he took a little off with the tip of his finger and sampled it himself. Victor cringed awfully and spat the substance out immediately. He groaned aloud and cursed at the cadaver. Artemis began to stir, but could not seem to tell the ground from the ceiling and was apparently trying to swim up the wall.

“That is not going to sit well with me pretty soon,” Victor moaned, helping the intoxicated young man up to his feet. “That's definitely Cat's Snare. He's going to be a little trippy for a while. Better get on with… whatever this is.” Artemis stood for a moment, swaying, looking around and trying to focus his attention on everything around him. The strange wizard recited a quick incantation, magically drawing Artemis’ full attention. He closed his eyes tight, as the magic began to take effect. The vagabond then opened them wider than ever before and stared, unblinking, at the silver-robed man.

“I will be quick then,” he began again, this time grimly. “This place is not the realm of the monks, but of a prisoner they have kept since near the beginning of their order. It is the home of the demon - Diadeus.” The man whispered the name with content, but a hint of fear could not be mistaken.

“He has been preying on lost souls who come here for more than four centuries. However, it appears that lately he has recruited the aid of someone on the outside.” He began again, but was cut short by a flicker of light. Turning to look and reeling back quickly, the man appeared obviously disturbed.

“I have no time, there are artifacts hidden among these many doors – artifacts put in place by those who initially sealed the beast. To get them you must prove your worth. They will help you to face the coming trials and they will be your salvation from this hell,” he quickly finished, as the flickering lights became more erratic. Without another word the silver-robed man motioned with his hands and whispered something. A blue mist surrounded his body in an instant, and he was gone.

The two men stood, one in utter shock and the other in utter confusion. The name rattled in Victor's head, echoing with a familiar ring. He thought back to the burning church bastion. To the little orange-eyed girl, his friend, who's blood was spilled in the hopes of summoning a monster to turn the tides of war. Goosebumps ran down Victor's spine as a horrible foreboding wave washed over him.

“… What the fuck do I keep getting myself into?” Victor sighed, shaking his head and turning to Artemis, “Victor Valentine, welcome to hell,” he said with an ironic smile and an outstretched hand to Artemis.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis stared at where the silver-robed man had stood moments ago, watching the light blue mist drift through the air. His mind, now tainted by the Cat's Snare poison, slowly drifted further from reality. Judicis' magic reached out to Artemis, pulling him into the realm of the bow and away from Victor Valentine. As Artemis' eyes rolled to the back of his head, eyelids closing shut like the curtain at the end of a show, he slid to the floor, leaving Victor in a state of confusion.

The hallway of trees fell away, the dull and dark colors of bark fading from view, along with the green that sandwiched the area with grass below and leaves above. Artemis opened his eyes to find himself before the manifestation of Judicis.

"I'm sorry for forcing you to come here, Artemis. I told you I would try to limit such moments, but this is necessary." Judicis' voice became a comfort for Artemis, the lightly accented and warm sounds bringing solace to the vagabond's mind. The spirit of the bow appeared as an old man, legs crossed and sipping a cup of tea. He sat in a comfortable plush chair wearing an immaculate black suit, matched with a perfectly shined pair of leather shoes. His short white hair and goatee looked neatly trimmed, sharply contrasting the darkness of the suit and the empty blackness upon which the chair floated.

Artemis stood in that same empty blackness, the body he now occupied empty of any Cat's Snare. "What's going on? What happened?"

"Your opponent's blades seem to have been coated with a hallucinogenic substance that is altering your perception. I've pulled your mind into my realm so that we can communicate without obstruction, even as the chemicals remain in your system."

"I see. That explains the blurring images and loss of control. So what do we have to discuss?"

"Have a seat." Judicis pointed to the twin plush chair that he had conjured behind Artemis, along with a small wooden table beside the chair with a steaming white porcelain pot of tea. As Artemis did so, pouring himself a cup of the golden-brown liquid, Judicis continued. "From my observation, the two men you've seen are definitely connected in some way. Their energies appear as inverse of one another, as do their intentions. However, I do not yet understand what that means."

"And what of the man who is with me now? Tending to my unconscious body?"

"That would be the man I wished for you to seek. He will not harm you. I can sense his intentions clearly from this range – he is a virtuous man."

"What about the words of the silver-robed man? This isn't the Citadel. There is permanence to my actions."

"Yes," Judicis said, setting down his cup of tea upon a saucer with a gentle ring. "From the moment we passed through that door, I sensed an oppressive energy and as I mentioned earlier it is limiting my magic. I will simply be a normal bow to you when you are not in my realm: wood and string. I cannot aid you beyond communication."

"What kind of energy? Where are we?"

"If I were to guess, based on where I've been, I would say this is a demonic plane. Given what the man just told you, I would say this is the realm of Diadeus, and you are his prey."

"But if he is so powerful, why does he not just kill us now?"

"Perhaps his mother never taught him not to toy with his food," Judicis shrugged, pouring a fresh cup of tea. "From what I gather, that will be his downfall. Your only option is clear."

"Find the artifacts."

"Precisely. Find these items and use them to escape. Or better yet, use them to destroy the demon. We are upon his realm, and as such, destroying him will be permanent. Surely you have no qualms with slaying demons?"

"Not at all, but that warrior from before..."

"The one who cut you?"

Artemis nodded. "I don't like to kill unless I must, and I used the ability of the monks as justification for my actions. Knowing now that he is gone..."

"Artemis, one of you would have had to win that fight, and better that it be you. That man, Victor Valentine, will aid you in this. I believe the two of you have the capacity to rid the world of a demon that does nothing but take life. Thwart your guilt for the sake of that which you find so precious. A life is lost, and it cannot be retrieved. Do now what virtue dictates – slay the demon and save countless others."

Artemis looked at Judicis, his blue eyes burning with resolve as he gave a firm nod, closing his eyes and forcing himself back into his body.

'I knew I chose well,' Judicis thought to himself as the young man faded from the magical realm.

____________________________________________

When Artemis opened his eyes, he felt the soft tickle of the endless field of green upon which he lay. The give of the earth beneath him left an urge of wanting to simply lie down and sleep. However, he could not. He rolled onto his stomach, feeling the narrow blades of grass slide between his fingers to avoid being crushed as he heard the voice of Victor high above.

"Are you alright? I mean, it's just Cat's Snare... It's not that bad." As Artemis crawled up to his knees, Victor reached down, offering his aid so that the vagabond could rise to his feet. "So what do you think we should do?"

As he stood upright, his head swayed, colors morphing and shifting, shapes refusing to stay. He shut his eyes, blocking out the distractions and refusing to look. "We need to find the artifacts. We have to kill Diadeus."

"Woah woah woah, we have to do what?" Victor released the vagabond, taking a step back and facing the drugged man. "Look, I don't know about you, but all I want is to get the hell out of here alive. I'm not looking to play hero."

Artemis leaned forward, placing his hands upon the rough bark of the trees before him, leaving his eyes shut as he spoke so that the drug would have minimal effects. "That demon kills for pleasure. If we don't do something, then those that come after us will die, even if we live."

"I don't think you understand, this is a demon. This isn't just some orc or giant you can stab and be done with it. Not only can a Demon only be killed in Haidia, but we aren't even in the real world right now! That glowy blue-eyed guy said so! And..."

"And what?" Artemis asked, irately.

"And this is no ordinary demon. He doesn't just inhabit one body," Victor paused, remembering the summoning ritual during the war. "He can add bits of his soul to a person, consume their being and bend them to his will."

"What kind of man would leave others to suffer like that when they had the option to do something about it?"

The red eyes flashed with what seemed like rage, but quickly took on a passive expression.

"Well, I'm just a boy at heart."

Artemis shook his head in disagreement. "If I have the opportunity to do something that will help others, I'm going to do it. I'd rather die than not try. You don't have to help me if you don't want to, but I have to do this." Artemis pushed off the trunk of the tree and began to walk toward Victor, opening his eyes and looking down the hall. Suddenly, the world began to spin. His eyes went wide in disbelief as the trees filled with holes, rabid squirrels shooting between them like projectiles of doom, preventing Artemis from progressing any further. He staggered back, Victor reaching out to catch the hallucinating man.

"Alright, listen," Victor sighed, closing his eyes as he held the vagabond steady. "For now, let's just go find some artifacts, and then, we'll figure out what to do. Cat's snare doesn't last too long, so hopefully this shit will wear off soon."

Artemis squeezed his eyelids shut, hoping to erase the image he had just seen from his mind. A part of him rejected what he had seen, but another part of him felt like it must have been real. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, hoping to scratch the image away. "Start with the artifacts. Right. How do we do that?"

[Good for Nothing Captain]

“How the hell should I know!?” Victor exclaimed, annoyed by the whole situation. He turned from the man, assuming he could stand on his own. “It looks like you know more than I do about this hellhole. And what the fuck’s your name already?” Victor yelled, irritated by the man’s unresponsiveness to his attempts at being nice.

“Oh,” the vagabond began, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, sorry. It’s Artemis – Artemis Eburi.”

Victor moved forward, away from the newly introduced man. He put his hand on his stomach; the effects of the liquor and the drug were beginning to take their toll. The drifter groaned, knowing that soon he would be hunched over, puking his guts out. He took a few heavy steps towards the closest door to him and put his other hand on the knob, turning it slowly.

Artemis was staggering, barely able to focus his gaze. Wobbling, he made his way to the door opposite Victor’s and leaned against it, his hand making its uncertain way to the knob. Both doors were very simple in design, Victor’s white while Artemis’ was brown.

“I guess,” Victor said, pushing his weight against the door to get it open, “we just keep looking. We each take a side and we’ll be done in time to get devoured by a hungry demon.”

Victor looked inside of the room the door led to. The walls were bare and the floor had a small round carpet on it upon which there stood a small table with an old round plate. Behind the table was a small wooden stool, suffering from age and offering no signs it could support the weight of a child. But Victor did not notice any of the subtle coziness of the room. His eyes were focused on what lay on the plate: a decapitated head. Propped against the stool were two severed legs arranged in a relaxing position. Victor did not react; he only stared apathetically at the scene of brutality.

“This room is empty,” Artemis announced, closing the door behind him. “What’s in yours?”

But before the vagabond could turn to look, or even finish his sentence, a loud slam echoed through the dark halls. The sound bounced from tree to tree, getting caught in the branches and lingering for a while.

“Nothing,” Victor said adamantly, turning from the door to face the stretching corridor. “Let’s keep moving.”

“So,” Artemis began, making his slow strafing steps towards the next door on his side, “how did you know it was Cat’s Snare?”

“Oh, funny story,” Victor began, replicating Artemis’ slow hobble, “so there I was at this amusement park… For cats. And after the guards roughed me up a little, I snuck into their break room. I found a little vial of the stuff, tried it, vomited for a while and then passed out.” Victor paused when he reached his door, as Artemis simultaneously reached his.

"That sounds awful," the vagabond said, as the two men opened their doors in unison, but their reactions were completely different. Artemis once again saw an empty room, decorated with simple necessities for life; this room looked like someone was living in it.

When Victor opened his door, he saw a bathtub of blood, a shattered mirror behind it, the stone floor dyed red by a separate pool of blood and many candles spread all across the room. Victor felt entranced, every fiber of his being begging for the door to be closed, but the man could not budge. The pool of blood on the floor rippled, as a mass of black hair rose out from the bubbling red pool. Black eyes peered up the Victor, who was now standing at the edge of the blood. The unholy visage opened its mouth, wider than any natural living being rightly could, and began to let out what might have been an unimaginable shriek; but it was acutely cut off when Victor placed his hands upon it's crown and forced it back under. The creature struggled, grasping and struggling under Victor's grip, frantic to get out from under the seemingly deep pool of blood. Slowly the struggling stopped, and the arms went limp at the water's zenith; until they sank, along with the rest of the corpse. Victor quickly cleaned off the blood on his hands with a small washcloth he found laying by the bath tub.

Artemis turned to look at the door his new comrade, his eyes still blurring from the poison. "You oka-" he began, but once again, Victor slammed the door before Artemis could finish.

“Switch sides with me,” Victor said, moving quicker than he normally would have in his condition. The drifter was sure that he did not ingest the drug in a dose powerful enough to make him see all that. He was relieved when the indifferent vagabond agreed to switch sides, and moved slowly over to the next door that would have been Victor's.

Artemis was growing more distant as his body grew numb. He could not keep the world around him from spinning and was sure it would not be long before he fell over again. He wanted to make it to the end of the hallway at least. Opening the door closest to him, he peered into yet another empty room. Closing the door softly, he walked on to the last door in the hall, pushing with what little strength he had left to open it. Artemis was looking into another corridor.

The walls of the long corridor were made of a grey stone turned dark from moisture. Moss and other miscellaneous fungi covered the walls of the hall. The ceiling was arched, dripping water at inconsistent intervals. However, there was no floor to speak of – just a small ledge that stretched the length of this dark, damp expanse. The majority of the ground was a waterway, a little more than a foot lower than the ledge, but a bottom could not be seen.

Artemis was leaning on the threshold into the room, his head spinning faster than he could keep up with. He brought himself down, slowly, to rest on the ledge. Hoping it would help, and praying it was safe, he brought his hand down to the water and brought some to his mouth. The liquid was cool and helped more than the vagabond could immediately comprehend. Artemis shut his eyes, but he could hear strange sounds coming from the corridor he had just left.

Victor made his way to the next door, when Artemis had closed the door to the empty room. He sighed, almost disappointed that Artemis did not have to see the same thing he did. The drifter thought he was feeling better and moved to the next door with a little more confidence. Thinking he could not see anything worse than what he had already seen, Victor pushed the large, heavy wooden door open. Underestimating its size, he only opened it half way. Deciding to bide his time and regain a little more strength, the drifter inspected what little of the room he could see.

A warm waft blew in from the dim lit room. The walls, ceiling and floor were made of cobblestone. There stood bookshelves on the wall closest to Victor, and long candle-holders with room for over four candles each. An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, gently flickering to brighten the room. He looked around the room and noticed a pile of metal on the floor near the bookshelf. Upon further inspection, he recognized one suit to be the black and red armor of the axe wielding warrior he saw before this madness started.

Victor was almost glad to see something familiar. His gaze followed the scattered pieces of armor along the floor revealing more to this seemingly innocent scene. He saw another set of armor, mixed in with the black one; it was the bronze knight’s mail and greaves.

Victor was no longer relieved. After seeing the horrors of the last two rooms he did not want to imagine what he would see here. He then began to hear something unpleasant. The drifter could only think of some kind of savage beast when he heard the vicious grunts, gurgles and groans coming from inside the room.

Against his better judgment, he put an unsteady hand on the door. His breathing was shallow and a cool sweat dripped down his face. Victor braced himself for such gore as he had never known, exhaling as he pushed the door open farther.

The black suited knight was on a bed wearing nothing but the dark helmet, towering over a thin shape under him. His hips moved furiously towards the bronze knight, who was forced forward with each thrust. They both groaned, the man on top speaking profanities in an attempt to degrade the man below, slapping sounds echoing off the interior of the room. To Victor, the sounds echoed longer – the traumatizing sound resounding through his mind and sending shivers through his body. He tried to look away, but he could not avert his gaze, his eye twitching with horror as he stared at the two glistening bodies collide.

The man on all fours turned his head, expecting to get a good look at the man plowing him into another realm, but instead caught a glimpse of the peeping-tom. As Victor made eye contact, he saw the disgusting craving that the man had for him, and only then was he finally able to turn away.

“Hey, come here!” he heard the man bellow. "Show me your honor!" And that was enough. Victor shut the door firmly, wishing he could eviscerate the spectacle from his mind.

Instinctively, he reached for his rum, drowning in the brown liquid and hoping that the burning sensation would singe the memory cells that retained the images he had witnessed. He emptied the flask, a tear forming in his eye as he realized that there wasn’t nearly enough to accomplish what he needed.

“Yup. I’m gonna hurl.”

[SirArtemis]

Artemis continued to sip the crystalline liquid. Each handful glistened and sparkled as if littered with diamonds that were being struck by light and refracting an array of beauty. Artemis could not tell whether it was due to the Cat's Snare or the actual properties of the water. Regardless, it tasted delicious, almost magical. The icy chill of the water ran down his throat, filling his chest with a cool feeling before tracing down his limbs and toward the tips of his fingers and toes. Slowly, the properties of the water began to take effect, eliminating the poison from his system without him knowing. However, he did feel slightly better and closed his eyes to rest and recover.

Meanwhile, back in the hall where Victor stood hurling at the homoerotic display he had just witnessed, a man slowly stepped out of a door and onto the green grass that decorated the forest-like hallway. His scuffed shoes made no sound as they kissed the countless blades of green below, sinking into the soft earth. The red curls of hair fell awkwardly across his face, and the man ran a hand through them just before they fell right back into place.

He looked around, pushing his rolled sleeves further up his arms and then pulling his pants up slightly, the worn brown leather belt doing little to keep them in place. He nudged his glasses further up his nose. He noticed Artemis' feet through the open door across from where he had stepped out, the young man not moving as he lay face down on the ledge by the water. He quickly looked around, eyes searching for answers as he found Victor a couple of doors down the way, vomiting by the shut wooden frame. Thinking that Victor had slain the vagabond and was feeling ill from the act, the red-haired man quietly shut the door behind Artemis, removing the sight from view. He pushed his glasses up on his nose again, slid a hand into a pocket, and walked slowly toward Victor.

_____________________________________

As Artemis heard the quiet click of the door behind him, he opened his eyes, chancing a glance back to see what had happened. With a heavy sigh, he took the energy that remained in his limbs and lifted himself up, first to all fours and then up to his feet. He wiped a few sparkles of water off his scruff and rubbed his hands together, spreading the water on his skin and feeling a chilling tingle.

He dragged his feet toward the door, turning the dungeon-like handle and pushing it open. He peeked through looking for Victor but quickly realized that this door did not lead back to the mini-forest.

"This must be a one-way door," Artemis grumbled, resting his hands on his hips as he stared disappointingly at the handle. "Just my luck."

With a sigh, he turned to look down each direction of the hall, hoping for more doors. Given what he had seen in previous hallways, he had expected to see many of them, but found none.

'That's bizarre.'

He gave each direction another quick look before deciding to follow wherever the water was going. He reasoned it might know better than he did where to go.

He began to follow the ledge by the water. The slow trickling and resounding echo of the clear liquid tumbling over itself filled the tunnel with a white noise, softened by the moss that caught some of the sound. He found himself wandering through the maze, taking turns through the sewer-like path and still not finding any doors. As he came to a fork in the path, he found the water splitting as well.

"I thought I could trust you," he mumbled to the stream, sighing and looking around. He looked down both paths, neither one appearing any different from the other, until something bizarre happened. A man appeared, fully clad in a set of dark leather armor, plated with shining silver. But the man did not appear normal, given that he had come out of a wall and stood somewhat transparent. He looked over toward Artemis and the pair made eye contact briefly before the armored figure continued down the path. The vagabond began to sprint in that direction.

He rounded the bend while looking for the spirit and just barely catching a glimpse of it turning yet another corner. He continued to chase after the phantom. Again he found himself at a turn, hoping to see where to go next, but the man had gone – it was a dead end. Artemis stood disappointed, confused by what had just happened.

'Maybe I'm just seeing things', he thought, rubbing his eyes. 'It could just be that Cat's Snare stuff still in my system.' Of course, Artemis could not know that the water had cleansed him of the substance.

"Why do you chase me?" A voice spoke behind Artemis. The vagabond quickly turned, pulling out his daggers and standing defensively with weapons drawn. The specter's pure white eyes stared at Artemis, feeling much sharper than the weapons he held. "Those will not harm me," he stated matter-of-factly.

Artemis looked down to his blades, then back up to the man, realizing that he was right. After all, how do you cut something intangible? He sheathed his blades, standing upright. "Who are you?" he asked, looking up at the towering form of the man who stood at least a head above the vagabond.

"My name is Damian Strider, or at least it was." His voice sounded clear to Artemis, despite the midnight-blue scarf wrapped around the warrior's face that reached just above his nose. His hair appeared as uneven dark green and blue strands, all going in random directions.

"Why are you here?" Artemis examined the man's armor. Though it was somewhat transparent, even the lack of clarity could not remove the impressive array. Upon his left arm, his armguard appeared as two folded blades that, upon command, could extend into a glaive attached to his gauntlet. Upon his other armguard, spikes found their home, tucked just beneath the surface and ready to eject like the claws of a beast. In his left hand, he held a crossbow, the bolts slotted all along his greaves for easy access. Over his shoulder, Artemis could also see the handle of a large weapon peeking out, spying on the conversation between the pair. All Artemis could think of was how he would prefer not to fight someone like this, in life or death.

"I was once a hunter," the specter said, averting his gaze slightly. "My life consisted of finding evil creatures and slaying them, ridding them from our realm; demons, vampires, ghouls, werewolves – whatever it may be."

"But why are you here?" Artemis asked again.

The man's eyes quickly found Artemis, almost threateningly. "I failed," he said harshly.

"What do you mean you failed?"

A pause hung between the two. "I was pursuing a powerful vampire; a vicious and truly evil example, even for their race. Long ago, he was a normal man, but then became a slave to the immortality of vampirism. He craved life. He needed it to exist. The desire to feed consumed him, and over the many millennia of his existence, he grew stronger and more sinister. He became demonic in his vampiric form. Then, one day, a demon that was not as powerful as his brethren sought the vampire and offered him a contract.

"He promised the vampire more power, offering for the pair to merge, but the demon had other intentions; he planned to absorb the sinister energy that had built within the vampire over countless years, using it for personal gain. The vampire agreed, but the result was not what the demon had expected. A new and truly sickening demon formed - one that had been overwhelmed by the sinister energy of the vampire, erasing the previous demon in the process.

"Normally, a demon does not feast on souls. They simply find pleasure in chaos, pain, torment and suffering. They play with the mortal coil as a means for recreation. However, this new demon had a craving much like the vampire did to feed, and now he needed to feed on souls rather than blood, strengthening him with each meal."

"So what does this have to do with you being here?" Artemis asked, confused by what the two stories had in common.

"The demon I speak of is named Diadeus, and you are now within his domain. I came here to slay the vile creature, but he bested even me. However, he knew that I hunted him and prepared. He and I were rivals even during his time as a blood-sucking scoundrel, and when he finally acquired new power, he defeated me. However, he cannot consume me, as my spirit is too pure, and it would harm him. Instead, he chooses to torment my soul, leashing me here to wander for all eternity, or until he is destroyed."

Artemis stood in thought, the news of where he now stood slowly sinking in. However, just as he began to let thoughts distract him, the specter of the hunter spoke again.

"Sadly, I have found a way to defeat him, and am unable to do so in my form."

Artemis' eyes lit up, looking at the warrior in anticipation. "How?" he asked.

"The artifacts. They are the key."

"I've heard of these artifacts," Artemis said with an exasperated sigh. "A silver robed monk mentioned them earlier. But how are they the key? The key to what?"

"They are the key to destroying Diadeus. The artifacts grant the wielder power, but also drain Diadeus of his strength. Throughout Diadeus' domain are small pockets where these artifacts exist. They are outside of his control. If you wish to leave this realm, destroying the demon is the only way, and the artifacts are the only way to destroy him."

"What do you mean the only way?"

"You have been trapped. There is no way out of here unless Diadeus is destroyed and the world around you is shattered. Once you defeat the vile creature, all the spirits that have been sealed here over the many centuries will be freed and find their way to the Thayne, myself included."

"So the only way for me to live is to kill this demon?"

"Precisely."

"And where can I find these artifacts that I keep hearing about? Where are these pockets?"

"One of the combatants has already found and wields one – a blade. Another pocket is nearby. Continue down the hall. Seek a stone door with a silver tree engraved upon it. Behind that door you will find the Belt of Shadow. Pass the trial and acquire the belt, and if you succeed, I will continue to aid you. I believe you and the other man you were with are the only ones who will be able to defeat this demon."

"And if we don't?" Artemis asked, letting doubt fill his mind.

"Failure isn't an option. Succeed or die." The specter's words struck Artemis, knocking the wind out of him as the reality of his circumstances continued to take its toll. The specter walked past Artemis toward the dead end that now stood behind him, completely bypassing the vagabond and disappearing through the wall. Artemis stood there, reeling from the news.

'Find the door, Artemis.' It was the voice of Judicis, resounding through the vagabond's mind. 'There is no time to waste. Victor will also seek the artifacts as the silver-robed monk instructed while you collect one for yourself. We must defeat Diadeus, for all those who have and will suffer if we do not.'

Artemis took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come, and again tried to strengthen his resolve. He began to walk down the hall, seeking the stone door the warrior spoke of while mumbling under his breath.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

The splash of puke hitting the ground echoed in the empty corridor, Victor’s groans and moans adding to the awful cadence. The drifter shut his eyes each time the bitter liquid forced itself out of his mouth. His body lurched forward with each heave while Victor held onto the wall to avoid falling into his own vomit.

Victor tried to push his mind out of his body. He had spent enough dark nights throwing up alone and knew it was best to get all the liquid out of his body as quickly as possible. He stood, hunched over, letting everything pass through him.

A door closed ever-so-slightly next to the retching man, its sound muffled by the splatter of vomit hitting the grass at the drifter’s feet. A pair of scuffed shoes stepped cautiously from the portal. The plain clothes he wore did not show signs of ruffling or wear and tear. He moved down the corridor with a cold, calculated stalk. It was only when the noise coming from the sick drifter continued that the stranger eased closer. The man had no presence, not even the grass on the ground made noise under him. The man fixed his sleeve with a slight and deliberate motion with one hand. The other pulled a flat slender blade out from behind his back.

Victor did not notice the slender figure approaching him. The soldier focused on his disgusting situation. The dark figure was upon the hunched drifter, who had finally stopped his seemingly endless upchuck. The prowler lifted his hand to the side, just below his shoulder. The rise was slow and smooth, the calculated ascent of a practiced hand. The slash was quick and had no wasted movement. This was the cut that sealed the fate of many unsuspecting victims and it would have sealed Victor’s. But the drifter was already straightening and to a trained eye, it seemed like he was going to counter the eloquent cut. Victor’s climb quickly turned into a fall as he slipped in the pool of vomit at his feet.

The man was taken aback by the sheer luck of the drunkard’s survival. But he knew he did not have much time to spare. He quickly hid the dagger back into his belt and pulled his shirt out to cover the bulge.

The jack-of-all-trades hit the ground with a thud and began to curse at his luck.

“Fucking hell!” he swore, rubbing the bruise forming on the back of his head. He looked up to see the strange man who hovered over him. Victor did not see it, but the sinister, twisted and cruel expression he wore was replaced with one of concern and anxiety.

“Who the hell’re you?" Victor asked, slowly standing from his sudden fall, using the wall for support.

“My name is Adrian Grace,” squeaked a mousy voice in a hurried response. “Please don’t hurt me,” he continued, pleading, hoping to take the drifter off the defensive.

“Hurt you?” he began, wiping the dust and dirt from his pants, “why would I hurt you.”

As his hands worked furiously to clean his pants, they glossed over a bit vomit which found its way to the ass of his pants.

“Fuck,” Victor yelled running over to a tree trunk and began rubbing his backside on the bark.

Adrian watched this bumbling buffoon with great, hidden, contempt. [/i]'How could I let such an oaf slip by?'[/i] he cursed at his failure.

“Where are we?” Adrian began, hoping to distract the drifter.

Victor finished cleaning the back of his pants and began walking towards Adrian.

The plain-dressed man stood in place, watching the drifter, biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But none presented themselves. Because, for all his antics, Victor was a cautious, battle proven warrior and Adrian knew any attempt to harm the alert man would result in short and utter failure. He would have to wait.

“As far as I can figure this is some kind of fight,” Victor began, moving past Adrian, keeping an eye on the anxious-looking stranger. The jack-of-all-trades did not trust the man who stood before him. He could not be sure, but in retrospect he remembered feeling a sinister killing-intent. Looking at Adrian now, however, Victor questioned his intuition.

The drifter scanned the hallway hoping to find a trace of Artemis. He looked to the door the vagabond walked through and moved to open it. Peering in through the doorway, he had hoped to see his departed compatriot but instead found an empty, elegant hallway. It was decorated by miscellaneous chairs and tables. The floor was not marked by the dirt from their current hallway, thus there was no way the vagabond took this route.

“Nothing,” he sighed, relinquishing hopes of quickly finding the only other man, as far as Victor could tell, who had seen the silver-robed monk.

“Umm, sir?” A voice called from the corridor Victor was still half way in.

Victor turned, but was not at all pleased with what he saw. The corridor began to darken, the self-sustained light of the strange labyrinth was beginning to fade. The soldier was not sure what the significance of the spectacle was, but recalled seeing a similar event while in the monk’s barrier. The hall began to morph, the doors disappeared, the ground shifted into some kind of crusty black surface. A red glare began to fill the area with a sinister glow.

Adrian did not know of monks or demons, but he felt the rays of crimson welcomed him. The spectacle in and of itself, however, disturbed him. One by one doors started to disappear.

Victor grabbed Adrian by the collar and pulled the confused man through the door way remaining closest to them. The man thought to struggle, but could not find the strength to overpower the drifter. The door slammed shut behind the two and when Adrian tried to open it again, he found it led to a broom closet.


__________________________________________________



Back in the tree filled hall, a figure stepped out of the bush. The darkness had gone and in its absence the supernatural glow of the hallway returned. His footsteps echoed oddly on the soft ground. It was as though the grass was not there and he walked on a true floor that couldn't be seen. His silver robes hung in striking contrast to the dark expanse. He looked at the door through which Victor had just escaped and stood, lost in thought.

Placing a hand on the door, he let his head sink. He turned after patting the door; taking satisfaction in his interference.

“You have made a dangerous ally,” the monk thought aloud, “but you are on the path now, to acquire the artifact you need.” He hesitated for a moment, wondering if Victor would follow through with the task assigned. He could see into the drifter’s soul, better than most denizens of Diadeus’ realm. He saw the pain in his past and knew that remaining good was a constant struggle for him. He was not sure what the maelstrom of Victor’s soul had seen.

“What is in his soul?” the monk repeated a question that couldn't be heard, “I don’t know… but even though it’s dim, I can see a light shining through.” The monk turned, with a smile from the doorway and walked off through the wall. His form lost its tangibility and faded into the dark.

[SirArtemis]

Barely minutes passed before Artemis reached the end of the hall, the stone door making him feel as though had been waiting for someone for far too long. As he approached, the silver tree became visible as the once black lines glowed increasingly brighter until the image was vivid and glowing. The trunk and branches of the tree radiated so much that the immediate area stood illuminated, the moist stone surroundings glistening.

Artemis stood before the door, looking for a handle or groove upon which to place his hand. He saw nothing, running his hands along the cold and smooth surface of the portal. His fingers traced the branches of the tree, running along the trunk until he reached the roots. Once there, he noticed that the roots of the tree seemed a bit different from the rest of the image. There seemed to be a slightly wider groove between the silver lining and the stone. Artemis knelt down to look closer, squinting his eyes to compare the difference, and placed the tips of his fingers onto the roots to apply a bit of pressure. They seemed to have some give, and so he pushed harder, watching as the base of the tree bent just enough to allow the bottom to nudge barely half an inch into the stone door. As he did so, the door slid open, almost weightlessly.

As he walked inside an iron gate stood before him. He approached the net-like metal and reached for the door, grabbing a bar and tugging at it, but it did not budge. He looked around and noticed the ground beneath him looked eroded and chunks of tile were missing, replaced by the dirt beneath. The walls were brick in places; the rest showed signs of an unfinished construction project. Wooden planks protruded from the still-dirt walls, giving hint to where the next step would have been. A ceiling of plain stone hung overhead in an arch. As he looked around, he noticed some windows lining the archway, and another on the opposite side of the iron gateway.

He turned, stepping upon a wooden plank, reaching higher with his hands to grab another. His weight tore the board beneath him out of place. He cursed under his breath, kicking a boot into the dirt of the wall to create a small nook and reached up again for the plank above. He kicked his other boot into the earth, a bit higher than the first, and jumped, pushing off and reaching for the window.

A single hand reached and his fingers clung to the stone, bones and tendons straining to support the weight of the man as he hung there. He gritted his teeth, a grunt finding its way out of him as he reached up with his other hand, grabbing the frame and pulling himself up; first his head, then his torso, then pushing down and lifting the rest of himself out.

Once he had made it through, he found himself upon a roof's ledge, a massive burning landscape off in the distance. The terrain glowed red and orange while black smoke rose from countless patches of the burning landscape.

He crawled along the roof to the other window he had seen and lowered himself through. As he landed, his landing kicked up dust and dirt all the same. He brushed himself off but the dirty and musty air caused him to cough. The room had clearly been untouched since long before Artemis had even been born. He looked around, satisfied that he had at least gotten past the door. Only then did he realize that he could have just used his lock-picking device and saved himself the trouble.

He rubbed his face in frustration, realizing that he was only making this harder on himself, and tried to let the thought go. He turned to continue down the path and passed through a small doorway at the end of the hall.

Once through, the area opened up into a massive and long chamber, nearly a hundred meters in length. The ceiling reached a score of meters up and the walls were an equal distance apart. Beams jutted out from the walls, jammed into the dirt with platforms hanging off them with rope - some square, some round. Crates littered the ground as well as tables and storage shelves. Some barrels lay turned over, others cracked open with jagged pieces of wood littered around them. Fewer still stood completely unharmed and upright, almost mocking their brethren. It looked as though a bar fight had broken out at a construction site.

Down the room at the very end a great statue loomed with a light from above shining to illuminate the proud-looking figure. Its impressive posture towered at what looked to be nearly the height of the room, a third of that the base of the statue alone. It seemed out of place within the room, the bright and glistening symbol contrasting the darkness and gloom of everything surrounding it.

His path was clear.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

The two men looked around the hallway and waited to assess their situation. Victor took a good look down both directions, hoping to derive some kind of new information.

The stones looked new, well placed and even hidden beneath a river of animal skins. The walls mirrored the floor and the ceiling, except the stone protruded slightly. Wooden tables and chairs, all showing clear signs of aging, reflected light beautifully. The entire hall was adorned in a glorious white light. However this light did not come from the walls, rather, it came from windows. An unnatural light flowed through, illuminating the corridor through open drapes.

Victor’s discerning red eyes inspected every detail of the hallway as he scanned left and right. He could not shake the feeling that this passage was different from the others; this one did not seem to emit its own light. The drifter slowly prowled toward the closest window and looked over to the other man, who made a similar approach. He observed Adrian’s stalk and continued to think that something seemed off about him.

The pair made their way to the glass and peeked through. Victor placed his hand on the glass and leaned over, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the blinding glare. He cupped a hand over his brow to get a better look.

Thousands of bright orbs floated weightlessly in the air around giant structures, emitting a heavenly glow that flooded through windows. Lavish palaces and regal castles filled the landscape as far as the eye could see. Draped in a silver glow, the entire world seemed like a dream. The laws of gravity did not seem to apply and there were figures moving about, weightless, through extravagant courtyards. It seemed like a surreal festival, filled with faceless figures, moving to an endless dance that flowed in a chaotic whirlpool.

The soldier could see the expression on Adrian’s face; it was not one of admiration or intrigue, but of repulsion. The drifter moved away from the window and Adrian did the same, as though on cue.

“We shouldn’t stay long in one place,” Victor mumbled, walking past the plain-dressed man. “I don't know what that darkness was, but it seems to be following us. It looks like there might be something that way,” the jack-of-all-trades pointed down the length of the halls that led past Adrian.

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a wise idea to go further in?” the man said quietly, wondering why he felt a sinking feeling.

“Well the way I see it, our way back is gone,” Victor began, scratching his head. “No, our only way out is forward, no matter how crappy it looks.”

The drifter walked upon the stretch of furs, moving cautiously and carefully. He looked at the walls, hoping to spot a door somewhere down the line.

He did not.

__________________________________________________


The corridor stretched as far as the eye could see. At an ever-so-slight curve, the horizon of the wall obscured what was passed it.


Adrian followed Victor’s steps, keeping a safe distance between them. He would occasionally run his hand atop the furniture, his clammy skin making a slight squeaking noise when touching the smooth wood. His glasses moved slowly down his nose, but he did not move to fix them. His gaze locked onto Victor, like a hunter stalking its prey. His steps, just like before, made no noise, but not because of some magical aid. They were the steps of practiced and meticulous patience. Adrian would wait, as he always had, for the best moment to strike; a time when nothing and no one was watching him.

Decorations began to litter the walls as the pair walked further, ranging from a pair of bastard swords crossing a family insignia to a weapon rack adorned with well-made blades and armors. Victor admired each piece, quickly discerning which weapons had value. However, the more Victor observed, the more he realized that they paled in comparison to the blade that hung from his waist. With a slight smile, Victor brushed a hand on ‘the Bastards’ hilt.

The farther down the two went the less light reached the halls. Victor split his attention between the surroundings and Adrian. They did not even notice the hours pass by.

“Where does this tunnel even lead?” Adrian exclaimed nervously.

“How would I know?” Victor retorted sharply, not turning to look at the man walking with him.

“It’s just... we’ve been walking for what feels like hours now,” the thin man began, pushing his glasses up with his hand and brushing his orange hair back before it fell back into place.

“Yeah, I know!” the drifter yelled, his patience running much thinner than Adrian’s, “I’ve been right here, walking, the whole time!”

“Ye-yes, but don’t you think this might not be the right way?” the meek man responded, his voice showing the anxiety and discomfort he wanted it to.

“And what do you propose as an alternative? Go back? Walk twice as long in the opposite direction with no guarantee it will lead anywhere different?” Victor held no patience for arguments.

The two men kept walking, although both knew it would not be long before they could take no more.

The drifter stopped suddenly, reaching for the flask tied to his belt. With a heavy sigh he let the empty flask fall to his side. The frustration began to build in the jack-of-all-trades as his trudge turned into a long stride.

Just at the horizon, the two finally noticed a doorway in the, almost completely devoid of light. The two exclaimed in joy, making a break for the long awaited hope. The large door was unlike any other in the dungeon. Covered with etchings of a battle, with a reappearing character. The ornate, wrought iron gate, towered over Victor and Adrian. Everything about the door exerted power and domination.

After a few minutes spent observing the door, the soldier pushed the heavy metal open. They entered a large, circular, domed room that spanned nearly three hundred feet in diameter. More weapon racks lined the walls of the chamber than the drifter had ever seen.

Within the center of the room was a combat arena that showed countless signs of violence. The ring itself was isolated from the rest of the chamber by a trench that had no end, and connected to the outer circle by a thin bridge. The passageway seemed more like a bunch of rickety planks hanging over a dark abyss than an actual walkway.

Victor was the first one in the room, cautiously, watching his steps as he crossed the flimsy path.

Tall suits of armor stood between the assorted weapons, as if keeping watch over the room. Almost all of the armors held some kind of weapon, be it sword, spear, axe or club. The armors were all black and red, from helm to boot. The armor opposite Victor at the end of the room held, in its left gauntlet, a large great sword in front of itself and a bright crimson gauntlet with black streaks on the right hand.

Above the armors were elaborate, towering, and elegant windows, decorated by stained glass. A bright light, illuminating the dust in the air and discolored by the stained windows moved through the expansive space.

The drifter walked past the bridge, taking his first steps into the middle of the large circular battleground. He moved cautiously, turning to see if Adrian was still following him. He was and he stepped over the bridge after Victor, moving calmly over the planks and stone. The jack-of-all-trades walked to the center of the circle while Adrian moved around the perimeter.

A sinister hiss replaced the silence and the two men looked around nervously. A rush of air resonated from above Victor who instinctively rolled to the side. A dark giant-like figure crashed at the center of the ring, shooting up enough dust to completely cover his menacing form. Victor coughed at the bitter taste the dust left on his palette, covering his mouth while he peered inquisitively through the cloud.

Before the drifter could see anything, a large form swept at him from the side. He rolled backwards nimbly, avoiding the blurring blade. But the very force of the impact altered the course of his roll, sending him plunging towards the edge of the ring. The drifter used everything he could to stay on solid ground, stopping his roll at the edge and looking up at a giant figure shrouded in dust.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis glanced around the run-down room. Between him and the goal the ground gaped open like a jaw ready to devour any who failed, thus blocking the path to the statue across the way. Artemis approached the edge of the pit and stared down, realizing that the bottom was impossible to discern. The darkness was all-encompassing, engulfing everything and keeping secrets from the vagabond. He kicked a fragment of a barrel by his feet into the pit and noticed that the darkness was more than a lack of light – it was a living black mist. The fog devoured the chunk of wood and metal instantly, and where Artemis expected to hear a sound of some sort, he instead heard complete and utter silence.

"Right, avoid the black mist," he said to himself as his heart skipped a beat. However, as soon as the wood breached the gaping pit, across the way a massive hourglass filled with black sand began to rotate. The large construct grinded loudly before setting into place with a resounding click; the timer had begun. "Fuck!"

He glanced quickly around and trying to find his best path. His eyes noted all the details of what he saw, trying to piece together the puzzle of how to traverse to the other side of the room over the immediate doom that opened up below.

He dashed to the left side of the room and jumped at the wall, using the magic of his boots to give him some traction on the wall. Leaping up he latched onto some grooves in the stone and shimmied sideways onto some planks set along the wall. Crawling up, he began to steady his breathing, taking short and calculated breaths as if he were keeping pace for miles of jogging. His heart pounded relentlessly deep within his chest, as if wanting to escape and not be a part of this risky business.

'Calm, Artemis,' a voice said in his mind. 'You must stay calm.' Judicis whispered into the man's thoughts, using some of his magic to relax the youth through his perils.

A few meters ahead, a beam protruded from the wall. Artemis burst forward, jumping toward the wall and scaling the gap with his boots before pushing off and leaping toward the beam. His hands grabbed the wood but the weight dragged the beam down at an angle. Thankfully it held. He tried to steady himself to stop the swinging and pull himself up. Just as he stood atop the wood, the beam creaked beneath him. He swallowed hard and leapt forward to the next beam, quickly jumping to the next after that in quick succession. Another jump brought him to a round pole that stuck from the wall that he grabbed and swung onto a hanging platform ahead. Once he landed, the platform swayed, and Artemis feared that the rope that kept his life from ending would give in and break.

'Quickly now, there's no time to waste.' Judicis too felt the urgency, and as though on cue, a large rumble came from behind. Artemis turned and saw the stones above where he began collapse down. As they did, the large chunks of rock molded and merged to form three elementals of stone which immediately gave chase and searched for a path toward the lone human.

He quickly reached up, climbing the hemp rope that held the wooden platform. His callused hands reached one over the other until he hung just a few meters from the ceiling. He looked up and saw a few strands breaking, one by one. He swung back and forth, gaining a bit of momentum and launching himself forward. Just as he let go one of the three stone sentinels landed on the platform and the weight caused the rope to snap. Down dropped the platform into the silent maw below, taking one of the threats with it. He landed on a ledge that protruded from the side, climbing over the railing and onto the small platform.

'Take a moment to recover, Artemis. You can do this, but you must maintain your concentration.'

"That's not really an option, Judicis!" Another step forward and Artemis heard a slight click beneath his boot and on instinct alone, his desperation transmitting into his boots for aid yet again, he propelled forward toward a massive pillar that divided the hallway in two. Barely a fraction of a second later, dozens of glass bolts tipped with poison fired out of the wall. As gravity took Artemis down, the bolts flew inches overhead to crash into the stone above. His fingers latched onto the side of a spiral marble staircase that wrapped around the pillar while shards of glass fell upon him like poisonous flakes of snow. Again he had to desperately climb, and quickly too. He kicked off to side of the pillar and scaled up quickly, pulling himself onto the staircase.

Beads of sweat had started to line his brow. He ran as he circled the pillar, climbing up the steps and jumping the small broken gaps of the staircase that appeared before him. Each leap made his heart flutter, as he knew what remained below. Facing the statue once more, the stairs cut off, leaving the only option to be jumping yet again. Every sinew of his muscles struggled to overcome the distance between his current position and the top of the next pillar - which had broken in half leaving a small roughly flat area atop it.

As his body struck the large marble structure he landed in a tumble, slowing his momentum until he came to a stop. As he did, one of two remaining elementals launched itself upon the pillar; The other was not too far off either. As the elemental landed, Artemis drew his twin mythril blades and crouched defensively. "What the hell do I do to a rock?!"

His eyes darted around and spotted a ledge not far off - a crack in the wall just enough for the vagabond to grab onto and make his way along. He had to get over there, but it was past the elemental. It ground and grumbled as the pile of stones lumbered toward him. An arm of rock swung overhand and struck at the man. He stepped aside quickly, but given the limited space, it was easy enough for the elemental to swing his arm outward toward the vagabond once more. Instinctively his daggers came up to block, but as soon as he made contact, Artemis knew it had been a mistake. The impact knocked him back and caused him to lose his footing, his arms flailing wildly as one of his blades flew free from his hands and into the black mist.

"Fuck this!" Artemis yelled, using his boots to catch and steady his footing. The stone beast still stood near the edge, and knowing the risks, he ran at the creature and jumped into the air. Artemis willed the sole of his boots simply to be as hard as possible, and dropkicked the beast with all his weight. As his kick landed, the creature staggered just enough to tumble off the edge, growling with fury as it began to fall off into the pit.

With a heavy and exhausted sigh, he lifted himself from his stomach and quickly sheathed his remaining dagger. He looked over to where he needed go, and another quick look around showed him the other golem was seconds away. His urgency escalated, knowing he had no way to fight the third and final beast and had gotten lucky with the first two. He ran across the marble surface, jumping once more with his life on the line. As his body slammed against the wall, his fingers latched on for life onto the ledge. His boots clung to the wall as well as a spike burst out through the toe, digging in like an ice climber.

He had only moments of respite. The elemental knew it had nothing to grab onto and so it looked for an alternate route. Short and precise movements brought him to a very large window with purple curtains hanging to cover the opening. He reached out, his hands thankful for the soft fabric as he stepped off the ledge and used the curtain to propel himself along the wall.

He reached out for the other curtain, holding it tightly as he ran from left to right like a large pendulum until he built momentum. After finally reaching the height and distance he needed, he leapt to the next balcony that stood before him. His hands caught the rail, which proceeded to break. His fingers, already bloodied and cut from the trial, barely grabbed the ledge to which the rail connected. He strained with all his strength, refusing to let go to what was surely his death. He reached up with his other hand quickly, grabbing the ledge and lifting himself up. His muscles could feel the strain, but the hours spent at the forge gave him plenty of endurance.

He was not sure how much more of this his body could take. He was stringing together near-death experiences.

'You're almost there, Artemis. The belt is close. I can feel its magic.' With the cue from Judicis, he looked up at the belt, realizing his sentient friend was correct. Unfortunately, Judicis could not have known that the last bit of sand was about to trickle through the hourglass, and Artemis could only imagine what that meant.

"Almost doesn't quite cut it!" Artemis yelled.

Artemis ran forward, leaping upon the iron frame of a massive chandelier. The chain that held it in place jingled as it swung. He moved his weight back and forth, creating a bit of a swing before he jumped to the next and middle chandelier, turning to his right and facing the statue. It was barely fifteen meters away. Just then the last drop of sand fell through and as it did, the entire room roared as if angry and quaked suddenly as though that someone held it within his or her hands and shook violently.

With his only hope being to make it across the platform, he jumped across to the next chandelier - the last that hung between him and the platform upon which the statue stood sentry. As he landed, the weight ripped the chandelier out from the ceiling and it began to fall. Continuing his run with one final push, Artemis urged his body forward. The chandelier fell, the roar of the last earth elemental filled the room as it fell into the abyss with the rest of the room - the pillar, the platforms, beams, fixtures, and everything else. The room was collapsing in on itself and falling into the abyss. As Artemis fell, he landed with a tumble at the base of the statue. He rose quickly and looked up at the figure, wondering what he could possibly do to the save himself. Just then, he noticed the belt the statue wore was made of some kind of hide, different from the stone figure.

He ran and jumped up the platform of the statue, climbing quickly. Rising once more, he kicked off the knee of the statue, jumping and reaching up with one hand to grab at the belt. His fingers wrapped around the leather and grabbed on tightly. As Artemis began to fall, the belt ripped off the statue along with him. As he landed on his back, a heavy thud sending a shudder through his spine, suddenly everything dimmed.

Artemis expected his death. Instead, the room he had been in fell away, and his hand now appeared empty. He was standing before the stone door again – the one with the silver glowing tree. However, now the tree did not glow. He looked down and wrapped around his waist was the belt, fitting snugly. He looked to the belt, up to the door, and then back to the belt, completely baffled.

"Congratulations," a voice said behind him – the voice of the hunter.

"Fuck you," was all he could say.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

The wide arc of the attack cleared all the dust in the air instantly. Victor’s hand dropped, along with his jaw as his thoughts swam in despair. Standing nearly twice the size of an average human was a demonic blood-red armor. The gauntlet on its left was pitch black, with unnatural streaks of dark ebony snaking up the length of its arm.

The gleaming armor, to Victor’s discerning gaze, was clearly made of adamantine. Intimidating spikes made of black titanium jutted out of the shoulders, elbows and knees of the horror. Black chainmail covered the inside of the armor, not letting any light in. The helmet of the behemoth displayed large black horns, and a facemask darker than night. The mask itself was featureless – a mirroring the doomed souls before it. The only other thing on the helm was a thin dark slit where two glowing green orbs found their home.

Victor's indifferent, half-open, gaze was a muddled mess of anxiety and fear, but a nervous smile managed to twitch it's way to his face. "Hey, what do you think this is? Some bad novel? I don't have an Excalibur to slay the big bad dragon with. . ."

The large great-sword now hung over its shoulder no less intimidating. The behemoth stood imposing, casting shadows in every direction, as if devouring the mystic light that filled the room.

The humbled man stood slowly, letting the scene before him unfold, in the shadow of the massive armor. The huge crimson knight turned as well, searching for Adrian. It locked the meager man in its sight and then moved to strike.

“Hey, fat ass!” he yelled, running at the giant armor, The Bastard already in his hand, “how bout you fight someone only half your size!”

Adrian could not move. The depth of despair he had fallen into overwhelmed the normal, chilling calm he had. He could not see anything past the ominous bloody form that approached. His glasses slid down the length of his nose but he did not think to fix them.

Then a voice rang out and the red-haired mans stupor was broken. Before he knew what was happening he saw the much smaller form of Victor Valentine running alongside the towering monster. Victor leapt as high as he could, stabbing hard with his blade, clashing against the red helmet. The powerful thrust of the long-sword was apparent to Adrian immediately as the armor tilted its helm forward. But in an instant a blurred black fist hit the drifter over the head.

Victor crashed into the ground at the feet of the demonic armor. The sword fell from his hand and blood came down in streaks from his forehead. He groaned, trying to lift himself from the small crater he laid in. Adrian watched in horror, fearing his only chance for escape or survival just splattered all over the ground.

“Please,” a mousy voice pleaded from Adrian, “I don’t know what you want, but anything I have is yours.” Adrian fell to his knees, throwing his hands up in defense, his glasses falling from his face.

The monstrous form halted for a moment, unsure of what the little man’s intentions were.

Adrian did not dare to look up at the great red thing. He tried to keep his eyes shut for as long as possible. Finally, yet again, a voice stirred him from his sleep.

“Move, you fucking idiot!” Victor’s cried out as the drifter tackled the kneeling man out of the way of a powerful vertical slash, the giant great-sword splitting the ground where it hit.

The red-eyed man started running along the perimeter of the inner circle, dragging Adrian with him. His eyes frantically scanned the armor up and down, looking for a weak spot, but he found none.

“What are we going to do?” Adrian whimpered, looking around the room for some way out. Behind the bridge, in front of which stood the daunting red armor, he noticed the doorway through which they passed had disappeared. They were trapped in the room and the only escape seemed to be death.

“We fight,” Victor said confidently, his eyes now scanning the ledge past the deadly drop.

“What do you mean we fight? Your sword did nothing!” Adrian cried, turning to the drifter in disbelief.

“Yeah,” the drifter sighed, scratching his head as he usually did when he was in trouble,

Adrian looked at Victor in amazement, thinking to himself, 'Is he a buffoon or does he really have some kind of plan?'

“Do you have a plan?” asked the unnerved man, hoping this reckless drifter could think of a way out of the hopeless situation.

“Yeah,” the jack-of-all-trades grinned, stopping, “I’m gonna hit the son-of-a-bitch with something else,” he turned away, stepping towards the big suit, “till I smash’im to bits.”

'We’re doomed,' Adrian thought, taking a step back.

The drifter started, in a sprint, rushing towards the giant suit. 'I just have to dodge the first strike', Victor repeated to himself, over and over. His red eyes never blinked, watching the not-so-subtle movements of his opponent. When he was within reach, the massive blade swung down, crashing into the hard stone. But the drifter was already rolling towards the bridge. He sprinted as fast as he could over the rickety walkway, crashing into the wall behind it.

“Damn, still no door,” Victor said aloud in disappointment.

“Were you trying to escape without me?!” Adrian yelled from across the room.

Victor chuckled, turning back to his ally, “Of course not, I was just… making sure he had nowhere else to run,” he laughed, unnerved.

The giant mass stalked over to the bridge slowly and Victor hoped it would be stupid enough to step onto it and fall to its demise. Upon reaching the bridge, it leapt several meters into the air, clearing the distance of the bridge easily and landing next to the screaming, fleeing drifter.

The jack-of-all-trades ran as fast as he could from the dust cloud, made once again by the large beast. Hoping to put enough distance between the two, Victor ran without turning back around.

“No way,” he heard Adrian say, before turning to see what the timid man was referring to.

Victor saw the charging bulk of crimson hatred running as quickly after him as he ran away from it.

“That’s NOT fair!” the drifter screamed, looking away from the unpredictably fast armor. The steps of the red knight echoed in the dome chamber, thundering as they shook the ground.

Victor ran, taking random weapons off the walls and racks and flinging them at the crimson knight. The drifter did not wait to see if his barrage of projectiles had any effect, he knew they had not.

Victor screamed as he ducked another wide horizontal arc from the fearsome great-sword. He set to running, dodging the blows that came at a greater frequency until he was out of range.

The red-eyed man was approaching his last leg; he knew he would not be able to keep running. Making it to the side opposite the bridge, he threw down a suit of armor. He could feel killing-intentions from behind and heard a growl as he imagined the giant great-sword swing up into the air.

Then, there was a crash.

The jack-of-all-trades stopped suddenly and realized he was still alive. The indestructible crimson avenger lay sprawled out on the floor. Victor had to wipe his eyes a few times before he could begin to believe what he saw. Adrian stood on the inner circle in equal disbelief.

“You thought you could beat me?” he chuckled, poking the fallen armor with a sword he picked up from the floor.

But before the drifter could utter another word, or even move, a massive adamantine fist grasped the blade. Victor watched in horror as the metal shattered under the grasp of the giant’s left hand while it rose to its feet. Its massive sword lay in the debris left in the wake of the tiring chase. The armor raised its right arm, which up until now Victor paid no attention to, but as it crashed into the side of the exhausted fighter, he finally noticed.

It had no gauntlet.

The black armored hand grabbed the red-eyed man’s face. Taking hold of the grip, it lifted its sword into the air. The blade swung down but stopped at the roaring echo of a gunshot. A bullet hit the gap in the armor, the force of the shot weakening the grip on its arm. The great-sword fell with a mighty crash and the armor stood to face its new opponent, releasing Victor.

Another shot echoed through the air, this one finding its place in the slot on the helmet. The armor staggered for a moment.

Adrian was standing across the room, holding a rifle in his hands. He made it in time to save the drifter, but was not sure what his next move was. The crimson giant made that decision for him, taking a long weapon rack in one hand and flinging it across the room.

The trembling man saw the large piece of metal hurling towards him. The flying mass clipped his shoulder, completely dislocating it, tearing his skin, spilling his blood and sending him spinning to the floor and knocking him unconscious.

"Good throw. . ." Victor admitted.

The armor bent to pick up its fallen sword, lifting it with ease. It turned for a final time to face the injured drifter.

Before the menace turned, Victor slipped on a red gauntlet. Cocking his arm back the soldier stepped in as far in as he could. With all his remaining might he crashed a closed gauntleted fist into the belly of the beast.

The armor flew across the room, landing in the center of the room. Staring at the gauntlet in disbelief, he made his way over to the bridge where Adrian lay sprawled on the ground. The soldier checked to make sure he was still breathing, before crossing the bridge to finish the fight.

Victor approached the fallen armor, his fist tightened before a heavy leg caught him in the side. The sound of ribs breaking echoed in the room, as the man coughed blood. But the drifter did not go far, the armor had been weakened considerably.

Both opponents rose to their feet slowly, the drifter clutching his side. Blood began flowing freely from Victor's head and several cuts on his torso.

With a mighty roar, the giant armor came upon Victor, who charged in without fear. The great-sword came down on top of the wounded soldier, who wagered his life on his new gear. He brought his hand up to meet the blade.

"Mister dragon, meet mister Excalibur."

The collision of the two fighters caused the dust to fly in every direction. The Victor caught the blade, stopping it in mid-air as though it was weightless. Both fighters paused, but the red-eyed man was the first to recover. He tossed the blade to the side and stepped in, punching the outside of the armor’s right knee, shattering the chainmail and adamantine greaves. Victor's arm, along with the rest of him, was tossed aside like a rag doll.

The bleeding soldier stood up, rubbing his arm painfully. The armor tried to stand, but it was impossible.

At last, a whispered hiss filled the room, as Victor approached the fallen warrior, finish it.

There was a crash. Then there was darkness. The room fell away behind him and the soldier was standing in the hallway of trees and grass once more. At his feet lay Adrian, unconscious, but his injury did not seem as severe as before. Victor thought his pain had lessened as well, while he continued rubbing his shoulder. The red-eyed man looked at his right hand, which still had the crimson gauntlet on it.

“Crap,” he sighed, “I really hoped it was a dream…”

"Congratulations," a voice interrupted from behind him – the voice of the warrior.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis turned to face the tall demon-hunter that stood behind him. The man smiled beneath his scarf, though Artemis would never know. "You've passed my trial," the hunter said, arms crossed over his plated chest. "Now you wear the artifact I've protected – the Belt of Shadow."

The vagabond looked down and placed his hands on the belt, turning the buckle up toward his face. "What does this thing do?" he asked, and he hoped the answer would be worthwhile. Though the trial had left his hands torn and his body achy, he seemed to have fully recovered upon its completion; unfortunately, his mind had not recovered as thoroughly. He knew his hands were healed, but they still felt like the skin had torn off. He still felt the adrenaline surging through him as well, and he began to steady his breathing to settle his mind and body back down.

"The power of the belt is twofold. The first is the power that will remain within the belt wherever you go, and that is the ability to step through the shadows."

Artemis gave the man a look of confusion, lifting an eyebrow toward the hunter.

"That belt allows you to, in effect, teleport short distances – the farthest I've ever been able to go is fifty feet, though perhaps you'll be able to use the magic better than I."

"So I can just teleport around? Just like that?"

"Of course not," the hunter explained. "That would be too easy. The belt has charges, and these charges take time to recover. The recovery time varies, but normally, the belt retains three charges. Sometimes, it is possible to prepare for a particular event and overcharge the belt to five, but that takes time."

"Okay, a teleport belt. What's the other power?"

"The other power is specific to where we are now. It will grant you an advantage over Diadeus. Your companion, the blonde-haired warrior, has also attained his artifact. Sebastian will explain the rest."

"Who is Seba..." Before he could finish, the world caved in on itself, as if being vacuumed into a small hole and taking the surroundings with it. Artemis felt the pull and instantly had a strong urge to wretch.

Then, just as suddenly as he was sucked in, he was spit out, standing before a massive black iron gate. Upon the gate was the face of Diadeus, the man who had introduced himself to the six combatants at the beginning of the match. His face grinned wickedly and two large fangs showed their desire. His eyes were the only thing not made of iron, and they burned a bright red, as if watching and threatening all those on the outside. A black mist danced between the bars of the entrance, as though in worship of the creature's avatar.

Artemis looked around, and there before him stood the silver-robed monk, a serious look upon his face.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

Victor turned, surprised and in a defensive stance. But what he saw before him was not the bloody berserker from the domed room. Standing in front of him was a tall, handsome knight, his helmet resting at his waist. The claymore was much smaller, hanging from his back. The armor did not lose its crimson sheen, but the darkness on his left hand had vanished. His slicked back blonde hair and over-all features showed nobility and care.

“Who,” Victor began, but he realized he already knew the answer, “Why?” he asked instead.

“My name is Sir Siegfried King, and I will forever be in your debt,” the knight said with a low bow. Victor was taken aback by the formal display and tried to downplay his accomplishment.

“Oh, it was nothing,” he began, averting his gaze and chuckling, “anyone would have done the same... My name’s Victor Valentine.”

“This was no simple task, Victor Valentine,” Siegfried continued grimly, “many have attempted this trial, in the long centuries I have been trapped here, but none have succeeded. Save you. You have freed me from my prison of despair and my curse of hatred,” the knight said with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said again, bowing his head low. “The red gauntlet you wear is the artifact I created. It has a power, though you have already witnessed it. It absorbs the energy your opponents use against you, storing it until you release it, focusing all of it into a single point. But there is an unfortunate drawback, which no doubt you have noticed” Siegfried explained, motioning to the red-eyed man's injured shoulder.

Peeking out of Adrian’s belt was a gleaming silver dagger. The slightly curved blade has scattered runes imbedded in it and a dark red ruby in the pommel. Victor inspected the blade for the first time, noticing its hidden power.

“That was the blade of Jak Wondres, a powerful mage,” the knight explained, “I do not know what the blade does and I cannot imagine the boy does either. Jak had the purest, but frailest soul of us. If his personality was not engulfed by the magic, then he passed on before he could explain the situation to this man.”
Victor looked Adrian up and down, unable to believe that he could single-handedly pass a trial similar to the one that just ended. As if reading his mind, Siegfried began again.

“Each trial for the artifacts is different and Jak’s strength was in his mind. His trial was probably some kind of riddle.”
“When used in the presence of the beast, they will begin the first parts of a spell. It was Jak's idea, that even if the reality marbles are destroyed, and this realm disperses, the beast will be free to roam the earth again; his powers no longer limited. The spell is a banishment spell, against demons. You will not have long after it is activated to destroy the reality marbles and destroy this realm. Once the realm is gone, the beast will be banished to the demon world and our task complete." Siegfried turned to face the corridor and dark smog tore away at the halls.

“Thank you,” he whispered, putting a hand on Victor’s shoulder, “do what we could not.”

Before the knight could say another word he faded from sight and darkness encroached. Victor watched as the floor lost its grassy visage and an ash colored ground took its place. Molten colored veins spread out from under his feet, branching in random directions all around the floor and walls. The smog took the shape of a dark cloud up above, with fiery lights illuminating the inside.

The drifter and Adrian were thrust through space and time to a massive black gate. Adorned with engravings, a story of pain and suffering was written in black on the face of the entrance. Victor did not enjoy looking at the unpleasant doorway, but he feared he had no choice but to go through. He eyed the unconscious Adrian anxiously, knowing he would not prove very useful in a fight. The drifter looked around nervously, hoping the blue-eyed fighter would hurry and show up.

'I really don’t wanna do this on my own.'

[SirArtemis]

'The magic suppression has returned, Artemis,' Judicis whispered into his mind. 'It seems we've returned to where we began.'

Artemis could not believe it. Everything seemed different now as he stood in front of the massive iron gate – a gate that was not even attached to any walls.

"I'm glad you are all here." The silver-robed monk spoke, his hands folded together by his waist. "As you've been informed, my name is Sebastian."

Artemis glanced around, confused by who else the monk was referencing. Suddenly, he had noticed that to his side stood the man from earlier, though he seemed to have sobered up. Next to him, unconscious on the ground, laid the body of a man he did not recognize.

"The time has come for all to be laid bare before you," Sebastian continued, his blue eyes drifting from one man to the next. "I was once a monk of the Order of Ai'brone, the very monks who care for the Citadel now. Long ago, I left the safety of our sanctuary in search of a demon, one you've heard of by now: Diadeus.

"Along my journey, I gained a few companions. The first was the armored warrior that you faced, Victor – Siegfried." Sebastian gave a nod to the drifter before continuing. "He had a vengeance with which he sought the demon, and so he chose to aid me on the journey.

"The next was the wizard, Jak Wondres. He sought the demon to test his strength and skill and prove himself, and so he also chose to join me. The man beside you, Adrian, overcame his trial.

"And finally, Artemis, was the demon-hunter that you met – Jordan Shadow. His purpose was the most pure, and he was the strongest because of it. He sought to eradicate the world of evil, as I did.

"The four of us became a powerful force, and as we sought Diadeus out, we encountered countless foes who fell before our combined might with ease. We began to feel we could not lose. We began to think that with our combined might, we would be invincible. We believed Diadeus did not stand a chance. We were fools.

"He defeated each of us, and with each kill came a curse. For Siegfried, he was forced to relive his greatest pains and failures for all eternity. For Jak, it was to constantly be reminded of his inadequacy. For Shadow, it was to always have that which he sought most remain out of reach."

Sebastian paused, closing his eyes briefly as he recalled the events with sorrow. Artemis and Victor gave each other a quick look, both scared and confused as to where things were leading. An oppressive negative energy seemed to fill the air like invisible smog, and as the pause filled the air, Adrian began to stir. The others took note, but Sebastian continued speaking.

"However, we did not fall so easily. Just before each of them met their demise, they activated a relic – one that each of us had. They are known as axiom spheres, and they are incredibly powerful. When activated, they create a barrier around the user and the space within the marble warps to suit the heart of the caster.

"The three of them cast their magic simultaneously, and yet the demon continued to resist. Hope began to wane, and so I did the only thing I could think of. While Diadeus stood immobilized by the barrier created using the other three active spheres, I approached and activated my own. I created a prison around Diadeus and used the other three marbles as a 'lock' of sorts, creating a safety measure to keep him trapped.

"However, I had a second sphere – one that the others had never known about." The monk looked down, pain in his eyes as he paused before continuing his long explanation. "I fused with the second marble, as well as with Diadeus, creating a powerful barrier to keep the demon trapped. Once I had created the new domain using the two layers of the axiom spheres, I anchored the larger one that held the prison within to the basement of the Citadel, knowing my brothers would know what to do.

"Throughout the centuries, my three companions have fused deeper within their spheres, embedding their souls and energy within these artifacts: one of which you wear around your waist, Artemis, and you on your hand, Victor. The man now stirring, he too has an artifact – the dagger of Jak.

"However, now that the three trials have been passed and the artifacts collected, the axiom spheres are weakening. Thus, so has my own, and now his evil is seeping out of the prison. We now stand before the gate to where his essence is, and it is up to you to use the artifacts we have left behind to destroy him.

"The three of you, with our power aiding you, have the strength to end this horrific nightmare. The artifacts will continuously drain him while simultaneously granting you multiple advantages, including allowing you to draw on us for strength as well, improving your overall attributes."

Artemis stood absorbing everything, still recovering from the horrors that he had faced during his own trial. Now, after escaping death, he was turning back and walking right into it. His heart pounded faster than a hummingbird's and his hands were creating an ocean of sweat. He kept wiping them onto his leather pants, noticing that a dagger was missing and getting even more nervous.

"So how the hell do you expect us to win exactly?" Artemis asked, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"We trust you will know what to do," the monk said. "Now, it is time." He turned to face the door, lifting his hands and waving them in a purposeful way as the gate slowly opened up with a loud creak. Black smoke poured out and along the ground, the chill rolling across the ground and filling Artemis with dread. However, Artemis could not see past the portal that existed between the frame that held the gate. The semi-transparency of the magic blurred whatever lay behind, though clearly not strong enough to hold back what lay there. It looked like a giant painting hanging before him – one that lead to a different world entirely.

Artemis turned to Victor, wondering what the man might be thinking, or how he might be feeling after the monk's long speech. When he did, he saw the man standing with his arm out, holding his rum flask completely upside down with a frown on his face. Artemis began to open his mouth to speak, but before the words found their way out, Victor filled the silence with his own thoughts.

"Fuck."

[Good for Nothing Captain]

“Help me with that, would you?” Victor said, pointing to the semi-conscious man who stirred at his feet.

He and Artemis lifted Adrian to his feet, shouldering his weight between each other. The three made their gradual approach toward the shimmering, blurring portal, not sure what to expect. Both men, who were aware of their situation, imagined the atrocities they would face. But neither could have anticipated what was to come.

The sky was blue: blue-er than any the vagabond and the soldier had ever seen before. A bright yellow sun hung in the sky, filling lush green hills with a warm glow. Several clouds hung in the air, drifting with the soft wind that blew across the faces of the bewildered men. Victor and Artemis looked out on the landscape from the top of a tall hill. Both men felt every detail of the atmosphere. Even the wind was pleasant when it brushed by the two vagrants. There was a group of people, not too far from the trio, frolicking in the pleasant summer weather. A sweet aroma filled the air from a large field of flowers off in the distance.

All five senses were completely satisfied with the picturesque scene.

“He’s mocking us,” Artemis began, squinting at the scene.

For a while they stood, unable to fathom the great scene of content they had stumbled upon. The vagabond was the first to move, he let Adrian down slowly and made a cautious walk down the hill. Artemis knew there was something missing from this immaculate visage. He could not put his finger on it, but something was off.

Victor walked after the other mobile combatant, also enamored by the display. The two men reached the bottom of the hill, now standing on level ground with the joyful group of people. The drifter took his flask out from behind his belt and tried to drink. Artemis made to move forward, but a crimson gauntleted hand went out to stop him. He turned, surprised, looking at Victor for an explanation.

“If this were as perfect as it seems,” Victor began, turning his flask upside-down, “I would have rum.”

“Well we can’t just stand around doing nothing,” Artemis said, brushing the gauntlet off his shoulder. He walked towards the people, who did not seem to notice the arrival of the pair. Victor kept his distance, but followed the vagabond, not wanting to be left alone.

As they got closer to the playful people the sky began to lose its color. The sun still shone, but the color of light seemed less exuberant. All the world around the two men seemed to lose its luster, its life. Victor stopped, to observe the changing scenery, checking his flask once more before putting it back in its place at his belt.

Artemis reached out to one of the people who stood on the outside of a circle of dancing strangers. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, but when the figure turned it did not have a face. There were no clear signs of torture, just a featureless patch of skin. The man stood for a moment, cocked his head to the side and turned back to the group, entering the dance as before.

Artemis took a step back, confused by the discovery, then looked at the rest of the group. None of them had any discernible features. If not for the cloths they wore and the hair on their head, they would all be the same. Victor approached the vagabond and stopped with him to observe the scene.

As the people danced, the sky grew darker. All color seemed to be draining out of the world. The blue sky turned grey and the white clouds blackened. The sun became a white ball, with no warmth emanating from its mass. The group seemed to pick up their tempo and the dance changed from a soft carefree jig to something sinister. The group encircled a child, ’this one is different,’ Artemis thought.

The girl could not have been older than fourteen. Her long black hair flowed to her knees in straight streaks. But the hair was more dirt and oil than true black. Her dark blue dress hung down to her bare feet. However, it was the girls eyes that truly caught Artemis’ attention – the large orange spheres looking up at the vagabond from within the circle. They spoke of sadness, anxiety and fear, a look he was well acquainted with. While Artemis looked at the girl, Victor glanced around, taking note of changes in the wind.

The breeze grew cold – the kind which chilled the bone. It blew harder than before, ignoring the hills. Victor felt on edge by the sudden and drastic change in atmosphere, welcoming the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Finally he saw the girl, but something unsettled the drifter. He could not see her face, the blowing wind moving her hair in front of her.

The people became erratic and hectic, but the girl in the center did not budge. Artemis began to worry - he was not sure what was about to happen, but a killing-intent hung in the air which he could not ignore. He especially could not ignore a helpless child in a circle of madness. The faceless figures moved faster, now beginning to get violent, slamming into each other.

Artemis started off, unwilling to let a child be killed regardless of the situation. Yet again, a rough hand grabbed his arm. Victor tried to speak but before he could the dancers began to crash into the girl and Artemis was not willing to hear the drunkard out.

Shrugging his way out of the grip Artemis ducked towards the crowd. He stopped at the perimeter, looking for a way in. When a gap presented itself he lunged forward.

For a third time, Victor stopped the vagabond, this time pulling him back and getting between Artemis and the scene.

“Out of my way,” Artemis said, drawing his blades, getting into a defensive stance.

“I really don’t think you need to worry,” Victor began, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Before Victor could move, the sound of claws tearing into flesh filled the air. Artemis dropped his guard, fearing the worst, growing angry at the soldier. Victor feared to move, a threatening sensation coming from both ahead and behind him. Then the look of terror on Artemis’ face let the drifter know where the true threat lay.

The vagabond turned to the dancing crowd, but now they danced in blood. A featureless corpse was sprawled out at the feet of the little girl in a pool of its own blood, still streaming from its throat. The others still danced, as another one fell to the girl, whose fingers grew longer and sharper than a human’s could ever be. She moved with a precise cool that sent shivers down the spines of both men.

Two more fell before her assault, her hands now darker than the clouds, tinted black and red with blood. Before long, a pool of blood stretched from her to the feet of the two men still standing in disgusted awe. All the dancers now lay dead on the floor and the girl still looked at the vagrants.

Her expression was twisted beyond recognition with demonic gleeful cruelty. She bore her razor sharp teeth at the men, also stained in blood. Her orange eyes were wide, almost bulging from their sockets, staring intently at both Victor and Artemis.

“See,” Victor said, tapping Artemis on the shoulder, “knew she’d be fine.”

[SirArtemis]

The look on the girl's face looked like that of sinister pleasure. The disgusting way that her eyes lit up at the bloody display left Artemis in a state of shock and horror. She began to giggle, the light chirps of her youthful voice reverberating in the very recesses of the young man's soul as he watched the world around him begin to turn.

The darkness of the sky turned into a maelstrom of darkness, the grays and blacks swirling about an eye that stared down at them, taking the place of the sun. The bloodshot orb looked down upon them, the red iris seething in its rage at all those below. Every time it blinked, a flash of red lightning struck down at the world around them. The grass and flowers that had filled the air with a sweet aroma became rotten and decayed.

The blood around the girl’s bare feet began to come alive, the pools of red turning into a black goop that seemed to grow and crawl about her feet. It began to spread, rising up and toward the two men. They began to back-peddle, retreating from the liquid and back to where they left Adrian atop the hill.

When they stood upon the higher ground, it slowly turned into an island, floating upon an endless ocean of the viscous black goop that bubbled and boiled, filling the air with a putrid stench that made the vagabond gag. The giggles continued to fill the air and echoed, as if not coming from a single source but from the world itself. Slowly, her laughter changed. It became deeper, more threatening and even more sinister.

The girl seemed to have become one with the dark fluid, or at least in control of it, and slowly she allowed it to push her up and closer to the men, dropping her off a few yards away. The sickening expression on her face darkened like the world around them, and her wide eyes began to look like the one that hung above in the sky. Her body stretched and morphed, and her blue dress turned black as well. Her long and dark hair drew in on itself, slowly pulling back to barely two inches in length and burning with red crimson as it spiked atop the figure’s head.

Slowly, the form took shape, and Diadeus stood before them. His hood hung low and he wore a vicious smile that seemed just as inhuman as his previous lack of emotion. His red eyes looked around, and with every movement, the eye above moved in the same manner. This was his domain, and he was in control.

"I welcome you, gentlemen," the dark-skinned man said, the white of his teeth and eyes sharply contrasting the tone of his skin. "It seems the three of you have made it to your goal. I commend you on your success."

Artemis held his daggers steady, crouching down defensively and eyeing the demonic creature before him.

"Come now, no need to get aggressive. I'm here to reward you, after all."

"Pah!" Victor laughed, throwing his head back in sarcastic amusement. "What's the fucking prize? You going to butcher me like you did those people down there? How about you ask me to show you my honor like the two gay dudes back there?"

Artemis turned to Victor, a questioning and confused expression on his face. Even Diadeus looked at the blonde man awkwardly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I saw the bronze boy taking it from behind by the other big dude."

Artemis continued his stare, raising an eyebrow at the drifter. He then turned back to Diadeus. "We know who you are, and we know what you are. We aren't here to get any reward from you. We're here to end your pathetic existence."

Diadeus frowned, apparently disappointed with the turn of events. "It seems someone has been telling you my dirty little secrets. What a shame. I had hoped to play with you for a little while longer, but it seems my plans have been foiled." Black bat-like wings sprang forth from the demon's back, spreading wide and opening with a resounding flap. "Shall we begin then?"

"Argh!"

Victor shouted in pain, causing Artemis to turn. Behind the drifter stood Adrian, blade in hand and wearing an expression that matched the one the small girl had worn just minutes ago. His face looked blank, as if he were an empty shell manipulated by a puppeteer. The dagger rested easily in his hand, the artifact coated with a fresh layer of red.

Before either man could finish processing what had just happened, Diadeus' wings flapped and he launched himself at the vagabond, grabbing hold and lifting the man off the ground.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

Victor’s sight went dark, as his knees buckled. Blood seeped from a new wound in his shoulder. The blade was still there, it's cold steal penetrating the soldiers flesh. The agony in his body was bad, but within moments a much greater pain originated from his head. Out of the darkness images flooded Victor’s vision.

The drifter was in the same desolate place as before but now it was different. He was on the ground, his eyes barely open and a pair of glasses lay in front of him, with a few cracks in the lens’. He looked up to see a huge dark figure racing towards him. He tried to move but could not. He tried to call out but could not. The drifter tried to fight but could not. He could feel claws tearing into his flesh and an otherworldly force pulling him out of his body.

The next thing that he could fathom was suffering. Victor was in a whirlwind of screams, of agony and of pain. The howl of a multitude of crying voices filled his ears in an endless dark storm of souls. His entire being cried out in pain, but no sound came from his mouth. He tried to move but was stuck in place. Scenes of gore and cruelty played out before him in high speed.

Brutality. Malice. Murder. Rape. In one word, torture. Victor tried to discern where he was, but a part of him already knew.

This was hell.

The drifter shut his eyes, harder than ever before. When he opened them again, it was quiet. The screams were gone. He was on his knees, the blade was gone from his shoulder. Victor’s breathing was heavy, as though he had been running at full speed for ten minutes.

Artemis, with both blades drawn, swatted away the possessed Adrian quickly before being over-taken by the swift-flying demon.

Victor tried to stand, but his head was throbbing with such a force that his vision blurred. He fell over, unable to get his bearings. Looking back over his shoulder he made out what he assumed was Adrian, approaching slowly. The drifter scrambled away, hoping to stall any fighting until he could at least stand. But the progress he made was pitiful and slow. He grasped desperately at the ground, trying to pull himself forwards, slipping and collapsing with every attempt.

Adrian was above him, the dagger in his hand and a wicked grin on his face. His glasses fell low on his nose, but he did not make a move to fix them. The dagger was poised to strike but not raised higher than his shoulder. Victor tried to kick at the feet of the slow assassin but no attempt hit its mark. Artemis was in the air, struggling to break the strong hold of the winged demon and could offer no assistance to the helpless drifter.

But apart from the obvious external struggles, another, subtler one was going on. On the outside Adrian was a grinning psychopath elated at the thought of killing his prey. On the inside, Adrian was a pissed-off psychopath frustrated at not being able to kill his prey by his own volition.

Diadeus had imposed his will onto the killer, a powerful magic suppressed Adrian’s will. Adrian’s consciousness was trapped in a dark room, shackled to a chair, able only to watch as the scene transpired before him. He could see it as though it were on a screen, floating in the air before him, taunting him. Every fiber of his being wanted to be in his own shoes. He wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of the kill.

He cursed the demon as he suffered, vowing never to let his blood lust to be suppressed again.

Victor’s world was spinning and yet again he tried to stand. This time he got to his feet and took a few steps before he fell forward, crashing once again into the ground.

”Ok, this is bad,” he thought, trying to steady his gaze and rise again.

The drifter made it to his feet and turned to face Adrian once more. This time he stood his ground, raising his arms feebly in a defensive stance. His breathing was labored by the intense mental attack he had been through. He swung wildly at the encroaching puppet, relying on his advantage in strength to be enough.

” Just one hit,” he said to himself ”I just have to hit him once and it’ll be enough.”

Victor continued to swing recklessly, but Adrian was easily able to avoid the tactless assault of the winded drifter. He kept his distance from Victor, cutting at his exposed skin when the drifter left himself open to attack.

With each cut flashes of the whirling anguish came back into the Victor's mind. He knew that he would not last long like this.

'If I don't finish this, I really will die', the soldier realized.

His attacks continued to hit nothing but air while the mental damage from Adrian’s artifact took a heavier toll on Victor. Finally the jack-of-all-trades stopped his frivolous assault, once again taking up a defensive stance. His vision was no longer blurring, but his body would not move the way he willed it to.

“Come now,” the dark voice of Diadeus came from Adrian’s mouth, “I had really hoped you would put up more of a fight than this!”

Victor looked at the possessed killer, the movements of his face not matching the voice that resonated in the air.

“That’s weird,” Victor said, frowning in sincere discomfort from the display, “Can you just talk normal? Or better yet, just don’t talk at all.”

A cruel laughter echoed from Adrian, whose body danced much like a puppet on a string.

“Well we can’t have you uncomfortable, can we,” Diadeus began, mockingly, “why don’t I just stand aside and let you leave?”

“Would you?” Victor chuckled, “that’d be mighty kind of you. You think you could go ahead and whip up some dinner while you’re at it?”

“Very well,” Diadeus jeered, raising a blade to his own throat, “we can begin with this one.”

Victor made a move forwards but with a flick of his wrist Adrian drew blood from his neck, stopping the concerned drifter in his tracks. A wicked grin of dark satisfaction spread on his thin lips.

Adrian, sitting in his chains cried out in pain, visions blurring the screen of reality. He saw himself lying on the ground, his glasses cracked in front of him. He looked up to see a huge dark figure racing towards him. He could feel claws tearing into his flesh and an otherworldly force pulling him out of his body.

“You worry for this one?” the demonic voice hissed, “if only you could see the darkness in his soul. He plotted to kill you from the beginning. That darkness of his is impressive, even by my standards,” he noted, sounding honestly awed.

“Yeah, I know,” Victor said indifferently, using the conversation to regain his strength and to clean the inside of his ear with his left hand.

“What?” Diadeus asked, surprised by the drifter’s candor.

“I said I know, he’s been waiting for a chance to kill me from the moment we met,” Victor said matter-of-factly, flicking some ear wax from his finger.

“And you would risk your life for him?” the demon laughed, the noise coming from all around the drifter and not from Adrian, “You do not draw your blades and you do not wish for me to kill him either! Why in the world not?!”

“Tch,” Victor scoffed, looking away from the possessed man, thinking back to the fight with the giant crimson knight, “he might be fucked up, but there’s some good in there... Even if we can’t see it. I don’t like to see comrades get killed if there’s something I can do about it.”

Adrian sat chained in his dark world, watching the scene unfold. He had assumed the drifter had his suspicions but did not think he had been so thoroughly seen through. What bothered him more than anything, however, was the attitude Victor had.

Adrian had never received any sympathy or concern. Not as a child from his family or as an adult from a stranger. He attested most of that to himself, assuming he was ‘just that kind of person.’ After the accidental death of his sister, his father began to resent and abuse him. He was not suspected of murdering the drunken fool by authorities. He used the general apathy everyone had for him as a justification for his actions.

But the sincere concern Victor had for him stirred the fire of rage inside him. He began fighting the dark hold he was under and Diadeus sensed this. Rage filled the manipulative demon in kind, as he fed off Adrian's. The demon reveled in misery and suffering. He detested hope and compassion, the frail lights which he could feel, beginning to pierce the darkness that the demon kept his realm bathed in.

“Well there’s nothing you can do about it!” the demonic voice roared, Adrian’s body moving unnaturally as if pulled by strings, “I will kill you, then your comrades and then I will be free, once again!” the words rang with a terrible confidence. Adrian lurched forward, the dagger in his hand moving in wild arcs trying to cut the drifter.

But Victor had stalled long enough, he could move better and it would have to be enough. He managed to use his gauntleted arm to block each slash. To his immediate relief, the images of hell did not come back when he guarded with the artifact. But he was still at a disadvantage. Adrian was being moved like a puppet and, though he was better, Victor was far from peak condition, he would be hard pressed to land a hit.

The dance continued for a while, Victor blocking all of Diadeus’ attacks with his red right hand. When the opportunity presented itself Victor launched attacks of his own, but Adrian moved nimbly out of the way narrowly avoiding Victor’s fist, taunting the soldier.

Victor noticed the taunt.

Victor let Adrian in again, letting Diadeus lash out to his withered heart’s content. Finally, having had enough of this game, Victor stepped in preparing a powerful swing. Diadeus grinned in Adrian’s form, preparing to just barely avoid Victor’s swing.

”I suppose this will be the end,” Diadeus thought with a disappointed sigh, ”I had hoped to play with this one some more but this has become boring.”

He spun the dagger in his hand and readied for the final, killing blow.

Victor cocked his fist back and let loose with all his strength. Diadeus stepped back, calculatedly leaving just barely enough room to avoid the attack. But he did not calculate for the energy the Victor had accumulated to be released with the swing.

“Grit your teeth, Adrian!” Victor yelled.

Bastard, was the only thing Adrian could think, with a smile, before his consciousness was absorbed by the welcomed darkness of sleep.

A powerful burst of force sent Adrian flying through the air and Victor spinning to disperse any recoil.

To Diadeus’ surprise the magic the gauntlet possessed, in this realm, severed the strings which controlled Adrian. Burning them away as fire burns string. The great eye that encompassed the sky winced in pain. The whole world seemed to shake with disdain.

Adrian was once again unconscious, sprawled out on the ground. Victor examined the body, with a scowl, poking him with his boot before concluding with a relieved sigh, Diadeus was no longer present. Before he could rest, a blood-curdling roar filled the sky. Victor looked in the direction the demon had gone and made a tired pursuit.

Reinforcements were on their way.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis felt the claws of the demon-vampire dig into his flesh, piercing right through his leather armor with no trouble whatsoever. They lifted off the ground quickly, leaving Victor to struggle against the possessed Adrian. As the pair flew off, the warrior’s gaze fell upon the endless pool of black beneath, leaving him unsure whether to struggle or not; after all, landing in that probably wouldn’t end well for him either.

Within seconds of taking flight the world began to change yet again as pillars of charred steel sprouted from the dark muck, turning the landscape into a metallic barbed forest. The spikes rose as high as twenty meters, and each had a body of some former life hanging limp like a skewer of kebabs. Far off in the distance a structure began to groan and growl as it pushed up and out of the darkness, as though the evil fluid was giving birth to the building. Towers and walls rose up of gothic appearance, but instead of the stones one would expect of a castle-like structure, everything was peppered with the bones and skeletons of an endless variety. The black goop dripped between the creases of the walls as it rose up, sliding down and revealing patches of color in the form of stained glass windows depicting vampiric imagery. In some twisted way, it was a beautiful and artistic sight, if not for the evil that had birthed it.

The pair flew fast and as the building continued to rise up, Artemis realized that the duo was headed right for the massive and colorful window that hung upon the front of the structure, almost five meters across and showing a great beast gorging on the bodies of the living. The young man covered his face as they crashed through, the sound echoing within the cold walls of the large ballroom-like entryway where Diadeus finally deposited the warrior and let him fall the twenty feet to the floor.

The demon landed gracefully with a final flap of his wings, setting down upon an altar of bones that stood upon a dais fifty feet away from where the young man knelt, recovering from his fall. “Ah, this feels more like home,” the creature spoke, his tone venemous. “Now I can finally kill you.”

“You can try,” Artemis muttered, pulling out another set of blades that he had sheathed upon his back. His blades, Justice and Virtue, were similar to his twin mithril blades; in fact these two were made of mithril – at least initially. These blades were masterwork quality and powerfully enchanted, then alchemically coated with dehlar to seal the magic in and help defend against other magic. These were not a pair of blades to be taken lightly, and neither was Artemis Eburi.

The warrior rose to his feet, his bright blue eyes shining with a fury the demon had not expected. He willed his vision to shift briefly, taking in his surroundings through the infra-red spectrum and identifying any sources of heat for reference before switching back. He took a deep breath and began to confidently stride forward toward the beast.

“It appears as though you have a bit of fight left in you yet!” the demon laughed, hopping down from the altar and folding over his wings. “Good, then I can still have some fun. Come!” With that the pair ran at each other, their footfalls echoing upon the black marble flooring that spanned the large chamber.

The pair swung at each other will full momentum, Artemis’ blade colliding with the sharp claws of Diadeus and severing them cleanly. They turned to face each other, the demon looking upon his severed claws with curiosity. “Interesting…” he mumbled, willing the claws to regenerate almost instantly. He began to swing again at the warrior who deftly dodged, keeping his blades close but not needing them to avoid the movements of the demon. Artemis was a trained warrior, masterful in his defenses, always waiting for the right moment to strike as they inevitably came – and so it did.

As the demon swung at him again, Artemis deftly ducked and flipped his dagger in his hand mid swing before raising the edge of the blade toward the arm and letting it cleanly slice through the forearm of the beast. The magical enchantments of his blades made the slice clean and swift, offering an advantage against any organic substance, living or once-living as the demon-vampire was.

Black blood poured out of the wound but Diadeus showed no signs of discomfort. Artemis turned and resumed his defensive stance and watched the smile spread across his opponent’s face as he lifted the stub of his forearm and stared at the wound. The hand upon the floor melted as well into the familiar black goop as some began to rise up around Diadeus through small cracks in the marble floor. “Well, those are some lovely weapons you carry. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such masterfully crafted blades, let alone felt their bite.” As he spoke the black fluid crept over his robes, following the lining of dark-skinned limbs and covering him from his crimson-haired head to exposed and bare toes before solidifying into a demonic dark armor. The black and red streaks and spikes covering his body exuded a sinister sensation that clawed at Artemis’ very being.

“Let’s try again!” the demon yelled, a set of blades forming in his hands to match Artemis’ own. The young man growled at the fury burning with him, and that fire crept into the enchantment of his left blade, Justice. The flames licked the surface of the blade, and Diadeus smiled at the sight. “You’re so full of intrigue, Artemis Eburi! And here I thought I had suppressed magic, yet you prove me wrong again! I would never have imagined I’d get to have so much fun!” With that he ran forward, and Artemis felt the magical energies of Judicis surge through his body, synchronizing their energy.

With a shout, their blades began to kiss in an endless dance and display, turning and twisting as the pair exchanged blows. The demon cackled madly as the fight continued, finding pleasure in the whole display. The entire scene was as dark as one could imagine, as a half dozen chandeliers hung from the high ceiling was the only light in the room – not counting the glow from Artemis’ burning blade. The chill of the large room would have reached most men to the bone, though Artemis’ undersuit prevented that as well. Yet the sinister energy lingered, almost palpable in the air.

“You’ll never get out alive you fool!” Diadeus yelled, swinging overhand with one of his blades as he drew back the other. Artemis saw the attack being prepared and sidestepped the overhead swing and turned the blade aside, rolling around to the right side of the demon and thrusting his burning blade through a small crack that he had noticed in the demon’s armor. Unlike before, this time the demon shrieked as the weapon pierced into him, staggering back a few steps and howling like an angry beast. Little did he know is that the pain was not from the wound inflicted, but the souls trapped within Diadeus retaliating from within, their desperation emerging upon sensing the goodness of Judicis’ magic pouring through Artemis.

Artemis saw his opening and took the opportunity to go on the offensive, moving forward and cutting through openings in his armor and letting the sharp blades tear him apart. Cut by cut, the demon continued to fall back, his armor reverting to the black goop and leaving the beast more and more exposed. And with each strike of his blade, the young warrior could almost hear the voices of the trapped souls calling out to him, distracting him from his fight.

‘Artemis!’ Judicis shouted into the warrior’s thoughts, ’get back!

The warning came just in time as Diadeus shrieked again in a wild fury and swatted with an arm much larger than it should have been. Artemis dove back into a roll, coming up with blades drawn, but the demon did not approach. His howling grew louder, his body contorting in an excruciating fashion. The countless stained glass windows that had remained unbroken exploded into hundreds of fragments. In that moment, a breeze blew into the building, carrying upon it the thousands of souls that Diadeus had held prisoner in his realm, and his body dispersed into a black mist as he flew out of the castle through the window which he had entered.

The walls and ceiling began to rumble and crumble all around Artemis and he looked around quickly searching for some way out. The windows were too tall, and he knew he couldn’t fly. He turned toward the massive doors that barred the entryway and saw they too were made of bone, and so he rushed them, daggers ready. Chunks of ceiling began to fall away, the chandeliers crashing down upon the marble floor and cracking the surface as the black fluid seeped up and out.

The young warrior swung his blades at the bone, destroying the substance easily with the magic of his blades and creating an opening as he stepped back before tumbling through. He landed upon an endless stone walkway that lead back toward the hill from which he had come, and as he looked up, he saw the black mist floating back toward Adrian and Victor.

Without another thought, he sheathed his weapons and sprinted back toward his new friend and toward his unfinished work.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

An obscure armored, bat-like form darted out of the gothic citadel as Victor hobbled closer to it. He jogged, panting, along a wide bone road amidst a forest of spiky metal spears and corpses. The man’s red eyes stared apathetically up and followed the figure as it flew. He traced it to where Adrian laid unconscious.

A brief silence filled the air as Victor stared with bitter resentment at the road he had just traveled in vain. Slowly, the silence was filled with the approaching footsteps of Artemis Eburi.

“Still alive I see,” Victor acknowledged, without turning.

“He got away,” Artemis growled, before noticing the blood running on Victors clothes. “Are you alright?”

“I got stabbed," Victor dropped his coat to show the lightly bleeding wound on his shoulder "right here”.

“Good to see you’re okay,” Artemis nodded, walking on.

“Okay?” Victor followed, unnerved, “I got stabbed! Right here!” he repeated, dropping his shoulder to show the wound again.

“Do you want me to heat the blade and cauterize it for you?” Artemis smiled sincerely, lifting one of his two magical blades.

“What the fuck? What kind of person are you?! Keep that thing away from me!” Victor yelled as the two kept pace moving down the charred bone road.

“Did you see where he went?” Artemis asked, turning to look at the red-eyed man.

“Yeah, towards where I left…” Victor began, but stopped short, his apathy gone, alarm taking its place. The man broke out in a sprint with speed which surprised even Artemis. Like a beast, released from its cage, Victor drew his blade as he raced down the road at break-neck speed. Artemis, tried to keep up, worried at the sudden change in the attitude of the red-eyed man.

The two passed the threshold of the morbid forest like bats out of hell. Climbing the hill proved a simple feet, but stomaching the scene unfolding proved difficult. But Victor recognized the view from his flashes after being stabbed by Adrian's artifact.

Hovering twenty feet in the air, an armor clad Diadeus griped the limp body of Adrian Grace with the talons of his feet. A terrifying sound filled the void as terrible finger-length teeth tore away at the man’s flaccid form, waves of blood hitting the ground beneath. The face of the monster was no longer human, the dark hue remained but the nose and eyes sank back into the skull. In the place of eyeballs, two small burning holes remained, seeping fire.

The scene began to change as a crimson light burst forth from the hole in Adrian’s upper body. The light enveloped the entire world created by the vampire-demon. The pupil of the fire-red eye in the sky dilated as the demon shrieked in elation. The entire realm reverberated with the howl. The scenery began to morph, the same way the demons body had. The spiked poles of the forest sank into the ground, reverting to the black goop from whence they came, taking the scattered skeletons with them.

Beneath the two warriors the ground shook, as the ash-like earth rippled. Tombstones and mausoleums rose from beneath, stretching out for as far as the eyes could see. Black gates ripped from the ground in no apparent pattern, zigzagging through the expanse. Both men gripped their blades tight, moving closer ,together in anticipation of a fight. But in a flash of red lightening, the demon disappeared.

With a slow, cautious step, Artemis moved forward. Victor followed suit, before the form of a young girl stumbling out from behind a grave marker, drew his attention. She fell to the ground, propping herself up against the grave. Her long brown hair rested in the middle of the name, with only 'Eliza- Day,' being legible. The two approached her, and raised their blades when she stirred. Her deep-set, orange eyes, stared with a profound sadness at the men approaching.

“You’re the girl from before…” Artemis said, and then with a sharp well-executed movement he raised a blade to her neck. “You’re Diadeus.”

The girl did not move but she merely stared at the blade. The weapon hung low and she pressed her cheek against the cool metal. Artemis immediately retracted the blade, sensing something was wrong.

“Elizabeth?” Victor asked, moving past the blue-eyed man and slapping his blade away. Tears welled bellow his red iris'; the drifter knelt down and looked deep into the tired eyes that once had sharp orange fire. The red-eyed man clutched the limp frame, holding it close.

" Raukorad?" the girl whispered.

“Raukorad? Wait, you know her?” Artemis exclaimed, taking a step back.

“She was with me in the war against the Church of the Ethereal Sway. She was killed in a raid where the church planned to summon this… this demon." Victor struggled to continue, finally putting the pieces of that day together. "She was given to the vessel for the monster as a sacrifice. I…” the man gasped, “I couldn't to save her. I didn't see her face before... But... But now, I won’t fail. I’m going to save her, and I’m going get her out of here. I’m gonna save her soul and mine along with it! I swear it!” Victor said, adamantly, lifting the girl up.

A chill descended on the scene, which neither man had the time to acknowledge. The girl’s eyes widened, filling with rage; the fire came back. Two bars of the black gate became amorphous, weaving through the air and stabbing each man through a shoulder. The girl fell to the ground and the men were pinned to the side of a large stone mausoleum. The vampire-demon made its way out of the very entombment which the warriors were stuck to. A venomous cackle stung their ears. Large bat-like wings were folded on his back, protruding from his sleek black and red armor. The laughter grew and grew, reaching a crescendo and ended as abruptly as it had started.

“You knew each other?!” the demon mocked, “that. No, not even I could have planned a better punishment!!”

The cackling began again, as the girl leapt to her feat and charged the armored demon. With a roar she leapt and planted a kick to the back of his skull. Diadeus lurched forward as Eliza fell. She turned again to continue her assault while the two men watched, helpless. But her fist never hit home as another bar pierced her chest. She was lifted into the air and dangled before Victor and Artemis, blood gurgling from her mouth. The spray color the horror stricken faces of both men.

Victor unleashed a terrible cry as he began to pull at the bar, which pinned him to stone. Artemis looked on in amazement as the man who had shown such little care for anyone other than himself fought with such fury.

More bars joined as the girl was ripped, limb from limb in a medley of blood and iron. Both men sat, wide-eyed and horror struck, no longer struggling. Their bodies went limp. Eliza’s body melted into black goo, and re-formed at her grave. And the savagery began again. Over and over the girl was ripped apart, as she roared and fought.

“Have you,” the demon hissed, as orange smoke rose from his mouth, “ANY idea, how many souls I’ve taken? Have you any idea how many men, women and children I’ve torn, limb from limb. I am the bane of man’s existence. I am the lord of blood and soul. Forget any hopes of winning, of leaving… Of surviving. This is all that awaits you. This pain and suffering that you will experience for eternity! I will rip you apart in ways you can’t imagine! Until you stop screaming! Until you stop fighting! I will break your souls! This girl, she is impressive, though. Ever since I took hold of her, she’s been my favorite pet…”

The demon lifted a clawed hand to grab her face, but a wad of spit hit the fiery pit of eye. The girl’s eyes burned in defiance. An intense, orange stare glowed with wrath. The vampire-demon readied a hand to strike as silence enveloped them.

A roar from Victor tore the silence to shreds. One hand gripping The Bastard and the other pulling the bar out of his wounded shoulder; the red-eyed man turned into a true beast. Diadeus began to turn, a wicked smile playing across his featureless head. But the blue-eyed man never saw the smile. Victor’s blade pierced the skull of the unsuspecting demon and as the red-eyed beast continued to roar, the demon shrieked. Holding the grip with both hand, Victor lifted the demon from the ground. The black-haired man charged forward until a mausoleum stopped the blade. Leaving the sword in the skull and stone, Victor ran back to Eliza lifting her head, while Artemis freed himself from the his binds.

“You’re late.” The young girl scolded, punching her savior in the face, before falling asleep.

Artemis joined the two, kneeling down to check on the girl.

“We need to get her out of here,” Victor said without looking at his comrade.

“First we need to . . .” Artemis began, but before he could finish, the ground began to quake and shift beneath them. The world seemed to draw in on the monster as Diadeus’ dark steel limbs stretched and bubbled. The sound of bones breaking and reforming filled the air while flesh tore and fell from the body. Little explosive bursts stretched the form from the inside, lifting the bulking mass higher and wider. The floor beneath the beast rose up, causing The Bastard to fall and slide toward the trio.

"Do you have ANY idea with whom you dance!? The world you see around you is my realm, and here, I AM GOD!" Diadeus roared.

Two man-sized tusks burst forth down the sides of the creature’s mouth while huge sharp teeth filled the space between. Where two small fires had burned as the humanoid’s eyes, now there were massive wide orbs with tiny black pupils. The eye that loomed high above among the clouds mirrored the transformation as the world shook with terror. A large pair of horns climbed up from the creature’s temples, dwarfing even the newly formed tusks nearby while simultaneously a thick tail spilled out from the rear and swung maliciously. What were once feet were now massive hooves that were half as tall as a grown man; the beast stomped and roared in fury, the newly formed muscles rippling and tensing as they adjusted to the changes.

The massive form loomed high above the three, the familiar black goop dripping from its sharp teeth. The warriors stood in disbelief, dumbfounded as to how to proceed against such an enemy. Another roar signaled the charge of the monstrous form, shaking the world. Yet before a collision could occur, a bright blue light filled the world, stopping Diadeus in his tracks. The four fallen warriors appeared in a large four-corner perimeter around the demon, their reality marbles shining bright as they hovered before each. Glorious blue chains erupted from the ground and wrapped the demon’s massive body, bringing him to his knees and burning flesh as they did.

“Now!” Sebastian yelled, lifting his white hood, “now your day of reckoning is at hand, demon!”

[SirArtemis]

Artemis recognized the white-robed monk as well as the hunter, but the other two were strangers to him. Still, it was clear they were allies and now was his opportunity to strike, and strike is what he intended to do. He rushed forward, unsheathing his black enchanted blades once again and drawing forth the fire of Justice. Beside him Victor had joined, scooping up his blade mid stride and rushing beside the warrior toward their ensnared enemy. Both felt a surge of energy as their artifacts sensed the nearby influence of the four companions as well as their purpose standing before them. Though Artemis didn’t know, it was the beginnings of the spell that the four warriors had embedded into the artifacts – time was ticking.

With a burning passion in their hearts, they struck out, their blades carving up various parts of the pinned monster. The creature roared in defiance, his muscles rippling as he struggled against the chains while the smell of burning flesh filled the air. However, before the pair could deal significant damage to the chained demon, a large gemstone that was embedded into its forehead began to glow. It shone brightly for just a moment before the chains shattered into fragments of light, fading into nothingness as the beast used a massive arm to swat at Artemis and Victor, sending them flying across the graveyard. Their bodies struck various graves along their path, sending crumbled granite flying along with them. Artemis ended his tumble with his back against a mausoleum while Victor continued on through one, his body half sticking out.

“Fools!” he roared, rising to his full height of nearly ten meters, his voice more of a gurgle now that his form had changed. He lifted his hands up in a taunt, showing them the newly-formed dome-shaped barrier that surrounded the three, blocking the four warriors in white out. “What makes you think you will ever defeat me in MY REALM?! Did you not hear what I told you, or did you simply choose to ignore it? You have no hope of winning! No hope of surviving!”

Artemis looked at the demon through half opened eyes as the pain rushed through his body. He knew he’d fractured a rib or two in that collision and blood dripped down his brow by his left eye. His breath heaved as he slowly raised himself up to a kneel. He turned to his right to see Victor pulling his own body forward onto the grass and out of the mausoleum, Eliza somehow present to help him. ‘She’s back,’ Artemis thought, and it was surprising how little else had run through his mind.

Artemis clenched his fists around the handles of his blades, pushing off the ground and lifting his ragged body up to stand. He glanced out through the semi-translucent dome where he saw the four white warriors gathered close by one another, as though performing some ritual.

"It's okay to stop, you know," a voice spoke from the darkness. Artemis did not recognize the man with white hair and green eyes who sat smoking a thin, long pipe. Alder Whitemane sat next to Victor, a translucent image of a man from another place in time. The smoke he blew smelled like real smoke, and Artemis wondered if he was trapped here like Eliza or was somehow able to access this realm of his own volition. "You don't have to go back out there. . . They would understand if you couldn't. . . This blue-eyed guy is strong enough, he could do it without you. Or die trying. You've grown weaker since the war ended. . ." Alder took his sword from its sheath, and though he seemed a figment, the wicked blade definitely had a presence. "Don't go, sit and have a drink with an old friend. . ."

“Whether I go or not, I’m gonna die,” Artemis heard Victor say, taking the sharp edge of Alder's sword in his hand; blood dripping from where he held it. The words were softly spoken, and Artemis turned to the man as he too began to rise, the blade totally in the soldier's control. “Inside me is something more important than a heart or lungs, or whatever else keeps me alive. I feel it going through me, to every inch of me, and I know it exists inside me.” Victor thrust Alder's blade aside and the specter vanished in a cloud of the same smoke his pipe burned. The jack-of-all-trades used his own blade like a cane, pushing himself up finally to stand and turned toward Artemis while Eliza stood beside him. “It’s what gives me the strength to stand up and go on; it’s what gives me the strength to walk on without trembling. If I stop here, I feel like it’d break. . .” He began to limp forward, leaving Eliza behind with an expression of concern and love on her face. Artemis took the cue and began to walk forward as well, his left hand clutching at his ribs as his right hand held onto Virtue. His thumb ran across the engraving of the blade’s name upon the hilt, reminding him of his purpose. “If I stop here . . . my soul would break.”

The warriors slowly walked forward, their bodies beginning to break though their will fought on. Diadeus looked on in silence during the man’s speech, a blank expression almost bordering on surprise. Then a single laugh came out of his thinly parted crimson lips. Then another. And then the demon threw his head back and held his belly with massive clawed hands as he laughed hysterically at the display. “Oh you will certainly be fun. You may even become my new favorite pet! Wouldn’t you love that, Eliza?! Ha! Come on then you pathetic mortal, show me what your soul is good for you pathetic mongrel!” With that the beast charged forward again, this time with no intervention to stop him.

The demon kicked out with his left hoof at Artemis and the man barely had time to tumble to the side, the pain in his ribs causing him to clench his jaw. Then a quick left swipe followed toward Victor. Artemis watched in horror as the fist struck Victor, wanting to cry out for the man to dodge, but he simply raised up a gauntleted hand as though to absorb the blow. “Victor!” he shouted, afraid that he might lose his only ally in that desperate moment. Yet surprisingly, the impact struck Victor dead on and did no more than push him along the ground barely a foot.

“Huh?” Diadeus said, a genuine look of surprise finding its way to his face this time.

“Come on now big guy,” the drifter said, a wicked Cheshire grin finding its way to his face. “There’s no way my soul would break with just this!” He pushed out and slashed at the hand, cutting a finger off the demon’s left hand.

Artemis’ look of surprise lasted half as long as Diadeus, and he saw an opening. He rushed forward again and used the diversion to slide at the right calf of the monstrous demon, pulling Virtue across and using its vampiric magic to heal his broken bones as it sliced through the meaty flesh.

Diadeus roared in fury, swatting at Artemis with his right hand as he dropped to his knee, but again Artemis tumbled away just in time. The demon swung his horned head toward Victor who again caught the blow with his gauntlet, and then again as the monster repeated the same attack before using his left leg to kick off and push himself back from the resilient young man. Little did he know that Artemis was still behind him, and as the force of his push sent him back ten yards, Artemis had set his two blades together and pulled them along the demon’s left leg as it flew past him. The magic within the weapons continued to slice through the man with practiced ease and the demon howled, breathing a breath of flame from his mouth at Artemis.

The blue-eyed warrior lifted his blades up in an ‘X’ in hope that the dehlar would help resist some of the flames, along with his gade undersuit. Thankfully they did help him avoid most of the damage, but his body still smoked from the heat and the ground beneath had started to melt. He rushed off quickly again, his eyes noticing the four warriors outside the circle again. The four stood in a small circle, hands held up toward a glowing pearl-white spear that emanated strong magic. Artemis could sense the power of the weapon.

‘Artemis,’ Judicis shouted in the warrior’s mind, his voice filled with more emotion than the young man had ever felt. ’Use the belt of shadow! The hunter’s relic! Step through the shadows toward the companions!’

“How the hell do I do that!?” he shouted to himself.

’The same as Judicis – will the magic!’

Artemis glanced back to Gale to see the demon furiously swinging at the man who continued to somehow absorb the blows. “Don’t fucking die,” Artemis mumbled to himself, looking out through the barrier and hoping to whatever higher power existed that this would work. He looked out toward the men and closed his eyes, forcing a deep breath out and focusing on where he wanted to go. And as he felt a strange dropping sensation in his chest, he opened his eyes and found himself still running and just ten feet from the warriors. He quickly slowed himself abruptly, stopping by the four men who turned toward him with not a drop of surprise, as though they were expecting him.

“The spear, Artemis!” Sebastian said, lowering the spear from its elevated point and letting it float just in front of the young warrior. “Use it to destroy the reality marble embedded in Diadeus’ skull! Quickly! Time is running short!”

Artemis grabbed the spear, without another thought and ran back toward the battling pair as he heard another roar of fury form Diadeus at his helpless attacks toward Victor’s supernatural gauntlet. The young man gritted his teeth, willing the magic of the belt to burst him forward again, his run continuing. ‘Two charges used. I only have one left,’ Artemis realized, thinking about the brief description the hunter had given him on the belt of shadows. His run continued, and he saw the beast raise his fists up above his head, clenching them together to perform a double-fisted smash down upon the red-eyed warrior standing off against the demon-vampire.

Artemis glanced up above the demon, noting that his belt maintained the momentum he carried just before his run, and held his spear.

“Victor!” Artemis yelled, again glancing up to the spot and using his final charge.

In a moment, Artemis was above the demon, flying toward the beasts back as the hands began to descend. Artemis’ roar was overshadowed by that of the demon, but carried equal fury and rage. He held up the spear in a motion mirroring the pose Diadeus had just held and smashed the spear through the back of the beast’s massive horned skull, launching it forward and the tip cracking the reality marble that stuck in the beast’s forehead. The beast lurched forward, his hands separating at the last moment to land on opposite sides of Victor and his head hanging just a meter ahead of the red-eyed warrior.

“Victor! Break the gem!” Artemis yelled, holding the little left of the spear’s shaft as he sat atop the beasts head. “Destroy it! Now!!”

Victor glanced up at Artemis, then forward at the cracked gem. The stone was leaking a black light, and Victor gritted his teeth, pulling his gauntlet back and channeling all the energy of all those strikes his gauntlet had absorbed. “This is for Eliza you fuck,” Victor yelled, launching his gauntleted fist forward with all the might he could muster, and unleashed an explosive strike upon the gem. The gem shattered under the impact, launching the beast as well as Artemis nearly thirty yards back. His gauntlet began to glow, as did Artemis’ belt, though he didn’t notice. The spell within the artifacts began to pour out at the instant Diadeus’ reality marble shattered, the world around instantly beginning to crumble. As Artemis flew back, the last he remembered seeing was the eye in the sky rolling in on itself and beginning to fall, and in that moment the blue-eyed warrior passed out, at peace with the notion that at least they had done it.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

The fiery eye fell slowly towards the earth from what seemed like miles away. When the collision occurred everything shifted as though made of water, the landscape rippling with tidal waves in every direction. The light shining from the felled demon shot into the sky, shattering the atmosphere as though it were glass and showering the ground with millions of shards.

The great behemoth was falling slowly, as though reality started to drag before their very eyes and all the rules of their world faded. The blue-eyed warrior drifted beneath the beast among endless stray debris of the graveyard. Victor was launched in the opposite direction, moving through the air as though submerged, his every motion feeling the resistance. The force of the energy absorbed was more than he could control and it took its toll. He tumbled backwards, finally destroying a tombstone to stop. Eliza knelt down beside the injured man, his back resting against what remained of the grave-marker.

"That bastard never stood a chance against the Raukorad," the girl smiled.

"Very funny," he growled. "You know, I'm seriously considering leaving you here!" At that she punched Victor in the arm, sending a wave of excruciating pain through his body.

“Oh…” he growled through clenched teeth, letting his gaze fall to the source of the pain. With one look it was clear that all the bones in his right arm were broken, right up to his dislocated shoulder. “OH!” he shouted in a moment of horror, his eyes going wide at the disgusting sight. A scornful look washed across his face as he glared at Eliza, as though this were her fault.

"That may not be up to you," a calm voice called as the four fallen warriors approached. It was the voice of the mage, Jak Vindrel, standing center among the four fallen warriors.

"She may be free from the beast," Siegfried remarked, "but her presence here means she is dead."

"There must be something we can do!" Victor protested, rising to his feet against the pain and sheathing his blade.

"It's not that simple," Sebastian remarked somberly. "Her life was taken, her body and soul separated. Even if the soul is free now, there is no body to return to. I'm afraid even with our power, there is nothing we can do without something to trade for her body."

"Then take me," the red-eyed man said without pause or hesitation. "Use me as the trade."

The four men and young girl looked on amazed. They had all observed the two warriors pass the trials and tribulations of this terrible realm; and all four had witnessed the lazy, half-hearted, and selfish attitude of Victor. No one expected such a sacrifice.

"Go on!" the drifter yelled, "I failed to protect her before, but I swore I would get her out of here, no matter what. So do it!"

The world shook violently as the remaining landscape faded to white. Artemis lay several yards away, knocked unconscious by the combination of energy from the axiom marbles and Victor's attack. He seemed to float, weightless, in the white abyss. The horizon began to darken, and slowly that darkness neared the group as though light were collapsing in on itself.

"There isn’t much time," Jordan warned, "if are to do anything we must do it now."

"What can we do?" Jak chimed in again. “Are we really to take his life, after everything they have been put through on our account?"

With those last words, all four men looked to each other and came to the same conclusion. They moved in unison, each placing their hands out over the orange-eyed girl forming a diamond around her.

"You have, all three of you, suffered because of our ineptitude," Siegfried started, including the floating and unconscious blue-eyed warrior in the count.

"All the countless souls led into this trap perished, because we failed," Jordan added.

"We cannot help all of them, but if we can at least save one..." Jak paused, pain in his eyes.

"That is right. We will fade with this place, and our power with us. But, if we give everything that is left of us . . . at least this child will be given another chance," Sebastian finished.

The wizard began to chant, lighting up like a beacon. The other three men followed suit as four pillars of light, brighter than the white world around them, burst into the nothingness above. The lights grew closer together, leaving the men and colliding together over Eliza.

The darkness approached quickly now, swallowing up Artemis into the void. Victor turned to the ritual anxiously, knowing just seconds remained before they too would be taken, only to find that the four men were gone. Eliza lay on the ground, motionless. “It worked”, he told himself, his words soft in the emptiness that remained around him. “It definitely worked . . .” Victor repeated in an attempt to convince himself.

He lifted the girl with his left hand, holding her by the neck of her dress. His other hand, still wearing the red gauntlet, hung broken and useless. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him, genuinely unsure whether to hope this was all a dream.

An instant later Victor opened his eyes as the crippling pain in his arm forced a yell from him. The echo reached far down the hall of the Citadel. The red-eyed man laid atop Artemis and Eliza, and to his unrelenting horror, beneath the two naked warriors who fought a battle of their own within Diadeus' realm. His screaming continued as he writhed, the only one conscious among the group.

A pair of sentries arrived staring wide-eyed at the spectacle, quickly stirred into action by the terrified shrieks. They lifted the men off Victor and raised him to his feet. "Who are you?" one guard demanded, raising a blade to the red-eyed man.

"How did you get here," the other asked, kneeling down to inspect the four others still on the ground. "They're alive," he confirmed as he stood.

The man holding Victor opened his mouth to speak, only to stop short upon noticing the bare wall. "Get the elder," he whispered, staring blankly where he knew a door should have been.

"Why?" the other began, but revelation struck when he followed his partner’s gaze to the wall, "the Door of Diadeus . . . It's gone!"


__________________________________________________


Hours passed in the infirmary as Victor retold the events of the other realm. The elder monks of the Citadel looked on with amazement, sitting in silence even after the red-eyed man finished. A monk to his right held the red gauntlet, eyeing it with reverence.

"Then . . ." began the oldest of the three, "that means that brother Sebastian and his comrades finally finished their quest, all thanks to you and your friend."

"Looks like it," Victor sighed, wincing as a nurse finished bandaging his arm and gingerly putting it through a sling. “All that magic and this shit still hurts,” he said with a flirtatious smile to the woman. “Thanks for the help.” She smiled sheepishly before turning away to tend the others.

"And this girl," the youngest monk began, "she was brought back from beyond, by the life energy of the fallen heroes. . . remarkable."

"Hey now," Victor warned, giving the monk a disgusted look, "she's only twelve. Keep your hands to yourself. I know how you religious people get."

Before the monk could protest, the third monk chimed in. "We are ever grateful that you have rid that great evil from our halls. The disappearances of people did not go unnoticed, and we can rest easy now knowing that they will stop." With that all three rose and bowed to the drifter.

"Hey, hey, I didn't do this for free you know," Victor objected, "I won the tournament, right? Where's my prize money?"

"Tournament?" the young monk asked, "Ah . . . the one that just ended. I'm afraid that was a separate affair."

"So my prize money...?"

"I'm afraid there isn’t any," the eldest monk sighed, exchanging a sorrowful glance with the other monks.

"So... I banished an ancient demon, freed your Citadel from an evil which plagued you for centuries, brought back a powerful artifact with historical significance, and you're telling me . . ." Victor continued as his eyes narrowed threateningly, "I can't even buy a pass on the ferry to Akashima?"

"Well," the youngest monk began, feeling uneasy beneath the menacing expression, "I-I'm sure there is something in the coffers we can offer."

"Thank you for your good will," the red-eyed man said, smiling apprehensively.

"No," the monk holding the gauntlet said, "truly, we are indebted to you and Artemis in ways we can never repay."

The three bowed once more and left. A short time later a man came in with a bag of gold for Victor. It was not much by any standard, but certainly enough for a ferry ticket. After being told it was uncertain when Eliza or Artemis would wake, the red-eyed man left for a promised meeting.

Meanwhile, outside the Citadel, the market grew quiet and empty as the sun fell beneath the horizon. Jay was busy loading the remaining unsold goods when Victor approached. "You didn't win," the dark-elf said without turning to greet the man.

"Yeah," Victor sighed, "but I've got a story worth a couple of drinks on your tab."

"My tab?" she chuckled, turning, an expression of concern crossing her soft features. "Your arm. . ."

"Yeah," Victor scratched his head with his working arm, "about that drink."

"I'm waiting for a friend," Jay began, worry in her voice. "He should have been here by now."

"My bet is he's with a girl or he's drunk. Either way, I think he'll understand."

Jay smiled slyly, looking from her cart to the colossal structure of the Citadel. “Clearly you don’t know my friend.” With a sigh, she finished loading and covered the stock with a shimmering.

“Nifty cloth you got there. Aren’t you afraid someone is going to steal your things though?”

At that, the dark elf pulled out a slender wand and gave it a wave toward the stall. With a hollow and quiet pop, it vanished. "A drink it is," she conceded with a wink. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. So what happened to you today? How’d you hurt your arm?”

__________________________________________________

"Artemis is in the infirmary?!" Jay yelled over the medley of sounds at the bar. Victor had begun to tell his tale and the pair had only just ordered their drinks, yet already the woman was about to run off.

"Yeah," Victor laughed, stopping short only as a result of the dark look he received from the woman. "He's fine! The nurses swear! Besides, that guy is as stubborn as they come. Creepy blue eyes, obsessed with doing the right thing, a bit annoying, but damn he knows how to fight. You’d never guess, especially if you see what cat’s snare does to him . . . “ Victor trailed off, lifting his glass of rum as soon as it was set before him and drinking deep.

Jay eased her stare, unsure whether to wait for her drink or go see her friend; she wagered he was right on the stubbornness factor and trusted the monks of the Citadel to care for him. "You know," Jay began, "you're tough to read."

"Oh come now," Victor protested, putting down his empty drink and eyeing the bartender for a refill. "Surely someone of your age can read me easy enough."

Jay looked up amused. "Are you saying I look old?"

"Nothing of the sort," Victor laughed. "You just have that look. The 'been there, done that, I know what happens next,' kind of thing."

"Good guess, but by my age, you learn that no one ever knows what happens next. Just how old do you think I am anyway?" Jay laughed.

"Hundred and something?" Victor asked, his indifferent gaze fixed on the array of liquor behind the bar.

"Impressive! You used an entire century as a window!" the woman chuckled sarcastically, raising a glass. She and the red-eyed man clinked glasses and raced to finish their drinks. With the tie, they ordered another round, and Victor continued the story, trying to get the details out before the rum blurred the rest.

Eventually the two left the bar on Jay's request. They walked back down the empty streets towards the Citadel, the dark-elf anxious to check on her companion. She laughed as she retold the story of her meeting with the blue-eyed warrior, as well as a few of the adventures she’d already managed to have with the young man. Meanwhile, Victor gazed at his steps indifferently as they walked, picking his nose and flicking what stuck to his finger into the night.

It was surprising to hear how differently Jay spoke of Artemis compared to what he had witnessed that day. Jay noticed the man’s silence, turning and seeing the distant and sad look in his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, touching his uninjured arm gently.

“Huh?” Victor said, turning to the woman as though being brought back from another place. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just distracted I guess.”

Jay smiled warmly, looping her arm through his and walking quietly beside him as they made their way toward the well-worn Citadel steps where this exceptionally long day began. Meanwhile, Victor’s thoughts drifted to a time when he was surrounded by those he loved; the painful reality that that was lost stung profoundly.

"You have it too," Jay said at length.

"Have what?" Victor asked, scratching the back of his head.

"That 'been there done that' look," Jay began with a knowing smile. "Like you've made enough mistakes to avoid the situations where you might get too close to losing something important. And I certainly have seen my fair share of lose, but-" but she was cut off.

"Have you ever gone to war?" Victor asked, the humor gone from his stare, replaced by pain. "Ever fought a losing battle, over and over, only to watch everyone around you fall? Ever wade through blood soaked mud, carrying your friends, yelling pretty words to help them go on, only to turn and see you're carrying a corpse and the rest have already sunk? I didn't believe in a cause. . . I didn't believe the enemy was wrong or that we were right. . . I just wanted to protect my precious comrades. . . I just wanted to save the ones drowning in revenge and hate. . . And save myself along with them."

Jay had no response.

“A wise man told me once. . .” Victor continued with a sigh as the pair stopped walking and faced one another. “. . . 'A person's life is like carrying an enormously heavy burden while walking a long road.' The first time I heard that I just thought it sounded lame. But I guess you can't dismiss what old people say. . . It wasn't really a burden. It was more like something important you had to hold in both hands. And it was so fragile, you didn't even know it was there. It was only when it slipped through my fingers that I realized it's true weight. . . I don't know how often I thought, 'I'll never carry that again.'" Victor chuckled. "But, all of a sudden, I'm feeling that weight again. . . If I just throw it away, if I just don't pick it up again, the walk would be easier. But, even so, I don't feel like it. It would be too boring to keep walking without them."

[SirArtemis]

When Artemis opened his eyes he found himself in the all too familiar sterile scent of the infirmary. He glanced around, noticing Eliza lying on a cot beside him, and he sighed deeply at the sight. He couldn’t even begin to explain what had happened after he had blacked out, and given the events that lead up to that moment he knew not to even try. He raised his chin up from the cot, glancing down his body for any alarming signs and then scanning for one of the monks or nurses. He recognized one and smiled that at least one pleasant thing had happened.

“Janice,” he called, but when she turned, he saw the demonic face of Diadeus laughing at him, horns sprouting and the room turning black. He felt the need to scream, but couldn’t get the sound out. The demon approached, his laugh echoing as he finally stood above Artemis in the small room.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered, raising a gauntleted hand and slamming it down into the young man’s chest.

Just before the blow connected, Artemis opened his eyes again, panting heavily and again finding himself in the infirmary, though this time there was no demon. He saw the same nurse across the room. “Janice . . .” he called out hesitantly, unsure what to expect. However, this time when the woman turned, it was the face he had expected. Janice was a young woman, around Artemis’ age, with dirty blonde curls rolling out from beneath her small nurse’s bonnet.

“Ah you’re awake! How are you feeling Artie?” she asked as she approached, stopping briefly at Eliza’s bed before continuing on. “Oh my, you’re sweating. Have you taken on a fever?” She lowered her hand and set it gently upon his forehead, testing his temperature.

“No, I’m fine I think,” Artemis replied while using his elbows to push himself up. “It was just a bad dream . . . I hope.” Janice just smiled at him, not able to understand what he meant given her ignorance of the day’s events.

“Your friend left if you’re wondering.” Artemis looked up at the woman, as though wondering who she meant. Was she referring to Jay? “The red-eyed man who arrived with you. Victor was it? Strange man. Reminded me a bit of a fish.”

“Heh.” Artemis replied, feeling well enough to stand from his bed and take his blades from the bedside table. “To be honest, I barely know the guy. I just met him this morning. And what I can tell you is that he seems to drink like a fish at least.”

Janice chuckled at the comment. “Well, I did sense a bit of rum on his breath. I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Good. After what we saw today, I might pick up alcoholism too.”

“Oh don’t be silly, neither of you are alcoholics.” Artemis raised an eyebrow at that. “I think,” she finished, both not sure what to think of Victor.

“Do you know where he went?”

“I think he was . . .” She couldn’t hold back in that moment and laughed aloud, drawing a smile from Artemis.

“What is it?”

“I think he said he was going to meet someone for some promised drinks!” As she finished both of them shared a laugh, Artemis appreciating some lightness of mood.

“Well, let him have his fun. I’m going to go see if I can find Jay. I imagine given that I missed my match today I’m disqualified from the tournament anyways; in which case, I have no desire or reason to stay. I just want to hammer some steel for a bit, clear my head.”

“I understand,” Janice replied, fixing her bonnet and straightening her dress. “Well, you seem in fit condition to go so I won’t hold you back. Somehow you didn’t seem to have any injuries when you arrived.” Artemis ran a hand along the engraving of his blade’s name, Virtue, remembering the moment he had used its magic to heal his wounds with Diadeus’ life force. He suddenly wondered if that was a horrible idea, remembering the face he had just seen in that brief dream. Still, he said nothing.

He glanced over to the girl, remembering her, wondering how she got here. “What’s the story with that one?” he asked with a thrust of his chin toward the woman.

“Not too sure,” Janice replied, sadness in her voice. “She arrived with you guys from the door, but she is yet to regain consciousness. We’re keeping a close watch on her, but we don’t know what to expect.”

Artemis nodded, not wanting to pry further. “Well, thank you as always Janice. Hopefully I’ll see you again on more pleasant terms than these infirmary visits.” The pair exchanged a smile, and Artemis took his leave, following the well known path to the front steps leading out the massive stone Citadel. As he stepped through the large open doors, the cool night breeze caused him to pause. He lifted his eyes to the stars, glowing brightly and beautifully in the sky. He couldn’t remember ever being so grateful to see them, as opposed to a gigantic eye staring down at him. He filled his lungs deeply with the crisp cool air of the ocean drifting in from Radasanth, relishing the feeling of being alive and back in a world he knew.

He walked slowly, in no particular rush, down the steps and toward where Jay’s stall had been set up earlier that day. When he arrived, he noticed its absence and assumed Jay had used Daros’ magic to send it back into his basement-warehouse, avoiding any possible theft. He missed Jay more than he could imagine after just a single day. She was his love. She was his purpose. His everything. She was the reason he looked forward to tomorrow, grateful for another day with her in his life.

Just then, he noticed her approaching beside the familiar sight of Victor, linked arm in arm and quietly strolling along. Most men would be jealous, but he knew her love was true, and so he just smiled, grateful to see her, and also relieved that Victor was okay as well – though he wore a sling for his right arm.

"Artemis!" Jay exclaimed, noticing Artemis and rushing toward him to embrace him. The young man opened his arms to her and held her close, closing his eyes and nuzzling in the familiar lavender smell of her silver-violet hair.

"Yo," Victor said, raising his healthy hand.

"I guess you got it worse," Artemis nodded toward the arm, holding Jay around her waist.

"Yeah," Victor sighed, "are things always this interesting around you?"

"You wouldn't want to see a bad day," the blue-eyed man shook his head.

"I'm glad you're alright," Jay interjected.

"Sorry to worry you. Listen, I missed my match and got disqualified for it. Normally I’d argue for another chance with the monks, given the circumstances. But to be honest Jay, after today, I just want to go home." Artemis’ blue eyes fell upon Jay apologetically. A nod and a smile from the dark-elf said enough. She had heard the story after all, though Artemis couldn’t have known. Granted, he could guess as much if she’d spent time with Victor. "I guess this is farewell," the blue-eyed man said walking towards Victor. "Maybe next time we can meet under less... demonic circumstances."

"I would like that," Victor laughed, raising his left hand, "I know it’s bad to shake with the left but..." Artemis took the red-eyed man's arm in his and they stood for a moment before letting go. After all, Artemis wasn’t a superstitious man.

"That's a good blade," Jay interjected. "Next time you're in Knife's Edge, look us up. Artemis works in a forge and I'm sure he could improve on it."

"Any chance to see you again is worth taking," Victor smiled, giving the dark-elf a short bow. Artemis chuckled at the flirtatious comment, stepping back and eyeing the man’s sword. He gave an approving nod, both to the blade and to the ideas swimming in his head regarding a new one for the man.

Artemis turned, giving Jay a soft kiss. “I’m going to go on ahead. I desperately want a meal at the Bearded Gnome. I’ll wait for you there.” He looked back to Victor again, smiling at the man. “I imagine you want to say goodbye to our new friend as well.” With that, he pulled a small vial from his belt and poured it beneath his feet, dematerializing as the magical fluid sent him off toward Knife’s Edge in Salvar, toward home.

Jay turned back to the red-eyed man who put a hand on her shoulder. "He's lucky to have you," he admitted. "I'm not sure he knows just how lucky. But if I know anything, it's this; that thick skull will take a cannon to get through. I don't know how he's lived, but that stubborn guy is going to have a rough time of it, if he keeps that attitude."

"From what I see, you're not all that better." Victor shrugged at that, an innocent smile on his face. “And you’re only half right. I’m lucky to have him too. You’ll learn that in time.” With a wink, she pulled out a small vial of her own, pouring it beneath her feet with a wink as she too dematerialized before Victor’s eyes. He sighed at the sight, and let his feet bring him up those steps. He wanted to check on Eliza once more before heading to the ferry. After all, he didn’t know when he’d be back, and he wanted to make sure she knew where to find him.

_____________________________________________

Meanwhile, Artemis’ feet took him along the familiar route from Daros’ home back to the Bearded Gnome inn. The chillier Salvar air was a medicine for his lungs, and for his soul too. But he couldn’t relax. Not after that dream.

’Artemis, we have much to discuss of today’s events. This isn’t over.’

Artemis sighed. “Yeah, I got that memo. Just not today, Judicis. Not today.”

[Philomel]

Judgement Name: That's The Wrong Door
Judgement Type: Workshop Submission
Participants: Sir Artemis and Good For Nothing Captain

Rewards:

Sir Artemis: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?14322-SirArtemis)
2030 EXP
170 GP

Good For Nothing Captain: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?16932-Good-for-Nothing-Captain)
1355 EXP
160 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added!

Congrats on reaching level four, Captain!