Andreas's boots pounded against the cobblestones, Lilith's hand clenched in his. The captives fanned out ahead, their shadows jerking in the firelight like broken marionettes. Behind them, Katanari tore through the sky in a storm of molten shards, wings blazing against the dark.
Andreas stopped running, caught Katanari in his sights, and lunged. With inhuman strength he kicked upwards into the knight's chest, his tendrils latching on as the two of them crashed into a nearby Victorian house, collapsing timber and brick in an explosion of dust.
Andreas rolled free and leapt from the ruin just as Katanari swung his greatsword, cleaving through walls as though they were parchment.
A heavy sideways slash tore toward Andreas. The knight's armor was already damaged, a hole the size of a foot gaping in his chestplate, revealing charred ribs wrapped in fire.
Andreas blocked with his shield, only for it to shatter instantly. Another blow came, another shield formed, another break. Again and again, steel and flame hammered against conjured barriers until, with an upward arc, Katanari's strike sent Andreas flying.
He deflected midair with yet another shield, but the force hurled him high into the sky. Shards of broken barriers glittered around him like fractured stars. He hit the street below with a thunderous crash, dust and rubble spiraling into the air.
Around him, soldiers scrambled to shepherd civilians behind barricades and overturned carts. The air stank of smoke and fear, yet the people obeyed, clinging to survival.
Andreas wiped blood from his cheek and muttered, almost laughing:
"So this is what a fight feels like? Heh. Seriously, I can't believe I was about to grow an ego right after swearing I wouldn't. What the hell's wrong with me? Actually… is something wrong? I've felt like a mess since I came here. Is it the constant adrenaline, or am I being influenced by memories that aren't mine?"
Rico and Amilia sprinted through the chaos, pulling survivors from the wreckage. Amilia shouted to the crowd, "Has anyone seen Margaret?" while Rico shouldered children out of a burning house as if they weighed nothing.
He turned just in time to see Andreas fall like a meteor into the street. Soldiers froze mid-rescue as Andreas rose from the crater, bloodied but steady.
Andreas forced a dry smile. "Hey, Rico, my guy. I need your help for a sec."
From the edge of the flames, two figures advanced with eerie calm: Anku Mo and Taki Musashi. Their presence darkened the street, as if shadows bent around them. Behind them, a dragon-like beast lumbered closer.
"You have something that belongs to us," Anku Mo called, his voice slicing through the noise. "The artifact from Julian and those books stolen by Andreas. Hand them over… or suffer."
Amilia glared, her tone sharp yet steady. "You do know I'm a Seer, right?"
Taki's eyes glinted as twin blades flashed into his hands. Fire engulfed him, a spectacle that halted even hardened soldiers for a heartbeat. "Then you must be one suicidal Seer," he said coldly.
Amilia gave a sharp laugh. "Such confidence. Let's see if you can back it up."
Meanwhile, Katanari leveled his greatsword at Andreas. "If you don't take me seriously, you'll die, normie scum."
Tendrils writhed from Andreas's feet, coiling around him like serpents. "Look, Mr. Knight Guy… I'm tired as hell. I'm literally in pajamas, i should be sleeping. How about we fight next week? At least then I'd be motivated."
Katanari laughed, voice like steel scraping stone. "You'll never see next week or next sunrise. If you lack the motivation, you'll have to die."
Rico stepped up beside Andreas, lion-man form bristling with power. "What future did the Golden Compass see to drive you into this madness? Fighting an Awakened as a dormant."
Andreas shot him a confused look, but before either could speak, Anku Mo smiled thinly. "Do you really think you can stop us? This city is doomed."
"Rico! Quick!" Amilia shouted from behind the civilians, then froze when she realized Andreas stood beside him.
Rico turned, startled. In that instant, Anku Mo's dagger shot toward Amilia, only to be blocked by Rico's shield. Taki hurled a fireball the size of Andreas's torso, but as Andreas dodged, Katanari struck again.
A thunderous boom shattered the spell as Andreas drop-kicked Katanari, sending the knight hurtling through 2 buildings.
Landing in a crouch, Andreas seized Taki's head and slammed it into the cobblestones. The fire went out. Taki lay still.
Andreas stared at the unconscious man, jaw tight. "Guess I'll have to kill him. This is a fight to the death, after all. Is this realy gonna become common? I don't mind killing if it doesn't get me arrested or in other kinds of trouble, but… I'd hate it if I had to kill more then necessary."
---
At Lady Leicester's second estate, Arnold and his fellow digger had carved nearly eight meters beneath a fallen oak. The earth smelled of damp rot, the shadows heavy.
From behind him, a woman's voice drifted: "Arnold, you're doing it all wrong."
He turned and his nose began to bleed. He doubled over, vomiting as his partner stared at the figure standing at the mouth of the hole.
A woman with purple hair.
Inside the pit, another woman caked in dirt whispered: "Hello, sister."
Arnold staggered, wiping blood from his lips. "Goddammit, Ophelia… since when did you do that?"
Ophelia smiled faintly. "When the masked man knocked me out. Judging from your reaction, I take it you left me for dead... anyway you should stop digging I already found the artifact."
Arnold steadied himself, blood still slick beneath his nose, as he and the dirt-caked woman hauled themselves out of the pit. Ophelia waited with that faint, knowing smile, her purple hair catching the dim glow of the scattered torches.
"This way," she said softly, her voice carrying more command than invitation.
She led them toward a fallen oak. Its massive roots clawed out of the earth like the bones of some buried beast. One root in particular, painted with white markings, arched outward. Its bark pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat too deep to be real.
Arnold frowned. "Wha… right, I guess this artifact is somehow tied to Welkenhaar."
Ophelia's lips curved. "Oh my. I suppose your brother doesn't tell you much about these things."
"What do you mean?"
She laughed lightly, though her eyes stayed cold. "Oh, dear Arnold. How can you stand so high in your church and know so little?"
Her sister, Lianhua, sighed. "Lord Arnold, don't take her words to heart. This is knowledge mostly left to those who study magic, and even then it is treated as legend. The tale speaks of thirteen beings as powerful as angels, or greater, sealed into tree-like constructs by the Golden King, or perhaps another god. Your brother knows of this. And a few others. It is said your own God is among those bound."
"I see…" Arnold whispered, stunned. "That's… incredible. I wonder why..."
Before he could finish, Ophelia reached out and laid her hand against the pulsing root.
A pale, liquid light rippled across its surface. The air bent. In an instant, the three of them were no longer outside.
They stood in a chamber washed in strange illumination. It wasn't bright or dim, but shadowless, flattening every object as though painted in place. Pale stone walls stretched outward, bare except for racks of brushes, scraps of parchment, and scattered pots of pigment. The air smelled of crushed minerals and iron.
It resembled the workshop of some ancient Roman painter, stark in its geometry, with open arches, but no windows, no doors. Only the glow.
At the far end of the room hung a single canvas.
Arnold froze.
It was painted entirely in white, yet shapes rippled beneath its surface as if refusing to stay still. Figures rose and dissolved, buildings folded inward, rivers twisted out of existence. The longer he stared, the more alive it seemed, brushstrokes resisting being fixed in time.
Lianhua clutched Arnold's arm. "Is… is it moving?"
Ophelia tilted her head, eyes locked on the restless white canvas.
Arnold swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to look away, but the painting pulled at him. Its formless figures stretched through the strokes, reaching.
Then Ophelia stepped forward, pulled a dark cloth from a shelf, and draped it over the canvas. At once, the chamber fell away.
The room dissolved, leaving only the painting, now shrunk to the size of Ophelia's torso, wrapped tightly in her arms.