The wave of energy washing over him gave a sweet, somber warmth in his chest. Audibly, it was hard to explain; like a violent crashing of sounds that failed to coexist, yet did so seamlessly all at once — an odd menagerie of crackles, snaps, swirls and whips.
It felt as though he was entering a void that simply failed to end, looping back in on itself for eternity, threatening to never spit him back out. It felt like he'd been swallowed whole.
Only when the heat slowly began to morph into a violent inferno could he tell it was working. The energy began to warp to his sides, and his eyes slowly began to adjust to the ashen fields in front of him. He was in Neodera.
The town by now looked nothing more than a remnant of its past self — charred houses, collapsed ruins, tattered stones and silent cries. There were corpses… or at the very least what Nyx could only assume were corpses. Nothing but bone and ash remained now, left captive to the decimation they once called home.
Not even the sky above was kept present to provide comfort, the smoke and dust acting like a veil of darkness. Not even the sun could seep through.
Disoriented, lost, and confused, Nyx almost immediately felt the bend of his knees begin to crease under the pressure. After walking through the gate, having such immeasurable power encompass him, it was almost like he felt sapped. Drained. He had gotten used to its presence, and to have that be instantly stripped away made him feel weak. Vulnerable.
Once again, he remembered his own mortality.
Still, he remained upright. His eyes were kept to the lingering flames which still managed to feed against the tarnished city, raising one of his arms to block the smoke from entering his lungs.
Their point of arrival appeared to be within a small divot near the center of town, standing at the base of a large stone wall to their right. The cadets, naturally and almost instinctually, began to huddle into a makeshift horde, a mix of terror, horror and concentration plaguing each one of their faces.
It didn't take long, however, for the group to start moving. The Phantoms encircled the cadets, and with the pound of their hearts, they started walking.
It was surprisingly quiet for a while — unexpected, but favorable. Nyx fed his eyes on the rubble as they walked, pacing through the desolate streets as ash battered his nose and amber scorched against his skin. It was almost like he could feel the distant cries of the people who once lived here, now nothing more than a distant memory. He could feel the tears. He could feel the fear.
And yet, just in the corner of his eye, he could see Silas' gaze. It wasn't on the blighted horizon, nor was it scanning the rubble. Instead, his eyes looked in only one direction...
...Towards Nyx.
It was only natural, Nyx supposed. He was worried about him... though he wished he'd stay worried about himself right now.
Right now, Nyx had no concept of time. Perhaps they'd been there for only a few minutes. To him, it felt like they'd been walking for hours. And all along the way.... not a single sighting.
Just as Nyx was starting to doubt himself, just as the fears began to quelch from his mind, the path they walked suddenly came to a halt. Not because they had reached their destination, or because it was a dead end, but rather due to something blocking the path.
A silhouette.
Nyx didn't want to jump to conclusions, but his mind did anyways. The Phantoms started to ready their weapons, the cadets not far behind. Whatever was in front of them wasn't a stray pile of debris or rubble, just close enough to see its horrid dark skin as tremendous amounts of steam and flame seeped from its body.
It was a Terror.
Taking charge, one of the Phantoms quickly jumped forward in front of the others, hopping onto a small pile of wooden crates before turning back towards the group.
His face remained stern, head shaved and with a thick beard masking his chin. His glance felt so cold it almost made him appear lifeless, and a broad scar stretched from the top of his neck to the bottom, practically pronouncing him as seasoned. The dual curved blades crossed on his back only managed to reinforce this.
By all meanings of the word, this man looked like a killer. Like a hunter.
"Stay back," he murmured, a few other Phantoms rushing to his side. "Protect the cadets. We'll investigate."
Without much more of a word, the group of Phantoms began to mobilize — moving at such a speed it was almost hard to comprehend. They stood anxiously, watching as their figures vanished into the smoke and towards the slumbering beast.
In truth, it had yet to make a single movement. Whether it was still alive or not was up for debate, the cadets murmuring between themselves just as the few who went forward started to make their way back.
"It's dead," The same hardened Phantom spoke, sheathing his blades as he glared towards them. "Omicron must've already dealt with it. Let's move."
And once again, they were mobile.
Even after hearing those words, Nyx still couldn't help but be scared. He'd never been close to a Terror, let alone right next to one. Dead or not, he knew that it had killed people. They bled by its hands. They screamed for mercy, but not once did it answer. Perhaps death was too kind for it.
As the figure became more visible through the smoke, gradually approaching its lurking frame, it almost astonished him how large it actually was. Not even standing, and it still almost rose above the houses it would've once dwarfed, several tendrils, guts and flames spewing from its open wounds.
It had fallen in such a way that Nyx had no context as to what he was looking at. Perhaps its head, perhaps its chest. He couldn't tell. The oppressive smoke didn't do much to help, only masking the finer details from his eyes, as if a warning to not look to closely.
'I thought it would've been worse...' Nyx muttered in his mind, the group now lining the edges of the house to move past its fallen corpse. 'I thought after death, a Terror would've been more-'
He stopped himself.
Truthfully, he didn't know what he expected. His legs kept moving, though his mind stayed still. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to gag. He wanted his eyes to be cleansed, and his mind to be reset.
He hated everything that he'd just seen.
The side of the body was... nonexistent. The skin had already start to rot, leaving nothing but its hulking bones in its place, ribcage towering overhead as steam shifted and squirmed from the guts that still managed to coat the floor. Its blood was still boiling, just as parts of its tendrils still slithered as if it still lived.
Chunks of meat almost appeared melted, dripping down the remnants of its structure like slime oozing from an unknown source. It smelled of burnt flesh. It smelled of blood and iron. Nyx could almost handle that if it weren't for its severed head, splattered across the ground as bits of its innards lined the stone pavement they walked upon.
Part of its lip had already decomposed and burned away, leaving the sight of its tinged teeth and gaping maw against the ground. Countless red specs dotted its skull, clearly the remnants of what he could only assume were its eyes, now resembling thousands of pearly red olives that occasionally popped and squeezed from the heat.
That area in general felt like the interior of a furnace. The moment the group managed to walk past was the moment he felt as though he could finally relax.
Still, his mind was kept to that place; The horrid, rancid smells. The heat. The blood. He wanted nothing more to do with it. He never wanted to see it again.
The same stern Phantom from before once again stood before the rest, just as the group encountered a notable divide in the path. "We'll split into three groups," he announced, eyes gazing down one of the roads before him. "One to the north, another to the west, and a final group south-east. We'll divide and conquer."
'Really?' Nyx thought to himself, 'Is that the best course of action?'
He was being critical, yes, though not even he could deny the benefits. To skim the ruins of an entire city would take days without splitting up, and the presence of Terrors seems to have mostly been dealt with already. It'd been quite.
He also couldn't deny his trust in the Phantoms. They'd done this before, after all. He'd trust their judgement more than his own.
Despite that, a chill still managed to snake its way down Nyx's spine.
Taking point near the western bank, just off in the city limits and safely tucked by the walls edge, was a small force led by the stern Phantom from earlier. Both Nyx and Silas were close behind.
He kept worrying that a Terror would manage to sneak up on him. Thinking one would get behind the group of Phantoms leading the charge and would take a bite out of his arm. He would scour the frames, and scrutinize every slight shadow that dared to move. Every slight whisp of flame would be closely watched by him. And yet, that moment never came.
By the time mid-day had arrived, the eastern front of the city was labeled officially clear. Nyx and Silas never even had to lift a finger.
Perhaps they could survive the Sixth Descent after all.
- | Extra information I can share thus far | -
Most of what remains of human society resides in a mega-city officially known as Aria. Various city-states called 'outer-settlements' exist beyond the confines of the mega-city's walls, and have agreed to a mutual defense alliance in the event of a large-scale Terror attack.
Aria is easily recognizable, featuring a gargantuan circular granite wall encompassing the entire city, along with a central spire which seemingly pierces the heavens itself.
Neodera, a walled settlement located to the south-west, mainly thrived off of trade with other city-states. A population survey done only days prior to the city's extinction showed a count of over 50,000.