They cut their way through the shanties. Countless demons tried to ambush them, but each one fell. Oddly, the further they went, the weaker the resistance seemed. What had once been trained warriors were now babbling, unarmed dreglings charging at them.

After the fourth borderline helpless Demon fell before Ostrava, he started to feel sick.

"This isn't right," he said.

"They're demons," Nameless said, in response. He dipped his sword into the poisoned water to clean off its gore.

"But...I don't know. It's just, something about them..."

"What?" Nameless asked.

"Are you sure that demons charge this recklessly? Are you sure that demons are always this willing to sacrifice themselves? They seem...almost...desperate."

Nameless was silent. He'd probably noticed it, too. These things had all the viciousness of demons...but there was something behind it. Something human.

"They're dying for something," Biorr said. He hadn't spoken for a long time.

"How do you know?" Ostrava asked.

"Because they fight exactly like a person would, if he was dying for something. They don't fight like demons."

Nameless glanced down at the nearest dead body.

"But...what are they dying for?" Ostrava asked.

"...Astraea?" Biorr postulated, but couldn't confirm.

"I don't understand," Nameless said.

They both looked back at him, Biorr with his usual vicious suspicion.

"I just...I don't understand."

"What don't ye understand?" Biorr asked.

Nameless shook his head. He looked up, and kept walking.

They came to a tunnel.

"We have to go in there, lads," Biorr said.

"How do you figure?" asked Ostrava.

Biorr gave him a quizzical look, "do we ever not have to go into tunnels?"

"More importantly, there's dark fog blocking it off," said Nameless. "There's a powerful demon in there."

"Could it be Astraea?" Ostrava asked.

"Maybe, but unlikely," said Nameless

"Why do you say that?" Ostrava asked.

"There are always two archstones before the main one, we've only seen one."

"Damn," said Ostrava.

Nameless looked back. "Are you ready?"

"Readier than last time," Biorr said.

Ostrava just nodded.

They entered the fog, and saw it at once.

It stood there, a humanoid mass of flesh and garbage, surrounded by clouds of flies that buzzed so loudly that its very presence was deafening. It slouched forward, and then awkwardly lumbered toward them.

"Well," Biorr said. "That's utterly disgusting."

"Look out!" Ostrava shouted, as the creature swung its hand. Masses of flies shot out from its body and filled the room, and all at once, they were in darkness.

"God damn, why can't I see anything..." Biorr said.

"Oh god, it's the flies, it's the flies."

And true to what Ostrava said, the flies ended up going beneath their helmets, and gnawing at their faces. They closed their eyes to avoid the insects reaching them, but they were too fast and when they blinked, they crushed bugs beneath their lids. Buzzing deafened them just as the darkness blinded them, and they squirmed to get the bugs off of them.

Then Ostrava felt himself being hit by a giant fist.

He flew off his feet, and was sent plummeting across the room. He hit the ground once, twice, but kept going. With his hearing and sight blocked, he could only feel the pain of the earth striking him. Finally, he burst through something wooden, and a mass of scaffolding came down on him. He was vaguely aware that his left arm wasn't bent the right way. Over the buzzing, he just barely heard someone scream his name.

"Biorr!" Nameless yelled. "What happened to Ostrava!?" He fought the flys on his armor, swatting at them, but there were too many.

"I don't know!"

Flies, all that Nameless could see were flies. All he could hear were flies, he was looking straight into a mass of bugs crushing eachother in their desire to get through the gaps in his armor. He ran forward, and swung his sword, and it seemed to strike something, but he was immediately hit by a brutal sideswipe and knocked off his feet. He didn't go flying like Ostrava, but instead landed in a burning brazier, knocking it apart and extinguishing it. Still, the flames ran up his armor and he saw the flies being literally burned away. He could see again.

And he could see just in time to look up. Just in time to see Biorr smashed into the ground with enough force to leave a crater. He didn't have to look to see the results: No human could have survived that.

Umbasa. He thought to himself, though he knew that this was standard fare for a powerful demon. Had fighting against villagers with sticks made them complacent? It was too late, now. Biorr was dead, and Ostrava as good as. He laughed sickly when he realized that the Demon was doing his supposed job for him.

It turned toward him, seeing that he was uncovered, raised its arm, and swung another massive cloud of flies toward him.

He scrambled up and ran, quickly, scanning it for anything that he could strike as he did. His first blow had just cut through a bunch of inanimate garbage. Not the creature itself. As he looked, he could see the trash hanging off of it, clearly not a real part of its body.

In the creature's center, however, between all its limbs, there was a fleshy core. Blocked off from the front. As he ran around it, though, he could see that it was exposed in the back.

He cursed inwardly. If Biorr and Ostrava were still around this would have been easy. One or two could distract from the front while someone else hit it from the back, but they weren't, and it was up to him, and clouds of flies were still landing on his armor, eating away at him.

He ran to another brazier and grabbed a stick from it, using it as a torch. The flies backed away, but the golem-like demon kept coming closer. It raised up its hand and shambled, preparing to deliver the force of its charge behind a punch.

Nameless held up the torch, and quickly moved out of the way. The fist barely missed him, but the recovery gave him a chance. He moved around it and struck its exposed core. Again, and again, and again. But it seemed to just get angrier and as it turned it sideswiped him again. He braced himself, and tried to stay on his feet, but he couldn't. His side hit the ground first, and he felt a pronounced dent form in his armor, but he was alright.

He didn't have time to get up before it tried to smash him like Biorr. He rolled out of the way and its fist hit the dirt. Another crater was formed, flies spewed in every direction, and he was covered again. He held the torch to himself, and they fled.

The collosus raised up its foot, and prepared to stomp him, but it was slow enough that he managed to scramble between its legs, leaving the torch behind. The foot came down, and the ensuing mass of flies covered him again. His senses were blocked, but by now he knew what to do instinctively. His sword came up, and he jabbed it into the demon's back. This time, it stuck like a thumbtack.

There was an unearthly roar, and suddenly his grip on the sword was shaking. He held on as he felt his body waggling back and forth, as if it were some kind of bizarre rodeo, and it took every ounce of his demon-fueled strength to swing his feet onto its back. Now he had footing, and he pushed the sword deeper in.

The flies dug deeper into his armor, they went through his beaver and chewed on his face. He spat at them and struck at them with his tongue. They ended up in his mouth and bit his tongue and the inside of his cheeks. They ran down his throat and bit at him inside of his body. One wouldn't hurt, but a thousand of them struck at once, and as he screamed more came in. It only grew more painful.

Die! Something in him screamed, as he put all of his body into pushing the sword deeper. Die you miserable overgrown shit-man.

He could hear its roars over the buzzing. He felt it punch him, and he felt his back strain, but not break, under the pressure. The punch inadvertantly helped him though: the force of it pushed his sword in up to the hilt.

Again, the collosus roared in pain, and then he felt it fall forward. He felt the flies suddenly stop biting. He spat them out, one by one, and he would probably still be spitting hours later. When he could see again, he realized that the monster was lying on its front, and that he was lying on top of it.

Ugh...

"Well...shit," he heard.

He looked up. Just in front of him, Biorr was lying on the ground. His lower body was crushed under the Collosus, and his upper looked...dented, but intact.

"How the hell are you alive?" Nameless asked, drearily.

"Ye'd like it if I wer dead, wouldn't ye, lad?" Biorr said with vicious spite.

Nameless groaned, and his face hit the back of the Collossus.

"Where's Ostrava?" Biorr asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm...I'm here!" They heard a voice from across the room.

Nameless looked up again, and Ostrava was lying there. One of the hinges of his beaver had broken off, and it hung limply from the other side of his helmet. His bruised face was visible.

"You look like an overripe fruit, lad," Biorr said.

Ostrava laughed, harshly, then hissed as it was interrupted by pain.

"How are you doing?" Biorr asked.

"Mostly fine...but...my arm," Ostrava said. "I can hardly feel my left arm."

"That's bad," said Nameless.

Biorr looked at him.

"I've had enough broken limbs to know."

"What about you, Biorr?" Ostrava asked.

"To be blunt, I don't think I'll be walking, lad," Biorr said. "But I'm alive."

Nameless finally finished panting long enough to consider the facts at hand. Biorr was buried under the Collosus, cripped. Ostrava was buried under a mound of scaffolding, also crippled.

We've gotten to the second archstone...the third is never very far. I'll be able to make it there myself.

This was it. This was his opportunity.

He pulled his sword out of the demon's back, it took a few tries before he managed to do so, and when he did it was covered in rancid gore.

Biorr looked up at him, knowing what he was thinking.

"This ain't the best situation for us, is it, lad?" he asked, and as he did a thin trail of blood leaked from his mouth.

"No," said Nameless. "It isn't."

"...What?" Ostrava asked from far away.

"Ye want to tell him?" Biorr said, with a harsh laugh behind his voice. "Or do ye just want to stab him in blissful ignorance?"

"What?"

Nameless stood, silently.

"Ye remember when he let you fall from that cliff, lad?" Biorr asked Ostrava. "Ye remember when he didn't save you? 'd be easy to say he was being a coward. But no...that wasn't an accident."

There was a pause.

"...No..." Ostrava said, softly.

"Tell me the truth, before you do it," Biorr said. "That's all I ask. I lived too long to be killed without knowing why."

Don't. A voice argued.

"Someone made me a deal," he said. "A promise."

"Money? Souls? Honestly, lad, in a world gone to this kind of hell, you think those things still matter?"

"No. Not souls. One soul. Mine."

Biorr looked confused.

"They told me they knew who I was," Nameless said. "They told me that...if I did it, they would tell me, too. I could have my identity back. Be myself again."

"No you wouldn't!" Ostrava yelled, from across the room. "You wouldn't...would the real you, the person you were before, kill innocent people he had fought alongside? Would he betray them like that?"

"That's the thing," Nameless said. "I don't know...and if I don't do this, then I won't. It's a moot point."

"But what if you do it, and you learn that you never would have?" Ostrava said. "What if you can't go back to being who you were before."

"At least I'll know."

"Coward!" Biorr spat. "You'll kill us just to know?"

"You don't understand!" Nameless screamed. "You'll never understand! You don't know what it feels like to wake up every day feeling like an echo. To not have a past or a future. To feel like a tool belonging to everyone else! What are you, tell me what you are! You're a knight, you brandish your title around like it's the only thing that you're truly proud of! Imagine if that was gone, though. Imagine if everything that you could ever be proud of, even the things that you were ashamed of...gone. Not just your history, but your personality, your nature, who you were supposed to be, gone. Even Ostrava...you don't understand."

He looked to the prince.

"You gave up everything to run away, but you still had it. It was still in you, and you could come back. I can't go back. I don't even know where forward is. The only thing I know about myself is that I was conscripted to save this world in a supposed agreement that I remember making..and I don't want that, anymore. I don't want that...but it's either that, or I waste away entirely. That...or I become nothing...you'll never understand."

"Maybe we won't," Ostrava said. "But this is still the wrong choice...and...I think that you can get it back."

"That's not true," Nameless said.

"I think that it is," said Ostrava. "Since you came here...your personality has become more and more defined. Your soul has been coming back to you. You tell me that you don't have an identity...but I see one in you. Even if you don't have what you had before...you can make it again. You can make one for yourself. But if you kill us, what you get will be empty...because you won't be the person you were before. You can't. You'll just know. That's all that you'll get."

Nameless's sword drooped.

"Please," Ostrava said. "This isn't who you are...and there is a 'who.' There is a person. I can see it. I promise you."

For a second, Nameless stood completely still. Then, he walked toward Biorr.

"What are you doing?" Ostrava asked.

"What he was going to do from the beginning," Biorr said. "Sorry, lad."

Nameless raised his sword.

"Please, please don't." Ostrava begged. "For the love of god, NO!"

But the sword came down.

And the section of the demon's body that had been sitting on top of Biorr was severed. Nameless got down from on top of the monster, then pushed it away, and started to help the big man up.

"...Really?" Ostrava said.

"Can you stand?" Nameless asked Biorr.

"...Barely," the knight said, still stunned.

Ostrava's bruised face turned red, "Next time. If you aren't going to kill us...well, can you please be more clear about it?"

"Sorry," Nameless said.

Ostrava released a deep breath.

It was agreed that Ostrava and Biorr were too injured to go on. Ostrava forgave Nameless straight away, because, after all, nothing ill had come of it. Biorr gave him another suspicious glare before he shook his hand.

The moment they disappeared into the archstone, however, Nameless heard a voice behind him.

"I'm disappointed," was all it said.

He turned to see an androgynous, masked woman standing there, wearing gold and black.

"Mephistopheles."

"Yes."

"Any reason why you're here?" he asked.

"I wanted to call you a fool to your face," she said.

"Well, good job. You can leave now," he said.

"It's not too late. You can still kill them both."

"No."

"Unfortunate."

"Is that all?" he asked. "I have something important to attend to. I've really been looking forward to it."

"You're very good at these spiteful remarks," Mephistopheles said. "But what you don't realize is that your entire quest is pointless. Tell me, what happened the first time the Old One was put to sleep?"

"The world recovered," he said.

"But it came back," she said. "It came back, just as the Soul Arts did. Because people remembered. Because the knowledge was recorded, and passed on."

"What are you saying?"

"You know that the Soul Arts brought the Old One, don't you?"

"Yes," he said.

"You know that Ostrava, Biorr, and countless others all know of them, do you not?" she said.

"Yes."

"Then why can't you understand?" she said, simply. "Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. The Soul Arts must be forgotten, and this is the only way."

"You sound exactly like someone I knew."

She didn't smile, "I trained him."

"Which explains where he got his attitude."

"Joking doesn't suit you," she said.

"It doesn't, does it?" he asked.

"Neither does being facetious. Your fragile ego may be abated by not taking me seriously: but it doesn't change the facts. You don't know who you are, and I won't tell you."

"What if I made you?" he asked.

She gave a cruel laugh. "Make me, then."

And in an instant, his sword was drawn, and he came at her, but she was out of the way. When he turned, he realized that she was behind him. Her dagger was at his throat, jabbed perfectly down his neckguard, through the holes in his armor.

He had never seen anyone move so fast in his life.

"Killing you would be pointless." She said. "Still, take this as a warning."

And she removed her dagger from him. When he turned around again, to face her, she was gone.

He didn't know where she had gone, but he wasn't going to bother with it. Right now, he had other things to worry about.

He sighed, and felt his armor, and his body for injuries. None were signifcant, though there were dents, and bruises. Ahead of him was a tunnel that lead deeper, and a ladder that descended into darkness.

He had no choice.

He went on alone.

"Where are we?" Osford asked.

"One of the six archstones," Astraea answered, immediately.

"...Is this where we were going, all this time?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

She didn't answer for a while, and they looked around. The place was filthy. A pool of grotesque water sat in the center. Strange, fleshy masses occupied it.

"What...what is this..." Osford asked.

"Some of the locals believe that the archstone has supernatural power, or so I've heard...they bring their sick children here, praying that god will cure them."

"But god doesn't answer," Garl said.

She nodded, "and in the end. They leave them here, to rot. They have no other choice."

Osford looked down at the rotting babes, disgusted.

"You still haven't told me why we're here," he said.

She froze. "Tell me, how many Saints are there, at a given time?"

"...Six," he said.

"How many Archstones are there?"

"Six."

"How many Archdemons did the Old One summon, when it rose from its slumber?"

"...Six. There's one for every Archstone."

Astraea nodded. "Why do you think that is?"

"Because god chose six saints to combat six archdemons, so the scriptures say."

"But there is no god," Astraea said. "There is only the Old One. And the Old One is bound by six Archstones. The Old One has six Archdemons serving it...finally, the Old One has six Saints, who serve it unknowingly. Who are bastions of its power unbeknownst even to them."

"I still don't believe you," Osford said.

"I am a Saint," Astraea said. "But now I know the truth, so I can no longer be one. If there is no god, then the only power we receive is from the Old One. And in order to change this world...in order to help these poor people...I need power."

"You aren't suggesting..." Osford didn't finish, it was unspeakable.

"I'm suggesting that in a world only of humans, we must look out for other humans, even if it means damning ourselves."

Osford was silent. Even Garl stared in shock.

"And I've had dreams," Astraea whispered, as she walked toward the Archstone. "I know...the Old One is awakening. It...it has spoken to me. I don't know who called it. I don't know why...but the time for six Archdemons has come. The time of the Six Saints has ended. And if this is the way it is going to be, then I will become an Archdemon."

"Milady...!" Osford shouted out. "This is madness!"

Garl gazed down toward the ground. His body trembled, slightly.

"I apologize, Osford, for forcing you to take this journey with me. Garl as well. If you disapprove of my actions, you may leave, and you may tell the church that I decieved you, as I did so by hiding the truth."

"Leave..." Osford said. "Leave...and allow you to help a creature that will destroy this entire world!?"

"It is all that there is, sir Osford. And it can give me power, which I will use to make the lives of the people here bearable."

"Bearable until they are dead like the rest of us!" Osford said, then looked to Garl. "Please, help me reason with her. If there is a time to speak out, it is now."

"Milady..." Garl started.

She looked directly at him, and her eyes spoke the truth as she said it aloud. "I have made up my mind, Garl. I will only abandon this course through death."

Garl stopped trembling, and went completely still.

"We...we cannot do that..." he murmured. "It is the highest act of treason. The highest form of sacrilege."

"We have to," Osford said, and drew his sword so smoothly that it was almost silent. "The alternative is allowing her to help bring this demon into the world, Garl. The alternative is destruction."

Astraea didn't turn her eyes away from Garl. He looked up, and caught her gaze, filled with sagacity and kindness, yet knowing of all the horrors of the world.

The gaze that he loved.

"No," Garl said.

"No to who?" Osford asked.

"To you."

"...What!?"

"I said no. No, I will not abandon her. No I will not betray her. Not when she is more alone than she has ever been."

"Garl, think about what she is standing for! Think about what you are siding with."

"I don't care about what I'm siding with," he said. "All that I care about is who, and I choose to be with her."

Osford stared in disbelief.

"So you'll follow her to hell, then?"

"I would follow her there three times over."

Astraea smiled.

"You're mad. You're madder than she is."

"I could be."

Osford gazed down at the ground, and then at his sword, and then at the tall, imposing Garl in front of him. The knight who was stronger than he would ever be.

"You know that I can't allow this," Osford said.

"I know."

"That...that it is my duty as a knight...to fight to the death, in order to preserve this world."

"I know."

"Then face me," he said, quietly. Brandishing his sword in front of him.

Garl drew his mace, but did not step forward.

"What are you waiting for!?" Osford said, and his tears could be heard in his voice. "Face me!"

"In the end, Sir Osford, you were a good knight," Garl said.

"I'm not dead! Not yet!" Osford said.

But a moment later, he was.

Garl gently closed Osford's eyes.

"He didn't deserve this," Astraea said.

"No," Garl said. "No, he didn't. If I could bury him in his homeland, I would."

"But we cannot leave this place. Not anymore. Perhaps never again," Astraea said.

"I know," Garl said, and breathed deeply.

Astraea gave Osford one more regretful frown, and then looked to the archstone. "Garl, it's time."

He nodded, and followed her as she walked toward it.

"Old One," Astraea said, into the stone.

There was silence.

"Old One, being older than life, older than death, older than time, do you heed me?"

And then it sounded. They both heard it, vividly, yet its voice was barely above a whisper. It took the form of a deep bass rumble that shook the cave, could not actually be heard by ears, yet somehow was still intelligible.

Souls...

Bring me...souls...

"I have souls for you, Old One," Astraea said. "I have come here...I have come to serve you."

Then come...

And the archstone glowed.

Astraea turned back to Garl with a sad smile, "whatever I become, thank you, Garl. Thank you."

She turned away again, and walked to the archstone.

"Milady," Garl said.

She turned back to him once more.

"I love you," he said. "I just...I wanted to say it myself."

He wanted her to say something back. Anything, but she kept the same smile, and didn't even seem to react. Instead, she turned around, and walked to the archstone. She touched it, and seemed to connect to something far deeper and older than she was. She glowed, then, like the sun, and afterwards the glow stayed, it did not fade away.

She sat there, at the end of that filthy pond, and waited.

And the roots grew up, around her. They covered her body. They tied her to the ground. When she breathed, her breaths felt moist, now, as if her body were being filled with all the poison of the swamp. She took their sickness into herself, and absorbed it. Slowly, they became immune to the plague, to the poison. Slowly, they became creatures that would no longer die in their own home.

And they came, and brought her souls. As they did, they became less and less human. Finally, they were demons, and they did not even remember why they did it. They loved her without knowing the reason. They praised her, worshipped her, saw her as a symbol of the purest hope while only occasionally realizing, in moments of clarity, just how much good she was doing for them.

And in front of her, knelt Garl Vinland, waiting.