Chapter XXIV:
The Eater of Brains
Amos sat at that same chair at the head of the round table. His pen flew across page after page. Every notable detail of recent events was recorded. From meeting 9S to hunting for memories in haunted, lonely places. From finding a yeti atop frozen mountains to unearthing an ancient dragon in the belly of an active volcano.
He took special pride when it came time to explain that the Legion was on the verge of a full revival. As eager and excited as he was to get out of this claustrophobic hold of his and fight with them, he had yet to hear not even a peep from the Dragon. No fight had been started and there was still a mountain of paperwork to be done. For the time being, Amos contained himself.
His head was buried in a stack of papers. His mind was as scrambled as an egg. As he raced through report after report, he waited and listened for any word from the Dragon. Her silence was concerning.
The sound of his pen scribbling on paper overpowered the stillness of the room. The rain outside felt faraway when under the shelter of this former human-operated facility turned Legion hideout. He occasionally glanced to the letter Emil left him. He chose to ignore it outright. There was far too much work to be done to bother with that Old World relic.
Out of nowhere, Amos noticed a drop in temperature. The pale Maso comprising his skin could sense the spike of bitterness.
Amos sat upright and looked around. The front door was still sealed just as 9S had left it when he departed. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something peculiar on his desk. It did not fit in at all with the stacks of files and stray documents he was so accustomed to seeing.
A black satchel. It was left wide open. Various cables and components threatened to spill out of it at any moment. Curious about it, Amos got up and walked around the table for a closer look. It was left directly in front of the chair 9S previously sat in. Upon further inspection, Amos realized that it was indeed the boy's satchel. He remembered seeing it always strapped to the android's back yet he never knew what was kept inside.
Amos left it alone. He backed off and made a mental note to grab it on his way out and return it to its rightful owner. Initially, he saw no reason to go digging around in a friend's belongings yet as he stepped away, a glimmer caught his eye.
Among all the coils and wires laid an unusual sight. The chrome chain of a necklace. What would an android need with something like that? As curious a sight as it was, Amos was prepared to leave it alone but he found himself strangely drawn to the thin chain. He needed to know more about it. He needed to see what was on the other end of that necklace.
One minuscule peek would surely not hurt anyone.
Amos reached for the necklace.
The unexpected sound of a knock at his door caused him to jolt backward. Amos whipped around and stared at the sealed entrance. In an instant, that satchel and odd chain were cast to the back of his thoughts. Destined to be forgotten.
It must be his squadmates. There was not a doubt in his mind. They must have realized that a new Red Eye had taken form right here in this very region. Ezekiel and the others likely set out to return from wherever they were currently operating the instant the Dragon awoke.
Excitement threatened to overpower his normally calm demeanor. How he was to react to seeing them for the first time in ages, he could not be certain. There was so much to convey to them.
There was no hesitation. For the first time in an extremely long while, he did not so much as pick up his weapon before heading to the door. He threw it open. What hovered in the hall outside was nothing but crushing disappointment.
"Pod 153 to Unit Amos…"
All excitement and joy were sapped from him in an instant. The little YoRHa drone floated before him. Her scratched-up limbs dangled downward like that of a wasp. He rolled his white eyes at her.
"Apologies for the intrusion but we require your assistance. The entity possessing Unit 9S has revealed itself. Popola requests that you report to her office as soon as possible. She believes you will be able to assist with a plan she has formulated to separate 9S and the unidentified creature."
Out of all the things she could have said, Amos was not expecting to hear any of that. The fact that the Watcher hiding out in 9S's mind would make a move was inevitable. Amos knew this the moment he realized the boy was indeed possessed. However, hearing that it had finally happened was difficult to comprehend.
A voice seeped into his head. A raspy, feminine tone. The same voice that led him into the depths of the volcano. That guided him into freeing the new Red Eye.
"Interesting," the Dragon's words echoed subconsciously.
Had she been listening to his thoughts the entire time?
"I saw the red eyes of your friend. The day you two freed me. I assumed he was touched by the Watchers. I see I was correct. Well, what are you waiting for? Go and offer your assistance! Slay the monster and anyone sympathetic to it! I have plans for this city and they do not involve the Watchers."
Orders were orders.
Amos grunted and picked up his rifle. He took aim through his complex scope and toyed with the knobs. The screen came to life. The scope displayed calculations for distances and timings to detonate those "smart" explosive rounds loaded into the larger magazine toward the back of the weapon.
Everything was operational.
Pod 153 watched as he gathered explosives, detonators, and a heap of ammunition for his bizarre rifle. He already moved a healthy stockpile to his room in that building 9S and his little friends called home, but more weapons could never hurt anyone apart from his foes.
Amos was received with an unusually warm welcome. As he was led closer to a particular room, Devola sprung forth from the dark entrance. Her face bore a grim frown that wavered slightly after seeing him. A fleeting wave of relief washed over her.
"Amos! Ya made it! Guess 153 already filled ya in. Ready to kill a cosmic horror?"
Not exactly opposed to the thought of humiliating a Watcher, Amos cracked his knuckles. His eagerness for domination on behalf of the Legion was well hidden behind his usual, laid-back demeanor.
Devola forced a laugh. "Boy, do I wish I had your confidence."
She then retreated back inside the room, beckoning for the soldier to follow. He and 153 moved after her. It was dark, but the glow of two red orbs in the distance immediately gave away 9S's position. He was bound to a wooden chair. Rusted chains kept all four of his limbs strapped to it. A separate chair stood near the opposite wall. Likely a resting area for Devola.
At no point was 9S allowed to be left unattended. With Popola busy doing the actual research to free him, it was on 153 and Devola to take turns watching over him. Most of the time, it was Devola who sat with him. Playing calming serenades on her lute.
The boy's head hung low in abject despair. His silence confirmed that he was currently the one in control. A fact that could change at any moment.
"Popola's working on using a magical circle of some kind to expel the thing from him," informed Devola. "She was hoping you'd know more about these creatures and how their language works. The runes that form magic. We know a bit, but not everything."
Amos gave her a confirming nod. The response was admittedly unexpected but a welcome one. It gave her a semblance of hope.
Their exchange caused the possessed android to stir. 9S lifted his head. "Hello, Amos. Did you come all this way just to see me?"
His tone was weaker than normal. Almost shy. Amos nodded though he doubted that 9S could see the quiet response from across such a dark room.
"Pod 153 to Units Amos and Devola. It just occurred to me that there was an archive on Old World topics in the Tower constructed by the Machine Lifeforms. A library from what I was told. It could hold information that may prove useful."
A feminine tone spoke out from behind. "We may have to take a look…"
They all turned. Popola stood in the doorway. Amos immediately noticed the bandages around her torso and the stains of blood that dyed them. Her expression was just as grim as the atmosphere that loomed over the entire building. Her staff was held tightly in her hands.
"And how do we find this library, Pod?"
"Unknown," Pod 153 replied. "It was not I who encountered this area. Pod 042 detailed it to me shortly after we had scaled and escaped it. However, provided you can access the Tower, you should be able to locate provided you simply travel upwards."
"If it's there then we can surely find it," Popola reassured.
She gave Amos a welcoming nod.
"Glad you decided to join us."
Hours were spent deciphering the meanings of the runic circle and how other characters could be applied to change that meaning. Amos knew far more about the angelic sigils than Popola had assumed. Within those hours, they made progress that Popola knew full well she could have never achieved alone. At least not in that time frame.
It was never explained to Amos how Devola and Popola found this circle in the first place but he did recognize it. He safely assumed they discovered the remnant of 9S's little experiment. He did not stop to ask why or how. It was not like he could even if he cared to do so.
Popola occasionally glinted to a separate page on her desk. A detailed series of admittedly confusing graphs Amos drew up for her. His best attempt to explain the history between the Watchers and the Legion. It depicted them high above Red Eye. His Prince.
Arrows were drawn from a cartoonish depiction of himself and his salty comrades that were pointed, not at the Watchers, but at the Legion's leader. The way he so specifically drew that gave Popola a hint of the hostility he held toward the cherubic creatures.
She went back to her work. Amos sat on the end of her desk, looking over a copy of the circle. It was easy enough to understand. He could see the lines and characters that called forth that abomination from beyond. The question for him was the same as it was for Popola. How does one change it to suit their current needs?
He drew up his own possible solutions to this problem. He handed over one of his creations. She looked it over. It was a half-hearted attempt on Amos' part. His patience was wearing thin. He was losing the ability to focus. Mental exhaustion was creeping in after having stared at these geometric shapes for what was shaping up to be an eternity.
When Popola suddenly burst out of her seat and nearly shrieked, it caused a bit of a frightful stir in him as well. She seldom behaved that way. He would have expected that reaction out of her sister more than he would her.
"Wait, I understand!"
Amos scratched his head at her. He took another look at his work but could not see what caused such a reaction from her.
She jotted down two runes on another circle of her work. One that was otherwise left incomplete. She looked it over for clarification. When she was reassured, she flipped the paper around for Amos to see. It was a mostly complete drawing. Only a small space large enough for a verse or two was left blank.
"This is it! I'm almost positive this is the formula we need! If we can just complete this circle…"
That was probably the most emotion he had ever witnessed from her.
Amos was still left rubbing the back of his head in utter confusion. He was not quite sure what was so special about the circle. Some of the runes did indeed appear to make sense, though, at the same time, even he was not exactly sure what they were supposed to look for.
"We should try the Tower," announced Popola. "If there really is Old World knowledge there, it could help us clarify this. Honestly, we probably should have gone there from the start."
There were no disagreements on Amos' part. The two simultaneously stood up. Amos grabbed his rifle. Popola, her staff. They set out down the hall and to the stairs.
A steady downpour accompanied Popola and Amos on their journey back to the depths of the ruins. They arrived at an enormous sinkhole. Water poured in from the streets and flowed down the chasm on all sides. The Tower stood in a growing lake. Popola strained to see the full extent of the flooding. It was so terribly dark down there.
"Here we are," announced Popola. "Question is, how do we get inside?"
Amos took the lead this time. He scaled down a slope running along the cliff face. Popola followed. She gripped her staff tightly. In the inevitable event that she may slip on the slick concrete or sink into the mud, she would make certain not to drop her weapon.
She handled her flashlight with just as much care. As always, it was the only reason she could see anything. All the way down, she was left wishing she could have the same set of night vision goggles that seemed to come in so handy for Amos.
Once they reached the bottom, nothing but water awaited them. It was deep. From what Popola could see, it was also stagnant. The deeper pit leading to that pale city underground must have been completely submerged.
They were forced to swim the rest of the way. The gate was left wide open, but it too was beneath the water.
"Well, that's convenient," said Popola. She ducked her head beneath the surface and swam straight for it. She swam through the Tower's entrance. The moment she did, however, she heard a shrill scream. She heard it all despite being completely submerged in water. There was nothing around but she decided to fall back anyway. She resurfaced next to Amos.
Popola glanced around. "Did… Did you hear that!?"
Amos shook his head.
"It sounded like… my sister."
She gave their surroundings a final once over to ensure no one was around. They were totally alone. Nothing along the black surface of the water stirred. Only droplets of rain splashing gently atop subtle waves. She was reminded of what 9S told her. About the way they died. She shrugged it off and resumed her swim.
This time, Amos followed her. They dove down into the depths and emerged on the other side, finally inside the pale citadel.
The scaling of the Tower was both formidable and confusing. Neither Popola nor Amos was sure about what exactly they were looking for. Amos proved beyond useful. His ability to scale vertical surfaces like a bug made it possible for them both to reach areas that would otherwise be inaccessible to Popola on her own.
The Tower was just as alien on the inside as it was on the outside. Entire cities, solid white and decorated with a splendor of complex architecture hung upside down. Floating stairs and pathways winded around and around. They ran in all directions.
It was also completely empty. The lonely feeling of walking through desolate corridors and abandoned cityscapes without any sign of machines or androids started to bother Popola. It looked to be such a crucial construct for the machines, yet all she found were corpses and ghostly echoes.
As the journey dragged on, demoralization set in. Perhaps 153 was simply wrong. Perhaps it was all just a waste of their time. A wild goose chase for information that did not exist. Perhaps there was no cure to his possession at all.
Just as Popola was on the verge of collapsing to her knees, being weighed down by sheer despair, Amos growled. He pointed a clawed index finger at the path ahead. She peered forward.
At the end of this stretch of solid white pavement was a pair of twin doors. They towered over both her and Amos. Where they led was a mystery to her, but for whatever reason, they caught Amos' attention. He bolted toward them. Without hope of a better plan, Popola gathered her swiftly crumbling composure and chased after him.
"What is it?"
Amos ignored her inquiry. She was about to find out. It could all have been a coincidence, but Amos knew those doors. They stirred so many memories of infiltration and the stalking of priority targets.
He reached out with both arms and pulled both of the doors open. They stepped inside.
An immense space welcomed them. White walls comprised their surroundings just like the rest of the Tower yet the chamber before them was strikingly human. The walls were lined with rows and rows of books. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling.
Just ahead of them was another pair of doors that presumably led to a basement of some sort. On either side was a staircase that granted access to the second level of this strange library. Catwalks wrapped around the room. At the top of the stairs, Popola caught sight of two closed-off rooms. One on the left. The other on the right.
"I was not expecting to see something like this," Popola murmured. She glinted Amos' way. "Have you been here before? You were acting like you knew what was here."
Amos merely shrugged. Such non-answers were to be expected from him. He was incredibly good at dancing around these questions. Popola did not bother pressing him any further.
"Let's take a look around."
Her first impulse was to check the basement. She tried to open the doors, however, they were sealed tight. She stepped aside to see if Amos could brute-force them open. Even he failed. They were not going to budge.
Losing interest, Popola ascended the stairs to the right. She wrapped around the white guard railing lining the stairwell and ventured to the nearest door. She was expecting this one to be locked as well, yet when she turned the knob, it opened revealing a small office space.
A desk was situated at the back of the room, facing the door. An empty chair stood behind it. Stacks of books sparsely decorated the floor and desk alike. Artificial flowers in a pot all composed of that same white material sat at a corner of the desk. On the wall to her left was an enormous blank board.
The room had an odd air about it. A haunted feeling. She walked around to the other side of the desk. That chair felt as though it were calling to her. Hesitantly, she sat down. Something about being in that chair, behind that desk felt strikingly familiar. As if she had finally found the place she was meant to be.
A waft of cold air brushed against the backside of her head, rustling her damp hair. Popola leaned away and looked back. She was met with nothing but books and a blank wall. Settling down, she turned and leaned back in the chair. Amos stood at the entrance, observing her.
"This is a strange place," Popola admitted. "Very strange. But this could be where the archived data is stored. It would only make sense. Why don't you take to the lower level and search there? I'll see what I can dig up here and join you when I'm done."
Amos left the office without saying a word. He closed the door behind himself.
Popola immediately went to work. She started by searching the desk drawers. A few papers left inside the drawer to her left caught her attention. She pulled out the thin stack of sheets and looked them over. Ultimately finding nothing of substance, she moved on.
She went through everything in the room. From books to notepads to anything at all that pertained to magic, its use, and suspected origin. In this one room, there was quite a lot on that specific subject. It was almost as if the owner of this office was also a user. She dismissed the thought, assuming it more likely that machines just so happened to dump it here for some reason or another.
The archives left by the machines were enigmatic. They appeared as normal books but only when she opened them did she see the difference. Digital screens resembling both the look and texture of paper pages contained the information painstakingly copied over from human records.
She found methods of searching for specific terms. This feature alone made the task of scouring through a lifetime's worth of knowledge infinitely faster. As she tore through one particular tome, a section caught her eye. Several passages discussing the banishment of White Maso. The diseased particles that were the backbone of the Legion's existence.
Mentions of a specific dance. A banishment ritual caught her attention. She always assumed that the Legion was fought solely with magic. That the salt-like particles were simply destroyed upon contact with their crimson counterpart. This one stretch of text was challenging her entire view on the subject.
It engrossed her. Things were starting to fall into place again. Just as they did when Amos stumbled upon a valuable addition to the runic circle she was crafting. It was all starting to make sense.
The door opened. Popola initially did not bother looking up. It could only be one person, after all.
"Back so soon," she inquired calmly. "Did you find anything?"
When someone actually spoke back to her, her stomach sank. Her blood chilled.
"Hey, Popola," came the voice of an unknown male. "Long time no see."
Popola's head slowly lifted. At first, she almost thought Amos randomly learned to speak. That was not at all the case. The man standing in the doorway was most certainly not Amos.
"Who… Who are you?"
The man was tall. Muscular. A massive behemoth of a pauldron adorned his left shoulder. Leather armor decorated his person. He wore no shirt. Only two leather straps that held much of his outfit together. His right shoulder was covered in various tattoos that extended down to his chest. Hair as white as 9S's draped down the sides of his head.
"What are you playing at," the man replied sternly. "You know who I am. You should. After all, it was you and your sister who betrayed us at the last second. Did everything in your power to keep Yonah from me. But it wasn't enough."
Part of her had no idea what was going on. Who was this man? How did he get up the stairs without Amos noticing and causing a ruckus? Where did he even come from? Yet another part of her knew these questions were all pointless.
Guilt consumed her. It swelled up in her heart to the point of causing physical pain. Fits of despair were indeed a side effect of the pre-programmed guilt that plagued both her and her twin. Never was it quite this bad, however.
She staggered and fell out of her chair and collapsed to her knees. "It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!"
Her cries were cut short. The ability to speak escaped her. She gagged. Her heart pounded in her chest. Air was difficult to take in. Popola let out another wretched gargle. She wanted to vomit but never did.
Anxiety overwhelmed her. She tried to breathe. She tried so hard to simply breathe. The air chilled around her just as it did the instant she claimed that chair as her own. At long last, she inhaled. Weakly, she uttered her pleas.
"It wasn't me. I-I-I swear. It… It was the other P-P-Popola. I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I'm so sorry!"
She finally lost her ability to sit upright. She fell on her side and curled up into a fettle position. She wanted Devola. 9S. Someone close to ease the guilt. Of course, neither of them came.
"I have nothing against you."
Popola froze. Aqua eyes, brimming with sorrow and guilt, slid open. "Then make the guilt stop! Make it stop! You're the one we betrayed are you not!? You can make it stop!"
The man responded with a warm smile. In the context of the conversation, it offered Popola absolutely no comfort.
"Come on, Popola. You said it yourself. No one stops."
He turned away from her and reached for the door. "I gotta go. Good to see you one last time. Brings back memories."
He pulled the door open, ready to leave Popola lying there. At the last second. He looked over his shoulder, peaking over the edge of his leather pauldron.
"Oh, yeah. One last thing. That pale guy downstairs. Don't let him fool you. He's not your friend. He's pure evil. They both are. Well, that's it, I guess. Goodbye forever. And good luck. You'll need it."
Both? That one statement made no sense. There was only one person downstairs. In the end, she could not bring herself to ask about it.
"…Bye."
It was all she could say. She tried to choke out another apology. The door was thrown shut long before she had the chance.
Amos sat with his back against a stack of books. He had his head buried in a tome when he heard the door upstairs suddenly open and close. The library was so quiet. The echo sounded like a sonic boom by comparison.
He looked up. There was no one standing near the door. No one descending the stairs. Assuming Popola was just moving around up there, he went back to his research. The last time he nearly skipped over details, they turned out to be important. Amos made sure to pay special attention this time.
Not a few minutes had passed and that same door opened and closed a second time. Amos repeated the same motion. He lowered his book and glared at the upstairs walkways. Nobody was up there. All was quiet. It made no sense that Popola would be doing that. She did not seem like the type of person to fool around or play pranks, especially when the life of her little boyfriend was on the line. Something was wrong.
He tossed the book to the floor. It landed with a loud thud. He stood upright and marched toward the stairs. His jackboots echoed with each step. Amos did not immediately barge into the office. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his ear against the door. He listened. There was some rustling inside. It sounded as if Popola were moving her chair around. Nothing overly suspicious.
He threw open the door. Popola sat at her desk. Her face was buried in her palms. She perked up but looked surprised to see Amos standing there. As if she were expecting someone else.
"Oh," she muttered. Her tone indicated that she was not in the highest of spirits. "Did you find anything yet?"
Amos did not linger. He did not bother to answer her either. He merely turned away and shut the door. She seemed well enough. At least in the physical sense. Emotional support was not at all his job. He stepped toward the stairwell but hesitated before descending. The door on the other side of the stairs had yet to be explored. He was curious about what was inside.
Amos advanced on it. He kept his rifle at the ready, still anticipating a machine ambush. The fact that no living machines had been encountered thus far made him even more paranoid.
He opened the door and stepped inside, checking his corners as he moved. When it was obvious that the coast was clear, he lowered the gun. The room was near empty apart from several shelves on his right. The entire wall was lined with them. Mostly empty square compartments however a couple of them were occupied by statues crafted from solid gold.
Amos stepped forward, peering at them. The first one to catch his eye was a statue that almost resembled 9S, or at least, a random YoRHa scanner. The statue had very fine detail. After taking some time to look it over, Amos realized that it was not 9S at all. He recognized that face. He wracked his brain to remember the android's name. Then it came to him.
4S? What's that little twink doing here?
He shrugged off the curious sight and moved on to the next statue. It was much easier to identify. A golden depiction of conjoined twins. Long flowing hair draped over their shoulders. Their bodies concealed beneath tattered rags. Even the stitches holding their torsos together were carved with expert craftsmanship.
Rest in pieces.
He moved on. The third statue was no less disturbing. A display of an infant with the abdomen and limbs of a fly. Insectoid wings spread out along its back. The face was horrific. Sharpened teeth were exposed. The demon's maw was left agape. Wide eyes stared back at Amos, hungrily.
This library is getting weirder by the minute.
The next statue resembled a sea serpent. Its body was lined with the faces of so many damned souls. Its neck was decorated with the hood of a cobra. Reptilian eyes covered its hood and face. The one encounter on this dark journey that truly made Amos shutter.
Caves. Not even once.
The fifth statue was situated below the Ikuchi's likeness. A well-crafted depiction of a bipedal ape. Long, matted hair was engraved all across its body. It was given an aggressive-looking face. Its gorilla-like teeth were bared right at Amos as though the statue could come to life and rip into him at any moment.
And they said you don't exist.
At the bottom of the second column, there was but one final statue. That of an android woman dressed in the usual tactical garb worn by the Resistance. An average grunt from the looks of it. She wielded a knife in one hand. Amos had not the faintest clue who she was.
Whatever.
Half of the shelves were still empty. Still waiting for a statue to be placed upon them. Amos could not imagine what the story behind this room was or where all these peculiar art pieces came from.
He prepared to leave but caught sight of a chest on the opposite corner of the chamber. He did not see it on the way in. He thought about peeking inside. Perhaps it contained the rest of the statues. At this rate, he halfway expected to get a glimpse of future encounters were he to sneak a peek.
No spoilers.
Losing all interest, Amos departed from that creepy art gallery.
A few uneventful hours passed. Popola exploded from out of her newly claimed office with a stack of papers in hand. Amos jumped at the sound of her storming down the stairs.
"I think I found what we need," announced Popola. She held up the pages. Her scribbles and notes littered the white surface. "It's a ritual used to banish White Maso back to, well, wherever it came from. This was how we cleansed the world of Legion infection. No offense, of course."
Amos huffed.
"We will still need that circle. Provided it's set up correctly, all that is needed is to put 9S in the middle of it. After that, Devola and I will perform this dance. It should yank the monster out of 9S and send it to wherever the Legion particles originated."
Amos scratched his head, nearly knocking his helmet off in the process. He hissed at her and adopted a rather quizzical look. Popola could only guess what was on his mind. She took a stab in the dark.
"I cannot be sure it will work until we try it. For some time I suspected that your kind and whatever is controlling 9S to be related. The history lesson you gave earlier confirmed it. You are related to that entity. Perhaps even composed of the same material. Even if not, it could still be subject to the same results from rituals like this. Again, there's no way to know without giving it a shot, but I'd rather do this than sit around and let 9S be swallowed up by that thing."
Amos stirred no further, content with her explanation. He picked up the sheets of paper containing his own work. He presented several completed circles. As before, he felt less confident handing them over. He was not expecting her to suddenly change the objective from materialization to banishing. None of these magical sigils were designed with that in mind. At this rate, he was going to have to do it all over again.
Popola flipped through the different designs. Only one of them caught her eye. "I think this might work."
Upon hearing that, Amos was both relieved and intrigued. He really did not wish to draw up yet another ludicrously complex circle of angelic scripts.
"I'm not entirely certain how these circles and symbols work. You apparently know way more about it than I do, but they seem to just be commands. At least from what I can gather. Any one of these variants should separate him from 9S, right?"
Amos nodded. The celestial script, to one who signed a pact with the very angelic aberrations that invented it, may as well be a second language to him. The only thing that was not completely clear was Popola's plan. She rambled on and Amos tried to keep up with her.
"The dance I discovered should send him back to wherever he and the Legion came from. That's if my theory is correct and the creature is made of the same particles as you are. If it fails then we will have to resort to our original plan of dragging it into the material world and killing it ourselves. Either way, we are out of time. We need to try something."
The Legionnaire shrugged. He had an incredibly bad feeling about this but with no way to vocalize it, and no better solution, he could only nod along.
Popola stood up. "Then we should get going. Devola and I need to practice. I'm sure you need to prepare as well. You probably already know this, but we will be dealing with magical attacks."
Amos shrugged her warning off.
"Is there anything else you can think of that we may need from this place?"
He took a final look around the room. There was nothing of particular interest. Books upon books all pertaining to various topics regarding humanity and the nature of this planet. Amos wanted nothing to do with any of it. If nothing else, he would like to come back and burn it all to the ground in the near future. For the time being, however, he shook his head.
"Good. Then we should head back. The sooner we get started, the sooner this all will end."
With no objections on Amos' part, the duo headed for the exit. Amos left behind the mess he made. Digital archives in the form of pale books lay scattered where he once sat. They would likely remain there for a very long time.
As Amos pushed the doors open, Popola stopped in her tracks. "Oh, no. I believe I may have forgotten something. Wait here just a sec."
Popola darted back up the stairs and to the office. She pushed the door open and approached the desk. An open book lay waiting for her just in front of the chair. The details of that dance she and Devola would have to perform were contained within those electric pages.
She reached out and grabbed the book. "Guess I'll be checking this one out," she muttered to herself. She almost cracked a laugh at her own joke. It was swallowed up by the tension boiling over in the depths of empty thoughts.
Out of the corner of her eye, Popola spotted a pale hand resting upon the desk. She yelped and threw herself back. Sitting in the chair, arms placed upon the desk was a woman that looked just like her. The woman's hair was a slightly darker shade. A different style but that was where their physical differences ended.
The woman's skin was deathly pale. She wore a white apron stained with blood. Beneath it was a maroon outfit. A black garment concealed her arms and shoulders. She stared back at Popola with a face devoid of expression. Her lips formed neither frown nor smile. Her eyes were glazed over like a corpse's.
"You're… me," Popola muttered.
The girl uttered not a word back. Her blank stare caused Popola's skin to crawl.
"You. It was you, was it not? The traitor? Why? Why did you do it? My sister and I have suffered for thousands of years because of you. Why did you betray him?"
No matter what was asked, no answers came her way. The phantom faded away. A gradual transition into nothingness. All that was left behind was an empty chair and a cold spot of air hovering near the desk.
There was nothing left in this place but ghosts and memories that were not hers. No reason to linger.
She took the book, ran out the door, and never looked back.
All fell still after Popola and Amos departed from the library. With no living souls to terrorize, the ghosts that roamed the chambers went dormant.
The doors to the basement remained sealed the entire time. That was, until a metallic click from behind them sounded off. It pierced the tomb-like silence of the library. The doors were slowly pushed open. They parted with an obnoxious creak.
A lone man shambled from the shadows below. Limbs contorted awkwardly. Every movement the stranger made was haunted by rigor mortis. Bloodstained the lower half of his face. Stringy white hair clung to his scalp. Gray skin wrapped around his skeletal form like a loosely fitting costume. His jaw hung limply from the rest of his sunken face.
The disturbed individual was dressed from head to toe in light leather armor. A large pauldron was strapped to his left shoulder. The remnants of a muscular body were there, but much of his figure had wasted away as though he had been starved for a long interval of time.
A line of stitches wrapped around the top of his head. The signs that someone had done a bit of brain surgery on this unfortunate soul. His right hand held a long led pipe. Colored by rust and bloodstains alike. In his left, a white book. The cover had been defaced. A crude face carved across it.
Bulging eyes, glazed over with the lifelessness of a reanimated corpse, darted from corner to corner. Bones creaked as the stranger leaned himself forward. He sniffed the air. The scent of fresh meat was in the air. Blood, pulsating tissue, and most importantly of all…
Brains.
Note: A large reason for the slowness of recent updates was due to some major changes in this act of the story. Technically, it should have already ended. In fact, I still vividly remember a time when I thought I could tell this story in a max of 20,000 words.
Fire Breath was supposed to be one chapter and it was going to end very differently. I planned for Angelus to be killed there. The idea was to have her be found in that volcano, but that she would go berserk kinda like how she did in Drakengard 2. As I started working on the chapter, it turned out to be way too long for one update, and the thought of killing her off immediately after building her up seemed like a terrible idea. So I decided to reimplement an arc for her that I scrapped shortly before publishing the story. This was just one change.
This is by no means the first time I've made some changes or deviated from the outline, but for some reason, it was way more of a hassle this time around. I couldn't tell you how many times I scrapped the Vendetta chapter and rewrote it over and over again.
Thankfully, the story is starting to come together in my head again so now I just need to write it.