2 chapters in one week. gotta make up for lost time.

I didn't run this by my co-writer lmao... (Chuckles. I'm in danger)

Armour: Molten Armour (Vanity - CAU Robes)

Weapon: Uzi (High-Velocity Bullet); Molten Bow (Ichor Arrows); Arkhalis

Acc(12/12): Charm of Myths, Ankh Shield, Terraspark Boots, Luxor's Gift, Deific Amulet, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, MOAB, Harpy Ring, Aero Stone, Skyline Wings, Warrior Emblem, Sniper Scope

Health: (400/400)

The Empire's Magical University was as lofty and prestigious as its name suggested. A symbol of The King's triumph and an ivory tower in which the continent's most brilliant mages pondered the secrets of the unknown. The grounds upon which the university was established used to be the palace of the former ruler of the region - a ruler who had, after a swift and brutal war, been beheaded in the middle of the University's main courtyard. The name of the fallen monarch had all but been scrubbed from history (Lord Yharim fancied himself 'The Eternal King' and had no qualms about adjusting history books to accomodate this image) but whoever the monarch was, he had a studied collected a great number of magical artifacts and arcane fetishes. Many of these could be removed and relocated like any other plunder, but most of the large and delicate constructions - such as the Golem's Altar - could not be touched, lest their spellsmithing come undone.

And thus, The King had refrained from demolishing the building, instead deeming The Nameless King's palace as The Empire's Magical University and building his capitol upon the city's ruins. The University, therefore, maintained all the princely splendor of its former days. Gorgeous, perennially flowering rose gardens peppered the courtyards and the front gates. Intricate stonework depicted myths and battles of the ancient past. Tapestries were woven in silk and gold - some were newer, of Yharim and The Great Jungle Dragon, others were from antiquity and had been spared the flame granted they did not offend The King's Ego too greatly. The place was all marble and gold leaf, of tea and delicate biscuits, of old books and long days in serene libraries and gardens.

And although The Guide had only worked as a lecturer here for little more than a month, he really did love the place. Sure, he was harassed by the students, and was looked down upon by much of the staff for not having an affinity for magic - but the grounds were just so gorgeous they calmed his turbulent soul. The Guide took a deep breath of the rosy perfume as he strode through the main gateway. He smiled and greeted the sleepy guard.

"Good Day."

"*yawn* Good Day."

The Guard didn't even look up, but that wasn't unexpected. It was a holiday. The children had been sent home to play in the mud and use their newfound power to destroy things and hopefully injure each other enough not to return next semester. Most of the staff had likewise taken vacation for the Autumn Festival, and The Guide should be doing the same. He should be sleeping in today. He should have to wake up no later than noon to wander down to the bakery and buy himself some strawberry crumpets. Then he'd go to the barber, catch a clean shave, get his eyebrows trimmed, and get together with his family at one of the endless events high society seemed to keep holding. The Guide suddenly had a desire to see his newly born nephew. Although his older sister complained liberally about how difficult it was to care for the brat (she had two full time maids and a nursemaid to boot. The Guide seriously doubted she was suffering all too much) The Guide would trade the monster Knight in for a screaming infant any day. Because although The Knight could make gold, and fly, and didn't do much screaming at all, he was a deadly murderer and just found a way to just get under his skin. He really must dispose of the man quickly, lest he lose his head.

*Tmp...tmp...tmp...*

So it really was a blessing the University grounds were deserted. Not only had The Headmaster had left a temple key for him in her office, and the only method The Guide had with which to retrieve it was brute force. It would have been difficult to break into The Headmaster's Safe with students and staff milling around - especially since he would've become the center of attention after his miraculous return.

*shiver*

And The Guide really was glad to be back. He was eager to return to his old life. His old job. His old friends... but, unfortunately, he'd picked up a dangerous nuisance from The Crimson Compound. He was intent on dealing with The Monster Knight as discreetly and as quickly as possible, for he was a murderer and a liability and had far outstayed his welcome. It was true that The Knight had gone with him to the bank this morning and immediately made him one of the richest people in the city, but The Guide could not find it in himself to be grateful in light of the utter disgust he felt towards the man.

What a pity the Thieves Guild couldn't deal with him... I would have gladly left him to rot in that cage.

The Guide huffed and fixed his eyes forward, doing his best to ignore the tingling sensation that ran up and down his spine. The Knight was watching him carefully. He hadn't stopped watching him since this morning, and the gaze of those pale eyes was piercing. The Guide wondered if he had noticed a change in his behavior, and if he were suspecting something, but ultimately thought it best not to push the issue. The Knight hadn't said a word since The Guide had forced him to wear a student's uniform (it was too small and looked rather ridiculously stretched over his frame) but despite his clear displeasure with the situation, followed him doggedly through the winding corridors, the grand lecture libraries (from which The Guide had retrieved a handful of teleporting scrolls) and up to The Headmaster's locked office. Eventually, they stood afore the tremendous doors, whose surface glittered with a magical seal and whose iron bindings pulsed in warning. The Guide knew how to disarm the enchantment, but maybe the door's defensive measures would take The Knight out? Unlikely, but it didn't hurt to try. The Guide cleared his throat.

"Knight, can you break through the door?"

"..."

The Knight stopped beside him and craned his neck to stare up at the the door, then turned to stare at him. For a long moment, The Guide feared The Knight would question him, perhaps cause a ruckus and summon The Guards - but he did no such thing. They merely deadlocked their eyes for a few awkward moments before The Knight produced a sword and - with the sound of telltale ringing - slashed exactly within the seam of the double doors, cleanly shearing through the deadbolt with such speed and precision The Guide barely saw the flash of metal before the blade disappeared and the doors creaked open. The Enchantment didn't even have time to activate.

The Guide grimaced.

No wonder The Thieves' Guild didn't stand a chance. What was The Monster Knight? Maybe he was some... amnesic angel? (No, an angel couldn't be so pathetic) If only The Guide had a direct means of communication with the CC or The Imperial weapons RD Team he'd happily submit The Monster Knight into Draedon's loving arms, and probably get paid for his efforts, but alas. He would make do with The Golem. If the temple could hold The Golem with all its deadly traps and winding construction, it would hold The Monster Knight... at least until the former mashed the latter into paste.

The Guide made his voice commanding. He saw The Knight flinch slightly as his tone.

"There's a key in a safe. The safe is beneath The desk. Retrieve it and follow me."

He had that feeling again.

Like his bones wanted to leap from under his skin.

Like his blood was frothing and boiling so violently, he halfway expected to catch the scent of his own flesh charring.

It was that odd compulsion that he could no nothing to fight. A drive that lifted him to the heights of euphoria and made him truly feel alive. It was something of an addiction, really, but The Terrarian had neither the will nor power to break it. That odd, abberant compulsion that drove him to kill and kill and kill.

Everything in him had been stirred up by the item he now held in his hand. A 'Temple Key', a odd thing - as thick and as long as his arm and composed of some mysterious stone that reeked of old blood. There were faces carved into the key's handle. Faces that were unlike human faces. The Faces of beasts and lizards and insects, all agape in howls or adoration. The Key filled him with dread... yes, but even so it made him want nothing more than to delve in it. To pitch himself headlong into a pit of screaming enemies and to fight until his head went blank and his worries were awash in blood. Whether it be his blood or his enemies didn't matter. He despised mind games and longed for the simplicity of cruel battle. Of flying spittle, the rasp of his own breath, of fletchings in his fingers, of flesh caving beneath his blade... He wanted a feral, bellowing victory.

But... could he achieve it? What manner of creature would he face?

*Ka-chack*

Would he be prepared? Which potions must he use? Was his armour sturdy enough? What of his weapons? Which blade, which bow, which arrow. Over the past few days, he had allowed himself to pretend The New Guide was The Old. He had repeated it so many times, he really was almost about to believe it. Although the man treated him with cold disdain, The Terrarian didn't really care. He was rather used to the derision of others and had withdrawn so far into his own head, he could scarcely bring himself to discover, much less concern himself with what the general population thought of him. Maybe The Guide hated him, but - to a certain extent, The Terrarian hated him back. The Terrarian hated how he was betrayed, how he was led down into the depths and forced to watch his parent snap his own neck. He hated the days he'd wailed and wailed, curled up like a rag on deceased guide's floor - watering the ground with his tears and grinding his teeth as if it could lessen the wound in his heart. He loved The Guide. He loved him almost as much as he hated him.

But no matter what - love or hate - he needed him.

His frail heart could not stand being abandoned.

So- he pretended. A droll little fairytale, where he saw things that were not there, and heard things that were not said. He knew it was fake, yet still he relished in the dull escapade with all the force of his small imagination. But now that his life was on the line, he could no longer afford to maintain this fantasy. The threat of death was like a splash of cold water, and he realized very suddenly that he could not place his life in the hands of The Guide.

...because The Guide would try to kill him again.

Was it far-fetched? Was he just being overly suspicious? Was his sadness addling his brain? Affecting his already tenuous judgements and driving them into unhingedness? Maybe. Maybe not. The sick mind cannot diagnose itself. A faulty clock does not know if it's fast or slow. But at the very least, The Terrarian knew when The Guide was not trying to kill him. Back then, The Guide had always given him some sort of dressing down before they fought anything. He'd be careful and studious about it, diligently drilling The Terrarian on the do's and don't's concerning any given battle until his fights became a well choreographed dances. Under The Guide's protection, he never encountered something too strong for him (save that once instance when he was kidnapped), even until the very end. A battle was decided in its preparation. Building arenas, mixing potions, fletching his arrows and sharpening his blades. In the past, The Guide had always insisted on all of these things, but now he did none of them.

Instead, he appeared... flippant, careless - sometimes even malicious, as if he were eager to throw The Terrarian into some unknown conflict and watch him struggle and flail. Such thoughts filled The Terrarian with anxiety. Would The Guide behave maliciously towards him? Would he employ trickery and traitorous practices? Would he see The Terrarian as an enemy and seek to injure and kill him? He had done it in the past. Why wouldn't he do so again? Perhaps This Guide wasn't the same as the Original, but they had their similarities. They looked the same. They talked the same. Perhaps they thought the same as well. If the Old Guide would betray him, The New would do the same.

And so...

So what will I do about it?

The Terrarian was still very much consumed with his thoughts when they came the bottom of the long dilapidated staircase. How long have they been trudging downwards? Perhaps half an hour? Maybe longer? It appeared each time he thought they'd reached the bottom, there was another bolted door he needed to slice off its hinges - and down they went again, as if they were burrowing into the bowels of the earth itself. The air was damp and cloying, thick with mold and rank with soured water and their footsteps echoed loudly in the deep chamber. As they approached the bottom, The Terrarian noticed that the bricks were changing. They began to take on an appearance similar to that of The Temple Key. The gray brick walls gave way to burnt orange. Smooth carved stone became the varying faces of unknown animals. The smell of mold sharpened into stagnant blood and pungent herbs. They were entering the lair of a great creature... Would The Terrarian be able to defeat it?

*clack*

"We're here. Phew... quite the hike. Okay, I'm going to set up. Remember, what I said. I need Beetle Shells for the spell to decipher that journal, okay? You need to take this Power Cell Battery-" The Guide produced one from his pocket. "And slot it into a glowing altar. There should be a place for it, so quite self-explanatory. Once you do that, A set of Beetle Shells will appear on the Altar. I just need you to pick them up and bring them back. Got it?"

"..."

The Terrarian could feel his breath rattling in his lungs. He fought to control it, but now so close to his enemy, he couldn't help but grow jittery. He fidgeted, reputedly summoning and vanishing his weapons: the blade, the bow, the blade, the bow again. What did he look like? Was he grinning and drooling like last time this happened? No, this was dangerous. He might die if he succumbed to this compulsion. With great difficulty, The Terrarian tore his gaze from The Temple Door and fixed it on The Guide.

"K-knight?!"

Ah. Perhaps he had started frothing at the mouth after all, because The Guide looked panicked. He extended both arms in front of him and slowly backed away as if The Terrarian were an angry bear or a rabid dog. The Terrarian found that to be a bit amusing. Right now, he was worse than any feral animal.

"Hey B-buddy, why are you shaking like that? A-are you scared? Don't worry. You're okay... you're okay. Calm down."

The Guide's voice was loud as it bounced sharply off the walls, developing an eerie echo in the darkness past their torchlight. He spoke from just beyond where he'd been squatting on the ground a moment ago - carefully pasting a series of parchments in a circle upon the odd bricks. The scrolls had a number of glowing incantations written on them, and The Terrarian - no matter from what angle he looked at them from, could not discern their purpose. These were not things The Terrarian typically concerned himself with, but he focused carefully on them to take his mind off the smell of violence. He drew a rattling breath and, for the first time today, opened his mouth to speak.

"Guide, tell me what those are."

"T-teleporting enchants. The scrolls temporarily mimic a pylon network so long as the runes are in position. Make sure not to touch them. It's just in case you get in trouble and need to escape."

Despite that The Guide was spooked, he did an excellent job of hiding it. The Terrarian could taste the fear in the air but didn't say anything about it. Right now, it took all of his willpower to not bumrush the temple door and immediately plunge into the jaws of whatever monstrosity that sought to kill him. He had to go about this intelligently... or at least, as intelligently as he could manage while his head ached with bloodlust. He spoke slowly, concentrating on each syllable not for some fear he wouldn't be understood - but instead simply to keep him focused on the words coming from his mouth, and not the call of his riotous blood.

"In case we need to escape, Guide. You will go before me."

"...I don't think that's necessary... buddy."

The Guide stood up and stared straight into his eyes. He crossed his arms and frowned sternly. He gestured as he spoke, giving the impression of knowledge and authority. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"I'm only asking that you fetch the beetle shells. This is a completely harmless errand. The Teleporters are simply to save time. You see, the reason we keep the Altar down here to begin with and not upstairs is becau-"

"Guide."

A long pause. There was the glimmer of fear in The Guide's eyes. He pressed his lips together in the way he always did when stressed. A line appeared between his brows. Yet even so, his voice remained light and cheery.

"Hm? Yes? What is it?"

The Terrarian was grinding his teeth again. He couldn't help it. They squeaked and clacked against each other between every uttered syllable. He panted. The heat pooling behind his eyes was making his vision tunnel, but the cold pitch in his guts kept him a'trembling with dread. He gulped and felt his heart begin to crack.

"There... there are monsters in those pits. Not weak monsters. Something powerful. It reeks of fire, of sacrifice and of stone. You-" He swallowed hard. The words came as scarcely a whisper. "You wish to have me killed... but I will not allow it. If I go down there, you will walk before me - for you are my Guide. That was our pact."

"..."

There was a long, shocked moment of silence. It stretched thin between them, electrifying the air until it snapped. The Guide's expression was a perfect mix of disbelief, hurt and faux outrage when he reached out and seized The Terrarian by the front of his robes. His voice went low and serious and so utterly shocked that The Terrarian would have believed the charade had he not seen this exact scene play out once before. How long ago has it been? It felt like yesterday. Last time, they'd been sitting in a chamber at the bottom of The Underground Desert, together staring at the mouth of the hellevator whose pit contained The Wall. Today, he was arguing with The Guide in dungeon beneath a city, staring at the door of The Jungle Temple whose bowels contained... perhaps something worse.

And just like before, The Guide mounted his defense.

"What sort of nonsense is this?! Is that what you think of me? You believe me capable of trickery? Murder? Have I not treated you well since we arrived? We went through hardships together, did we not? The Pirate Captain was quite ready to have you killed, and if not for me, you might be in a grave at this very moment! How ungrateful of you to even say such a thing!" The Guide glowered at him, his brow growing dark and his eyes blazing.

"Enough with this foolish talk. No more playing around. Go. Get me the Beetle shells and-"

*Shing*

The Guide fell silent when the tip of The Arkhalis pricked his throat. Fear flooded his face and he gaped there like a fish out of water. When the blade vanished The Guide remained there, shaking and silent. This scene mirrored the past too closely, dredging up horrible old memories in very sharp relief. The Terrarian felt the gashes in his heart begin to weep anew and he fought to keep his voice steady. His hands shook as he ground out the words, each syllable a threat, as sharp and viscous as paper shredding over shattered glass.

"You will go, Guide...And I will follow."

"..."

"Start walking."

MK: That's a dress

Guide: A Wizard's robe, Knight! It's the attire of the Great Academys mages. A badge of honor, and actually can be styled to be very fashionable and masculine - if that's what you're concerned about. It just takes a little bit of imagination.

MK: Guide, It's an ugly dress!

G: Put it on!

Stylist and Guide 2 have no idea MK can respawn. The only people who have seen it are Guide1 and PG. Stylist was in a coma at the time iirc.

Poor MK. He's finally standing up for himself, but its tearing him up. He's gonna be so upset once he gets off that battle high :(