Mockery Deathmatch Episode 7 - Dissociation
WARNING: This episode contains graphic elements and violence. Viewer discretion is advised.
"Why do you pretend to be human?" the skeleton asked Dulcis.
The two bandits froze, reluctant to look at Dulcis behind them.
Winger grinded his teeth in anticipation.
Uncertainty flooded his mind before he silenced the inner alarm bells.
Gadav awaited Winger's next move, trying to make eye contact with him, but Winger was lost in his thoughts, cautiously contemplating what to do.
Pumping himself up, Winger grunted with bravado. "Yeah... Why is a rat pretending to be something it's not... huh!?"
Finally mustering the courage to turn around, Winger's stomach twisted when Dulcis in a commanding tone stopped him mid-turn.
"Did I say you could move?"
Like a dart piercing his heart, Winger's arms trembled so abruptly that he clunkily dropped his crossbow in reflex.
Curious about what just happened to his leader, Gadav turned to Dulcis slowly, when the boy in the casket behind him appeared right in his face with an intense wide glare. "There you are..."
Gadav flinched and fell to the ground, crawling backward as quickly as he could to gain distance. But stopped in place immediately with a dropped jaw when he witnessed Dulcis lift himself out of the casket, hovering before softly landing by Gadav's very feet.
While standing over Gadav with a stoic dark expression, he replied, "The cloth of sheep can get comfortable."
A clicking and rattling sounded from Winger's gear as his body shook increasingly.
He looked like a tomato, while wrinkles pulled his forehead down.
His breathing animated the shoulders on his bulky frame, while spit bubbles foamed on the side of his drooping mouth. Like a ticking time bomb, Winger's time was up.
"AHH!!!!!"
Winger spun, leather coat flapping, scattering dust at his feet, and bouldered himself toward Dulcis and launched a punch right at Dulcis' face.
Unfortunately for him, Dulcis blocked with his forearm, when a purple aura bubbled and burst, blowing Winger's arm clean off. Metal clanged against the cold stone, leaving a bloody smear.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHGG!!!!"
"F...FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!"
Wincing and hissing, he tried to keep his composure.
His eyes scanned the scene, with the skeleton watching, Gadav on the ground frozen in fear, and his arm... That was his arm...
Winger looked at Dulcis and his cold demeaning expression. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Instinctively, his face sank.
Gadav couldn't help but evert his eyes from the scene, looking away at the ground with a pained expression.
It was silent in the room for nearly 20 seconds, when the skeleton's guttural voice ended the silence. "Yes Yes... That's it... Now what's next?"
Both Winger and Gadav, startled, turned to the skeleton, then to Dulcis, who menacingly stood there watching them.
Dulcis was still for a moment, then took one step, which almost happened in slow-motion to Winger and Gadav.
When Winger, fully operating from instinct, spun around and darted toward the door at laser speed, clutching his stump, as steam pressure blew out of his iron boots, and lifted him off the ground. Racing for his life, Winger skated through the air, inches above the stone-plated ground, and disappeared into the halls.
Blitzing through the dark hallways, Winger dodged debris, caskets and caught spiderwebs. Sound faded around him, surroundings blurred. Winger heard nothing but his heart pounding in his ears, nothing but his breathing cutting through.
Desperately looking for the exit, nothing else was on his mind.
He turned a corner and witnessed the ladder at the far end, when his body suddenly crashed down, rolling and tumbling at top speed.
Metal scraped wood. Leather tore. Bones shattered on impact before everything went still.
A faint whistle sang underneath the sound of dust dragging across the floor and rubble shifting and crumbling. "Huh..?"
Covered in debris, folded in a terrible position, Winger laid there struggling to breathe, each in-and-exhale accompanied by a whistle.
His eyes watered and stung, and it was too dark to see anything.
Then finally, his eyes opened enough to make out a trail of blood stretching across the hall, leading straight to him.
"Huh...?"
Followed by a loud scream that echoed the halls.
Gadav, who heard the scream looked in the direction of the chamber entrance in with disbelief. Quickly he turned to Dulcis, who's eyes glowed with menace while he had his hand stretched out.
The screaming in the hall continued for a while.
Gadav, knot in his throat, couldn't figure out what happened.
The scream wasn't Winger's—it was the third bandit, Roy.
In the halls, Roy stood frozen, dagger in hand, staring down at the scene in front of him.
Lying there, missing an arm and a leg, Winger begged under his breath—barely audible. "Ahg... P... Please... Fuck.... Aghh..."
"H—Heal me... you... Fuck..."
"Roy... heal me..."
His laid there with his long dark curly hair covering his face, and his remaining arm out, gritting his bloodied teeth.
Roy looked paralyzed by the moment, hyperventilated.
How'd this happen? Who did this?
Where did this come from...?
Where was Gadav?
Was this... all in Roy's hands now?
His heart nearly stopped. Every weak groan and plea from Winger felt like it tightened a noose around his neck.
He felt fear.
Something wasn't right.
But it wasn't direct fear of his leader.
It wasn't the direct fear of whatever lurked on the other end of these dark underground halls.
It wasn't even the fear that something else might come for him next.
What Roy feared the most at that moment, was what would happen if someone saw him smiling right now, fighting to stop the urge to chuckle.
Back in the jungle
Marigold sat in the middle of a dark path in the jungle with the distant sound of combat and storm as her backdrop. Her eyes rested on Gavren's damaged arm. Her own situation wasn't any better, she looked like a mess. Her dress had long been stained red, and her hair stuck to her face.
She'd sat there for several minutes without moving an inch, occasional sparks flashed from her torn back after carrying Sir Gavren's heavy body, and the state of the weather had finally met her circuitry. If it wasn't for the heaviness of the rain, her dress would have caught fire.
And if those things weren't enough, her knee had exploded.
She was stuck.
All of these things would have been concerning, but she couldn't think about those.
What replayed in her memory, was her last moment with Cori, minutes earlier.
"Marigold!"
She lifted her head and turned to the side.
Korvash and Lyra came running towards her. Lyra's looked down to her hat lying on the ground next to Gavren.
Her heart skipped a beat, she lowered herself by Gavren's arm.
"What happened??"
Trying her best to re-structure and put together Gavren's corpse, Lyra hadn't yet noticed Marigold's damaged state.
"Where is Cori?" Korvash asked in anticipation.
Marigold looked down.
"What happened, Marigold?" Korvash asked.
Lyra snatched up her hat, struggling to hold it steady as the wind nearly tore it from her hands.
"Marigold! Seriously... what happened?"
Lyra stood over Marigold, nearly on the verge of tears, but Marigold only met her gaze in silence.
"It appears that I've upset Cori," Marigold said as lightning lit her face for a split second. Lyra's eyes widened—somehow, Marigold's expression was clear enough in that moment. Despite always being gentle and calm in demeanor, the drops of rain fell on Marigold's face perfectly to mimic human tears. Lyra without saying a thing, backed down. Her lips trembled and her eyes watered as she sank to her knees, hugging Marigold tightly.
Korvash dodged out of the way as the wind nearly struck him with a branch.
"We need to go. We can't stay here!"
"I saw something that looks like a village nearby. Let's go there!"
Back at the chamber
The skeleton looked at Gadav, still sitting on the ground, and walked over to him.
Towering over Gadav, he leaned over, lowering himself.
"Sigh, What a waste... You look big and strong but... Hmm..."
The skeleton studied and touched Gadav's arms, legs, and pinched his muscle mass with his gigantic skeletal hand.
"Warrior, where is your pride?" The skeleton asked while clenching his fist.
"Get up, and fight until your bones depart from your body."
Gadav looked at the skeleton, then to Dulcis, and got up slowly.
"Fine...I'll bite, but I don't have my weapon."
A low grunt boomed under skeleton's breath, before he pulled away from Gadav,
then lowered his massive hammer in front of Gadav.
"Here, taste its might, show me what you can do with Nashara, bringer of destruction!!"
Gadav hesitated, then grabbed the hammer nearly dropping into its weight.
Veins popped, tusk visible while he grunted. Gadav swung the hammer left and right, gaining more control over it.
The skeleton's glowing eyes flared blue fire. "That's it, commence your battle!--"
"Bringer of destruction you said?..." Dulcis interrupted.
Dulcis's wide eyes met the skeleton's burning blue stare.
"Don't waste my time."
The skeleton slowly stood up straight again, towering high above both Dulcis and Gadav.
His aura immensely strong and menacing.
"What are you implying about my Nashara...?" He asked with a low calm grumble.
A faint rumbling shook the entire chamber, and rubble lifted up as if gravity itself vanished briefly. But soon after, everything came raining down shattering.
Dulcis met his gaze without flinching. His voice was quiet, but carried an edge that made the air feel heavier.
"You shouldn't do this."
The skeleton paused. "Is that a threat?"
Dulcis's expression didn't change, then almost as if summoned from his very body, let out a big yawn that left his eyes wet, back into a stoic expression.
The skeleton put his big hand on Gadav's shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Warrior, want to leave alive? Go get Nashara's honor back."
His adrenaline picked up causing his breathing to follow, then locked eyes with Dulcis, then started slowly marching forward, then picked up the pace until a jog became a sprint, roaring before he jumped in the air with an arch.
"AHHH!!!!!"
Gadav swung back the hammer, preparing for the black ebony and white steel Nashara, which now radiated a blue aura, came for Dulcis.
Back to the shrine outside
Roy carried an unconscious, dual armed, and dual legged Winger up the ladder and made it outside. Out of breath, he wiped sweat off his forehead before pushing through and heading out into the rain.
He looked down, scanning the homes in the town below, then set his sights on something. He carried Winger to the stairs, then suddenly, tossed Winger's unconscious body down tumbling until it hit the bottom of the stone, crooked steps.
Roy quickly ran after the body and stood over it with a long face.
"Ah... boss... what a terrible fall that was... your leg, it's all broken... ugh...—wait, if I could help you, boss?... Jeez... I think I might!"
The still-unconscious body of Winger lay there, folded and bruised, his knee twisted to the side. Roy lowered himself and held his arms above Winger's body while closing his eyes. A blue-rainbow colored light emitted from his hands, twisting Winger's leg back into place, restoring his injuries once again.
Opening his eyes again, Roy's jaw dropped as he clenched his fist in a victorious pose.
"YES!!"
A wide, unsettling smile with missing teeth spread across Roy's face. His gaze dropped to the ground as he stood alone in the middle of the village, muttering to himself.
"Oh no, you're welcome, boss. I—I'll keep you safe, just ask!... I'm your guy!"
Almost like snapping a rubber band, his expression fell into an intense glare as he loomed over Winger's body. He grabbed the corpse and dragged it by the legs for the remaining steps toward one of the houses in the middle of the village. A half-collapsed roof hung above it, but the structure was still in the best shape around.
Roy placed Winger's body on what looked like a low table, then sat on the ground beside him. Carefully, he fitted Winger's broken goggles and knuckle braces onto his own head and hands.
"Wow! F- For me?"
"Thanks boss!"
A little later...
Water and blood dripped through the gaps in the collapsed ceiling into a clay vase below. A small lantern lit the house, casting wild shadows every time the wind howled past the thin sliding doors.
Roy rummaged through the house, opening cabinets and drawers, tossing aside broken pottery and moldy cloth. His hands landed on something solid—a book, bound in dark leather, its cover embossed with strange symbols.
He pulled it out and squinted at the title etched in faded gold lettering:
"Erasure: Prophecy of the Sleeper"
Roy flipped through it.
"Boring."
Then tossed it aside carelessly.
Continuing his search, he found a shriveled mango in a clay bowl. His face lit up. He held it in both hands, and that same blue-rainbow light flickered around his fingers. The fruit plumped up, its skin turning vibrant orange-yellow, fresh and ripe.
Roy bit into it with a satisfied grunt, juice dripping from his chin. His eyebrows rested high above his eyes as he seemed to enjoy himself plenty while chatting with the unconscious Winger.
"You want a piece, boss?"
He held out the half-eaten fruit, then yanked it back. "Nah, you haven't contributed enough to this mission. Strongest man needs to eat, right? HEHEehehe." He slapped his own knee, laughing through several missing teeth.
Directly outside the house
Trees and bushes rustled in the wind. Korvash carried the group in a small tornado low to the ground while Lyra and Marigold held Gavren's corpse together.
"Hold on!"
The group, swept by the wind, made an emergency landing in the bushes near the village. Korvash laid there out of breath, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open gasping for air. Lifted up by Lyra, Korvash's head poking from the bushes in the dark, scanned the area, revealing only one useful place of shelter, with a faint warm light inside.
"What do you see?" Lyra asked Korvash, who turned back to her with a serious expression.
Roy, humming, was in the middle of removing Winger's combat boots, when the main door slid open. Rain and wind blew in with three figures stood in the doorway, drenched in blood, holding a body. Like a deer in headlights, he froze for a moment, gleaming over to the dagger pinned in the wall to his right. Before he could reach it, the woman launched a red net into his face and swirled him in thread like a spider's prey. He collapsed to the ground, unable to move.
Eyes wide, Roy laid there, as the black-haired girl with the straw hat knelt beside him and hauled back her fist.
"Don't try anything funny. I'm in a very bad mood tonight."
Her punch knocked him out cold.
Somewhere else on the island
Far east in a grotto on the island behind a waterfall, was a site full of long rounded rocks that curled like ornate staffs coming out of a black sand. The area was illuminated by vases of fire spewing up, positioned to line a walk way to the back of a stone wall with a big hole in it, looking up at the three full red moons.
On the right side of the path, there was a pool of deep blue waters in an oval shape, with odd drooping rock structures and holes in the walls as if melting.
A tall purple figure with horns stood at the wall by a stone monument under the moonlight.
A faint glow traced upward along his veins, ending in cracks that sparked around his forearms.
The fire's glimmering highlights shone on his curtain long hair behind him.
Moving behind him was a long tail with fire sitting at its tip.
Lying on the stone edge of the monument was a man, eyes wide, wrists bound with rope.
Every exhale came out as a shiver. He tried to speak but could only let out broken gasps.
In the black sand flashed a scorching pentagram, filling the area with steam.
Wielding a sword, the figure prepared to heat it with fire before aiming for the man's chest when a small cloud of dust and sand fell from the ceiling.
He stopped what he was doing, looking up for a while in silence, and looked to the water, filled with ripples. Quickly he turned around, headed for the waterfall on the opposite side of the grotto. Each vase of fire snuffing as he walked by it, leaving the entire place dark when stepping through the waterfall.
In silence, the man whimpered in the dark.
"Please..."
"ahg... no..."
When suddenly the water started boiling and the first vase lit up again.
"No no no!..."
“Please…”
Back in the house
The room was dimly lit by a lantern on the wooden table where they sat. Their soaked supplies lay scattered on the floor around them, along with pieces of armor they'd stripped off for mobility and to tend their wounds.
In the corner of the room, a tall man with a black bandana and stubble, wearing gloves and goggles over an otherwise simple red shirt strapped with leather, lays unconscious, bound in Lyra's glowing thread. Next to him, another larger man with long black hair and no boots lays next to him in the same thread.
The small living room extended into a bedroom beyond. Marigold sat by the table, the lantern's light drying her face. Her dress hung from a thread that spanned from the living room wall all the way back to the bedroom. She sat there in a black undershirt and petticoat, a bandage wrapped around her knee.
Lyra, wearing a sleeveless undershirt with her black hair pulled back in a ponytail, walked around the room, spanning more threads. She extended her hand and shot out another thread with a high buzzing sound.
Korvash walked back into the room. "I found a bunch of stuff in there, but unfortunately, the food's all a no-go..."
"We're lucky we found some dry clothes and that the walls here still hold." Lyra stepped past him and sat down across from Marigold.
"Tell me about it..." Korvash looked at Marigold with a sad expression. Her now clean, doll-like face, somewhat sad.
"Marigold, I—..." Korvash closed his mouth and sat by the fire. "Let's rest up a bit first."
The sound of water droplets hitting the wooden floor in a steady pattern ticked in Lyra's ear.
The group sat in silence for a while.
Korvash's eyes wandered until something caught his attention near the wall—a dark leather book. He stood up and walked over, picking it up.
The title gleamed faintly in the lantern light: "Erasure: Prophecy of the Sleeper"
Lyra looked up. "What is it?"
Korvash's eyebrows lowered as he scanned the pages. "This... this is about the Sleeper."
Marigold looked up as well.
Korvash began reading keeping his voice down, "In the depths beneath earth and dust, the Sleeper dwells with hunger and lust. Ancient, insatiable, slow to give trust, for none know its true form, for the witness becomes rust.
Left with no traces, left without gazes, stuck in a void in-between many spaces.
Feeds on our blood, on the fear on our faces.
Beware of the sleeper, the beast who erases."
Korvash's expression sours while looking at Lyra and Marigold, and their expressions mirror his. He closes the book immediately. "What the fuck..."
"Wasn't the sleeper what this entity mentioned when speaking through you earlier?.." Lyra asked, her hand covering her mouth.
Korvash swallowed hard. "'For Sleepers wake beneath earth and dust... the taste of fear delivered by new souls.. Diluted blood calls to ancient hunger! Feed it with your terror, or join its endless feast!'" Is what it said, I still remember it.
Lyra's face went pale. "Korvash..."
"I thought it was just... I don't know, some kind of momentary possession. But this—" She rambled before Korvash cut her off.
"I caught a glimpse of something else.."
"What?" Lyra asked in disbelief.
Korvash opened the book briefly while going through the pages.
"Apparently, the sleeper has various followers that cycled throughout the ages..."
Korvash continued reading:
"The Sleeper's servant is known by many names: the Herald, the First Waker, The forerunner or The Jester..."
Korvash stopped mid sentence.
Marigold looked at Lyra and Korvash. "Jester..."
North East of their location a few hours away.
A tall pale slender figure stumbled through the rain-soaked darkness, limping badly. Naked, covered in mud and blood, she collapsed dramatically just outside the cave entrance where two white-cloaked guards stood watch.
One of them rushed forward. "Hey! Are you okay?"
The figure lifted her head. A cracked clown mask stared back at her, smeared with blood. Her mouth was visible beneath it, also stained red. She let out a high, raspy wheeze.
"Help... help me... please..." Her voice was childlike and strained. "They hurt me... I don't want to die..."
The guard hesitated and held her hand near her weapon. Something about this was deeply unsettling. And the mask....
On the ground, the woman crawled forward slightly, reaching out with a trembling, bloodied hand. Then, her fingers brushed the guard's boot.
"Pleeeease..."
The moment her hand touched her, something shifted in her demeanor and her suspicion melted away.
"Of course," she said gently, kneeling beside her. "Let me help you inside."
"Really???" Her voice brightened.
"Yes, come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
The two then headed for the hide out.
Back underground in the chamber
Dulcis stood over Gadav, the hammer nowhere to be seen.
The skeleton stood motionless for a long moment, his glowing eyes fixed on Dulcis.
Then, after rubbing his chin, he punched a wall, nearly collapsing half the chamber.
"Never in a thousand years, has someone dared to take Nashara from me."
"Nothing about you makes sense!"
"You take the appearance of a cub, you don't fight your enemies with honor to the death, even when you can take them."
"You don't wield weapons or have a code of battle..."
"You shatter everything in your way, without thinking!"
"You make your enemies tremble but don't continue to destroy them..."
"Tell me warrior... WHY WOULD You..."
For a moment, the skeleton stopped stomping around mid-rant and looked at Dulcis, still covered in blood from the rain.
"Wait..."
"Wait wait wait hehe.... No, that's foolish..that's..."
The skeleton slowly looked to Dulcis again.
"You... are him, aren't you?"
Dulcis didn't answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the skeleton's fiery gaze.
The skeleton's posture shifted. His voice grew quieter, almost awed. "I finally understand. How long I've waited for a moment like this...!"
His demeanor changed, voice growing more animated with each word. Gadav's eyes widened in confusion.
"For as long as I can remember, the dead have warred on this island. Faction against faction, individuals trying to rule like gods—all while dealing with world-ending calamities."
"My allies and I finally found Valhalla. We fought day and night against anyone who stood in our way, hoping that someday we'd rule the entire island and remain undefeated for the rest of the cycles to come." He clenched his fist with a sharp crack.
"Cycle?" Dulcis asked.
"Once, long ago during one of our battles, a mortal somehow made it to the island—a warrior of immense power. Nobody could lay a hand on him. I realized then that my army would never succeed unless we worked together with others. So we served a powerful dragon and became his ultimate army, leading him to the top...until the fool let his emotions get the better of him. The warrior finished him, stripping away his power. Those stolen powers boosted the mortal's already formidable strength, and he used them to seal the entire island, trapping everyone here for good."
"We battled to the death until the island's wrath and bloodshed killed everyone. Then we all awakened and fought again with new strategies, new alliances, and a newfound thirst for victory."
"Now tell me—why have you been covered in blood the entire time?"
Thunder rolled through the distant hallways while the skeleton inched toward him.
"I presume that's not your blood, is it?"
"Nor is this blood of your enemies.."
The skeleton leaned in, then turned his gaze to the hallways.
"That sounds like an awfully heavy rain out there..."
"Looking at all three of you, surely.. The sky must be bleeding."
Dulcis blankly stared at him, "What are you saying?"
The Skeleton and Dulcis lock eyes for a moment.
When the towering skeleton suddenly knelt before him
.
"I found you... Oh feared Sleeper..".
At the Whitecloaks' hideout
The night had gone quiet. A few campfires still burned while most people had retreated to their tents. Some sat on logs in hushed conversation or wandered between the fires. White-cloaked figures in golden masks kept watch throughout the base, both inside and at the perimeter.
Jenny sat by one of the remaining fires with the museum group, staring up at the cavern ceiling. She lay still, processing everything—the tiger's transformation, the dead man from their group, the weight of the cop's pistol in her hand as she pulled the trigger.
The firelight on her skin began to fade. She sat up, scooted closer, and fed more dry wood into the flames. In her peripheral vision, she caught a white cloak rushing toward the entrance with one of their brown blankets. After a brief exchange with another guard, they escorted someone—limping, hunched—to a nearby fire and helped them ease onto a log.
Jenny stirred the fire and pulled her knees to her chest. The figure they'd brought in was tall, wrapped in the blanket, revealing pale slender legs underneath.
After everything that had happened tonight, Jenny felt a lot of things. But one thing kept her grounded: the continued kindness of the people around her.
When Harold emerged from the tent and sat beside her, she glanced up.
"Can't sleep, dear?"
She managed a slight smile. "No, I guess I'm not that tired."
Back at the house
"Lyra...Korvash..." Marigold said softly.
"Sir Gavren.."
When they looked over, they witnessed an almost fully decomposed Gavren, barely in his armor anymore, a pile of dust on the wooden floor.
"No!!!"
Lyra cried as she knelt by his remaining body.
"We need to... we need to bury him!"
A soft chuckling drifted from the corner, mixed with coughing. The tied bandit propped himself against the wall, his body stretched out like a worm, legs sprawled across his companion's torso. Lyra, Korvash, and Marigold turned to look.
"Sorry for intruding... I just couldn't help but notice your little problem there, hehehe."
Lyra launched herself up, her foot thumping against the wooden floor. As she walked over, Korvash sighed and looked at her from across the room. "No, come on, Lyra-lei."
Lyra stood over the smiling bandit and grabbed him by the thread covering his neck, lifting him close with one arm. "What the FUCK is so funny? Huh?" She leaned in closer. "And what the fuck were you bandits even doing out there earlier?"
The bandit kept giggling while half choking. Lyra hauled back her arm and cracked him across the face.
"AHhh... ahhh... Fuck... come on, I'm just... I was just joking, man..."
Lyra pulled back her arm again as thread swirled around her fists and started glowing. "Care to make another one? HUH?"
Korvash walked toward them. "Wait, wait, Lyra, maybe we shouldn't—"
"I will BREAK your leg if you don't sit down, Korvash..."
Frozen for a moment, Korvash took one more step forward. "Whoa, Lyra-lei, let's not—"
Lyra's fist shot out like a cannon, punching a crater in the wall next to the bandit's head.
Korvash quickly retreated to the table, sliding into the seat opposite Marigold, the door at his back.
Lyra turned back to the bandit, hauling back her fist, when he yelled out, "Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay—I'll talk!"
She halted, holding eye contact.
The bandit struggled against the threads wrapped around him, breathing heavily as he spoke.
"Okay, so... We're bandits for hire. Crimson Flugel. Ever since we came to the island, we've beaten everyone we've faced. Took their loot. Did very well for ourselves... This here is our leader, Winger."
"Why did you attack and chain innocent people tonight?" Lyra's voice rose impatiently as she shook him by his threads.
"Wait, wait—right... Uh... we have a higher boss now. Alessandra. At first, we had our own way of doing things—stealing people's items, rations... women... But then one day, we stumbled upon a stash of magic items. Good haul from some adventurers who'd also been summoned to the island. That's when we met Alessandra, a ruthless woman who calls herself a queen. She overthrew our entire group and imprisoned us in her hideout up in the hollow tree, about thirty minutes from here..."
He shifted his weight. "Could you please move your knee off my leg? It hurts."
Lyra removed her leg and waited.
"So... when we were imprisoned, Alessandra took all our magic items except for one I'd hidden. But it made three of our men deadly sick, including me. I'm the only one who survived. Not only that—I gained a power that mirrored the item. Which gave Winger the idea to bargain with Alessandra. We'd become her limbs, do her dirty work, and get paid in exchange for my ability in her army."
"Ever since, we don't ask questions. We just provide more resources, more prisoners... Who cares if we want to have some fun in between..."
Lyra threw him back against the wall and stepped away, trying to calm herself.
Korvash interjected. "What power did it give you?"
The bandit smiled menacingly. "Organic Rewinding."
Lyra turned toward him again. "What was the item you found?"
"DING-DING-DING! Bingo. Organic Forwarding!"
Marigold asked softly, without looking away from the lantern, "What happened to your item now?"
"See, that's the funniest thing. Someone stole it from us during our first mission for Alessandra. We thought she had it at first, but it turned out she had no idea what we were talking about."
"Just curious—you don't happen to have found a blue crystal cube, do you?"
A thump echoed across the wooden floor. Marigold sat there, her broken knee buckled beneath her, clutching the crate they'd found earlier in one hand and the crystalline cube in the other. Korvash and Lyra's jaws dropped as they locked eyes.
Back at the Chamber
The skeleton knelt before Dulcis, his massive frame bowed low, his glowing eyes dimmed in reverence.
"Oh mighty Sleeper...I, Haggarath the Crusher, swear loyalty to you in this cycle. It would be an honor to serve you as you judge the dead on this island however you see fit."
Silence filled the chamber, broken only by the muffled sound of rain.
What had just happened here?
What was Dulcis thinking in this moment?
Perhaps we should rewind...
Dulcis had found himself in an interesting predicament. Just moments earlier, something unexpected had happened.
After running for a long time, Dulcis had endured a chain of fears that struck his mind one after another—each one dragging him further into chaos.
First, he couldn't bear being in the middle of a warzone—the jungle ablaze, the screams of the innocent, the bandits hunting for sport. His first instinct had been Fight.
But as the inevitable consequence of that violence closed in, he reached his second reflex—Flight. Pumped with adrenaline, he ran, hunted by Winger through smoke and blood.
When the explosive went off, his body entered Freeze. The impact shocked him into stillness. He could only watch as he was beaten, mocked, and paraded before the cheering bandits.
By the time blood covered his vision, they had driven him deep into a tomb—cold stone, stale air—and left him to hide in a casket while the ground itself trembled.
And then, just as Gadav got the jump on him, Dulcis's mind shifted again.
Stage Four: Fawn
No longer fully present, his nervous system hijacked his body. Every nerve screamed to survive, to please, to keep the peace. He didn't think—he appeased. The urge to pacify the threat by saying or doing whatever would make it stop took hold completely.
Until the skeleton appeared, addressing him—naming him—cutting straight through the fragile illusion that had kept him together.
That was when Dulcis's mind finally snapped. Confusion about who or what he even was mixed with the desperate instinct not to provoke another fight. And so his mind reached for one last measure of protection.
Stage Five: Undoing
In psychoanalytic terms, "undoing" describes a reflex where, after doing something perceived as wrong or threatening, the mind acts out its opposite—to symbolically cancel it out.
Dulcis, terrified and overstimulated, tried to protect himself by becoming what the others feared he was. His body postured authority while his mind begged for safety. He tried to stay small, unnoticed—yet every attempt to hide made him seem larger, more commanding, more divine.
He overcorrected—collapsing into the echo of who he once was.
And all the while,
Beneath that calm exterior, he was really just in the middle of a panic attack.
At the white cloaks hide out
A white cloak at the cave entrance watched the moons when a colleague rushed over.
"Alright, she's all cleaned up."
"Great job."
They both stared at the moons while heavy rain pounded just feet away. Storm winds occasionally buffeted them as they stood near the opening, sheltered by the mountain's odd curvature.
"So what caused her injuries? She looked pretty banged up."
"Tell me about it... She was separated from her group, and given her lack of clothes and all that blood, I figured bandits kidnapped her and she just escaped. Poor thing," the white cloak said, her voice soft.
"Fucking hell..."
"Yeah..."
Thunder cracked overhead, making her flinch.
"Ugh... I'll never get used to this... hehe."
"That bad, huh..."
She paused, looking up at the sky.
"So, did she say anything about the mask... or?"
The white-cloaked woman knocked her colleague's forehead.
"I'm just saying! Clowns are a bit creepy, no—"
A rumble in the earth cut them off.
"What the..."
"Again?"
Another white cloak dropped from the mountaintop beside them.
"Code red! Something's wrong! Alert the others!"
"What's going on, man?" the first white cloak asked.
"A giant fire attack is destroying the island and—"
The messenger fell silent, staring into the distance as a golden shockwave barreled toward their mountain hideout.
"Ohhh god..."
"GET INSIDE!"
The Breath Attack
The earth trembled beneath the island as men and women—human and beast alike—ran for their lives. A white-golden ray of fire tore across the land, carving deep into the earth and scorching everything in its path. From the northern cliffs to the southern shores, the blast left a blazing trail across beach and sea before vanishing into the horizon.
To the east, stretching from north to south, a massive scar remained—hundreds of feet deep—its walls boiling as seawater rushed in from every direction. Trees ignited in sequence, one after another, until the entire eastern side was engulfed, severed from the rest of the island by a burning chasm.
Thunder cracked overhead. Hurricanes swept through the land. Fires raged even beneath the downpour, and people fled in panic, struggling to outrun the shockwaves and rivers of flame that poured through the storm-torn air.
Mountains crumbled from the force of the impact. The ground twisted and collapsed inward in places, rising in others as jets of steam erupted from beneath, marking violent geothermal upheavals.
Back at the chamber, an earthquake shuddered, stones grinding overhead as the ceiling threatened to collapse. Gadav seized his chance and bolted for the exit, disappearing into the dust and darkness before the passage collapsed.
Haggarath rose to his feet, his massive frame steady even as the ground crumbled beneath him. He looked down at Dulcis in silence, staring in nothingness with his big eyes.
Up above in the street,
Rain fell through the gaping hole in the roof of the house.
The rest of the ceiling had collapsed. Lyra and Korvash crawled from under the rubble, looking around. Through the broken walls, they could see the rest of the street torn apart, splintered houses littering the ground.
Marigold sat near Gavren's body as it decomposed at full speed. Different parts of him turned to ash rapidly, his face beginning to follow.
Partially buried in roof debris, Marigold lay with her arm stretched out, the crystal resting near her palm on the ground.
Lyra's eyes widened as she looked at Gavren, then at Marigold. "NOOOOOOO—!!"
Marigold laid there, wide-eyed, mouth open, unable to move. Only part of her torso stuck out from the rubble.
Korvash stared at the scene, hands on his head. Up in the clouds in the far distance, smoke billowed while a warm wind reeking of fire and ash hit their nostrils.
Korvash stood and pulled the bandit out of the rubble. "Let's make a deal..."
Grunting as he was yanked up, the bandit coughed. "I'm listening."
"You restore his body so he can get a proper burial... and you and your companion are free to go."
Lyra rose, clenching both fists at her sides as her hair whipped in the warm wind.
"Also, restore the rations—all of them—and you're free to go with the crystal."
Chuckling menacingly, the bandit grinned wide. "And what if I don't?"
Lyra said nothing. She wound back her arm as red threads slowly covered her skin, glowing in the dark and sparkling with an inner light. "Then you're of no use to anyone here." She locked eyes with him, and his smile faded.
A loud grunt echoed from beside the house. Gadav burst through the rubble in the street, glanced at his ally's situation, then sprinted away without a word. The bandit watched him go.
Energy chirped in Lyra's hand as her fist lit up and wind whipped violently through the room. "Deal?" she said, her glare unwavering.
"Deal..."
Moments later.
In the middle of a raging storm, a faint blue light flickered briefly from one of the houses on that dark, desolate street before fading once again.
Back at the scene, the bandit lowered his arms. "It's done."
A fully restored Sir Gavren laid in their midst. Korvash handed over the cube and crate. "Here... you held up your part of the deal."
Smiling, the bandit took the crate and dragged his ally's body from the rubble.
Lyra held the sliding door open and waited for Roy to take Winger and leave. Moving slowly with a slight bounce in his step, Roy pocketed the knife stuck in the wall and walked past her. She averted her eyes. "Go. Don't make me regret it," she said, still looking away.
Roy smirked. Then the room flooded with blue light. Everyone tensed as Lyra and Korvash's wounds healed completely.
"Why... you..." Lyra stuttered in confusion. Chuckling, Roy shrugged and walked off into the heavy rain with Winger on his back. Slowly, the two of them left the village entirely.
Staring in confusion, Lyra and Korvash examined their arms and legs. "We... We're all healed."
But Marigold, staring at her damaged body, remained quiet.
Roy pushed a cart up the rocky hillside path, Winger's body slumped inside, heading toward a cavern ahead. Birds scattered in every direction overhead—some bursting into flames mid-flight and tumbling from the sky as ash. When he reached a high point on the mountain, Roy paused to scan the landscape stretching into the distance.
"What...the fuck?" Roy's eyes went wide as rocks began cascading down the slope toward him. He shoved the cart aside, hoisted Winger onto his back, and launched himself clumsily into the air, steam hissing from his boots as he cleared the avalanche.
He landed hard on a ledge, breathing heavily, and looked out over the island.
The eastern side of the island was replaced by a glowing chasm that stretched as far as he could see. Fires burned everywhere.
Roy's smile faded for the first time that night.
"Boss... I think we're in trouble."
EPISODE 7 END.
AFTER CREDIT SCENE
Standing atop broken pillars and rubble, Dulcis looked around as skeletal soldiers of various sizes marched out of their tombs, pushing aside debris and falling from the tomb ceilings.
Haggarath surveyed his army. "Aren't you all early?"
A massive skeleton with glowing green eyes, a spiked spine, and a helmet strode forward, shield and battle-axe in hand. "That was a dragon breath attack... The next Cycle has started, you're getting rusty."
Several skeletons burst into laughter.
He then looked at the top of the rubble. "Haggarath, who is that with you?"
Haggarath stepped forward. "Oh... hehehe, I'm far from rusty Durnil..., Men, may I introduce you to The Sleeper, our new master."
In awe, they all whispered among themselves. "The sleeper? From the prophecy?"
"He's real?"
"That's what he looks like?"
Haggarath lifted his arm and a magic dust accumulated, shaping into Nashara, he then clanged down the tip of it on the ground to get everyone's attention.
One by one, an army of more than fifty skeletal soldiers knelt before Dulcis.
Dulcis stood frozen, his small frame dwarfed by the towering undead warriors bowing before him. Silently he mumbled to himself,
"Shit shit shit... How did this happen!?"