The Road to Hell

Nature often separated all who walked through its halls into two categories: the weak and the strong. There were those who were born lucky; they had wealth and status, position and power. People did not dare to mess with them, simply because of the clan they hailed from, the name they were born into, the kin with which they mingled, or the power in their bloodlines. Still there were others who strove and fought for the mastery; through years and years of grueling ordeal, they fashioned and honed themselves into terrifying might. A subdivision of this were those who through guile and treachery, or stealth and subterfuge, carved out a treacherous, bloody niche from the corpses and souls of men. Still others there were, who through some twist of fate, found power thrust upon them. Some had been experimented upon, others chanced on a rare mystical artifact, or found a secret that changed the playing field for them. There were perhaps others in other categories, but one thing connected them: they were feared, or respected.

These were the strong.

Then there were the unfortunate... Unfortunate, because there could be hardly a more fitting term to describe them. Some of them had been born into this disadvantage. They had not asked for it, it was thrust upon them by chance. Poverty, debilitating disease, imbecility. If they had their way, they could have chosen a better fate. Then there were those who had been strong before, but then life happened to them, and they were thrust from grace into guano. A number of them, unable to take the same that came with their fall, managed to get off the mortal coil via direct or indirect means, while others toiled on for ambiguous reasons. Many would say that it was hope that kept them clinging to life, a hope which often went unfulfilled, unanswered.

They were the weak.

Morality was not a factor to determine this status; there were those who were epitomes of goodness, who wielded the power of gods, and still others existed, devils at heart and overwhelming in strength. Goethe wanted to be the former. He wanted, but it would seem that a threshold always blocked his path to become greater, stronger. And that threshold was his past. For so long, he had feared, he had run away from it, unable to bring himself to embrace its dark secrets. And he had always lived in that shadow, fearing his power, fearing the might of desolation that lay dormant in his chest.

He would run no longer.

Goethe had determined that in order to live above the fear that came with his Sin, he needed power. Yet, he was resolute that he would not sell his soul to accomplish this. Still, talk was cheap. He could make all the wishes and dreams, but if he did not take any steps, if he did not act, he would remain where he was.

Weak.

Prey.

Today, all that would change. He was taking the fight to them.

In the past, he had chosen avoidance as his primary strategy, but in this dispensation, he would be taking up an almost opposite approach: confrontation. He had a few leads; he knew those who had been responsible for the unleashing of his Sin. It had taken a long time, a very long time for him to accept that it was not totally his fault; something had triggered him to obliterate the entire town in which he had lived. Still, he would not run from the blame. Rather, he wanted to find out the why. That way, his atonement would be better directed.

”Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Baynard’s voice suddenly came like a shaft of light into a dark room. Goethe looked up. His friend had arrived. For quite a while, he had been carrying out his research, looking for leads that would direct him to those dark threads that streamed from his past. If there was anything he could remember about his Sin, there were two people that had been responsible. And he was looking for them, now.

The Diophage and the Devil Butcher.

He could not tell if they had any real names, other than these titles. Perhaps they had been human once, but some lust for power or some other temptation had stolen their souls and steered them down the path of darkness. For a long time, they had been inactive; they had either not taken any actions, or were being as secretive as possible. However, in recent times, Goethe had discovered that traces of their names and descriptions had begun to pop up here and there, and as expected, the reports were nefarious. He discerned that their doings had become more brazen and more frequent ever since his encounter with the man Johann von Weiss, the Ambassador of the guild that no more was, Dies Irae. He remembered what brought him to the guild, and how he had met Suzhen there.

Bai Suzhen. There were a very few people he could count that were as compassionate as herself. She had always been so concerned about his welfare, and he was very pleased that he had been able to be the friend of such a trustworthy person. Many people thought that he had a crush on her; it was expected of them to think that way, what with her being quite pretty and all. Maybe it was a crush, but Goethe preferred to think of it as admiration and great respect. Not many people boasted of being beautiful, powerful, intelligent and civil all at once. And the way she looked out for him... Even at the beach, not so long ago, when everyone was supposed to be in a festive mood, she had still asked pointedly after his wellbeing. And that was the exact reason Goethe had not told her everything. He wasn’t willing to drag her into this...

... for he had seen visions of the future. They came at first like feelings, forgotten dreams or lost memories, but as the days continued, they became less vague and more understandable. The future is very shifty; any wise soothsayer would tell you that, but Goethe had known from experience that when some things were surer than not to happen, he never got all the details. Perhaps this was so that he would not try to alter them and break the timeline. He had glimpsed the future.

Someone close to him would die.

He couldn’t bring himself to think of being responsible for Suzhen’s death. The world needed more people like her. It was decided, then. He wouldn’t... couldn’t ask for her help. He would go into the belly of the beast alone. Without Suzhen. Without Arnoba. Without Baynard. If he went all by himself, perhaps there would be no one that would die. Or, if he were to lose his life fighting against the Diophage and the Devil Butcher, he would try to ensure that his sacrifice would not be in vain. And even if it was, better him than any of his friends.

Arnoba and Baynard would be a lot more difficult to shake off, but Goethe was already crafting his plans carefully. He just had to shield his thoughts from Arnoba. Fine, she would immediately suspect he was up to something, but hopefully, she would not realize how desperate he had become.

Goethe ignored Bayne’s question. ”What have you got?”

”You first. Are you sure about this?”

Goethe sighed. Baynard could be very difficult to shake off, once he had gotten an interest in something. Most of the time, Arnoba trusted Goethe’s judgment, even if it was occasionally stupid, and she would often respond with stern disapproval but silent resignation, then mentally chew off his ear when things went south. Of course, she had her ways of flat out dissuading some of his more dangerous attempts at solving problems, but she hardly pressed him for answers. And he was thankful for that. She knew he was a man who loved his space, and she gave him his space.

Baynard Fiddler, however, was a completely different matter altogether.

Cocking his head slightly and folding his arms, Baynard vanished for a split second, reappearing seated on a stool which stood at the other end of the small table Goethe sat at. That posture he had was one Goethe had seen before. And Goethe knew the answer he would get if he tried to avoid Bayne’s question further: ”I’m waiting... though, I’ve got all day, mate.”

”Well, for reasons personal and not to be divulged even under pain of death, I want to limit the number of persons I’m taking along for this quest.”

Baynard raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. ”’Even under pain of death’, huh?”

Now was not the time for this rabbit to be acting so testy. Goethe couldn’t blame him though; his mood, as of late, had hung over Arnoba and Bayne like a dark, brooding cloud, and as they couldn’t lift him out of his glumness, they had ended up joining him. Honestly, he wished he had more control over his emotions, but the overwhelming wave of sadness that hit him whenever he remembered the premonitions could barely be hidden. Eventually, he had come up with a plan which made him feel much better, and his mood did improve, because it lighted the burden on his heart, but Arnoba and Baynard had only become more irritable. It was not that they were not happy to see him in lighter moods, but they had realized the implication of his cheerfulness: he had decided on something, and he was hiding it from them. The fact that he wasn’t telling meant that it was probably drastic. The last time he had shielded his thoughts from Arnoba, he had planned on having someone kill him twice.

”Okay, I’ll come clean. I’ve been having precognitions.”

”Oh boy...”

Baynard’s response was actually one of trepidation, rather than disgust or frustration. He had discovered from experience that Goethe’s premonitions were eerily accurate. And what was annoying was that while Goethe had some control over his ability to see past events, he had scarcely any power over his precognitive abilities.

”Someone close to me might die on this one.”

Baynard was thoughtfully silent. Then he looked at Goethe, his face impassive. ”That would explain why you haven’t mentioned any of this to the Dongxian beauty... or to Arnoba or myself for that matter. But what you failed to consider is how virtually inseparable we are from each other. You are the cord that connects us, and I daresay it would be nigh impossible to escape from either of us.”

”Which is why I’m confiding in you, Mr. Fiddler.”

Goethe had weighed his options. Baynard was very right: it would be a legendary feat for him to be able to avoid the both of them, especially when they were working together. Due to their psychic bond, Arnoba could tell Goethe’s exact location anywhere on the planet, and Baynard could easily get to any place Goethe was, once he knew about it. He figured that Baynard would be easier to deal with; unlike Arnoba, he couldn’t tell when Goethe was trying to deceive him. He felt like he was betraying his friends, but this sort of betrayal was okay. If he told them the truth, they would march with him to their deaths, no matter how much he disapproved. Besides, if he played his cards correctly, barring any curve balls that Fate would throw him, they could all get out of this mess alive.

”Me knowing the nut head that you are, you were probably planning to find a way to ditch us on this one, and go be the hero yourself, but as you can see, we’ve made it rather difficult for you, no? So, tell me this: why me? Why didn’t you go to Arnie? She’s closer to you than I am.”

Goethe leaned forward. ”Precisely. So, she’s bound to figure out what I’m up to eventually. As it involves me keeping her out of harm’s way, while I go in myself, she will instantly and completely refuse. I chose you because even if you may not approve of the plan, with you, it’s quite workable, since you can use the Absolute Space.”

Baynard nodded, his expression inscrutable. ”That is sound enough. So, what is this plan?”

Goethe placed his hand on the table. In his palm was a sphere about the size of a small orange. Bayne looked at it, then at Goethe. ”This is a Memory Bomb, isn’t it? So, that’s what you’ve been up to all this while...”

”Yeah. Now, before you completely shoot down the plan, let me explain it: I want to use this on Arnoba. As you know, it’s painless; it will not only put her to sleep but jumble her thoughts for the time being. I’d have asked her to wait for us here, but we both know that she will not consent to sitting this one out. So, while she’s napping, and later trying to place each memory where it should be, we’ll engage the enemy, do what we can and return alive. But that’s where I need your word. You are not to do any fighting.”

”You’re kidding, right?”

”Listen, Bayne! If you come with me, you’re the one that will end up dying. I can’t have that. So, you’ll be on high alert. Anything dangerous pops up, you get out of there.”

”I am not agreeing to this.”

”Okay, if my life is in danger, or yours, warp us both out of there. How’s that sound?”

Another thoughtful silence. Baynard gazed at the table, his hand on his chin. Then he looked up slowly. ”What if that doesn’t change the future?”

”I am certain that my premonitions are tied to this event, so it should. And if the visions don’t stop, we’ll think of something else. For now, this is the best I can come up with, and we don’t have the luxury of time. And speaking of time, Arnie is coming. In a hurry.”

Baynard was still unconvinced. ”What if it's you who ends up dying?.”

Goethe shook his head. ”If I was the one to court Death, I would at least get the hint, and it wouldn't then be about any of you. And if that was the case, I wouldn't tell you anything, and you know it.”

”Promise me this, then: I’ll be the one to decide what being ‘in danger’ means.”

”You have my word.” He hoped he would not have to break it.

As he was about to further discuss his plans with Baynard, an urgent voice spoke into their thoughts simultaneously: ”Goethe! Bayne! It’s very likely the two we are after have been separated. The fauna in the area have revealed to me that one of them departed less than two days ago.” Arnoba created a psychic platform, where the three of them would be able to discuss as they prepared themselves.

”Oh? Did our eavesdropping pigeons manage to overhear where they were going?”

”Crows are endemic to these parts, not pigeons, Baynard. And yes, she was headed for the Fat Monsterlands. Their brethren who flew over such routes informed them of a strange woman with an ominous aura, cutting south and west.”

”This is advantageous,” Goethe answered telepathically. ”We’ll use this divide and conquer strategy to our benefit. That leaves us with the man, the Devil Butcher, to take on today.”

Baynard looked at Goethe with a frown, then scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it out to him. It was easier for spoken words to filter into a psychic platform, and much easier for thoughts between two parties to be discerned by the creator of the platform. Goethe read:

”We’re up against one fellow. Strength in numbers.”

Goethe wrote back his reply. ”The unexpected might happen. We stick to the plan.”

Baynard nodded.

”You two are awfully quiet...”

”Nothing to it. We’ll be with you in a jiffy, and I’ll explain it all. Are you at the rendezvous point?”

”Affirmative.”

He pointed to the Memory Bomb and stretched forth his palm. Goethe shook his head, but Baynard remained undaunted. Hoping he wouldn’t regret that action, he obliged him.

The two of them vanished.

The advantage of having the X-Dimension at one’s beck and call was that since it connected to multiple, infinite dimensions, it connected to multiple, infinite locations. Once you knew what you were looking for, you could get there, provided there were no measures set up against teleporting into the place. A flash of light, and they both appeared some meters away from Arnoba. They stood in the middle of the Haunted Village, which seemed almost abandoned, even for its “haunted” status.

”Very cheerful place,” Goethe muttered.

”Now, here’s what I’ve been up to, both of you: I did me some recon, as we agreed, and I discovered that, true to expectation, the Devil Butcher is not here to hand candies to little children, though he is interested in the kids. Turns out he and his goons have kidnapped about three kids, and fled to the temple over there. The villagers are too scared stiff to approach the temple, and they can’t leave here either, so they were at their wits’ end, even more so when they realized that the cultists were still after more children. Then, I presented myself to them, offered our services, and so we have a job to do.”

”You should have said so earlier. Those children are in danger!”

”Maybe, but not immediately. From what I gathered, the villagers heard the cultists, as they called themselves, the Cultists of the Metropolitan King, say that the ritual would take place at midnight. They were boasting that their priest would go into the village and capture more kids, if the three were not enough, no matter what the villagers did.”

”Certain people seem mighty assured of someone’s abilities.”

”Alright, guys. He’s only one, so we have the advantage. We go in, bust the Devil Butcher, save the kids, and call it a win.”

”That’s not all. Arnie, I know what Goethe has been up to. Here!”

So saying, Baynard tossed the Memory Bomb to Arnoba.

Goethe’s eyes widened. ”No! You double crossing jackrabbit!”

Arnoba stared at the sphere in her hands. ”What is this?”

”It’s a Memory Bomb. Specifically meant for you.”

Her crimson eyes rose to meet Goethe’s, but he looked away. ”What’s going on, Goethe?”

And the Bomb went off.

Goethe noticed that he was just a few steps out of its effect radius, while Baynard, who was closer, had winked out of existence in the nick of time. Arnoba stared at him, her expression both shocked and stunned, then her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped. Swiftly, Goethe closed the distance between them and scooped her up before she hit the ground. Baynard was at his side in a moment.

”That went well. But that’s life for you. I do you a great deed, and all I get in appreciation is to be called a jackrabbit!”

Goethe went red in the face. ”Sorry, Bayne. I thought you snitched on me. You could have given me a heads up, though.”

”Nope. Your genuine reaction was the perfect tool for disarming her. Seeing as the cat was let out of the bag, she didn’t expect that the 'traitor' would be myself, and was thus unguarded. I feel bad for doing this.”

”Me too.”

”Look on the bright side, though: I’ll tell her you made me do it. And oh, what an earful you’ll get.”

Baynard was surprised at Goethe’s sincere smile. ”I’ll take that any day to either of you dying on me.”

”Well, let’s get her to our little room. She’ll be safe there, until we get back.”

The next moment, Goethe and Baynard stood in the small room in which they had hatched their plot. He gently placed the sleeping Arnoba on the bed in the corner of the room, then walked back to Baynard. ”I hope you’ll forgive me, Arnie, but I’m tired of tragedies. I want some happy endings.”

”Alright, then,” Baynard said. ”Let’s make a happy ending.”

Goethe nodded, his face the picture of resolve. ”To the temple.”

Once again, the both of them disappeared into thin air.

The Temple, as it was called, was probably what gave the haunted village its name, because this place was even creepier than the village itself. It was strongly reputed to be the place where the ghosts came from that harried these parts. And truthfully, it looked the part, what with its old architecture and decrepit structure. Superstitions aside, this was a very good place for cultists to camp out.

Goethe and Baynard had decided that they would strike with the element of surprise. Hopefully, the cultists would not yet have been alerted to the presence of strangers in the village, because that would raise suspicions and make them bolster their defenses. Goethe had a good idea of how the outer perimeter of the temple was patrolled. The courtyard was always guarded by eight hooded figures, but since it was large, with the imposing temple sitting right at its center, they swept the grounds in an interesting pattern. They guarded in groups of two, and so there were four groups on duty. Two of the groups, the ones on the outside perimeter, were situated at the opposite end of the other group’s position, and they walked in a clockwise circuit, while the other two groups, closer to the temple, had the same arrangement, except that they walked in an anticlockwise route. It was a sound strategy, because at while each group at the opposite end could not see the other, they could easily see the other reversely patrolling group at almost every point in time. There was a short window of time when the position of all the four groups drew a line that cut through the temple courtyard from one end to the other. At such a point, each group had their eyes on the other group that made their rounds in opposite fashion. Goethe had been able to glean all this with his “Eyes of the Claviger”; in times like this, he was very thankful for having an ability that could remotely sense the area. However, there was something that bothered him somewhat. He had always ensured that he was out of sight as he carried out his reconnaissance, but no matter in what position he put himself, or what location he changed to, he could not identify the presence of the Devil Butcher in the temple. Still, he was very sure the enemy was within; he trusted his friend completely. Perhaps the circumference of his Eyes did not reach the point where the Butcher dwelt, but he was certain he would encounter the man in the temple.

”We’re going to have to take out the guards when they’re passing by each other, but that would mean that the others will quickly detect something is amiss,” Goethe said telepathically to Baynard. This was another advantage he had: he could send and receive messages easily without making a sound. ”So, we’ll strike the first group hard when they’re passing by each other, then split up in opposite directions to take down the other two groups.”

Baynard nodded. ”Agreed,” he replied, using the psychic link. ”As long as we’re really fast, they won’t know what hit ‘em. This should work; I don’t think these guys are strong mages anyway, if they are mages at all.” Goethe understood what he meant. More powerful mages had a larger magic sensory range. They would have picked up Goethe or Baynard’s presence, if they were at least as powerful as Goethe, because he could sense them clearly. The two of them crept closer and closer, until they were almost up to the courtyard of the temple. Moving further than this point would be difficult without being detected, because there were very few obstructions between the last house in the village, which they hid behind, and the temple.

Without having to look at them, Goethe’s psychic sense told him that the guards were approaching the desired positions for their plan to work. He looked at Baynard and nodded. Silently the both of them broke out of cover and headed for the cultists in a sprint. As the cultists began to look towards them, Goethe flicked at them with his mind. The four of them were suddenly thrust into the air, as if some invisible boxer with superhuman strength had punched them in the gut. At this point, Goethe and Baynard separated, running towards either side of the temple to attack the remaining guards. The two guards walking towards Goethe could only register surprise, right before his Spirit Arms smacked them senseless. They collided with each other, then fell to the ground. Seeing as the grounds were more or less silent, Goethe was sure that Baynard had also taken down his targets neatly. His Eyes detected that only Baynard was returning to meet him; there was no sign of the two that he had gone to face.

Goethe returned to the spot where he had taken out the first four guards, towing his two most recent victims along with his mind. Baynard approached him just as he dumped their unconscious bodies on the other four. ”That takes care of that. Good job, Bayne.”  Baynard made a slight gesture, and the six bodies vanished. ”Sent them to the X-Dimension. They should stay knocked out until I retrieve them. We can’t have them waking up and running around and being nuisances.”

”Good point.”

Both of them looked at the structure of the foreboding temple. ”Can you sense anything inside, Goethe?”

Goethe nodded, his expression pensive. ”Yeah. There are four more cultists within; they seem to be off-duty from their positions and behavior. Further within, I can sense the three children. They’re alive and unhurt, but I can sense their fear. But now, my fears are confirmed, Bayne. Something is not right.”

”Which is?”

”I’ve been unable to sense the position of the Devil Butcher. At first, I thought that it was because the Eyes of the Claviger were not close enough, but now I can sense all the way to the other side of the temple, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere.”

”Okay, that is odd, and very disturbing. If he left for someplace, we ought to have known. The villagers would have spotted him and raised an alarm. So, that leaves us with some guesses: he has either used a teleportation technique, or he is masking his presence.”

”Still, we can’t turn back now. We move forward, and we have to be extra vigilant. If he isn’t here, at least, we get to rescue the children.”

They crept to the temple doors, which had been locked from within. Most likely, the cultists on duty would have some sort of password they would use to get the doors open when their shift was over. Fortunately for Goethe, and not so much for the cultists, he didn’t need any password.

”Bayne, warp us in. I’ll take care of the cultists. Here’s an idea of what the interior looks like, and where we are going.” With his Spirit Link, Goethe uploaded a map of the temple interior into Baynard’s mind, as his Eyes of the Claviger had revealed to him. ”Easy as pie.”

One moment, they were before the dark temple doors, the next moment, they were standing in a large room. It probably would have been some sort of praying ground or common room due to its spaciousness, but it was likely the latter as there was no altar or shrine at any end or corner. The room was roughly the same in design on all sides, and two doors stood at either end. The four cultists Goethe had sensed looked up with a start, as their discussion died in mid-sentence. But before any sound could escape their lips, Goethe lashed out once more with his mental powers, and the four cultists bounced off the walls of the room. Once again, Baynard cleaned them out into his personal alternate dimension, so that they would not interfere with the mission.

”Right. Since we can’t sense the evil baddie, let’s go for the kids. We can be looking for him later, I suppose.”

”Sounds good to me.”

Finding the children was not a difficult task, as Goethe already knew where they were. They had been trapped in cages in a deeper room of the temple, a dungeon of sorts, a large spacious room most likely used for religious purposes, while the temple was still active. Hurrying towards their objective, they tried to be as cautious as possible, so as not to spring any surprises. The cultists may have been defeated, but the most dangerous foe was still out and about.

”The children are close. Seeing as it’s all so quiet, I wouldn’t be surprised if...”

He rounded a corner, the last corner to the flight of stairs that led down to the temple dungeon, and stopped short. Baynard bumped into him and cursed, then peered out from behind Goethe. Standing before them was a tall, pale man, older than Goethe, probably in his mid-thirties from the looks of it. His hair had been slicked backwards, so that no strand of it fell over his forehead, and his skin was pale, like one in serious want of sunlight. He wore dark robes that concealed all of his body, save his hands, but from the spindly fingers that clutched the black book which he held, it was obvious that he was quite gaunt. His piercing green eyes widened in surprised as he registered their presence, but before he could even speak, Goethe had barreled into him, and they both went flying down the stairs.

”Idiot!” Baynard muttered as he followed.

The two of them landed in a tangled heap at the entrance of the dungeon, and as they kicked and thrashed to free themselves of the robes and tangled limbs, Goethe used his Spirit Arms to further assist himself. The strange man was flung through the door of the dungeon, and Goethe was after him in the next second, bringing his Spirit Arms to bear on the man. With a nimble spring, however, the man avoided the attack and leaped further into the room.

Without looking around, Goethe knew that this place was suitable for a battle, once the little ones had escaped. The pillars in this room were sturdy enough, and it was spacious enough, perhaps occupying a good section beneath the courtyard. If the worst came to the worst, he could attempt to bury his foe in here. The man smiled, a thin, predatory grin that made Goethe feel very uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable because it seemed so familiar... like he had seen it a lot before.

”I thought my eyes deceived me. Goethe Ackermann the Ninth, in the flesh, right before me. This is a surprising turn of events.”

Goethe did not answer him. ”Get the children,” he said to Baynard as the latter entered the room. ”I can’t trust this fellow to not attempt the dirty ‘hostage situation’ ploy.”

”’Dirty’? I am offended,” The man said, putting on a show of being upset, which he utterly failed to pull off successfully, thanks to that unsettling grin again. ”You barge into my home, do I don’t know what with my brethren, kick me down the stairs, throttle me to within half an inch of my life, and you accuse me of dirty tactics?”

His smile waned as Baynard took a step towards the cages. ”I wouldn’t do that if I were you, rabbit,” he warned.

”Your daddy is the rabbit, fool!” Baynard retorted, taking another step. The man reached towards his robes, but Goethe was faster. There was an audible thwack as an invisible blow sent him to the far end of the room. Baynard sprang to the cages and began breaking the locks on them. ”This is quite displeasing, Goethe,” the man drawled, as he sat propped up against the wall. Goethe was ready to lay another beating on him if he tried to stop Baynard’s rescue attempt, but he stayed where he was. ”I disapprove of your lack of upbringing. I was ready to forgive your intrusion, but you also move about with bad company. Your bunny pet is rather foul mouthed for polite company.”

”Well, if you don’t know that you’re nothing close to polite company, I really have nothing else to say to you,” Baynard countered as he fiddled with the last lock. ”I, for my part, would have been disappointed in myself, but you’re the Devil Butcher, aren’t you?”

”Ah, it is good to see that my reputation precedes me...”

His words were cut off as Goethe gestured, and he was driven further into the wall. ”I’m taking you in. Whatever evil plans you’ve been working on end here.” He turned to Baynard. ”Get the kids out of here.” Baynard frowned. ”Implying that I would be leaving you here alone. That wasn’t what we agreed on.”

”Now is not the time to be stubborn. Take them to their families, then come back for me. I’ve got this covered.”

Baynard acquiesced, but he was obviously not satisfied with the events. ”Hold him there till I get back. I’ll only be gone a moment.”

”Sure.”

Another thing bothered Goethe. As Baynard gathered the frightened children, speaking softly and comfortingly to them, Goethe noticed that the Devil Butcher made no more moves to stop them. He just sat and watched, like he was waiting for them to leave. Something was not right. By this time, Baynard had created a hemisphere of humming spatial energy that had all three children and himself in its field. ”Remember, don’t do anything foolish.”

He expected to hear a yes, or some offhand statement that was intended to make Goethe look cool, but Baynard was mortified when Goethe instead replied with a ”I’m sorry,” and chucked another Memory Bomb, fully primed, into the warp field at the moment right before they teleported. In a flash of light, the children and Baynard were gone, and they had taken the bomb with them.

”Now, that is curious. Why did you do that?”

”I have a question of my own. What were you waiting for? The children were obviously an important part in your ritual, whatever it was meant to achieve, but you let them escape. While I’m relieved that they’re out of harm’s way, I can’t help but wonder.”

The man feigned surprise. ”You mean you don’t know? Why, I was powerless! Your powerful telekinesis...”

”Cut the crap, Butcher. We both know that it wasn’t that that held you there. You simply refused to act.”

The man grinned, delighted. ”My, my! He’s a bright one, isn’t he? Are you implying that your powers are weak, and I am much stronger then they are?” So saying, he rose to his feet.

”Nah, I’m just saying that you’re unnecessarily dramatic. I won’t deny that you’re powerful, but I’m not the snot nosed boy you manipulated back then.”

The Devil Butcher laughed. ”And here I was, thinking that the most interesting thing I would do tonight was slaughter squealing brats. But let me jump back to the question I asked. You are unwilling to answer, so I shall make a guess. I assume that you wanted not only the children, but the rabbit, to be safe, so that small doodad must have been some sort of safety measure to ensure they didn’t return here immediately. So noble of you; not wanting them to be caught in the crossfire of battle and all that...”

”Goodness, you talk too much.”

The man spread out his hands. ”I am correct, yes?”

”Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. And since you’ve started the guessing game, I may as well try my hand at the answer to my question. You didn’t make any moves, because you had a bigger target. They were just bait.”

”Not really, Ninth. At first, I was really going to slit their horrid little throats, but a bigger prize came along.” His smile was satisfactory. ”You.”

”Yeah, well, like I said, I’ve grown. You might not want to underestimate me. Or wait. Please, feel free to take me for granted all you want.”

The thin man chuckled and shrugged off his robes in reply. Beneath, he wore a black, high collared shirt, black pants and black boots. His clothes were well tailored, and seemed to be made of some slightly glossy material. They were probably tougher than they looked. But at his hip hung a black dagger, so black that it seemed to suck in the light around it.

”Unlike your insolent rabbit friend...”

”He has a name!”

”... and yourself, obviously, I am well mannered. Introductions are in order, when strangers meet.”

”I’m not sure I care who you are. I’m only interested in bringing you to justice.”

”Oh, but you are interested in knowing who I am. I learned you lost your memory, and all you could remember was that my associate, who is regrettably absent, and myself, were responsible for something that wiped out the Ackermann clan.” He was answered with a stony silence.

”Well, the more eminent should be introduced first, and as I am not lacking in respect, I shall do the needful. This here,” and he presented the dagger to Goethe, as though expecting him to walk over and take it, ”is the Black Tooth. It is a powerful demon artifact, to be sure, and it is responsible for giving me my epithet: the ‘Devil Butcher’. But you already know that name.”

He gave a low bow. ”And now, I present the less outstanding: Ivan Ackermann, at your service.”

Goethe only frowned. In truth, he was quite surprised, but he had since surmised that as this man was quite garrulous, he would likely have a gift with words. Goethe would grace him with as little emotion as possible, because such reactions could betray him, and the Devil Butcher would surely build on that. Once one lost the battlefield of the mind, the physical fight was over. ”We’re related?” Goethe’s voice was more skeptic than shocked.

”You don’t look too surprised.” Ivan seemed disappointed.

”Yeah; you look like a Sinnite vampire, and I’m not sure I would be related to cannibals, so...”

The man gave a laugh of pure amusement. ”Boy, you are related to ‘cannibals’, given our family history. Here; I shall enlighten you.”

”Thanks, but no thanks,” Goethe replied, summoning his trusty weapon, the Astral Arsenal. He intended to go all out in this fight. The sooner he ended this, the less he would have to worry about Arnoba or Baynard recovering enough to jump in on their fight.

Ivan sighed. ”Children and the way they run from education. No matter. I shall instruct you then, as we fight.”

Goethe focused, and a glowing gauntlet materialized over his entire left arm. He had considered whipping out his more powerful shield, the Avatar of the Ancients, but perhaps the Spectral Shield would do, for now. If this battle was tougher than he had expected, he would use the more superior defense. He hoped he wouldn't have to, though; the Astral Arsenal was a bit heavy on the magic power consumption.

Ivan Ackermann did not seem to be perturbed in the slightest, on seeing Goethe arm himself for battle. Instead, he continued talking, idly waving the mysterious black dagger as he gestured. "You might not seem interested, but I shall let you know all the same, so that you will understand where you fit exactly in the grand scheme of things..."

"Initial Limiter Break: Drive I!"

Goethe's body instantly thickened with muscle, and he charged Ivan, the Astral Arsenal not yet focused into a weapon, as he would be starting this battle with his fists. If Ivan was underestimating him, that might work a bit to his advantage. If he struck hard and fast, he could give himself an advantage. A blow might not be enough to take the Devil Butcher down, but it certainly would cost him some stamina and vitality. He noticed it: the Devil Butcher seemed to make a mental note of his speed, but did not seem impressed by it, because he continued prattling on about order and the Great Old Ones and other such nonsense Goethe wasn't really listening to. As he got close, he silently activated the Tactile Telekinesis boosts on his Spectral Shield, which gave him a sudden surge in his movements. Ivan Ackermann noticed this at the last moment and tried to defend himself, but he was too slow. The closed-fisted blow got him in the jaw, and Goethe's superhuman strength was more than enough to send him flying across the room.

The Devil Butcher twisted his body and performed a somersault, coming to land on his feet, rather than bounce across the floor like some decrepit ragdoll. He had rather good reflexes, so it was likely he would have some experience with physical combat. As the gaunt man slid to a halt, he plunged the dagger into the ground and let it draw a line as he stopped. Goethe frowned. There was something odd about that action. The dagger had smoothly entered the ground, like it was a hot knife passing through butter, but in the candlelight, he could not see any mark of damage. His Eyes of the Claviger informed him, however, that there was a scar, albeit an invisible one, where the dagger had cut. Very curious indeed.

"As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, your father, Anton Ackermann, and my junior brother, was undeserving of the Master's benefits. I made so many sacrifices, yet the Master seemed to think that Anton's stupid plan of making a body capable of holding their power would work. Looking down the line, it obviously did. The Master is indeed wise."

"So, I have a psychotic uncle. Hooray," Goethe said sardonically. "What was it with the both of you? Other members of the family probably pursued more wholesome ventures, while you two squabbled over the favors of some sick slimy monster?"

Ivan shook his head indulgently.  "You speak ignorantly, boy. You see, our family hails from a long line of worshippers of the Great Old Ones. So, your being stubborn and rebellious makes you the black sheep of the family."

Okay, that sounded weird and disturbing. Goethe knew that people would go to great lengths to obtain power, but how was an entire family line committed to this kind of nonsense? "I'd rather be a black sheep than your white horse," he replied with a hint of disgust in his voice. Ivan laughed. "Are you sure about that? Sheep are meant to be butchered, my boy."

With that, he threw the Black Tooth at Goethe's face. Good, he was disarming himself. Goethe had this scenario planned out: he would charge, bat aside the knife with his Spectral Shield, and throttle Ivan quickly, before the man managed to retrieve his weapon. He stepped forward as the Shield transformed into something more befitting of its title, a round buckler. With practiced grace, he swung his left arm wide as the thrown dagger approached... but to his utter consternation, the dagger passed through the shield as if it wasn't there. Quickly he shifted his head in the nick of time, and the dagger missed his face by mere inches. Luck had actually been on his side; the trajectory of the dagger passed above his arm and not right through it, otherwise the dagger would have hit him instead. His speed boosts made him avoid immediate danger, so at least, he was still in the fight. The second shocker was experienced when the dagger failed to hit the wall at the other end of the room and drop to the ground. Instead, it got to the wall, and passed into it like a ghost. As Goethe watched, the Devil Butcher put his hand into the invisible rift in the ground, and pulled out the Black Tooth. he smiled.

"A magnificent weapon, don't you think?"

Goethe did not reply. This was likely going to be a battle that involved quick thinking and tactics. The little he could tell about the dagger was that it was capable of creating some sort of rifts, and it could bypass solid structures with ease. He would have to evade, rather than block. Goethe decided to take the initiative once again, with the next attack. He was obviously faster, so he would use that to the fullest advantage. Once again, he was approaching the Devil Butcher at full sprint. The Devil Butcher thrust the dagger forward, its blade disappearing into the air, as if it was cutting into an invisible target. He drew a line at about the height of Goethe's chest. Deftly, the white haired mage dropped and slid beneath the line, coming up with a kick to Ivan's wrist. The dagger was thrown into the air, and the Astral Arsenal swiftly manifested a longsword, which Goethe aimed at his chest.

He sensed the attack a second before it came. Pale, deformed arms suddenly burst out of the empty air, precisely at the point the Devil Butcher had 'cut', grabbing Goethe's arms and halting his attack. The Devil Butcher, seeing his opportunity, rushed forward, drawing out a more natural and less refined blade from a hidden scabbard. Whether it had any special abilities or not, Goethe was not willing to wait to find out. Ivan's intentions were very clear.

With a roar, Goethe unleashed a massive pulse of telekinetic energy that broke the grasping arms apart, and thrust the Devil Butcher away from him. As soon as he was free, he put some distance between himself and the invisible rift, just noticing in time that the Devil Butcher was somehow holding the Black Tooth once again.

This was going to be annoying, unless Goethe hit him hard and fast.

"Final Limiter Break: Drive II!"

There was a loud whine, as magical energy burst out of Goethe, which then lowered to a constant humming sound. The Astral Arsenal transformed once again, and Goethe was now wielding a large, two-handed hammer.

"Oooooh! Looks like you're getting serious. Maybe I should do the same, too. Hehe!"

As he reached into his robes, Goethe charged for the third time, activating both Ancillary Limiter Breaks as he did so. From experience, there were a few people who could match his speed when he had this mode activated. Since he couldn't tell what the Black Tooth was capable of, he would attack, overwhelming Ivan with insane speed and brute force, and bludgeon him into next week, before he could react. Already, Goethe knew that the man was much tougher than he looked, so he was not going to hold back.

Leaving a trail of glowing energy, Goethe plowed straight into the Devil Butcher, knocking him off his feet and a good deal into the air. Without waiting for his enemy to hit the ground, he swung the hammer sideways, flinging him into the wall at the far end of the room with enough force to break bones. The Devil Butcher hardly seemed affected by the attack, though, because he did not even wince in pain. Instead, he hefted the dagger for another attack. Probably, he wanted to cut another hole for some writhing ugliness to pop out of. As the dagger moved, Goethe was already in his face again, swinging the hammer. However, he noticed belatedly that the move was just an act; Ivan was targeting his hammer. The dagger passed through the shaft of the large weapon as if it was intangible, but the hammer cracked and shattered into a thousand pieces. Using this to his advantage, Ivan flicked the dagger back, towards Goethe's face. Pulling away quickly, Goethe broke away from the fight.

There was a third rift in the dungeon now, and a black creature pulled its head through the gash in space. It opened is mouth, and a black smog poured copiously from its maw. He did not know whether the fumes were poisonous or corrosive, but as they obscured the Devil Butcher from view, he realized that he still could not sense the man with his Eyes of the Claviger. This was not good at all. Being an enclosed area, the smog would easily fill up the dungeon, and Goethe might be unable to react to his enemy's attacks... not to mention that he was not eager to breath the ominous looking smog into his lungs.

Goethe cursed quietly. He had no spells that he could use to negate or cancel out an enemy's ability, although he had one that could channel attacks away from him. He had never used it to deflect gas, though, so he wasn't sure whether it would work or not. Still, it was all he had, and so he would use it. Activating his Avatar of the Ancients, he summoned a glowing overcoat around his body, and swatted at the roiling fumes as they came close. To his surprise and delight, the gases were blown backwards, sticking to the corners and far ends of the dungeon. The Devil Butcher was revealed, stealthily moving to another position, his smile now frozen on his face. Goethe attacked immediately. He ran, yes, but he did not run towards the Devil Butcher. Instead, he moved till the unearthly head that belched out the unnatural gases was between Ivan and himself... then he launched a Psybeam straight into its face with his left arm.

As the monster shrieked, and convulsed, and dissolved into nothingness, Goethe thrust his right arm at Ivan Ackermann. Ivan had destroyed his hammer, but the hammer was not the Astral Arsenal. The hammer was only a manifestation. The Astral Arsenal was much more difficult to damage, as it was the series of runes that danced around his right arm.

"Primeval Schism!"

The blast of energy struck the Devil Butcher in the chest, hurling him away and into the shadows and gases lurking at the end of the dungeon. But having an idea of his general position, Goethe reached out with his Spirit Arms and dragged everything there back out into the open. He was pleased that his strategy worked; the Devil Butcher was pulled back into visible space. For as long as Goethe could not sense him with the Eyes of the Claviger, it was wise to not let him out of his sight. Holding him up in the air, so that he could not move, Goethe noticed the Black Tooth had finally been separated from the Devil Butcher. Reaching out with his mind, he picked it off the ground and held it quite out of reach of the Devil Butcher.

Ivan coughed, and smiled at Goethe. Trickles of blood flowed from his nostrils and mouth, but he did not seem bothered by his injuries in the least. "I underestimated you, boy. My loss." he chuckled, then coughed up a little blood. "So, what are you going to do with me, now that you have won?"

"I don't have to ask you anything. I can read your mind."

"A technique that does not work all the time, if I remember correctly?"

Goethe looked displeased. "You seem to know an awful lot about me..."

Ivan smiled. Was that pride Goethe detected? "That's because we made you, Goethe. Anton and myself."

Having promised himself that he would not show any form of comrpomising emotion in the presence of Ivan Ackermann, Goethe remained stoic, an indifferent scowl on his face. There was so much, however, that he wanted to know about his past. Perhaps Ivan knew what was going on in the young man's mind, because he offered: "You have questions, yes? I have lost fair and square. If anyone will find us here, it will be your friends, not mine, because you have obviously taken care of them. I have nothing to lose or hide, anyway, and as I like talking, we could both get what we want."

Goethe scoffed. "You expect me to believe that you will tell me everything I want to know, simply because you like talking?"

Ivan shrugged. "I have no secrets. And even if I did, you would probably figure them out, sooner or later, anyway."

"And if you're lying?"

"We both know you can detect lies much more easily than you can read minds, with your telepathic powers. Is that not so?"

What did he have to lose? The Devil Butcher's partner, who would probably have been the only other person in this group of eldritch worshippers that would have given him a run for his money was out and far away. Goethe did not want to bring him out of the temple, because he might manipulate the villagers into doing something rash, which would lead to his escape or gaining a strategic advantage. The Memory Bombs had a potency period of about thirty minutes. He had fought against the Devil Butcher for not too long a time, perhaps fifteen minutes or so, so he still had some time before Baynard and Arnoba arrived. then, they could send him to the X-Dimension, and hand him directly to the Rune Knights. Until then, they just had each other to keep company.

"Very well... but I do not intend to give you any concessions, no matter how well you answer. Just thought I should let you know."

"It is... expected. I am not disappointed."

"You said you were going to sacrifice those children, but then I came along. What was my part in your plans?"

"You mean, what is your destiny? The..."

"I'm not fulfilling any twisted agenda of yours," Goethe snapped. "Just give me my answers straight."

"You do know that patience is a virtue, is it not?" Stony silence answered him. Ivan sighed. "Very well. Have you heard of the Imbalance of Despair?"

He had heard that term before, when he had started actively trying to unearth what he was up against. It seemed that the Great Old Ones, as they were called, had been banished from this earth by powerful forces. In order for them to return to this world, or at least, have a permanent influence on a certain spot, an Imbalance of Despair had to be formed. It was like a sort of tether between the world the Great Old One in question was banished to, and Earthland. That meant that it would be easier to travel to their dimension from that point, or in theory, bring one of them back to Earthland through that same point. He nodded.

"Good. Do you know how it is formed?"

Goethe shook his head. "The Great Old Ones thrive on what you call bad emotions: pain, despair, fear, terror, grief, woe... all such things that may drive a person to madness. These emotions, when concentrated in a viable place, can reach out through the expanse of the Void, and a Great Old One may sense it. Once they grasp onto that 'line', so to speak, an Imbalance of Despair can be formed. If many people should experience these emotions at the same time... you're a smart boy. You should know where this is going."

"That would explain your actions here. I'm assuming you think this is a... 'viable' spot, and so you wanted to sacrifice those children to create the Imbalance here."

"Bravo! I would have clapped, were my body not restrained."

"That doesn't answer the original question: what does it have to do with me?"

"Do you know how powerful your mind is, boy? Your rage alone was almost overwhelming. The emotions of all the people in this little cesspit compared to the strength of your own would be like a candle compared to the sun. You, all by yourself, are capable of creating an Imbalance of Despair, and a very powerful one at that. I just needed to find a trigger to get you in the mood."

It all made sense now. The Devil Butcher had possibly planned to kill one of his friends, which would definitely through him into intense grief, and then he could create the Imbalance of Despair. That would explain why he had been having those premonitions. But if he had defeated the Devil Butcher here, did that mean he had averted that future? No, there was still someone else out there...

"The Diophage... what was she going to the Monsterlands to do?"

Ivan frowned. Goethe was pleased to see that something had finally disturbed him. "How did you know that?" Goethe shrugged nonchalantly. "I have my sources."

"I suppose my telling you will make no difference, anyway, now that I have been defeated. She was going to map out the area, to see if there was any populated place close to that point, where another Imbalance could be created."

"You were trying to create many Imbalances?"

Ivan smiled wryly. "How do you people say it? 'The more the merrier'?"

"I heard there were quite a number of the Great Old Ones. And from what I discovered about them, they hardly ever saw eye to eye. So, what if the wrong one connects with your senseless ritual?"

"That was never a problem," Ivan replied. "Certain incantations, certain prayers could guide the line of emotions to the exact Old One we sought: the Metropolitan King."

"Is that what he calls himself? Or you..."

Goethe felt the loss of balance before he felt an intense pain shoot up his knee. The next thing he knew, he was on his face, gasping for air. He had never experienced something this terrible, even though he had had his fair share of life threatening battles in the past. Forcing his head up, he looked down at his left leg. It stopped just below his knee. The rest of his leg, that bore his foot, had been completely and cleanly shorn off, and it lay some distance away. His blood flowed out freely, and he felt his life slowly ebbing away with it. He wasn't sure if he would be able to regenerate the limb, but hopefully, he might be able to stop the blood flow. Focusing through the pain, he activated his Soul Healing, and felt the wound seal up. At least, he might not be in immediate danger of death from blood loss, but he was already very weak, especially since his Limiter Breaks had also taken a toll on him.

Who had attacked him? The Devil Butcher? It couldn't be. So far, from what Goethe knew, Ivan  earned his powers and his name from the Black Tooth, and Goethe had disarmed him of the weapon. Besides, both of them, the weapon and the wielder, had been in his line of sight, and neither had performed any offensive maneuvers.

He slowly swiveled his head to the side, and that was when he saw the woman, tall, pale and ominous, standing about three meters away. Darkness seemed to writhe about her form, and he couldn't tell whether it was a trick of the light, or the shadows were alive. He was sure it was the latter, and it was most likely she had been the one to attack him. Such a powerful and vicious attack. So perfectly carried out, and in his blind spot, too. But Goethe Ackermann was not supposed to have any blind spots. He ought to have sensed her with his Eyes of the Claviger. Unless...

Unless she was like the Devil  Butcher.

Unless she was the Diophage.

And just like that, Goethe Ackermann's good luck went to hell in many pieces and bloodied handbaskets.