Chương 29: Emissary from the Shadow

Reddish oil splattered the floor, sizzling against the Automaton's metal. A panel dropped to the ground, followed by a glass orb still tangled in circuits and tubes. The other machine turned its sights on Lance, the blade gripped tight in his left hand. A loud bang followed the flight of a glowing iron dart. White smoke wrapped around the golem, lit from within by a thick swarm of molten iron fragments. Drops of melted metal dripped off the blade, cooling on the floor.

The Automaton, missing a bulb, lunged at the boy, locking the arm in the grip of its pincer. Suddenly, a bullet tore straight through the metal limb, followed by an explosion. The Automaton collapsed from the blow, shedding gears, plates, and a steady gush of fuel and lubricant. Smoke curled from the barrel of the gun in Lance's hands.

"Behind me, really?!" An irritating creak echoed over his shoulders. Before he could react, he was thrown against one of the room's walls, lodging into it like an arrow. He tasted blood flooding his throat, followed by a deep stab of pain in his side. In front of him, in the room's dim light, the Automaton's sensors glowed a deep blue. Trembling, it raised its arm, loading another glowing dart.

"I underestimated them. These things hit like monsters." Pain accompanied his thoughts as he pulled himself off the wall. The moment his feet touched the ground, both machines opened fire at once. Molten metal exploded against the wall, sending sparks and flames flying in every direction. Lance appeared beneath one of the Automatons, grabbing the pincer arm with both hands. Pulling with every bit of strength his body had, he tore the limb off the machine, followed by a spray of gears and fuel.

The second Automaton seized him, lifting him into the air before slamming him into the ground.

"Damn it..." He muttered, letting the piece of metal slip from his hands as the breath left him slowly." Vergehen isn't working? Could it be that it only works on living things?" He felt a wave of heat wash over his face, finding the cannon's barrel pointed directly at his forehead. His arm was pinned under the weight of the other robot, unable to move at all. He bit down on his lip, letting blood run freely down his neck. With a metallic click, the piston pushed the dart into the cannon's barrel, ready to fire.

In one last desperate attempt, Lance spat a thick clot of blood into the air, which began expanding as it fell. It burst violently, scattering shards in every direction, knocking the Automaton's arm aside for a single, precious second. He pulled himself up fast, striking the "face" of his attacker dead on, tearing away several metal plates along with its bluish sensors. The machine slid across the floor, carving a deep groove into it.

Beneath the metal, countless tiny gears and colored tubes were visible, all in constant motion. Sparks and fluid leaked through the cracks, followed by a sudden burst of flame that engulfed the entire machine. Lance aimed his revolver at the burning Automaton and opened fire. The bullet detonated inside it, blowing the machine apart and scattering its flaming pieces across the room. A shard landed on Lance's shoulder, and he immediately blew on it to put it out.

"Damm it's hot!" He turned toward the Automaton, still functioning, missing an arm, left only with its dart-loaded weapon. A flash of light burst from its single red eye, followed by an incredible shifting of machinery." META, STATUS: HOSTILE, ENGAGE EXTERMINATION PROCEDURE." The warning, distorted by metallic clicks, reached Lance's ears, catching him completely off guard.

"WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO UP UNTIL NOW THEN?!" He exclaimed, pointing at his mouth, smeared with fresh blood. The Automaton's back split open, releasing long, thin blades attached to pivots. Even the darts in its cannon had changed shape, expanding until they formed a spear of half-melted metal. Lance just stared, dazed, at the hellish machine in front of him, gripping Gladiolus even tighter in his hand. Suddenly, despite its bulk, the machine leapt at him.

The boy's blade and the violent, molten spear collided, sending small flames dancing between them. A few drops of molten metal burned his face. Another blade came crashing down on him, blocked by Supplicium's grip. Lance's arms shook." Without Vergehen... It's really tough." He got shoved aside, barely dodging the blow, which sliced clean through part of his outfit at terrifying speed. The tip of the robotic blade buried itself in the ground.

Lance threw himself forward, severing the molten iron spear, which hit the floor with a hiss. With force, he drove Gladiolus into the iron plating, pushing it deeper and deeper. Both of the Automaton's blades broke free, swinging to take his head off. He immediately let go of his grip on the sword, wrapping his hand in blood and hardening it. Both blades pierced through his defense, only to be stopped right after by the layer of blood.

"Not falling for it twice!" He drove Supplicium into the same hole left by Gladiolus, pulling the trigger right after. He immediately felt the bones in his arm shatter, followed by a wave of intense heat. His body was thrown backward by the explosion, along with the plates and burning droplets of fuel and oil. He gasped for breath, getting back to his feet, coughing, his throat wrapped in an unpleasant feeling. It was only then that he noticed the fire slowly eating away at the edges of his coat.

"Not again, c'mon!" He yanked it off in a hurry, tossing it to the ground and stomping on it. He picked it up with a disappointed look, putting it back on after tearing off the burned parts, ignoring the smell of smoke.

"I thought it'd be more... Fireproof." He muttered, with a frown, walking toward the remains of the robot, still in flames. He picked up what looked like a battery, its casing completely torn apart by Supplicium's bullet. Inside it, a small violet crystal, similar to the ones found on Helspawn. He squeezed it in his palm, and it vanished, energy flowing back through his body.

"They're going to scold me again." He sighed, tossing the battery to the ground and heading back to the terminal. The loading bar had gone well past the halfway mark, much to Lance's satisfaction. Suddenly, a message appeared, pausing the download.

"Restoring Message. Conversation now playing. Please wait." Lance stayed there, puzzled, stepping back from the computer, which had begun to shake and was opening a compartment in the floor beneath him.

"Did some shards hit it?!" Lance peeked into the opening, spotting a violet cube covered in thin golden plating. Suddenly, it began to spin, projecting a figure right in front of him. After a moment, the shape took on a clear form, identical to the statue. The man turned toward Lance, this time dressed in a long, bluish suit, paired with a white coat with a high collar. His hair was slick with oil and disheveled, and even his face was streaked with dust and grease.

The figure cleared his throat, holding up his hands, covered in strange numbers.

"Good evening! Or good morning. I don't know what time you'll be watching this, so why not greet you for both?" The man gestured as he spoke, pulling at his hair or nervously fixing his collar, smearing it black. Lance stared at the figure, speechless, confused, and unsettled by the apparition." Who are you..." He tried to ask, but the figure completely ignored him, continuing to speak.

"This is a message I carved into the core at my feet. If you're watching this, it means you've found my tomb, but it also means the efforts of the Cerei weren't in vain!" He smiled brightly, sitting down somewhere out of frame, the projection losing part of its legs.

"You'll have a lot of questions, but I don't have much time, so I'll keep this brief." The figure took a deep breath and folded its hands.

"I'm Nikola Ruther, the last representative of the Cerei and one of the founders of the Republic of Andimica." Lance stayed frozen, staring at the hologram, his pupils blown wide with shock.

"What!? Are you one of the founders? And who are these Cerei people..."

"As I said, if you're seeing this, it means I'm already dead, and someone has found my creation. Everything in front of you is the result of my research, though I don't know when you'll find it, or whether you'll have already moved past it." The figure tapped at the air behind itself, as if feeling around for something. A series of metallic clinks accompanied the movement of his hand.

"As I record this message, it's the two hundred and tenth anniversary of the cataclysm. I've decided today to destroy all the history that came before it, to spare humanity from the horrors that have plagued us for decades." Nikola let himself sink back into the chair, relaxing his shoulders, losing every trace of that radiant aura.

"Evans and Marie agree with me, though Abend and Dyer will probably hate me for it. I don't know what'll happen in the future, but I'm sure this is for the best. After all, I'm an inventor, I have to trust my own ideas." He tried to force a smile, managing only with difficulty. The streaks of grease on his face made him look fairly grim. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Time is short, so I'll get straight to the point. I've removed every trace of Andimica's past, along with any contact with the old continent. Evans is doing the same thing in Termie as we speak, and the rest of the Mercadier and Christine families will surely be restoring order to the affected regions." He looked down at his hands, trembling slightly.

"The reason I came to this decision is for the sake of people like me. In Termie, they called us the Chosen, or the blessed. Here we're called the Columns, but if you ask me, we're nothing more than hunters who gave up their humanity a long time ago." Nikola looked up, then fixed his gaze intently on Lance, as if he knew he was there." Maybe it's better if I just show you..." He smiled, rolling up his sleeves, revealing numerous deep scars, vaguely shaped like numbers.

He raised his palm, and a few seconds later, a spark of blue electricity appeared at the tips of his fingers. Moments later, a small doll made of iron and wood began to dance on his palm. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

"Fun, isn't it? I use it to make toys now that the Plague's over. I named it Mr Erfdinder." He looked at his hand, snapping his fingers a few times. The numbers carved into his skin grew deeper.

"Don't let yourself be fooled. With this talent of mine, I've taken more lives than you could ever count. People like me are responsible for the destruction of the old kingdoms before Andimica. The war that broke out almost three centuries ago wiped out entire populations and left the world in the pitiful state it's in now." Nikola got up from his imaginary seat, grabbing an enormous black shard, almost as tall as he was. He struggled to keep it standing, even with all the strength his body had left.

"What you're looking at is the last fragment I managed to salvage from the other dimension. You probably won't understand any of it, but I'm sure that with all the data saved here, things will become clear with time. Time's almost up, so I'd like to ask you something, no, give you a piece of advice." Nikola set the onyx rod down on the ground, sighing from the effort.

"If you're ever born like me, don't pray. It would only make things worse. I'm not saying this as a man of science, but as a former human being. Whatever kindness the other world might have offered died long before it was ever born." Nikola took the cube in his hands, carving a spiral where the symbols were starting to gather.

"Don't waste the world we've given you. Please." He smiled, then vanished from Lance's sight, leaving only a faint glow lingering in the air." TERMINAL MESSAGE PLAYBACK COMPLETE. NUMBER OF PLAYBACKS RECORDED - 4." A robotic echo rang through the room before leaving Lance alone with the screen." Nikola? What's the meaning of any of these?" The terminal shook, popping open a small hatch with a burst of cold vapor. Inside the cavity sat a thin, opaque black chip.

A large red exclamation mark appeared on the screen, reading: SAVED DATA CORRUPTED. A COPY OF THE DOWNLOADED DATA WILL BE PRODUCED IMMEDIATELY. Lance hesitantly grabbed the chip, cold as ice. The terminal shut down for good, resetting back to its home screen.

"I don't get it... Erase history? What kind of insanity is that?!" Lance remembered Monica's words about 'the Dark Epoch', and how no historian had ever managed to find a connection. He felt a sharp pang in his stomach, followed by an inexplicable wave of nausea.

"Why on earth... Would anyone do something this horrible, erasing part of humanity's history?" He composed himself, leaning against the golden door. The flames in the room were starting to die down, leaving shadows everywhere.

"That was a Meta... Does that mean they existed before the Conflict? And what was that last warning about?" He slid down along the metal, sitting straight down on the floor.

"My head's spinning... I feel like I'm going to throw up." He sighed, keeping his lips covered, hoping he wouldn't collapse right then and there. In the middle of his discomfort, he caught a smell spreading through the room, followed by a sharp warning signal from his body. A flash of light blinked in the shadows for an instant, followed by a small white spark.

An explosion tore through the room behind him, sending burnt wood and the remains of the statue flying toward the entrance, along with the wreckage of the terminal. Lance, horrified, scrambled back to his feet, a shiver running through him. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a small, dark sphere right next to his temple. Suddenly, the barrel of a gun pressed directly against his head. He snapped backward just before the bullet bounced off the floor.

A trickle of red ran down to his neck, staining his collar.

"Sorry to startle you. That was just a warning shot." All the light got pulled away, leaving only the faint glow of the dying flames. A young man, dressed in a simple, loose white shirt and long dark trousers of the same size. The firelight lit up his hair, a mix of blond and black, along with the gold chains hanging around his neck. In his hand, he held an extremely old pistol, the kind fired with gunpowder and a flintlock.

His features were young and clean, without a thread of hair to dirty his diaphanous skin"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Angel Meris, emissary of Changeant." He spoke in a tone so depressed and quiet that it left Lance stunned, watching him warily after his sudden appearance.

"Those guys with the masks... What happened to them?" Lance scanned the room, looking everywhere for the bodies he'd carefully avoided during his fight.

"Killing isn't really my preference. It's too messy. I moved them to the forest outside the Institute." The expression of constant sadness never left his face, not even as he breathed.

"You don't strike me as people with much of a moral code." Lance said while pointing his finger at the blood staining his neck, raising Gladiolus in his hand.

"Mortified to give that impression, however, I can't avoid your accusations in any way." Angel walked slowly, dipping his finger into the shadow surrounding him, like some kind of dark sludge. A moment later, he pulled out a heavy firearm. Beneath the barrel hung a massive coil of rounds, each as long as a thumb, packed in a tight spiral. The bronze color and the giant reddish glass canister were hard to make out in the darkness, appearing and dissolving with every glance.

"I was tasked with destroying this room and anyone who'd seen its contents, but here's where my problem lies." He didn't seem to be talking to Lance, mulling it over while studying his reflection in the scope of his weapon.

"And what would that dilemma of yours be?" Lance wondered to himself, realizing Angel was completely ignoring him.

"I was specifically told to kill anyone who examined the Ruther Terminal, but I was also instructed not to harm Lance Klint in any way." He scratched his head, keeping that same melancholic look on his face.

"What was so important in there?" He asked sternly, twirling the blade in his hand, anxiously waiting for his enemy's next move.

"Mr Malcolm told me, repeatedly, that the contents of that technology had to remain secret no matter the cost, orders from our Client." He answered, finally tearing his eyes away from the machine gun.

"Some secrets are better off staying buried, ones that condemn the minds of just a few to suffer." Angel answered, aiming the barrel of the gun at Lance. The gauge on the stock shot toward the red zone, and several jets of vapor escaped the weapon. The darkness was torn apart by a swarm of bullets, completely pulverizing the golden metal door. Angel lowered the weapon, its barrel glowing red hot, waiting for the darkness to settle back into place.

Standing in front of him was Lance, his coat completely riddled with holes, bleeding from his leg. A few enormous shell casings were lodged in the metal of Gladiolus, sliding off into a bubbling, half-melted puddle at his feet.

"I was hoping you'd dodge." He said, looking pained, tossing the machine gun back into the darkness it had come from. He took a step forward, but Lance cut off his path with his sword, stopping him from moving any further.

"You're not leaving here until you give me a convincing explanation!" He grabbed his arm with force, stopping him from blocking his strike. His hand pierced straight through Angel's chest without spilling a single drop of blood. His arm was wrapped in a soft, dense shadow inside the man's body.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." He whispered, throwing him away. Lance found himself surrounded by dozens of pitch-black eyes, watching from every direction. Angel snapped his fingers, and from each of the dark spheres, a firearm emerged.

"If you come with us, you can talk about it directly with Mr David." All the weapons opened fire at once, wrapping Lance in a cloud of lead. His figure scattered into the sea of gunpowder smoke. Angel took another step forward, only to feel his leg pierced by the cold metal of Lance's blade, thrown through the haze. Lance, struggling to hold up his partially severed arm.

"I doubt that..." He smiled, reattaching his arm with effort. The shadowy sludge on Angel's arm condensed, sprouting a forest of needles and pins.

"I'll have to use force then." Angel held the blades in his hands, approaching, wrapped in shadow. Suddenly, the ground started to shake, exploding beneath Angel's feet, sending him flying to the other side of the room.

"Sorry, I'm late, Lance." Cheered the figure dressed in a heavy black coat, an N stamped on the shoulder. She shook out her blond hair, brushing off the dust and dirt. She cracked her knuckles and her neck, turning toward Lance.

"Comman... Monica, you really found me?!"

"You must be... Monica Net." The sadness on Angel's face deepened as the shadows gathered close around him again.

"The one and only, but I've got to ask... What exactly are you doing to one of my employees?" She answered, slamming her fists together hard.