Rena growled under her breath. “He got away...especially after saying those rude things about our--”

“I understand how you must feel, but we've a patrol to finish.” He reminded her. Though she carried more experience, his expertise remained with patience.

She nodded and held her tongue. They turned to the massive dark Citadel in the distance, the looming tower serving as their landmark.

Facing due east, they took to a silent jog and hopped from roof to roof. Despite their heavy platemail boots, they kept silence pace.

Overhead, the moon gazed down at them lazily, the cool evening breeze caressing them gently. Their destination had been set for a seemingly abandoned warehouse near the Eastern District.

As far as plans went, in Gelehrter's mind, it was a simple operation. If there were any supplies waiting for them, they would retrieve what they could carry and meet a battalion of Templarate soldiers nearby.

Rena yanked him onto the cover of the roof as she apprehended activity below. They growled under their breath as the scent of death followed shortly afterward. He peeked from behind their vantage point.

The warehouse in question had been surrounded by their foe. Vampires wandered without care around the premises. Whether they were garbed in Templarate uniform or rags, their very existence caused his skin to crawl. A massive pile of corpses were set ablaze in the center, the stench of cooking human flesh stung his nostrils. Rena covered her mouth as the scent filled her and she gagged.

For a few moments they counted.

Seven hundred and thirty six.

He shook his head, dumbfounded. “Seven hundred and thirty six were turned. There were many casualties on both sides, I'd wager.”

“Aye...” She sighed and she reached for her satchel. With a few bits of bread folded within a leaf, she extended him the ration.

He munched on the morsel, his body rejuvenated from the reprieve. They shared several long drains from a water skin and enjoyed their company in silence.

“We lose more with each night.”

“No Justicar among them.”

“Aye, none...thank goodness.” Rena agreed. “At least, none I could see.”

“Justicar should make a signal or something of the like for situations similar to this.” He griped. “Perhaps we could have better commun--”

Rena held up a finger and they stifled conversation. A couple of armed personnel ventured within earshot, their voices carrying to them from below.

“--should've been us. I understand there are more they'd like to capture. Justicar and their ilk.”

“There is a patrol heading this way. Two of them.”

“Are you positive the intelligence on that is secure?”

“Targon himself verified it. He is never--”

Rena hastily established a mental link with him and exclaimed, “You were correct about Targon!”

“--wrong about anything.”

“Yeah, perhaps he isn't. But this time I think he is. We're wasting our time here. Those corpses and that bonfire are going to catch someone's attention.”

“They're not going to turn their defense matrix on anytime soon. He snatched their codes as well.”

“Codes, huh?”

“That Arden girl, the Overlord's adopted daughter, could override the need for codes.”

“Where is she?”

“Probably deployed to the South. What a waste, a few of our friends wanted to see her before they died.”

“What makes you think we're going to get killed?”

“Either from Justicar steel or our own...we will eventually be driven out. Look at us, we're monsters.”

Gelehrter and Rena exchanged glances as they fell silent. They wandered away without sharing any more words.

“I gave Gavilis and Ovelia the Justicar's signal for vampire while in Targon's presence. He was at my hearing to approve my deployment. I believe he pulled many strings to make this happen.” Gelehrter surmised.

A moment of silence passed between them. Gelehrter had been fixated on their original objective. He glimpsed a figure alone midst their compatriots. A quick spell enchanted his vision and his eyes watered as the world around him magnified. The outline of the figure before him had a simple cloak surrounding his body. He estimated him standing at about six feet and two inches in height. Despite his efforts to blend into the background of his surroundings, he stood out like a sore thumb. The eerie aura which followed him like rot appeared to seethe and writhe.

He blinked a few times as his eyesight returned to its normalcy.

“I suggest we create a diversion of some sort and head into there.”

“And what on earth possessed you into thinking this was okay?” Rena growled.

“We are outnumbered, sure, but I believe if we stick to the shadows and charm one of them, we may have a chance to break for it.” He nodded once to her, hoping she would return the gesture.

Rena crossed her arms defiantly.

“I see no other avenue for us other than to regroup and wait out the night. We've lost.” She shook her head and raised it to the moon. “We are running out of options...”

“You've lost heart, I can understand. But we've no other choice! We have to secure the warehouse--”

“We are just two Justicar. If we had a few more of us, I would consider, but this is suicide!” She hissed.

“There is something happening in there. I can feel it, I don't know why or how...but I can feel that we must go in there. It is imperative to the survival of Sanctuary.” Gelehrter argued.

“What on Sanctuary are you so interested in? You saw something.”

In that instant, a feeling rose from deep within his psyche. Every fiber of his being compelled him to leap into the fray awaiting him below, but his conscious chained him to their position. Without the aid of Rena, he would die. Any knowledge locked within his mind and any remnant Ernald left behind him—wherever he went—would be all for naught. This feeling rested in his throat, waiting for him reveal the aspect of uncertain death calling to him.

And yet, there was a simple solution. Turn tail and run—report what was seen and create a new plan of action. Here he remained, in the present.

“I saw...something. I did not share it with any hearing—I saw a mysterious man. His name was Hannibal. I feel as if...there could be a chance he is here. He is plotting behind our Overlord to either overthrow her...or worse.” He shook his head as he felt his skin crawl. “He is plotting something, I am sure of it.”

“What would Ana say if she heard you were killed? You have a responsibility to return to her in the near future.” Rena growled and drew her sword. “I will create a diversion if that is what you wish for...”

“You do not have to do this. I can attempt it alone.” He tried to halt her, but she had already hoisted herself onto the balcony.

“There is no other chance. I will try to draw them away while you head inside. Do not hesitate...” Rena's words trailed off as she plummeted into the crowd below.

He peeked over the balcony and witnessed the slaughter which followed.

Rena's arm burst into flame as she whirled about, dodging blow after her blow. Her form resembled a blur as she slammed her shoulder into a man wielding a tower shield, the force knocking him and several of his fellows from their feet. They crumbled underneath her as a torrent of fire cascaded onto her adversaries below.

“You will bend to the will of the Justicar, our Overlord's spear!” She bellowed, weapons shattering against her Blessed Star, the dark cloth robes shining in the darkness.

He watched for a few moments and then conjured a bubble of hot air underneath his form. He hovered slightly over the ground and then took to a slight jog, hopping into the air. The night breeze kissed his cheeks as he soared around the carnage below.

The courtyard filled with individuals seemed to shift as more of them took notice of the death happening at their doorstep. Many abandoned their posts to flee Rena's fiery wrath, the blaze scorching any who approached.

He quickly descended, reaching for his sword. Several stragglers who remained faithful to their position quickly took notice of him from below. Their attempts to skewer him with their spears failed, the spear tips shattering as they neared his magical armor. As his weapon kissed the night air, crossbow bolts crashed against the ground or bounced harmlessly against him.

One by one they rushed him. A quick parry and a lunge.

Feint, side step, swipe.

His movements were quick and precise with little room for error. As he apprehended them, several of their fellows attempted to flee. Instantaneously his arm raised and bolts of electricity engulfed them in their deadly claws.

Gelehrter stepped to the right to avoid a blade, slamming his shoulder into their plated armor. They staggered and tried to regain their footing. A palm released a jet of air toward their helmet and knocked it skyward.

Features belonging to a man greeted him. The man was no older than he, dark hair sprouting from his scalp. A sharp, chiseled chin and jaw hung limply after he suffered blow after blow. His crimson eyes flashed with worry and fear.

The young Justicar hesitated.

Before him stood Hector. The man he faced in the Grand Tournament seemed baffled, yet altogether relieved. His jaw had been broken by Gelehrter's blows and his comrades were all slain.

Only he remained.

He shook his head and lobbed his head clean from his shoulders with a single blow. Piercing the skull with the tip of his sword, he spun it about to launch it toward several crossbowmen nearby. The head smashed their armor and bounced away.

Several moments passed as he readied an incantation. His words falling from his gaping maw, electricity sparking about. The waves suddenly burst into a single bolt of lightning which surged into them mercilessly.

Gelehrter sheathed his weapon, turning about to the warehouse. As his gait quickened, his frame seemed to fade away.

He quieted his steps and faced the entrance. A massive door awaited him, hands pressing against the threshold. His form melded with the surface for a moment and he appeared to step through the door.

His eyes widened with surprise, his dark optics feasting on a massive metallic cube which appeared to be wrestled in the ground by a giant. The original contents of the storage facility were scattered about carelessly. From weapons to other accouterments to food, the mess had surrounded the gargantuan device before him. He shook his head in denial, the realization of everything in his life leading to this one moment. Stones hovered nearby the surface, as if attempting to lift it into the heavens. Strange runes—deep in his psyche, he felt the pulse of knowledge awaken—were carved eras in the past, appearing to be only gibberish for a few moments.

“Those who stand upon this shall become the fruit for the betters.” Countless other phrases seemed to overlap one another, but this was the only one he could discern.

A warning...?

He shook his head in dismay, bracing himself against the wall. “This is it...we've found a Wrath of the Ancients. Didn't we?”

No response.

“I'm certain that if you are still there, you will tell me what on Sanctuary I am seeing.” He pleaded softly.

No response.

Gelehrter hugged himself as tears cascaded down his cheeks. “You're not there...and if you are not there, how will I know what to do?”

The rampage from before seemed to die down. He wiped his face clean and took in a single breath.

“'Tis an illusion, surely...” He whispered to himself, jogging closer to the object. Gelehrter's hand instinctively extended to touch the metallic surface. Another hand reached out to meet his, the marred reflection of his Blessed Star frightening him.

As he reared back, he sensed another presence and his blade kissed the air. The naked steel was gripped firmly and it eased as he drank in the individual standing before him.

His matted blonde hair and bright eyes were beset with a skull unmatched in structure. A chiseled jaw and high cheekbones, he stood tall despite a strange sense of responsibility weighing on his shoulders.

The man stood poised to strike.

“Who are you?”

In the next instant he was gone.

Gelehrter stood stagnant against the river of change, taking a few moments to examine his surroundings before he sheathed his weapon. Striding up a set of metallic stairs, he ascended onto the surface. The ground hummed at his wake, but the absence of any other activity outside troubled him. He shook his head and quickly descended from the platform and onto the warehouse floor, examining the device once again.

Several lights in the distance caught his eye. Figures were illuminated in the distance and he shook his head.

Another illusion?

They stood much smaller in height than any regular human. As he ventured around the Wrath of the Ancients, the machine which tickled the advent of fear deep in his psyche, now appeared to disinterest him. A collection of stacked cubes which rose to the ceiling had taken him. Their shiny metallic surfaces glistened as he approached. Forms and shapes of humans rose to their feet, many of them bowing to him in reverence.

His heart skipped a beat as the same man from before was among them. His Blessed Star, which amplified his spirit, stuck out like a sore thumb. With no recollection of the Justicar trapped within the cube, he shook his head in horror as the millions of beady eyes drank in his frame. Sudden realization gave into some form of confusion and disbelief.

Cold sweat beaded down his brow as he clambered onto the cubes in hope of reaching the man. Their figures disappeared one by one as he made his way upward toward the source.

As he neared the object, the warehouse doors swung wide.

Rena's form had nearly crumpled as she crossed the threshold. Her head lulled back and she raised a hand, the door slamming shut.

“You're in here, aren't you?” She whispered, her voice echoing throughout the expanse.

He paused.

“Answer me, for all that is good in Sanctuary's holy name!” She barked.