Gottlieb’s back rises up and away from the body of the orbital gun, as his arm reaches back to latch himself into place with the tether. The carbine hook clicks into the small railing around the upper edge of the gun.

He drifts, moving away from the station, but only as far as the rope that is attached to the suit will allow him to go. However, all of these actions happen in a state of vague mindlessness. His attention, his focus and all of his thoughts are lost in the very same void that has swallowed the sun itself.

The star, so massive that it would fill his entire field of view under normal circumstances, is now simply gone.

Space remains as dark as it would ever be under any circumstances, the sparse lights that reach him, cast from the distant celestial bodies, which dot his peripheral vision, do little to catch his eye.

— The rope pulls taut as he reaches its end.

A zombie flies past him, drifting off into the emptiness of space. Gottlieb watches Johann or Jakob or whatever the hell his name was floating away into nothingness. He gives the man who he had shared a cryo-pod with a somewhat sarcastic salute, before returning his attention to the sun that is simply not where it ought to be.

He isn’t sure for how long he floats in the emptiness of space, looking around himself, as if someone had just pushed the entire sun to the side and out of his vision as a prank. But after a while, Gottlieb gives up the ghost and grabs hold of the rope to pull himself back in towards the only land available for his feet to find.

Carefully, he grabs hold of the gun and the railing and pulls himself back to the ladder, climbing down back onto the platform, before heading into the airlock.

Gottlieb spares one last glance over his shoulder, before heading inside, keeping a sharp eye out for any zombies he might have missed.

He hadn’t counted them as they flew out, after all.

Gottlieb marches down the corridor, grabbing hold of the pole in the shaft down to the gunner’s bay. He floats downward, reaching the bottom, only to realize as he gets there that he is still wearing the space-suit.

Whatever.

Holding the helmet under his arm, he walks towards the console, having one or two very critical questions for Kai, whenever the lights turn back on.

— Something thuds against his boot.

Gottlieb looks down at the human corpse, laying there, its head having been bashed in by a metal pipe.

He tilts his head, looking at the body.

It’s the captain’s.

“Neat,” says Gottlieb, flipping the corpse over with his boot to make sure that it’s really a corpse in the sense that it’s dead-dead and not just dead.

The captain, acting appropriately for a dead person, does not move.

Gottlieb lifts his vision, staring at the goblin that hides in the darkness, beneath an emergency light that shines with a red hue. Does she even notice that the corner she’s hiding in is bright? It doesn’t seem like a great hiding spot.

His eyes look up towards the emergency lamp.

— Maybe goblins are like hamsters or rats or whatever, in that they can’t see red light?

He shrugs, not caring too much, as he makes his way back to his chair. His boots let out a sticky ripping sound as he walks over a pool of drying blood. “Good work,” he says, flashing Grunheide a thumbs-up, before throwing himself on to his chair. It slides along the rail, spinning as it moves towards the end of the console.

Gottlieb grabs the rifle, sets it down to his side and kicks his feet up to wait.

Any minute now…

The goblin crawls out from her hiding spot.

[Battle complete]

(Gottlieb) has killed:

(Gottlieb) has killed (Zombie{LVL 14})(Zombie{LVL 10})(Zombie{LVL 13})(Zombie{LVL 18})(Zombie{LVL 23})(Zombie{LVL 14})(Zombie{LVL 15})(Zombie{LVL 16})(Zombie{LVL 14})(Zombie{LVL 17})(Zombie{LVL 14})(Zombie{LVL 20})(Zombie{LVL 19})(Zombie{LVL 16})

… (+31)

You got [2750/2750] EXP ! *+~- [LEVEL UP!] -~+* You are now level 14! You got [122/3500] EXP ! [You have {1} attribute points to apply] GOTTLIEB Level: 14 Experience: 122/3500 Class: Orbital Gunner Sub-class: None Race: Human Home: The orbital-weapons platform [Currently moving to continent {4}] STRENGTH: 18 [+] DEXTERITY: 7 [+] INTELLIGENCE: 8 [+] WISDOM: (6) [+] LOVE: 6 [+] LUCK: 9 [+] [Raised STRENGTH +1](To 19) {0 Attribute Points remaining}

He nods, content with his wise choice of upgrading his strength-stat again. Gottlieb flexes his arm, bulging the sleeve of the tight space suit in what he holds to be a gesture of respect for his fallen comrades.

His sweet gains are made in their memory.

Grunheide lets out a wowed gasp from the side.

Finally, someone who gets it.

[Azimuth]

Torches adorn the carriages. Fires, contained in large, metal bowls, are carried through the landscape by open-topped carts that the people huddle around. They do so not only for warmth, but to stay near the protecting light of the flames.

The monsters of the world have taken to the dark nights that come at any time. They are times of hunting and of violence. The creatures of the forests, of the caves, of the deep, dark, old places of the world are unbothered by the sudden nightfalls. If anything, they thrive in them.

They leave their holes and their dens to prowl the wilderness for anyone or anything who was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

There are the usual monsters of the world — Slimes and goblins and zombies and things of that nature.

— Azimuth’s eyes wander towards the window, as the carriage rattles onward.

But this darkness is said to have more behind it than just those creatures. Perhaps it is simply the overactive imaginations of people. After all, the sun going out and leaving the world in total darkness is a very paranoia-inspiring event, especially if it happens repeatedly. Soldiers who stand at the gates of cities tell of voices, calling from the whispering darkness. Miners, having returned home from their holes, speak of familiar scents and winds that they had only ever felt far, far beneath the world.

Of course, again, these are all very subjective things to experience. It is all well explainable, if one simply attributes it to fear and imagination.

But, even if this is the case, this societal fear of the dark has overtaken many great seats of power and many great swathes of voices. This is why she is out here. This is why she has been sent to wherever this is. Herself, a creature declared to be some kind of great champion of the world, some entity chosen by the gods. She’s out here to kill a terrible thing that exists only in whispers and rumors and in fearful glances out of the thin windows of homes at night.

Nobody knows for sure if it is real or not. Nobody has ever seen it.

But the people of the region are sure that it is. They are beyond certain that here, creeping and crawling around their homes at night, is a thing. A thing that reaches and snatches and claws in the dark, pulling on the feet of children to yank them out of their beds and latching onto the arms of men, to tear them into the screaming darkness.

As far as she knows, nobody has ever actually gone missing, other than getting lost in the darkness for a few hours.

But that doesn’t stop the stories.

And, while she is vaguely, sort of, kind of certain that such a thing can’t be real…

— Her eyes continue to stare at the total darkness beyond the window.

She just isn’t entirely sure.

The carriage stops.

They’re here.

[Gottlieb]

Gottlieb groans, spinning around on his chair in boredom. The lights are still off.

Grunheide mimics him, copying his voice and movement on her own chair.

He snorts, finding it somewhat funny, actually.

He groans and spins again.

She does the same.

Gottlieb isn’t really sure why she’s copying him. Maybe she’s just bored too?

“Space sucks ass, right?” asks Gottlieb, looking over towards her.

She points at the screen, blank. “Nix.”

“Damn right,” says Gottlieb. He groans and spins again.

Grunheide groans and spins again.

— The zombified captain, standing behind them, groans as he lunges towards them.

Gottlieb screams and jumps to his feet, grabbing the rifle and aiming at the captain’s head.

Apparently, the man wasn’t dead-dead before after all? Or maybe undead are just extra-resilient to dying more than once?

He pulls the trigger.

The head of the corpse lurches backward as the captain falls down to the ground.

Gottlieb looks at Grunheide, who is sitting there with a somewhat soft expression of shame on her face. He can only assume because she failed her mission of killing the captain the first time around.

He sighs. Oh well. The job’s done now.

“It’s fine,” he consoles. “Nobody is perfect,” says Gottlieb, nodding towards her.

Grunheide lifts her head. He doubts that she understood him. But maybe his tone was understandable enough. She nods and looks around, before pointing back at the corpse.

Gottlieb looks at the captain, who begins to twitch again.

“Fucking zombies man,” sighs Gottlieb. “Why did it have to be zombies?”

The goblin runs over, grabbing his wrist and pointing to the side. He follows her finger, looking at the hatch that the slime is trapped beneath.

Damn. That’s a smart plan.

He nods to her, grabbing the captain’s arm to drag him off towards the hatch, as she slowly lifts it up.

[Azimuth]

Azimuth gulps, stepping out of the carriage and into the darkness.

The soldiers and priests, clearly not wanting to be here, form a tight, strict line very close to each other by the carriages and the fires.

“G- good luck,” says the leading officer, patting her on the back. Although it may have been more of a push forward than a pat.

Azimuth stumbles forward. What is she doing here? She was just trying to become a chicken-farmer and now, somehow, she’s ended up at the den of some terrible monster that may or may not even exist.

She exhales, grabbing the hilt of her sword with her hand. Not to prepare, but to simply not betray her shaking.

— Maybe she can just run off into the night?

They’ll never see her if she just vanishes into the darkness.

But, well, the problem with that is that she can’t see a damn thing either.

Her breath appears before her mouth as she walks forward, not sure what exactly it is that she’s heading towards.

[Gottlieb]

Gottlieb groans and spins on his chair.

Grunheide groans and spins on her chair.

The captain’s body has been disposed of. They shoved him down into the hatch and let the slime that they had trapped there eat him. That should solve the whole reanimation issue.

“Hey, do you think there’s a moral issue here?” asks Gottlieb, looking over towards the goblin. She looks his way in confusion. “I mean, you know, by throwing out the others into space?” he asks, looking back towards the blank monitor. “Do you think they’re just going to… I dunno, float forever?”

Grunheide doesn’t respond, not understanding the question.

Gottlieb scratches his chin, wondering if he cares.

No. He doesn’t. Not that much.

But god is he bored. Space sucks so bad.

“Wanna learn to shoot the gun?” asks Gottlieb, looking over towards Grunheide.

She grumbles and snarls in her usual goblin language. Gottlieb rolls his eyes and gets up, pushing her chair in from behind along the railing to the front of the console, before sitting back on his own seat. “Look. Just grab it like this,” he says, grabbing the control stick on his side. He gestures, pointing at her hand and then at the other stick on her side of the console.

The gun isn’t active now, with the lights being off and all.

But it’s not like there’s anything better to do.

[Azimuth]

Azimuth stumbles forward, wandering into the darkness. She’s pulled her sword out. It’s not that there’s anything here to fight or kill. It’s just that she feels safer with it like this.

— Maybe she can just make a bunch of noises?

Maybe if she sort of swings the sword around herself and makes a bunch of fighting sounds, they’ll buy it? She’ll say that she killed whatever was out here and that it sort of just vanished into the darkness. That sounds like something an abstract, unspeakable horror would do, right?

The woman sighs. She wants to go home.

What she can’t explain however, is why it sounds like it is raining. But she doesn’t feel a drop of water on her skin. Maybe she’s in a cave?

The ground beneath her boots crunches, illuminated by the light of the torch she has in her other hand. Azimuth looks down, lifting her foot, to stare at a broken bone that has been sucked dry of its marrow.

She lifts the torch higher, casting its light all around herself. The ground shimmers like snow. But there isn’t a hint of frost or ice to be seen. All around her lie wet, glistening, freshly cleaned bones that are still covered in thick, mucusy spit.

The darkness around her skitters.

Azimuth yelps in fear, throwing the torch and swinging her sword wildly in terror.

[Gottlieb]

“No, look,” says Gottlieb, shaking his head. “First you move it this way,” he explains, pushing the stick forward. With his free hand, he points down, towards the console. “Then you press it down and move it to zoom.”

“Bitil?” asks Grunheide.

“Sure. Whatever,” replies Gottlieb, watching her mimic his movements. “Good job. Then, all that’s left to do is the best part.” He lifts his finger, wiggling it under the dim lighting of the console. “Use your finger to press the trigger,” he explains, pulling down on his trigger.

Grunheide looks at him for a moment, before turning her gaze back down to the other control stick in her gobliny hand. Her finger lowers itself down in an awkward movement. She seems to have trouble making these sorts of motions with her hand. Gottlieb supposes that they are rather unnatural poses for a hand, if you’re a goblin.

— His vision is filled with light.

The monitors jump back on. A loud, hissing hum shoots through the station, followed by a series of heavy clacks as the lighting jumps back on, row after row. The blue light shines to life, signaling that Kai is awake again.

Gottlieb looks back, too slow to stop her as she presses the trigger.

[Azimuth]

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” shrieks Azimuth in terror, wildly swinging the sword out into the darkness around herself as she makes a run for her torch. The darkness skitters and scampers, hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny, sharp feet crawling around her at every impossible angle. It wasn’t raining. The sound was made by the many feet, clicking and clacking against the bones.

— The light of the day suddenly returns from its long absence.

Azimuth howls, swinging her sword in panicked fear.

The ground rumbles and shakes beneath her boots, the bones rattling as if the field of the dead that she is standing in the midst of itself was coming to life. Her eyes rise in fear at the sight of the horrific creature she finds herself not only before, but enveloped in. A long, elongated, worm-like body is all around herself. It’s above her, besides her, before her. It has long since wrapped her up in its trap, the thousands of skittering, chitinous feet ticking and clicking closer and closer towards her by the second.

However, now, it shrieks and writhes in terror, the light of the sun having returned. It abandons its hunt, pulling itself away to retreat down into some hole, somewhere where it can hide deep, deep in the world until the light vanishes once again.

Azimuth continues to howl in wild terror, aimlessly hacking at the monster with her sword.

The world, still rumbling at her feet, becomes oddly silent for a moment. She can’t even hear her own voice.

Through the gaps of the monster’s chitinous body, Azimuth sees only the ever-intensifying daylight. It’s as if the sun had not only returned, but as if it were coming ever closer and closer towards the world. The brightness intensifies, the hairs on her body stand on end, electrified.

— It’s here again.

The orc covers her eyes and throws herself to the ground as the explosion, having impacted not far from where she is, roars.

[Gottlieb]

Gottlieb sucks on his teeth, staring up at the monitor and then towards Kai.

There’s a lot to talk about.

He looks over towards the goblin, Grunheide, who is hyper-ventilating, her sweaty hands clutching the stick in fear as she stares at the monitor with a horrified expression on her eyes.

Gottlieb squints, staring at the screen.

“Oh, hey,” he says, watching a figure climb out of the rubble. “It’s the chicken-lady. Neat.”

[Azimuth]

Azimuth hacks and splutters, coughing out dust and gunk as she climbs out and over the burnt corpse of what can only be described as a centipede of monstrous proportions. She plants a hand on the top of the meaty, steaming heap and pulls herself up past a twitching leg, the sword in her hand as she climbs out of the mess she’s trapped inside.

The orc, her armor covered in scorches and in the black blood of the entity, stands atop the mound, sunlight reflecting off of her tarnished exterior. The image of presence casting a memory that will linger into the eyes of the many terrified onlookers who are now of more considerable levels of faith in the divine than they were only minutes ago.

She lifts her hand to give a small, awkward wave to the group of soldiers and priests huddled behind the carriages, many of which are overturned.

— They explode into cheers, running towards her to help her down.