[Book II Prologue] Damien:

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The pillar is no more. High in the night sky, Damien Arrant hovered in shocked contemplation. Moments ago, communications had cut out and a live feed was broadcast straight to his cockpit. Given the magnitude of what was revealed, I understand Samuel Lithorn’s recent actions. Most of the blame will fall on his shoulders. His desperation was exploited.

Damien had been following events on the Isle of Dreams since news of the doppelgangers broke. He hadn’t really expected the Laughing Man’s warning to play out. Did he ally with Simon Black? As for Astra’s children, Barsal Farran had vouched for them and that was enough for him. I wonder if the rest of the world will be as forgiving. Even if they are, all the tragedy that follows will weigh on their souls.

A beeping sound brought him back to reality. Although anchored in the center of a metal sphere, an advanced projector system displayed his surroundings, along with relevant overlaid indicators and information. Right now it warned him of an approaching giant bat. How annoying.

Focusing, a stiffness engulfed him as his senses synchronized with the giant mechanical armor which enclosed him. Energy gathered in his left hand and, with a swipe of his arm, he released an emerald wind blade slicing the beast down the middle. He watched the falling halves disappear into the broken jungle landscape below.

Patrolling the border of this twisted land was a nightly activity for Damien. It’s an important function, even if Argon disapproves of such mundane tasks. His eyes wandered the mess of green strands intertwined with larger rocky masses. It resembled a bowl of ramen noodles.

Damien glanced upwards at the heavens. All the stars still appeared there, but he was certain, somewhere, a darkness was growing. Torak is returning. Undead colossus, the champions, the dark gods… All those legendary monsters would once again roam Enera. Damien had seen the recordings. He knew what awaited. If everything follows the same pattern, it’ll be a few years before the worst hits us.

A flair of yellow interrupted his musing. On the horizon, a comet was crossing the sky. An immortal traveling at top speed. Must be Adele Farran, the Morning Sun, by the color. Likely on her way to the capital. Long ago, this method of travel used to be a common sight. It was faster than airships, but tiring and vulnerable to long range magic defenses. With the loss of warping and the global information network, there must be panic.

I should head back too. He shot through the air at a speed not inferior to the distant comet. Weaving through a high rising loops of earth, Damien smiled. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill mobile armor. It was a named craft. Envygreen, an immortal-class combat machine. The building-sized emerald knight he rode in could level cities with its twisters and vicious winds.

Time to return to your creator. Damien’s expression grew serious. He’s probably one of the few thrilled by these developments… At times like this, my assignment is more critical than ever.

Damien had been an adventurer before joining the military. He’d formed a party called Lucky Clover with three others, taken quests, and explored Enera’s darkest reaches, slowly climbing the ranks until he became a saint. I regret nothing of that life… except how it ended.

In a dungeon, they’d run into a minotaur, the famous Red Smith of Morove’s Furnace. Joana fell shortly after the fight began. Terry was next, sacrificing himself to cripple it arm. Noelle… survived. Damien winced. Which was almost worse. Seeing her maimed body, knowing that she wouldn’t last long enough to reach a healer… He kept her company those final two hours. She’d stayed strangely upbeat, smiling till the end. Then, with a ‘sorry’, the strength holding her body together had vanished. I should’ve been more open. Instead I put my feelings on the back-burner, not wanting to upset team dynamics.

After dragging himself from that cursed place with a pair of horns as a hollow prize, he’d never really recovered. The allure of immortality fades when those you want to share it with are gone. Forming a new team, new bonds, and risking them again… He lacked the drive.

That was when Anthem Barsal had shown up to recruit him for a special mission. Gave my broken spirit a worthy cause: keeping tabs on the empire’s most troublesome immortal, Argon Blaster. Damien glanced ahead to where… there was nothing.

He stopped and stared at the empty air, double checking the landmarks below. It should be here, but it’s not… After everything he was absorbing this evening, it took a moment for his mind to snap together.

Damn it! Of course he’d take advantage of the chaos. He can’t have gotten far. Damien carefully scanned around him at maximum magnifications. Soon, he found his query in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief, giving chase.

What is he up to this time? Officially, responsibility for the white dragon’s carnage was laid entirely on Barsal’s science devision and their ultimate weapon. However, Damien knew it was Argon Blaster who helped them bypass the magitech department’s objections. I suspect he knew what would happen. He sacrificed millions for an opportunity to field test his creations. If only he wasn’t the empire’s greatest genius.

A metal bender and an enchanter with a strong earth affinity to boot, the man was unmatched at crafting instruments of violence. He was also a ‘war immortal’ who earned renown on the endless battlefields of the Flux Planescapes. As such, he held values different from most of his brethren.

“Cloud Fortress Omega Nine, please respond.” Damien hailed. This close, I should be in range. He’s ignoring me.

Coming into view was a massive floating fortress so totally armored in metal that it was impossible to see the rock it rested on. Argon Blaster’s personal playground, armed to the teeth by the war fanatic. Envygreen was only one of the ‘masterpieces’ housed here.

Even now, the fortress was moving, slowly nearing the Green Hell. Eying the hangar bay, Damien hesitated. He was under orders to immediately report strange behavior, but communications were cut off. Should he fly back? No, they probably have enough to worry about right now. Argon isn’t headed for a populated area. It can wait.

Parking Envygreen in its bay, he exited to find a fellow pilot, Dorothy Lace, leaning against the wall next to her orange mobile suit of armor, Gunhell. “You’re back.” She observed.

“Where are we headed?” Damien asked curtly. He wasn’t in the mood for her laid back attitude.

“You expect me to guess the intention of our illustrious leader?” She answered.

Yes, I do. Damien kept the words to himself. Everyone on Cloud Fortress Omega Nine was handpicked by Argon himself. They were on the same wave length. I’m the odd man out. Rather than waste time, Damien marched off towards the command center, the clanging of his feet echoing across the metal halls.

Soon he reached an immense oval room topped by a dome. Argon Blaster was at the center, his medium frame lounging comfortably on a steel throne, white dreadlocks held in place by small beady goggles. His eyes are always hidden. Below these was the confident smile which never left his lips.

Behind Argon was a mountainous immobile figure. War Machine, his mechanized knight. “You’re back. How was recon?” Argon asked casually.

“Why are you approaching the Green Hell?” Damien shot back.

“To gain a little distance while we waited for the return of Envygreen.” Argon explained. “But now there’s no reason to delay.”

Brandidshing a remote control, he pressed a button. Immediately the room shook and Damien stumbled several steps under the force of a tremendous acceleration.

“What did you just do?” Damien demanded.

The immortal tapped the remote again. Besides them, an outside view of Cloud Fortress Omega Nine appeared, showing hundreds of jets of flames propelling the fortress up and over the Green Hell.

“We have half a continent to travel and a limited window of opportunity to exploit.” Argon stated. “So we’re executing a low orbit jump.”

A premonition of death assaulted Damien. He froze in terror, realizing there was no place to dodge, as metal blades sprung from the ground and pierced him from every angle.

“In this fortress of mine, a saint stands no chance against me.” Argon apologized. Behind the immortal, War Machine had begun to move, a metal palm slowly reaching out.

“Why?” Damien mumbled, struggling to contain the bleeding amongst the agony. I never imagined outright betrayal.

“An envoy of the Grey King made a proposal too attractive to pass up.” Argon stood, raising his hands to the heavens. “Unlimited resources to feed my creative pursuits, and a field of battle to put them to the test.”

“A dark age has begun! No way will I languish here under Barsal Farran’s benevolent peace.” Argon glanced at him. “Sorry, but you’re a minor sacrifice to my ambitions.”

War Machine’s hand came crashing down as the fortress soared northward into the lower reaches of space.