Raging Phoenix: Part Nine

”VICTORY! UHUHU!” Despite the air being saturated with the putrid stench of burned flesh and the thousands of crystal shards blanketing what remained of the Imperfect Temple like blue snow, the atmosphere felt like the first bloom of spring. Jericho stretched out both arms, unleashing a burst of flames in celebration. Ludwig collapsed, exhausted but smiling beneath his helmet. Jude exchanged high-fives all around. Meanwhile, Perry—still hiding in that untouched corner of the southern wall—pissed himself, fully aware he would be the next victim, destined to share the same fate as his pirate comrades.

*Tweet!* Suddenly, a strange sound spooked the ex-waiter, prompting him to turn around slowly, gulping with fear. However, his terror gave way to awe as he spotted a bluish trail shimmering in the air, leading somewhere behind a protruding mass of stone. Crawling like a toddler to stay low and reduce the noise, he carefully followed the mysterious light, discovering a narrow opening—wide enough for a person to squeeze through. With no other options, he slipped inside, squirming forward as jagged rocks tore at his skin in his desperate attempt to reach freedom.

Perry will be back.

”Get up, bro.” With a strong yank, the ’Raging Phoenix’ helped the ’Defender’ to his feet. ”We need to prepare ourselves for the media—we’re national heroes now.” The two embraced each other, locked in a hug that lasted far longer than it should have.

”Immortal…” Ludwig mumbled after breaking the embrace, struggling to find the right words. But after a deep breath, he raised his head and faced his colleague without fear. ”Sorry if I’ve been harsh with you lately. The emergency, Captain Larsan, the pirates…all of it hit me at once, just as my life was already undergoing its greatest transformation. I was too quick and too harsh with my criticism, speaking without considering your feelings—thinking only about myself. So…thank you for saving my life and…for being my best friend.” After those words, the ’Defender’ was too embarrassed to meet the gaze of his now-beaming colleague, who, in disbelief, pinched himself just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“C’mon man, you’re making me blush.” The flames shrouding his body flickered erratically as he scratched the back of his head. “I was just doing my duty as a policeman—nothing more.”

“It’s almost funny that the one time we don’t need to be humble, you are.” Ludwig gave him a military salute. “You’re a great officer, a badge of honor for the MCPD—fearless against anything and anyone.”

“Bro…you know…it’s embarrassing.” The reddened Jericho mumbled, looking away. “And you saved my life, too, when you threw that cat at the tiger. Also, we need to congratulate our two assistants. Without their clever strategy, we wouldn’t have made it.” He glanced at the two Jacques. ”Oh, now that I think about it, which one of you fired the Blornstorn?”

The two looked at each other for a couple of seconds. “Ahem…Angel did it,” Jacques said, Jude nodded, and Agent Van Kasteel gave him a thumbs-up. “Anyway, we should pause the celebration for now.” The ’Javelinist’ gestured toward the girl, who was still lying on the ground. “We have a VIP to help.”

After nodding to each other, the two policemen rushed over to Ælfgifu to check her condition. Surprisingly, they found her in better shape than they had initially thought, and although no [Class] name hovered above her head, a faint and blurred Red Bar was now visible. “She’s covered in wounds, yet every one of them has been treated with an impressive level of professionalism.” As a Class C, Ludwig had commanded many squads composed entirely of Soulfuls, whose fragile bodies often required the many services of the Saint Miraval Hospital. But when the wounded couldn’t wait for transport, it fell to him to treat them and prevent any infection—that’s how he knew a fine job when he saw it.

”Did you hear that, Thirty-Seven? Ludwig just prai—” Jericho stopped talking the moment he turned his head. Jacques was gone, no longer in sight—nowhere to be seen inside the temple. Instead, he found Jude standing before the opening of the cave—the one revealed by the destruction of the massive cubical statue—his massive body eclipsing the man in front of him.

”So in the end, your theory turned out to be wrong,” the ’Mafioso’ pointed out, without, however, taking his eyes off the polished surface of his Gaussbow. ”The five of us are all going home, and nothing’s going to happen.”

The ’Javelinist’ raised both hands, declaring his innocence. ”I never claimed to be an omniscient god. My theory sounded solid, but I guess what feels like an obvious cliché in a B-tier novel doesn’t necessarily have to come true in reality.” With that, he turned his back on his fellow Marian countryman and walked straight into the depths of the hole.

Jude frowned. ”Where the hell are you going?”

”To prepare myself for the climax of this crescendo.” And with those final words, he vanished into the darkness.

What was supposed to be a wet and cold tunnel soon became dotted with remnants of rotting wood, crumbling bricks, and rusted metal pieces—their numbers increased with every step the Javelinist took—and after five minutes of solitary walking, he stumbled into the twisted remains of an old pipeline—likely the one once used to transport goods in and out of the cave. Following the pipe further, he reached a peculiar section where the rocky walls had been reinforced and wallpapered with steel, forming a narrow metallic corridor. At its end was a vast chamber filled with one-room-sized structures, the kind one would expect to find in a military encampment—except these were constructed entirely of steel.

After a brief exploration of the metallic village, the ’Javelinist’ discovered that each of the decrepit buildings had once served a different purpose, a fact spoiled by the different sets of expensive machinery found within. Printing presses, chemical labs, assembly stations, etc... all coated in thick layers of dust, and all sporting production dates so old they would be labeled as vintage by any pawn shop. The only common feature among the various rooms was the logo of the business that had once owned the facility, painted across the wall—a butterfly above three Lawfullian ideograms, too damaged to be actually legible.

”What a massive waste of money. I know the economy was weak a few decades ago, but shutting down a business before selling off all these valuable machines? I’d bet the owner was some nepo baby who never earned a single Marino in his life, and burned through his family’s fortune on a doomed joint venture, sunk from the start by his own incompetence.” And with that, the nepo baby of the wealthiest family in the world began climbing a set of metal stairs bolted to the cave wall, making his way toward a building that loomed over the rest of the area, entering what appeared to be a once-elegant office.

However, his expectations were quickly crushed by its inside, which was just as decrepit as the buildings below—except for one thing. Di Mario Mobili. That’s probably why this desk is the only one still intact. After the quick shot of nostalgia passed, the ’Javelinist’ slid his hand under the furniture, revealing the last treasure left in that ghost town. ”That’s where Nonno Alberto always put the hidden compartments.” He removed the latch from the cloth, spreading three peculiar items onto the oak-wood desk—a key, a letter, and a photograph.

The key resembled one used for a safe deposit box, engraved with the logo of Aries Bank—a spiral-horned goat crowned with the Twilight Imperium. The photo depicted an elegant man wearing a one-eyed black mask, its eyeless half adorned with a golden I—the number one in Shurapatri numerals—and in the white margin beneath the image, the words ’Our Enemy’ were printed next to a question mark drawn in blood.

I can’t endure this any longer, my friend. How many years and how many resources have we wasted for absolutely nothing? 373,737 islands in this archipelago to inspect—absolute madness. And worst of all, the Mold grows more demanding with each passing day. She comes to me every night, and I can’t even remember the last time I slept more than a couple of hours. She tempts my will, urging me to join her in the Mold Kingdom, a promised land where all the petty differences humanity has shed blood over will vanish, and true peace awaits our souls. But I have to endure it because she’s our only clue.

If I fail—and that day comes—then you must take my place and continue the research. The password is ’The Big Bad Wolf,’ and the location will be sent to you after my death. How? I’ve arranged for the post office to deliver a letter if I fail to contact them within a week. Don’t be afraid of losing yourself to the Mold, my friend—our dream is greater than our petty lives.

P.S.: You should have received two objects along with this letter. The first is the key to the ’World’s End Secret.’ The second is a reminder—never forget who our enemy is.

After frowning and scratching his head, Jacques shrugged and placed the three objects into his [Inventory]. Then, he retrieved a syringe and a set of glass vials, each containing a differently colored liquid, and laid them all out on the desk. “Okay, let’s try this Tricoregenix.” The ’Javelinist’ removed his helmet, followed by his brown contact lenses, shooking them several times until they gleamed like diamonds, then carefully placed them back into his eyes. Next, using the syringe, Jacques drew precise amounts from three separate vials and combined them, forming a golden solution. Finally, he injected the mixture into his scalp, massaging it thoroughly to ensure it spread evenly.

”Memento mori,” Jacques whispered as he placed his Carbon-Woven Helmet back on, fully aware that his life now hung by a thin thread.

***

”You sure took your time. You know, it’s been almost an hour since you went in there. We were actually discussing whether to leave you behind,” Jude called out from the cave’s entrance, greeting his classmate.

”Let’s just say I was waiting for someone. But in the end, it was a waste of time—and dynamite.” As he reached the Imperfect Temple, Jacques’s eyes immediately landed on a girl wrapped in a warm blanket, who was sipping from a cup of hot tea. ”She’s already awake?” He asked, very surprised.

”Turns out she’s an Essentia,” Jude explained. ”Didn’t take much for her to recover once her [Passive.Skills] kicked back in. Anyway, Immortal and Gatekeeper are taking care of her with one of those first-emergency kits policemen are required to carry in their [Inventories].” Still, the ’Mafioso’ noticed something in her amethyst eyes—a wound far deeper than any he had treated. ”Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to convince those two officers to leave our names out of the official report.”

”You’re right. Even though the fame could be lucrative, we ought not to expose ours—”

”HOLY SH—[Adrenaline]!” With a sudden surge of speed, Jude tackled Jacques to the ground, rolling away just in time to narrowly avoid a column of fire. Now, in the place they once stood, fire reigned supreme.

”Oh, c’mon. Haven’t you two already wasted enough of my time?! Stay still and let’s end this quickly—[FireBlast]!” An annoyed Jericho bellow before throwing a gleaming ruby toward the two Class F. However, the attack was intercepted halfway, its thirty-six tongues of fire extending across a dark-gray surface.

”Immortal, what the fuck are you doing?! You could’ve killed them!” Agent Diflas, emerging from the smoke trailing off his overheated armor, shouted, only to be met with an eerie smile.

”What’s happening, Gatekeeper? The cliché!” Jacques smirked as he watched the ’Raging Phoenix’ unleashing his wings to take flight, now standing at the center of the temple—half of his body cloaked in flame, the other half draped in darkness.

”Death to all Reactionaries!”

***
Breaking News
***

Original Sin, Holly Siege’s Clique 
VS 
Infinitesimal Butterfly, 37th Wing

The Third Battle at the Imperfect Temple has started. 
***

WORLD'S END BLOG:

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