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A soft melody was carried by the breeze. From a dark alley, it spread through the destroyed lanes, reaching the main avenue. The scenery was horrifying: dried blood, darkness, and rot taking over the landscape. Explosions or war couldn’t create that whole effect on their own. That gloomy scene was the sum of destruction with another great evil — the evil of time.

Even so, the music kept playing from a music box. The heavy mission of giving life to the city rested on the back of one of the many toys sold at the market downtown.

It was as if it played in the hope of being held one last time. A cry for help to the hero the city of Locktural clamored for.

Heavy, wet footsteps came closer, following the music.

The rain never stopped. That acid rain came from the clouds, as dense as black wool. Day and night had ceased to exist, the only glow coming from the occasional red lightning bolts that fired down.

Even amid that morbid sight, that frightening atmosphere, the boots shielded by metal plates kept walking at a fast pace.

Until, abruptly, his feet planted themselves on the ground, his gaze going down. From the figure’s shoulder flew a small ball of red light. It was almost a firefly, only much bigger and fantastical.

It was a fairy!

Between the tears in the cape, the light found a few reflections. Inside those threads hid a suit of bronze-alloy armor.

"It's just a toy. Back to square one, then,” he complained, his heavy voice filtered by the helmet, which, for some reason, amplified and distorted its sound. “We need to find someone who knows what happened to the sword.”

A stomp. Just one was enough to break the little box and the dream stored inside it, its parts scattering through the mud, one last unanswered note spreading through the air.

“Hey! Why did you that? It was such a pretty toy,” the fairy complained. Her light was so strong that only in certain movements could you see her wings and feminine silhouette.

“That sound was getting on my nerves.”

“How can anyone get annoyed by such a beautiful sound?” the fairy sighed, sadly resting on one of the pieces of the music box.

“Focus, Atlas, we’re on a mission. Show me the map again,” said the hooded knight, smoke coming out of his helm as he spoke.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Okay… Please, Atlas. And in interactive mode, this time,” the deep voice asked again, tired.

“OWW, I CAN’T STAY MAD AT YOU!"

Acting like a projector, Atlas showed her master a hologram of the whole city, an interactive map of the city of Locktural. The gauntlets began to move quickly over the screen, analyzing their route so far, zooming in and out, looking at their points of interest.

The rust in the folds of the gauntlet didn’t seem to keep up with the movements of the fingers, screeching at every slight tilt of a finger.

“What a horrible sound! Dreadful!” Atlas grumbled.

“How can anyone get annoyed by such a beautiful sound?” the warrior said mockingly.

“Hmph!” Atlas turned the other way, the projection showing noticeable flickers.

“Come on, Atlas. The longer you stall, the longer we stay here—”

FLASH!

Suddenly, the knight threw the fairy inside his cape. Before she could notice, her master had already raised his right hand, absorbing the full impact of the red bolt that fell from the sky among the acid drops.

“M-master! I-I’m sorry. I-I’ll…”

“Yes, heal me... but get back inside the cape quickly. These bolts must be drawn to light,” the master suggested.

Atlas did a few spins around the knight, a characteristic sound of bells accompanying her holy healing spell. In seconds, a feeling of renewal took over the knight’s body.

“Great, Atlas. You’re lucky I’ve got a sixth sense for magic attacks. But, you also deserve my thanks, so… thanks, I guess,” the knight said, a bit shy.

“M-Master, I-I'll never forget what you did!" the fairy whimpered, hugging the master's armored chest.

The knight no longer even noticed his companion’s existence. Carefully, he checked whether the bolt had done anything to his armor.

“Hmm… Good thing, looks like the bolt only screwed up the gauntlet…” relieved, he threw his right metal gauntlet on the ground. With a snap of his fingers, another one, made of leather, magically appeared on his hand.

“M-master, I’m soooo sorry…”

“Don’t worry, stop being a crybaby. We have a lot to do,” he answered, taking a long leap onto a nearby rooftop, traveling far too fast for his size.

A bluish glow came from inside the armor, giving his legs the strength to lift those 650 pounds of metal and body mass in jumps 10 to 15 feet high. Atlas, clinging to the threads of the cape, seemed to be almost on a roller coaster.

The man only stopped when he reached the top of one of the small military watchtowers still standing.

“Where the hell is that crappy sword?” the knight complained, looking at the misfortune in the shape of a landscape in front of him.

“Hey, the 'crappy sword' is an magical work of art!”

Opening Compass — that was the legendary sword they were searching for. Golden and shining, it was the one that popularized the culture of swords in the stones. So many were driven and glued into the ground across the world and the underworld, waiting for some chosen one. That concept was waaay overdone by now. But this one had been the first!

Legends said it had been there before the city. Before the world. Placed by God as the key to Paradise. It had been thousands of years, and no one had managed to move it a single millimeter. 

Until now. Just our luck.

Where it had supposedly stood, there was now an enormous black crater. The knight looked down from up there, trying to see if a different angle could inspire his mind to some new idea.

“What are the odds someone got here first?” the knight asked, leaning over the parapet, projecting almost his entire body outward.

“None. The sword wouldn’t just have to be stolen, but also taken out of the city, which, let’s agree, isn’t one of the easiest jobs.”

“And yet, here we are without the sword. There must be something I’m forgetting... The clouds were only supposed to soften the sword, not destroy it,” the knight pondered. “Atlas, analyze the patterns of the area spell we’re in.”

“Entering analysis mode…” the fairy’s light blinked until it turned an analytical yellow.

Those clouds are one of the gears of a much bigger curse.

“Dark Territory  — a regional-scale curse, extremely high tier. Made by a group of more than 100 people highly qualified in magic, together with every kind of magic machine, sacrifices and the whole shebang. Oh, and hatred. A lot of hatred is needed for a curse like this. Its effects are multiple: the black clouds cover the sun, bolts bombard the city, plagues and diseases are spread by the rains, and the curse attracts all kinds of monsters to the vicinity. Essentially, a genocidal spell.”

“Come on, I said analysis mode. Not context mode. Like, seeing if the bolts have a pattern, hitting one area more…I don't know! Something like that!”

The fairy’s light went out for a few seconds.

“Well… now I’ve already used up my strength.”

There was no answer, only the gauntlet heading for the forehead and a disappointed silence.

“Okay. Let me think.... Everything’s dark, and if someone’s guarding it, they’ll want help.” He thought, until a snap came from his gauntlet, muffled by the leather. “I got it! The most basic spell of all. S.O.S.!”

He leapt to the roof of the structure, at the tip of the tower.

“S.O.S. Spell. Colloquial name. True name — Distress Call Spell. Low level. Its principle is to be a beacon, a light that goes up to the skies. Other magic users can also use the spell, connecting the light to their location, revealing the path to follow to reach them. Widely used by lost beginners."

“TURN OFF ANALYSIS MODE,” the hooded one shouted, letting slip, for the first time, the high pitch of his voice. 

Without incantations, the hooded one summoned 5 circles upward, each bigger than the last.

“Ehh? Why these shields?”

“I said turn off analysis mode, not your reasoning,” he answered… if that can even be called an answer. “I’m going to throw a giant light at the skies, what do you think the clouds will do?”

Atlas threw a few punches at the old tin can the knight called armor. He didn’t even notice.

Ready for the spell, balancing on one leg, the knight joined his hands in prayer:

"Lords of heaven, pray for me and pour your glorious light upon my path, guiding others of your servants toward me. May this be the beginning of yet another of your glorious salvations," he repeated that same incantation a few times.

Atlas knelt on his shoulder, repeating the words too:

“You know you’re not helping, right?” said the hooded one.

“Ohhh… it’s just that you’re saying it so many times, I thought it wasn’t working. Maybe lack of faith.”

“Nah, it’s just that I don’t have this spell practiced enough to do it silently. Let alone 10 times the strength.”

“Wait… 10 TIMES?”

Pointing his finger at the skies, runes circling his body, he simply released it, saying:

“S.O.S. TIMES 10! NOW!”

In a second, the duo was swallowed by a blinding light that rose to the skies. If you hadn’t been told it was an S.O.S., that silly spell used by lost adventurers, you might say the two were ascending to the heavens. 

“OW, MY EYES! TURN IT OFF!” Atlas exclaimed.

“Not yet, I need someone to connect to the spell,” he answered, the light still alone across the city. However, some clouds were already turning blacker, clustering into the beginnings of a hurricane. “COME ON, FIND IT ALREADY!” the voice wasn’t even deep anymore, it was a straight up kid’s scream.

And then, simply, another light was made.

A beam from afar connected to the tower of light. Weak, blinking, kind of limp and yellowish. It looked like an overcooked noodle. It came from the old church building, or what was left of it.

"Aha! We found it. At the church, of course! How stupid of us!"

Hugging and spinning, the two celebrated. A victory after a month fighting aberrations was really welcome.

There was just one little problem…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!