276. Signs of an Impending Corrupted

Jury always wondered who she was in the past. She knew her history was intertwined with Frost’s, Nav’s and the Archetypes. Optimism swirled in her heart during those nights spent with Frost as she imagined the past world where they must have held hands and exchanged passionate kisses.

But in the light of her precious fantasies, there was a darkness of equal proportions. Something always dwelled in the back of her mind. She recalled Frost’s assurance on that night they spent in the Guild just outside the Nex Megalopolis. That her past mattered little because the person who mattered the most was the person she currently was.

Jury agreed. But she was curious. Longing to figure out why she waited for so long inside the Black Forest. What happened in the last 14 years prior before she could finally sense the world.

And as the horrors of their past world came to light, she could not help but wonder what her role was amidst it all. Granted, all she knew was the fire that ruined a civilization.

Her curiosity drove her forward as she clutched at her heart, riding atop a tentacle-armored Snap towards the light that would grant her an answer.

Plague Hearts and Complex Hearts of the Crimson Hunger, Blood Festival, Sect of Gears, Maestros of Flesh, and the Librarians arose, each with their own distinct design. It was a shame that Jury and the others could not analyze them. The Blessed were incapable of fully understanding the Impuritas, aside from stats and the widespread names given to their particular groups.

Only those with the Blessing of the Amalgam could see what they truly were. However, this ability disappeared in Nav’s absence, leaving them to speculate what exactly the city was dealing with.

Giant heart origamis each wrapped with countless paper ribbons were undoubtedly the Librarians. Its outer shell was made of leather, appearing like the cover of an ancient book.

Each ribbon carried over a million symbols, and it coiled around the heart like a snake, its ends slithering into the city where it captured those unfortunate, marking their bodies with inscriptions.

Then, they were transformed into a flock of books, proliferating with others that failed to evacuate. They were like vultures, tearing apart intestines which became rolls of paper ribbons. It spread like a plague, infecting all as spears continued to rain from the skies, striking them with impeccable precision, wiping out the HP of the Hearts in a mere handful of strikes.

For Carpalis to have taken hundreds of hits proved that her HP pool was easily beyond a hundred million. Either that, or her DEF was absurdly high. Snap barreled through the pale hailstorm, steering clear of all attacks as the world forever trembled.

The buildings directly underneath the distant light were lifted towards it, as if having lost their mass. The closer they approached, the more they could see the silhouette of a giant object masked behind its emphatic glow.

“You’re seeing that too right? It looks like a moon’s stuck in there.” Cer was the first to break the silence, her tail wrapped around Jury to offer whatever comfort she could for the pained Angel.

“What? C’mon Sis. It looks like a dress to me.” Ber said, squinting harshly. “Res? See the same thing?”

“All I see is a teddy bear. A stuffed teddy bear.” Res slowly spoke, enthralled by the sight as Ignis’ tentacles gripped.

“Mama… Papa…” She uttered.

Jury on the otherhand could not tell what the object was. It shifted between a person and a round object, reminding her of a fruit or the sun. The vague outline of a person undoubtedly belonged to Frost. The metaphorical knife in her chest slightly relaxed as she came to a realization once they passed through a dense forest of pines.

“The Advent of Wishes… changes its appearance based on a person’s perceived desires. I can see Frost! I can… urgghh.”

“Jury!”

“Tch – Don’t go turning into a Corrupted on us!”

“Hold yourself! We can’t have you becoming like Frost!”

“Is the Advent still hurting you? W-what can we do about it?”

Cer, Ber, Res and Ignis respectively cried in response to her aguish. Jury brimmed with an assuring smile, happy that they were concerned. But in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing.

“Please don’t make it sound like I’m going to die. It’s just… like something’s trying to barge into me. A voice is calling for me, and I can’t tell who it belongs to.” She revealed as Ber then said:

“Nav’s mumbling all kinds of things as well. Feels like it’s speaking to someone in its head! It’s not happening to me. Maybe it’s because you’re an Angel!?”

The little Frost popped from under Jury’s bosom and shook her head, and then nodded as a ‘50/50’ fraction appeared above her tiny head. She conveyed that it was only a part of the truth, and she pointed at the light ahead.

And as all eyes fell upon the light, the little Frost surprised Jury as she then placed a hand onto her chest.

“… me and the light? One half?”

The little Frost could not properly answer as she shook her head again. She seemed to know something about it. Rather, it was as if she was connected to it in some way or form. The Archetype of Desire, the Star Child, already existed. If they didn’t know any better, then they’d believe the little Frost was indeed the Star Child.

“Brr. Bzzzt! BZZZZZT! *snap* *snap* Brrr!”

“Slow down! ‘One part of the equation?’ Do you also know something, Snap!?” Jury explained, and Snap only played the mechanical turns of an old camera.

Snap admitted that it didn’t know. It could only feel these things. Snap’s existence was always strange. It was the only one of them that refused to have its skills and abilities unveiled by Nav.

Whatever happened here would forever change them all. This was what Jury’s pained heart told her as more of the dungeons grew, and the amalgamative mass directly beneath the Advent rose like a seedling sprouting to reach the light.

It was an abhorrent fusion of all 5 of the Impuritas groups they had personally dealt with, clumping together to form a rotting hand, a parody of the one Carpalis possessed which did not reach for the light. Rather, it was used to help those in need at her own cost.

* * *

The Advent of Desire hovered over the border of C4 and C5.

Streaks of lights flew overhead, striking random places along the city, all the while more of the black pillars arose. The Seeds were everywhere, giving birth to monsters amongst the population, all the while those with granted wishes were either slain for being presumed Corrupted, or apprehended out of fear.

They were roughly halfway into C4 now, and the effects had become so strong that Jury found it difficult to speak. Nav had become silent as the woes of the City of Clubs rang all around them.

Elsewhere, the Ateliers fought head on with the emerging Dungeons and the undercover Scarlet Logic Gambit Teams. The wails of children could be heard in the thick of the conflict. Rivers of red ran through the streets. The chaos created by Scarlet Logic’s Gambit Teams alone was enough to cause the Ateliers to wonder who was truly on their side.

The Gambit Teams took the clothes, armor, badges, names, and weapons of those they slain, blending in with their ranks where they backstabbed foes, and were backstabbed by friends alike. In some places, units operated on what Frost would describe as a ‘scorched Earth’ policy, meaning no chances were taken. Everyone and everything were an enemy.

Healers unfortunate enough to be caught in the fray were severely beaten, some killed, and others snatched by the Impuritas. The weakest healers, who were incapable of adequately showing their powers without their Serums were believed to be the false healers, whilst false healers were brought into groups only to have them poison their unsuspecting victims.

There were less than a thousand healers in existence. 700 were recorded to be within the direct protection of Inflow Direct. The fate of the other 300 was entirely unknown. The statistics came internally from Inflow Direct’s Ascleptein, which kept track of the state of all healers under their protection.

Within its chambers a man with short pale hair and a monocle could be seen prostrating before an altar made in the shape of the Nexus. Behind him were several Perched, who watched all 1,000 vials hung above the alter change color, bubble, with few shattering to signify the death of a healer.

With each death the man would mourn the individual and write down a eulogy for the individual, meant to be sent to their loved ones. A separate page was kept aside, each stamped with the symbol of a chain, and a list of names written beneath.

“May they find each and every one of you and bestow upon you your rightful judgement.” The healer calmly spoke, concealing their wrath underneath a friendly façade.

His face was the kind that seemed incapable of speaking in such a spiteful manner. From this alone it was clear that he was no ordinary healer.

Suddenly, the doors to the brightly lit chamber, where feathers and papers were stacked high like the marble pillars that held this mesmerizing place. As cracks of the outside light bled into their world, the man paused briefly, smiling gently before he resumed stamping his papers in tune with the echoed footsteps.

“Are you here to deliver these papers, White Wing?” He politely asked.

“Temporary observation. Of you. Until she arrives precisely where I want her.” The White Wing spoke with edge, as she walked between the kneeling healers, gently brushing her tail against them fondly.

“How unkind of you to assume that I’d put my hand forth to touch it. We may be of the same make, but do not mistake me for being like you. Demons these days are more couth than your kind.” He spoke gently.

“Same? Hardly. I’d rather not expose our new age Angels to a sight we’re both familiar with. So you should watch. Your. Tongue.” The White Wing threatened, grinning through clenched teeth which were like the edges of a sawblade.

“What brings you here on this abhorrent day? It’s not often that an Angel shows their face before mine.”

“I’m here to check up on you. The last time we let another white-haired man unchecked resulted in misfortune. Or fortune, depending on how you see it. Does my presence intimidate you?” She said, looming behind the man as her tails slithered around his body, ‘licking’ his face.

“It does. I’m spited universally since that Star fell. Suspected of being the next traitor, even though there is only love in my heart… oh? A Script?”

“A message.” The White Wing handed over a vibrant blue scroll, made from string unlike regular Scripts. It radiated an aura of divinity, made only from the finest, most indestructible string.

“From sister? This string is certainly from her… she wants names?”

“Locations as well. In preparation for the aftermath and the cleanup. You know how GEN… The Advent of Purpose works. I tend to mistake you for a Faux Angel. But you aren’t that different from them either. Your mother’s an affront to all that we are. But – I envy her.”

“… I shall take that as a complement. CogitO’s going to need this, I presume?”

“Everyone will. It would be wise to begin now. We want to leave a good impression on a certain Archetype. Although do spare the details if you are ever asked~” She hummed, greedily mopping the fluids of the deceased healers with her tails. “I wonder if it will be enough Nex to power the Advent of Desire.”

“Is that your main concern? Rather than the people perishing at this very moment?”

“My main concern is fulfilling my wants, not my needs. I too have a wish on my mind. As we all do.” She cupped the man’s face from behind, wiping her gloves only slightly afterwards.

She did not change them.

“A Faux Angel will be arriving soon. Will you deal with it?”

“We will.”

“We?”

The White Wing took her sudden leave, fulfilling the one duty she had, feeling the Perched again on passing. With a maniacal chuckle, she uttered as the stone doors creaked shut.

“I have a friend whose expertise lays in skewering. But you should be more wary of the fire. And can you feel it? A Corrupted is about to be born. None of this world’s watered-down ones. But ones of the old and the present imperative to what they call an ‘Awakening’.”

The doors sealed shut, and the man immediately resumed his work with haste. He then froze moments into it, and the stamp trembled in his hand, forming cracks along its brittle shell.

The page was another written eulogy of a deceased healer.

“… so it would seem. I can’t sense what you can. But I can tell that changes are beginning to occur within the Nexus. It feels like it’s… awakening.”