The battle had not gone nearly so well for everyone. Three of their number had died, two by spell and one by spear. They were among the weakest of the group, but with such thin margins, every loss counted. The lesser ranks had fared little better. Even with their officers slain and their formation in ruins, the Soldier fiends had exacted a heavy toll. At least thirty were dead and as many wounded, some severely. The healers were doing what they could, prioritizing severe wounds and the 13th section in advance of the next phase.

They all knew it wouldn't be as simple as defeating its forces in the field.

"-You can expect the dead, fiends, and revenants. A boil will always keep guards close to its rank in its inner chambers. This boil is rank III, so we should expect nothing less. At best, we'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Remember, you do not enter the inner chamber without me," Bergman said, carefully enunciating each syllable to be sure he was understood. As the most educated on the subject, Kali had pulled the boy from his seat to have him give a brief lecture on the subject while the last of the healing was underway. "T-The heart of the boil is the only place it can be killed, but it is also where it is s-strongest. The n-nature of their powers can v-vary, but psychic attacks are far and away the m-most common. At rank III, it can and will k-kill any Rank I who enters its chamber, w-without question. If I am not p-protecting your mind, that is."

"Auditory and visual hallucinations are common, even in the outer nest," Kali added, "With one this strong, they are likely to be vivid. But they can't harm you."

"Unless you do not listen to me," Bergman reiterated for emphasis.

"Tharen, you have the second. Bergman, Orphan, Dimov, and I will take the left branch. With luck, it should only take a few hours-"

"Sergeant. A word," Alarion said.

"By all means."

"Privately, Sergeant."

Given the urgency, Kali looked ready to refuse. Then he saw Alarion's serious expression and nodded. "Bergman, finish up and have them ready in five."

Kali stepped aside and started walking. To Alarion's relief, the Sergeant's punch seemed to have knocked the ideas of leadership out of Dimov's head, the equerry staying seated as the two moved a short distance away.

"Out with it."

"I have a way of finding the boil almost immediately."

Kali tilted his head at the words. "Your record mentioned you were uncannily good at that. Your former CO ascribed it to your luck."

"It is not," Alarion shook his head. "Once inside, I can guide us in, but it has to be me alone."

"Explain."

"It is a side effect of my Aptitude." Like a true Vitrian, Alarion stretched the truth to the point of breaking and well beyond the spirit of honesty. Technically, he'd met ZEKE as a side-effect of his Aptitude, but he doubted the big man would like that argument if he discovered the truth. "I can get us to the boil quickly and safely, but only if I am alone."

Kali sighed with the profound exhaustion of the sleep-deprived and the stressed, "If this is some mysticism nonsense..."

"It is not."

The Sergeant ran a hand over his bare scalp as he inquired, "How accurate are you?"

"Very. I should be able to find the path to the boil within minutes and keep us away from most ambushes. If I see enemies ahead that I cannot fight on my own, I can delay until you catch up."

"Is this a skill?"

"It is... related to my classes, yes," Alarion answered.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much to lie. Alarion had no love for Vitrians, but certain lessons that Elena and Sierra had imparted had stuck despite what had happened. He was precise in his speech, and he did his best not to lie, even if he was not always successful. Lying to Kali especially felt wrong. He trusted the man. The problem was that ZEKE didn't.

While ZEKE had quickly warmed to Ivor, perhaps because he had been left with only Alarion to speak to for years, he was more tepid when it came to the Sergeant. Kali was too much of a 'company man' for ZEKE to feel comfortable revealing their secret. With ZEKE unwilling and Alarion unable to force the issue, they'd reached a risky compromise, one that could save lives at the cost of their own.

"You aren't giving me a lot to work with," Kali said after a few moments of contemplation.

"I know."

The big man drew a deep breath through his nose, then started back toward the waiting soldiers.

"Listen up! We have a change of plans. Specialist Orphan has a skill that may let us navigate to the boil more quickly. He will take the lead, and we will follow shortly thereafter. If he says left, you go left. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" the assembled soldiers sounded off in a disjointed, exhausted chorus. Suspicious looks were cast Alarion's way, but even those who distrusted him based on his background would not argue the point. No one else wanted to take the lead.

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No one other than Bergman, that was.

"I c-can accompany him!" the young specialist blurted out.

"I appreciate the camaraderie," Kali said, "but his power only works when he is alone."

"B-but-" Bergman grew silent as he caught the slow shake of Alarion's head. "Oh. A-alone. I understand."

Kali narrowed his eyes at the exchange but did not remark as they made for the steep depression at the center of the ruined hills. There had been fears that the sustained bombardment might have collapsed or hidden the entrance, protecting the boil on their arrival, but those fears had been unfounded. The main entrance was wide enough for ten men abreast, large enough to hide the army that the Bones of Ashad had been concealing from the world. This they'd hidden through violence, killing anyone who came anywhere close to it.

"Orphan," Kali said as Alarion took his first steps toward the fiendish warren.

"Mm?" Alarion glanced back.

Kali stared at him for a moment, clearly searching for something to say. When he found nothing inspirational, he settled on "Keep your damn simu on."

"Yes, sir." Somehow, the threat of Kali fuming at his back over the simple taunt made the idea of a hole full of monsters slightly less threatening.

Alarion moved forward at a brisk pace, dispensing with stealth entirely. They knew he was here. He could feel it the moment he crossed the threshold.

You hear his words; they fester inside, Twisting and turning, nowhere to hide. A copy, a copy, then copied again, Empty takes root in the hollows of men.

The voice in his mind was unpleasant, but expected. Boils had spoken to him before, usually moments before he or a member of his party ended their foul existence. Those had been whispers, the last gasps of terrible knowledge so faint that they went ignored on more than mere principle. This was loud, a full-grown man speaking unpleasant truths into his ears. It wasn't scared, nor was it bragging as Lini had been. It was telling him things. Things that everyone needed to know. Truths that underpinned their reality.

Alarion forced a breath, forcing the sensation away with a directed use of [Kel-Taran Meditation]. Instantly, he felt better, the existential horror of the moment passing as he evicted the harmful mental influence. His faculties returned, and a notification flashed in his vision.

Kill It

Description: Kill it. Kill it now!

Success Conditions: Destroy the foul thing at the centre of this ruined place.

Failure Conditions: Fail to meet success conditions within one day.

Reward: One Rare Quest Box.

Penalty: Majorly reduced XP gains for 72 hours.

As far as quests went, it was incredibly straightforward. Oddly, though, despite appearing unprompted, Alarion had the option to reject this quest. Usually, the System would have forced the quest upon him if his flaw, [Single-Minded], had prompted it.

Had he requested it during his moment of dissociation? The idea was unsettling.

Regardless, the quest was exactly what he'd intended to ask for, and he quickly accepted it. He wasn't leaving this place while that thing was still 'alive'.

"Orphan to Kali," he said.

"Go ahead."

"The mental influence is powerful. You may wish to hold some of the Rank I's, I do not know if they will be of much use."

Kali's curse came through the line, followed by a sigh of resignation. "I will send in a volunteer to test. Anything else?"

"Proceeding. The miasma is strong as well," Alarion double-checked his Status and watched as the bottom digit of his HP total flickered. "I am especially vulnerable to it with my flaw. Right now, my HP regeneration is more than making up the difference, but I will update as I go deeper."

"Understood."

Alarion tapped his simu to silence it, then looked at his wrist.

"Where am I going?"

"Still mapping. This complex is immense. You will want to start with the right, though. The paths reconnect further up ahead, but there is an ambush waiting on the left," ZEKE told him. Then he said, "I'm hearing whispers."

"In there?" Alarion asked in alarm. "Are you alright?"

"For now. I am trying to alter some of my exterior buffers to compensate, but so far, I have not had success. I will tell you if it becomes more severe," ZEKE's voice held a distressing amount of uncertainty. "Did you set your Dedication as I instructed?"

That had been an argument all its own, one Alarion had lost. "All of my MAX skills are blocked off, with Orphan as my focus."

"Good. You do not get many opportunities. It would be a shame to waste this."

They traveled into the earth in relative silence. Every minute or two, ZEKE would chime in with directions or a warning, and Alarion would relay the same back up the chain to Kali. Twice, they had to group up to push their way through a garrison of fiends blocking the path forward, but even those battles were an obstacle to be overcome rather than a threat of any real significance. It appeared the Bones of Ashad had wagered heavily that their army of fiends would be enough to keep the Auxilia at bay if they found this place, which made sense. But for Bergman's skills and a few lucky deductions, they probably would not have found the boil until it was far too late to matter.

Their path took them in circles. Not the aimless wandering of those lost in a labyrinth but the slow and steady descent of an ever-shrinking spiral. They would find the boil at the bottom, ZEKE was certain, but with at least half an hour of spiral ahead of them and at least a mile of stone beneath them, the machine was struggling for confirmation.

Worse yet, the voices had only intensified over time.

True to prediction, none of the rank I soldiers could cope with the psychic noise that flooded this place. One had run out screaming, the next had collapsed entirely. Even Dimov had to be slapped back to sanity. Alarion's second missed opportunity to strike an officer in as many days.

Life was truly unfair.

It dreamt, and it woke. It studied itself; it peered into the infinite of its own existence. It dreamt, and it woke—this time with a revelation.

For an hour, the thing had spoken to him of things impossible and wondrous. Yet none of it stuck. Alarion recalled the words in the moment, and he could repeat them if asked. But as soon as he tried to put them into some broader context, to consider their meaning, or even put them to paper, they fled from his mind, soon to be replaced with new insight. And, like the miasma, it was worsening. Alarion's regeneration was struggling against the poison in the air, and it would not be long before the poison would outstrip his body's ability to regenerate. Then, he would be on a firm timer.

"Alarion," ZEKE said, interrupting his thoughts. "I think I see it."

"Finally," Alarion breathed a sigh of relief. "How far ahead?"

"It... wait, no, that isn't right. How can... Alarion! Move!"

ZEKE's warning and honed practice with Echo were the only things that kept Alarion alive. He didn't register the gunshot or see the flash until after he'd flickered his body a full 180 degrees. The change in orientation left him staring at his attacker as the bullet skipped off the wall behind him.

She was a petite woman, her brown hair streaked through with silver as it lay braided against her shoulder. She was down on one knee; her rifle braced against it as she cycled the bolt and took another shot that Alarion swiftly avoided.

And she wasn't alone.

"Who is your friend, Two-Thirty-Eight?" The thing that was once Higgins asked with a self-satisfied smirk as he stepped through the portal alongside the corpse of Velcor and their two remaining team members.

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