Vergil worried over where Luna might have gotten to. He'd asked around, stopping every soldier on his way to relay Tallah's instructions. No one had seen a spider that size, nor anything resembling it in that chaos. Part of him wished Sil would have made a tracking enchantment for Luna, so this could not have happened.

He had done as asked and was now prowling the courtyard to find whatever clusters of soldiers still remained isolated from the larger force. Tallah had given them a bell to gather at the gate, and he was determined to get as many people as possible ready to escape.

Part of him felt ashamed for wanting to leash Luna like some pet. The spider was nothing of the sort and he hated himself for even considering it.

Shame dispersed in a rush of adrenaline as he ducked the swing of a sword and drove his axe into some… thing's torso, cratering its chest and stomach. He kicked out and yanked the axe away, organ meat trailing the blade in a gruesome arc.

He spun, brought the sword up and beheaded the monster. He'd given up trying to understand the creatures he was killing. Beastman. Snake. Centipede. Worm. Demon or daemon, it mattered very little. It all fed the engine of destruction roaring in his chest as he cut a path of carnage across the Rock's inner courtyard.

Horvath's strength burned in his veins, howling for release. He'd never felt the old dwarf's fury manifested so viscerally, and for the time Vergil revelled in the killing. It took his mind away and kept his thoughts engaged on things that he could control.

Promise and Biter, sword and axe, were what he could most control. The simple axe had been made for him by Tummy and was the last of the original set. Promise was the weapon his courage had earned him from the soldiers of the Rock.

With them in hand, he could feel no fear.

And that was just as well because Horvath was revealing things to him. Once Aliana's curtain of false memories had fallen, there was a lot about himself that Vergil had to learn and absorb, and very little time to do it. No matter how much he gave himself to the fight, the memories still slithered through his thoughts and wormed their way into his focus, distracting him from the killing.

• Pay attention, sprig!

• Eyes up.

• Coming fer yer head!

Vergil threw himself into the mud, rolled away, and avoided being crushed by a troll throwing itself off one of the broken buildings. It was nowhere near as large as the one he'd fought in the city, but the black-haired creature was still muscular enough to crush him under its heel. It raised rock-like fists and brought them down into the mud, splashing it everywhere, missing him by palm widths at best.

He came up to his feet in a crouch and stared at the creature. It had him almost cornered between the hollowed out remains of the smithy, and what smelled like the latrine pits. Other beastmen had taken notice of them and were encroaching.

The troll roared and sprang after him, galloping on all four limbs, knuckles throwing up great splashes of blood-rich mud. Beady red eyes shone as under a heavy brow as the creature charged, heedless of anything else around it. Some slower beastmen ended up beneath its heavy tread, crushed to ruin.

"Fuck," Vergil cursed as he turned and ran. "You lot," he screamed at three men who were trying to flank the daemon. "Make for the gate. Wait for Tallah. I've got this."

He really did not have the troll in hand, but the men at least turned tail and did as ordered. Three more headed for the muster, calling for another group who were just emerging out of what remained of the armoury.

The troll had its interest squarely on Vergil.

A blow whistled through the air above his head. A heartbeat longer in dodging and it would've taken his head clear off. His brought his sword up in an arc and buried the edge into the soft flesh beneath the monster's elbow, biting deep, Horvath's full strength lending the blow cutting power. The troll roared and pulled its arm back. Vergil held on to the blade, dug in his heels, and twisted Promise in the wound.

He carved out a slab of thick muscle from the beast's forearm, the sword coming loose with a sickening wet squelch. The troll bellowed and cradled its now useless right arm, swinging with its left, its attack more cautious now.

Vergil leapt back, out of reach, and spun Promise to aim its bloodied tip at the troll. His gaze met the baleful red glare, and challenged it. The troll lunged.

Horvath's strength had never felt quite so good, so whole. It was as if every other time he'd been empowered had been siphoned off somehow, and now he understood that it had been just so. The dreg attached to him had used the power to contain the dwarf, keeping it from taking Vergil's reins. That way the dreg could retain a measure of control, even if its primary function had been gutted by the helmet in the first place.

Vergil was not supposed to have a will of his own.

That's why they'd grafted the dreg onto him. He was to be Tallah's minder, left with enough of his mind to pass muster when inspected, but not much else. His mission had been to entice, infiltrate, and then guide.

Except his original captors had not foreseen Horvath and the strange interaction the helmet had with their own designs. The moment Tallah had set the artefact on Vergil's head, every piece of their plan had gone awry. And then Aliana had done the rest, unknowingly rewriting memories that were already fake. The dreg in him had been weakened before it had even began its mission, and then had worked furiously to reestablish control. It had almost managed it.

Vergil grinned madly as Horvath pushed him down under the troll's swing. There was still enough strength to be squeezed out of the dreg to finish the fight and then reach Sil. Vergil dodged aside from the troll's next swing—and it felt as if the creature moved in slow motion—drew a deep breath, and launched himself straight at the monster. The blood coating Promise's black blade brought its rune to glittering life. All enchantments were active and he trusted in their quality.

Promise jerked in his hand as he thrust with it past the monster's arm, driving the point towards its chest. Vergil did not fight the sudden movement but allowed it to guide his hand, the enchantment designed to seek out an enemy's heart. It did just that. The sword's point plunged in the monster's right side, below the ribs, aimed upward.

A sudden pressure halted the sword's progress.

Then the point passed through the thick cords of muscle that were the troll's heavy beating heart, and almost emerged out through its back. Vergil twisted shook and twisted the blade in the wound and felt ribs crack and something give way. Thick, boiling- hot blood spurted past the cut and coated his hands up to the elbows. Blood soaked every bit of him already, so a bit more barely went noticed.

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• Shoddy wark, sprig.

• That smith taught ye better'n that, I ken.

• Ye're a right shame tae yer teachers!

"Fuck off, you old codger," Vergil groaned, pushing against the troll. It toppled over, arm still twitching, feebly trying to paw at him.

For good measure, he chopped the creature's head off. It took five strikes of the axe to part the thick cable-like muscles, and three more to get through the vertebrae. He wasn't going to take any risk with a beast like that.

There was, however, no time to rest and bask in the glory of victory. It wasn't so much a victory as a short stay on execution, and he was certain there were more people who needed help getting free.

Concussive booms filled the air and sent his ears ringing. The tunnel mouth exploded in flames, showing exactly where Tallah was. Even from all the way across the yard, he could feel the backwash of heat coming from her work.

She was stemming the tide, which meant they were getting ready to head on out. Time was running short, the night crowding in.

Vergil took stock, trying his hardest to ignore the onslaught of memories vying for his attention.

Ahead and to his left, there was the above-ground smithy, reduced to a burnt-out husk of a building. Its roof had caved in and several of the storerooms were sending thick plumes of smoke up into the already unbreathable air. The soldiers from earlier had likely salvaged what they could from there.

To his left, there was Tallah sending the blood tide back into the tunnel. He had never heard a more horrifying sound than the braying of monster's as Anna's tide dug in and began the cull.

Past that, the training grounds, a field of corpses of all shapes and sizes, picked over by beastmen too distracted by easy spoils.

Vergil stared up at the gaping wound in the Rock's wall. Small flying daemons were flitting through, as well as the unmistakable black shapes of beastmen crawling inside. There was nothing to do about those. More would be waiting outside. Better they came in while Tallah led the people out.

He'd never been inside the main keep properly. He'd carried some messages, delivered some quivers, but hadn't otherwise admired the ancient hall. Now smoke billowed out of the windows and men screamed inside. That was his next destination, already aware that time was slipping by. Tallah would soon call to open the gate, and he meant to grab everyone he could before that happened.

What had once been colourful tapestries on the walls of the keep now lay in tatters or burned upon their pegs. The main hall, at one point large and festive enough to host a royal court, was now a slaughterhouse. Corpses littered the floor: daemons with arrows sticking out of them, and humans with their throats or limbs ripped off. Vergil gagged at the sight, but he still advanced, one careful step at a time.

He remembered advancing like that into the goboid warren. The fake memory dissolved into screaming and darkness, black fingers gripping his head, digging through his brain, clawing out large parts of himself.

How he'd ever accepted the memory of waking in Valen was now beyond him—

Vergil shook his head and chased away the thoughts as he crossed the hall and headed for the twin stairways climbing to the upper floors. Those reminded him of Grefe, but here he would have welcomed seeing one of the giant spiders.

Instead, he ran into one of the feral daemons. It was busy throwing itself against a wooden door, blood smearing the grain. Vergil put it out of its misery with an axe to the back of the head.

"Anyone alive in there?" he called as he batted his fists against the door. "Open up. We need to evacuate." It hurt to speak, and to scream was agony. The smoke was thick and acrid, the ash coating everything.

Drenched in blood, mud, and now ash, Vergil felt like some monstrosity himself, all too aware of what a terrifying sight he must've been.

No one answered from the door. He briefly considered hacking his way through, but instead backtracked down the stairs and took the opposite set. Here, he met no resistance. The door to the next floor lay ajar, cracked open, and the sounds of battle met him as he took the stairs two at a time.

He burst out onto a small room and found a group of five soldiers holding off two of the serpentine daemons from earlier. Each of those had four arms, and each hand held a long, deadly scimitar. They hissed in threat as they slithered past three other dead soldiers, swords ready to cut into the defenders.

Vergil did not announce himself. He took two quick steps, leapt with axe raised high, and sunk the crescent blade into the first snake's head. Its skull shattered like an egg and thick, black brain matter splattered everywhere as the creature spasmed. He withdrew the axe and lashed at the second beast. It was quick, bringing two swords up to guard and two forward to impale him.

Horvath called it out well in advance and Vergil dodged away. He'd faced several of these in the yard and, while deadly fast, they weren't particularly strong physically, at least not enough to withstand a dwarf's strength. He lowered his head and rushed back in, swinging the axe. Two swords came up to block but he expected it.

The axe's heavy crescent blasted them aside and his sword dug into the creature's shoulder. Its vaguely female face made a shocked expression as the blade dug deep, cutting through bone and muscle alike, all the way to the monster's elongated stomach.

Vergil kicked it off his blade and brought the axe back around to sever its head.

Shockingly, though he took no wound, he found himself gasping for air, the strength from the helmet suddenly waning.

• Head ghost's about spent, sprig.

• I can boot it aroond, but it's no givin' us any mair power.

• Bloody shite corbi.

• Wrap it up an' find the healer.

• Nae mair time tae waste!

"Everyone," he barely managed to speak. "Get to the main gate. We are evacuating."

All five stared at him in shock. He recognized the squad, having delivered quivers to them on the wall several times. Their captain, a woman named Mikaela, was first to speak.

"But… t-the city—"

"Is gone." He bent forward, hands on knees, breathing hard. All the night's exhaustion was crashing back onto his shoulders. "Cinder sealed the main entrance. We need to run."

There were no more comments. Men grimly picked up their bows, what was left of their arrows, and headed for the stairs. Above, more fighting could be heard.

A surge of power straightened him back up.

• Booger holding out on meh.

• Hid it good.

• Not much left, sprig.

"The first moment we get," Vergil groaned as the soldiers passed by, "I'm going to have Tallah teach me how to meditate like her. I want to come in there and see that thing for myself."

The dwarf didn't say anything else, but Vergil got the distinct impression that his time was running out no matter what he did. He could either go up, risk the last of the dreg's illum, and maybe help a few more soldiers… or he could run to Sil.

He was aware, however, that the moment he stepped outside, he would not be returning this way.

With a heavy sigh, he rushed up the stairs. Two more levels opened up to him and he cut apart several beastmen and three more naga warriors. By the time he relayed his message to the last group holding out atop the keep, there was barely any more strength in the helmet to keep him walking.

"Where the fuck have you gotten to, Luna?" he asked nobody in particular, looking out across what remained of the yard. Above, the sky shone blood-red, and a terrible howl filled the night.

Below, smoke obstructed the devastation. Pockets of clear air drifted among the clouds of acrid stench and showed nothing good. Tallah was crossing the yard, same as him, cutting through monsters as Anna's blood dolls kept the tunnel shut.

• Now, or never, sprig.

• Get!

Vergil looked across the Rock one last time, drew a breath, and let out the longest, most vile stream of curses he could think of. It took the edge off his anger and his annoyance with everything happening, everything he'd learned, and everything he'd rather have never remembered.

It was time to leave the Rock and face the monsters outside. He prayed, to no power in particular, that Luna would be safe and was only hiding from the daemons, waiting for the right moment to return.

Somehow, even he doubted reality was that simple. Even so, there was nothing else he could do. It would, somehow, have to be enough.

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