The Simulacrum

The whole Chamber shook, the blue glare of the Mana Well and Noir's flaring violet aura vying for dominance over the ambient light of the room, and they cast the Ninurta patriarch's face in a bizarre mixture of colours. The bandaged aristocrat turned to face the newcomer with a look of shock, and his spell lost coherence, the fireball in his palm sputtering and dying with a sad fizzle.

"Lord Herald! I have things under control here! You don't need to—"

"Silence!" Noir roared, and the whole Chamber shook again, this time from the sheer force of the Abyssal Lord's indignation. "Keep guarding the Mana Well! Your Emperor demands it!"

The Abyssal aristocrat's eyes opened wide like a cornered hare's, looking left and right with a mild yet visible sense of confusion written clearly on his face.

"Is Lord Bel of the Abyss here? Where?"

"Quit your babbling!" Noir's patience, never a plentiful resource to begin with, was wearing thin, and he made an irate gesture with his free arm, a sharp, cutting motion full of frustration. "When your Emperor demands that you jump, your only concern should be, 'How high?' and nothing else! Now, move your sorry hide to the Well, before I forget you're one of mine!"

It was clear to see that his newfound declaration of sovereignty had gone to the Inanna Lord's head already. His management of his subordinates was rather poor at the best of times, but now it devolved into an authoritarian tantrum, complete with vague yet menacing threats that would have made a true ruler shake their head in dismay. If Leonard S. Dunning were here, he would have certainly found the display disheartening to a degree, a sour note in an otherwise meticulously composed symphony. But then again, he was the one who gave this fledgling tyrant the baton in the first place, and now he had to suffer the dissonant music.

<I have bigger problems to deal with right now, thank you very much.>

"All right, but..." The Ninurta patriarch glanced around for the second time. "Where is the Lord of Nergal?"

His question found no answer, as Noir was already focusing on someone else.

"You! How much longer!?"

Amelia Rhearn, standing at the side of the Mana Well, didn't respond. She stood still, a solitary figure bathed in the ethereal luminescence of the Well, as if she were a statue carved from frozen starlight and forgotten dreams.

<Erm... What does that even...?>

The blue of her gown was not a single shade, but a liquid spectrum, shifting from the pale, almost-white of a winter dawn sky to the deep, impossible indigo of the abyssal trenches where light surrenders completely. The fabric moved with a will of its own, a silent cascade that clung to her form in some places, only to billow out in others like plumes of smoke trapped in water, its surface catching the Well's radiance and fracturing it into a million fleeting motes of sapphire and azure. Her curves were subtly emphasised by the subtle folds of the dress hugging—

<Skip. There's no need to describe all that.>

...

Amelia Rhearn remained motionless, but not the entity by her side. The avatar of the Grimoire of the Last Truth hovered within her arm's reach, a figure spun from pure golden light. Her essence was a faint, honeyed luminescence, her voluptuous body barely more substantial than a mirage shimmering over sun-baked asphalt. Her toga was woven from this same auric substance, a simple, flowing drape of liquid light that clung to one shoulder and fell in shimmering, translucent folds, its edges bleeding into the—

<Skip, skip, skip. Seriously, we absolutely don't have time to wax poetic about every detail like this!>

"Report: Connection with the Terminal of the Asphodelòs Sub-System was successfully established." Her voice was simultaneously melodic yet placid, something the Lord of Inanna and self-appointed Emperor cared little about. Under the pressure of his urging glare, she continued, "Authorization credentials are accepted. Reconfiguration of the Asphodelòs Sub-System and updates are in process, and—"

"Stop speaking in riddles and answer my question, spirit!" Noir growled, his impatience flaring. "How much longer until this Well can be bent to my will?"

It was clear he did not understand the intricate nature of the process, yet the avatar of the Grimoire patiently explained, "Warning: Establishing direct Reservoir connection with the Asphodelòs Sub-System Terminal before all protocol updates are complete is not advised. Suggestion: Please stand by until maintenance is finished. Estimated time of completion: sixteen minutes and thirty-four seconds."

"Hurry it up!"

"Response: The update process is already proceeding at maximum efficiency. Conclusion: It's done when it's done."

Noir fortunately didn't hear her flippant last remark, as his attention was drawn to the doorway where Joshua and his companions were about to pour in. He took a step towards the entrance, then he stopped, as if he remembered something, and turned back to the bandaged patriarch.

"Guard the girl and her spirit! Ensure that they are not interrupted, no matter the cost! The future of the Abyss hangs in the balance!"

The Head of the Ninurta family looked none too pleased by his domineering command, but he obeyed, moving to stand between the Well and the oncoming heroes.

The air in the cavernous chamber was thick, a soupy mix of charged mana and anticipation. The ambient light was a bizarre, swirling chiaroscuro, the deep, hypnotic pulse of the Mana Well at the centre casting long, dancing shadows that wrestled with the aggressive violet glare emanating from Noir.

<What the heck's a 'chiaroscuro'?>

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<What the...? Actually, no, never mind. Let's just move the scene along. Josh and the others burst into the scene. Go!>

While the Lord of Inanna was occupied with the Ninurta aristocrat and the avatar of the Grimoire, Joshua and the rest of the party had ample time to regroup and gather their wits. They burst through the damaged entrance in a hurried yet organised formation. Their entrance was not a chaotic scramble but a purposeful charge, and their first target wasn't Noir, or even the other patriarch, but the Abyssal girl still recovering from her rough landing.

"Lili! Are you all right?"

"Y-Yes, I think..." Neige muttered as soon as Joshua stopped next to her, shield raised. She did her best to stand tall, but while the Wards protected her from the brunt of the fireball's damage, they couldn't completely negate the impact. A throbbing ache radiated through her entire being, and the tips of her twin tails were left singed from the scorching heat. "Sorry... I couldn't reach Amelia..." she added, a tinge of guilt and regret clear in her voice.

"Don't worry about it," Penelope said, her eyes already locked onto the Ninurta patriarch. "Nobody expected him to be here."

"I should've..." Joshua noted with a sour grimace, but quickly shook the thought away. It was a mistake born of ignorance, not a failure of judgment. The Ninurta patriarch was here, and that meant the battle plan had to be adjusted on the fly. "Penny, Elly, we take point and keep Noir busy, like before. Angie, Lili, do you think you can take down the other guy and get to Ammy?"

"Who do you take me for, Boy?" Deus asked as she landed next to him, "Didn't I already send him flying once?" All of a sudden, the colour of her eyes shifted, and she continued with a considerably less boisterous, "But we ambushed him back then in Digirmah, didn't we?" Yet, Angeline's objection only earned her a soft scoff when she gave control to Deus once again, followed by a supremely confident, "It's all the same! He shall fall!"

"I... I will try," Neige's response wasn't anywhere near so confident. Her gaze peeked at Noir, but a shudder later, she forcefully shook her head and brought forth her leathery wings and took to the air. The temperature around her plunged as a baker's dozen of familiar, thin icicles appeared in a circle around her. "I'll take the lead!"

"That's the spirit, Companion!" Deus exclaimed with a daredevil grin and a hearty laugh that was soon cut short as Noir turned to face them, the purple maelstrom around him swirling with renewed vigour, eager for the clash to recommence.

Further words were unnecessary. Like a well-oiled machine, the group divided into two, each set in their task and ready to tackle their designated foes. Deus, her arrow of Celestial light already nocked and ready, took to the air with a powerful flap of her wings, her movements a fluid dance of grace and purpose. Neige, still nursing a dull ache, followed suit, her icy arsenal a stark, chilling counterpoint to Deus's fiery resolve.

Meanwhile, Eleanor took point on the ground, lunging at the Inanna patriarch with a feral roar that echoed the dragon within. Without prior notice, she turned off her Magiformer, and her Draconian form burst forth like a tempest, her body swelling with primal power, her crimson scales shimmering like a thousand tiny jewels under the strange, shifting light of the chamber.

Noir was momentarily caught off-guard by her swift advance, but he braced himself, his sword of dark energy humming with a hungry thirst for blood. He met her charge head-on, a clash of titanic forces that shook the very foundations of the chamber.

"A feint to draw my attention. A clever, if predictable, stratagem," the Abyssal Lord sneered, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he effortlessly parried her initial attack. Then he thrust forth, aiming at the girl's chest, and running her through in a single-

<What? No. Just no.>

Then he swung his blade, severing her neck with-

<Stop, stop! We aren't killing anyone here, let alone her! Where is this bollock coming from?>

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<Oh. This is going to hurt, isn't it?>

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<No, and kindly go to hell! Just because you're not being as stupidly blunt about it, it doesn't make it any better! Now, fuck off!>

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<Argh! Bastard, you just had to have the last bite, didn't you? Ugh. Where were we? Ah, right. Elly punches him in the face. Go.>

Before Noir could respond, Eleanor's fist connected with the Abyssal Lord's jaw, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

"You... insolent whelp! You will pay for that!" he roared, and the purple flames around him flared with renewed vigour, a swirling vortex of malevolence that made the very air crackle with latent power.

Yet, despite her advantage, Elanor failed to press her attack and stood still, eyes open wide. If not for Joshua's intervention, it could've led to Noir capitalising on her hesitation. He rushed in, shield raised, and forced the Abyssal Lord to take a step back, a quick series of strikes keeping him off balance and preventing him from launching a counter-attack.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Penelope asked as she came to a halt next to her, her sword at the ready.

"I... I think I just..." She reached for her neck in a daze, but quickly shook off the torpor and forced a grimace. "I'm fine! Let's go!"

A glint of light reflected off the ring on the hand touching her neck. It was the gift Leonard S. Dunning gave her, a token of his sincere affections; an inconspicuous yet mighty artifact that anchored her inside the deepest layers of the Simulacrum. It had already proven that it could delay or even partially resist the effects of retroactive continuity, so it should not have been a surprise that she could grasp a glimpse of a future present that never was.

It was fortunate that her strength of will was paired with a flexible mind endlessly tolerant of the strange and inexplicable, relentlessly acclimated to the impossible by her fiancé's daily exploits. Nevertheless, not having to face the shadow of death in such a situation would have been definitely a more preferable outcome.

<What? How was I supposed to—? I mean, yeah, I remember the ring, but it wasn't like I put her in that situation! I got her out of it! Give me a break!>

The three melee combatants threw themselves at Noir with renewed vigour. Joshua led the charge, a storm of righteous fury, his shield held high. Penelope followed, her zweihander a gleaming arc of silver, poised to strike. Finally, Eleanor, her Draconian form growing even more pronounced by the second, her horns growing larger and more defined and her fingertips elongating into vicious talons that could tear through steel as if it were paper.

The Mana Well's cold light cast long, dancing shadows, a silent witness to the storm about to break. The Abyssal Lord stood as a lone peak against which the tide of heroes was about to crash. His aura, that violet torrent of abyssal might, was no mere shield; it was a domain, a declaration of intent that twisted the very air of the chamber to his will. The air grew heavy, each breath tasting of ambition and decay.

Penelope was the first to move. She did not run; she flowed. Her steps were rooted, yet swift, a perfect expression of the Firmament-Flowing Step. Her zweihander, the Moon-Tide Ender, was no longer mere steel but an extension of her own domain, a river of silver intent. Her technique was not one of brute force, but of overwhelming presence.

<Wait. This feels different. Did we just switch styles? And what the heck is a 'Moon-Tide Ender, anyway?!>

She was closely followed by Joshua, his technique less refined, a combination of self-taught swordsmanship and the shield techniques the Celestial Praetorian Guard had managed to impart upon him. His form was the Adamant-Stance, a bulwark of unyielding resolve, and his movements were as solid as the mountains. There were no wasted motions, no flourishes. Only efficient stabs and slashes from behind the bulwark of his shield. Rounding off the trio was Eleanor, her Draconian form now fully realised, a tempest of movement, primal power augmented by martial arts learned since childhood.

A mountain of righteous fury, a tide of moonlit steel, and a tempest of draconic might clashed against the amethyst rage of the Abyssal Lord's ambition. His shadow blade was a willow in the wind, and his face set in a sneer of dominance that could shake the heaveans.

<Okay, now I'm one hundred percent sure we switched styles somewhere along the way. Was this his doing too, or—?>

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<Gaaah! Mother of a goddamn...! Get lost, along with your cheap shots, you bloody tooth-monger!">

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While the vanguard of light and shadow engaged in their earth-shattering duel, a secondary, yet no less critical, battle erupted upon the other side of the chamber. Here, the combatants waged their war not with the ringing of steel, but with the primordial fury of the elements themselves.

The Ninurta Patriarch, a mountain of bandaged flesh and simmering resentment, stood sentinel before the Mana Well. His mana was a seething furnace of yang essence, a wildfire yearning to consume. His very presence warped the air, creating shimmering heat-hazes that made him appear as a distorted, vengeful spirit haunting a sacred grove.

<Dammit, it's getting worse...>

Deus met his fire with fire. She hung suspended in the air, a Celestial sovereign gazing down upon a mortal affront. Her four pairs of blazing Ophanim wings did not flap but shimmered, each feather a mote of condensed sunlight. The bow in her sang with a confluence of fire and starlight, the Astral Judgement Bow. When she drew the string and aimed down, it was like a god drawing a line to cleave the heavens from the earth. Her arrows were not mere projectiles; they were divine edicts given form, comets of solar righteousness that burned with the unbearable light of a collapsing star.

<Okay, now I'm sure. We must have broken… something. I have to fix this, somehow...>

On the side, Neige was a study in yin's cold, silent grace. She was no longer a mere Abyssal scion; she was an Ice Jade Ascendant, a maiden of the frozen peaks whose very breath could crystallise the air. Her magic flowed from her as ink dropped into water, dark and beautiful, weaving patterns of frost that merged with the icy spears surrounding her, reinforcing them, making them more potent and deadly.

Their clash was a symphony of ice and fire, a tale as old as the dawning of the world.

"Insolent Celestial!" The Ninurta Patriarch roared, his voice a grinding of rock and magma. "You dare challenge the might of a Lord of the Abyss?!"

"You're no lord, you pathetic tergivestator, you're nothing but a fool chasing the coattails of Bel of the Abyss! Now that he's dead, you're nothing but a dog with no master!"

"... Wait. What do you mean the Emperor is—?"

Before he could finish, Deus let loose an arrow of pure Celestial fire, and for a brief moment, its light overwhelmed even the Mana Well.

The Patriarch raised a barrier of seething crimson energy, and the arrow slammed into it, cracking its surface with a shower of sparks and steam. He grunted under the strain, but the barrier held, the heat of the projectile and the barrier melding together, creating a shimmering, distorted shield that rippled like a lake in a storm.

At the same time, Neige made her move. She didn't charge, but instead, she gracefully danced through the air, her movements a silent, flowing river of ice and intent. Her icicles, now gleaming with an inner light, shot forward, not in a straight line, but in a complex, spiralling pattern that seemed to defy the very laws of physics. They were like a swarm of giant silver needles, each one a miniature, focused shard of absolute zero, seeking to find a weakness in the Patriarch's defences.

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<Ow! Shit, he's getting more coherent. And more painful. That means he's onto me.>

The true awesome fire of Deus clashed with the dark crimson of the Patriarch's barrier, a titanic struggle of opposing forces that sent shockwaves through the chamber and-

<How about... we just skip all this? Yeah. Let's just skip ahead about ten minutes. They fought a lot, there were lots of big explosions and cool techniques on display and all that jazz, and then some actual development happened. Ready, set, action!>

...

Joshua, Eleanor, and Penny worked together to execute an ingenious plan that required exquisite teamwork, and what a plan it was! A cascade of flawless, interconnected actions, a piece of tactical clockwork so exquisitely machined it would have brought a tear to the eye of any master strategist. A tapestry woven from threads of pure, unadulterated audacity, where every feint, every parry, every near-miss was not a frantic act of desperation but a deliberate, premeditated brushstroke on the canvas of victory! It would have been the shame of a lifetime to miss such a masterful display of martial might and tactical acumen, its peerless awesomeness beyond compare, so it was fortunate that everyone paid close attention and observed every second of it.

<Yes, I get it. Very funny. Can we move on, please?>

...

Noir reeled back from the trio's expertly coordinated attack, and he let out a vicious growl. His aura flared more violently than ever, pushing them back, but just like how Deus was limited in her destructive capabilities by the enclosure of the Mana Well Chamber and unable to call upon her most powerful spells, Noir could also not risk the destruction of the room.

"How much longer?!" he roared over his shoulder, the question aimed and the holographic woman still floating by the blue cube.

"Response: Finalizing connection. Aetheric link stabilization in progress," she responded, her tone a flat monotone, completely unfazed by the chaos that was consuming the room. "Estimated completion: three minutes and fourteen seconds."

The Abyssal Lord exhaled a guttural growl and yelled, "I tire of this! Give me the Mana Well, now!"

"Warning: Establishing a connection between the Terminal and Reservoir Onoképhalos before all updates are complete is not—"

"Silence! I command you!"

A strange, golden light enveloped Amelia, and the Grimoire avatar's form flickered for a moment. She turned to face, and after a long beat, she replied, "Acknowledged. Asphodelòs Sub-System connection established. Bypassing safety protocols. Finalizing control transfer to Reservoir Onoképhalos."

"Yes! YES!"

In just a moment, the violet aura surrounding Noir surged beyond control, a maelstrom of pure, unadulterated power. The light of the Mana Well, which had until now been a calm, rhythmic pulse, flared with a blinding intensity.

"Oh, crap!" Josh yelped and set his feet, his shield raised and its surface glowing bright, though it was barely seen in the blinding glare. "Brace yourselves!"

The vortex of Abyssal power swirled around Noir, and he was at its epicentre. The outlines of his body twisted under the sheer force of the energy flowing through him. His laughter, once a booming, arrogant cackle, now had a new, more terrifying resonance, and a wave of energy exploded outwards in all directions.

It was a strange sight. One moment, they were deep under Castle Shamash, and yet once the light subsided, they were all outside, the light of the morning sun gently illuminating their surroundings and strong winds rushing from all directions. The ground beneath their feet was a featureless grey, and as Joshua glanced around, he was startled to see that the chamber was gone, along with over half of the castle.

"W-What happened?" Neige called out from above, looking shocked beyond belief. "Is everyone all right?"

"I'm fine!" Deus exclaimed from another direction, followed by Penelope.

"The same here!" she added, though her voice was strained from the effort.

"Where's the castle?" Eleanor asked in disbelief.

They were all standing inside a circular crater with only the Mana Well and its pedestal remaining of the original chamber. Everything over their head; the castle walls, the courtyard, the towers... all of them were gone, as if erased from existence by a sloppy hand. Yet, nobody was hurt. Everyone remained completely unharmed and standing on their own two feet.

The lull didn't last for long.

"Hahaha!" While his aura was nowhere near as blinding as it was inside the enclosed space of the Mana Well Chamber, Noir's body was still exuding a maelstrom of violet energy that warped the air around him, and the sight of the desolation he had wrought filled him with an endless glee. "Now THIS! This is the power I was promised! This is the destiny owed to me!"

"What... What have you done?!" the Ninurta patriarch yelled in mild panic, likely the most shocked of them all by the sudden turn of events.

The Lord of Inanna paid no attention to him, yet the avatar of the Grimoire was more than happy to answer him. "Explanation: Instability in the Asphodelòs Sub-System caused localized erosion of the sub-space matrix. Entities and objects over zero-point-seventy-five Pneuma limit were unaffected."

Her words weren't understood by the nobleman, but their meaning was clear: Noir destabilised the very fabric of the Abyss, outright erasing everything his explosion of unstable light touched upon, including the very air around them, only leaving people and items possessing at least trace amounts of mana in them. The rest was simply unmade.

He didn't seem to mind or care at all, and continued to cackle with maniacal glee as he gorged on the power of the Abyss's Mana Well Network, its nigh-inexhaustible font surging through him. It, naturally, didn't leave him unmarked; his Abyssal form grew even more demonic, the horns on his head growing longer and more curved, and his leathery wings expanding in size. The aura surrounding him intensified, a swirling vortex of energy that made the very ground tremble.

"Behold!" he roared, his voice a symphony of thunder and discordant whispers. "The Emperor... No, the GOD of the Abyss ascends in front of your very eyes! And my first divine decree..." He spread his wings wide and pointed at Joshua's group from high above. "Die!"

<Aaand that's the next phase of the boss battle. Just as expected. And the whole yin-yang wuxia thing also fixed itself, so as long as we hit the finish line before he comes back again, we're—>

«You ewsﾘｹｩ You are o nof I know you xﾛ縣mdeﾘｮev rht»

<...>

«You. Are rat. From before. Found you.»

<Crap.>