n his cigar and producing a pack of cards. Evilhood of Blackjack! The hours seemed to fly by in his company, and I found myself pleasantly surprised by his outgoing, purposefully overconfident personality. He showed both me and Arianna how to play within the shadowy confines of an alleyway as we awaited some sign of activity near the warehouse. If no one appeared, we agreed to investigate the place anyway, so time was of little importance. Out of the three, I was by far the worst, but Gavin was a seasoned professional, and Arianna, while not quite as skilled, must have played a few games in the past herself. As fate would have it, just as I was almost certain to win a game, a group of figures dressed in black suits and shades emerged from multiple roads all at once, as if purposefully timed. They walked almost in unison, stiff and jerky, meeting in the front of the warehouse in a big circle. It amazed me that they'd even show up during a lockdown like this. I felt a nagging suspicion they wanted to be observed. Uh, what do we do now? I whispered, as Gavin picked up the cards and arranged them into a neat deck. We wait, then follow, the commander said. You gotta have patience. Patience is the key. And we indeed waited as they spoke for what seemed like a half hour. At long last, the group somehow managed to break open the locked door and entered the building single file. As soon as they had done this, Gavin motioned for us to move, and we advanced towards where the strangers were standing. They had closed the door. That much was for certain. Even though it looked old and worn, what struck me as odd was that there was no lock on the front. It must have been locked from the inside. Now be quiet. Once inside, I'll be off doing my own thing. You two find out what they're up to, said Gavin. Got it, Arianna answered, with obedience that seemed foreign to somebody like her. Gavin approached the door and placed his palm to it, uttering a few short words in the Cambrian language. Perhaps the most strange and fascinating thing about what occurred next was how noiseless it was as the hinge shook and gave way, causing the door to lazily swing open to reveal a dark interior. Gavin then removed something strapped to his back, what looked to be a modified Thompson machine gun, complete with drum and all. There was a reason these weapons were less commonly used in the mire. A reason I will explain in a moment, but these kinds of guns were typically used by mercenaries with a low budget. A modified human weapon, however, could perhaps prove more effective than a musket or flintlock. To Gavin's credit, he had officially nailed that authentic gangster look. Good luck, you two. With that, he touched the top of his hat and vanished right before us. It was like nothing was there at all, in fact, but upon listening closely I could still hear his dress shoes hitting the ground and disappearing farther within the building. Arianna looked to me sternly. I've heard you're stronger than the average guardsman, maybe even a little smarter. Prove it. You better get a new informant because that's a lot of crap. Funny.  I internally sighed, knowing right away protesting would be a poor idea. I stepped into the warehouse cautiously, trying as hard as I could to make as little noise as possible, but there was only so much you could do in a pair of worn combat boots and a waistcoat. Arianna, on the other hand, was basically wearing a black dress and sandals, and had probably trained a good portion of her life in order to just walk correctly. The interior of the building immediately revealed multiple rows of different crates, likely brought in by trade ships from across the world. They were stacked on top of each other nearly halfway to the ceiling and must have easily been a hundred feet above us. It sported fans that lazily rotated on little poles. It stumped me how they even managed to install them so high up. The ivory sheen of moonlight, shown from the glass windows above, serving as the only illumination and creating an appropriately eerie atmosphere as we progressed further, unsure of where the gang had gone. Any idea what to do now, I hissed to Arianna. Not a clue. Didn't expect this, she answered nonchalantly. You know, if we would have looked over the place earlier, we could have anticipated this. Well, maybe I'm a bit lazy, she huffed indignantly, earning a labored groan from me. Seein' Ty Footpool, I uttered. Just like that, the outlines of footprints before me began glowing a bright yellow. There were obviously many from workers and the like, but this combination of words allowed me to only see the recent ones clearest. It appeared Gavin wandered off towards the rightmost rows of crates while about ten pairs wandered off toward the second row from where they started. This way. I motioned for the apprentice to follow me toward where the prince led, hoping to locate where they ended as quickly as possible, as I could feel my energy being consumed every second I kept the spell up. Impressive. Kids say I know how to use those words. She said it as more of an admission than anything, but I took the compliment anyway, as it was probably the most I'd ever get out of the young woman. The prince led to a gap within the row to our left that, upon first inspection, appeared to be empty. I ended the spell and fell to my hands and knees, placing the side of my head against the cold concrete and seeing a very small height difference ahead of me. Look what we have here, I said, removing my serrated combat knife from my side and wedging it between the miniscule gap. Upon applying enough leverage, what looked to be a trapdoor opened to reveal a flight of stairs leading into total darkness. I flipped the trapdoor on itself with my hands and returned my knife to its leather sheath. All right, your turn, ladies first. I was surprised to hear nervous laughter coming from Ariana, turning to see a half-hearted smile as an addition. Nice try, Mercer. You go in first, again. Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark.   I was more than a little bothered that the person in charge of watching my back was afraid of something so common as the dark, especially since she was a member of the guard. Because I fight well, that's how. Look, can we just get this over with? I shook my head and stepped into the murky abyss, foot making a creaking sound as it hit the first step. These stairs must have been ancient, perhaps as old as the building itself. Descending them took a fair amount of time as we couldn't afford to make much noise, and they led very far underground to the point the temperature was noticeably cooler. Soon there was no light at all. Ariana fixed that. Pire, she said, and shadows began dancing on the cold stone, past the tendrils of warm orange originating from what I discovered was a small flame resting on Ari's finger. Normally I would have condemned this action, but that light was the only thing allowing any kind of vision at all now. The ceiling turned out to be very low to the point where my hair was just about touching it, and the stairs ended in a small room cut haphazardly from the stone, with a closed door made of rotting wood and secured by an iron padlock. It was then in the murky darkness of this old subterranean dungeon that I felt something terrible was behind that door, something that shouldn't be allowed to see the light of day, something horrifying. Ariana looked like she felt it too. I could tell by the suddenly concerned look in her eyes as I glanced back. So what do we do now? I asked her, not expecting a good answer. I wasn't disappointed. I guess we go through that door. She seemed hesitant to say this. Or we could just blow up the whole passage and bury whoever those guys are inside there. We could always do that. The problem is that we don't know whether these weirdos are innocent or not. Plus there could be other ways out, but then… I sighed. Yeah, good point. I'll get the door. She pressed the hand, not currently producing a flame, to the lock and it lit up a cherry red, soon hissing in protest before falling apart into molten goo and forming a glowing white puddle on the ground, which started to cool quickly and became a pitch black color. This was my first clue as to her power, and from it I could tell I wouldn't want her palm touching me in a fight. She looked about ready to open the door herself, but instead I stepped up and did it for her. What awaited us in that room was something straight out of a horror movie. This time there were light bulbs illuminating the cool dingy room from the wooden ceiling. This time the same ten men who had entered the building were arranged in a neat row, all facing towards us as still as toy soldiers. From here they all looked identical, with no differentiating features whatsoever. It set a chill down my spine as I observed them, a perfectly timed flickering of the lights serving to further amplify the fear factor. There were tables and chairs arranged across the room in a disorderly fashion, like this was once a storage room for odds and ends. In fact, this was definitely the case. There was no other reasonable explanation to why this kind of hidden room even existed. What's that?  Hello, Mercer Cedric and Ariana Renji. One of the men spoke. The voice didn't fit in any way, however, the sing-song and mocking tone of a small child rather than a full grown adult. Two years ago we met one of you. We have kept a very airy eye ever since. We are the broken circle. The broken circle. They all said it in unison, not moving anything but their mouths. I took out my flintlock and aimed it at the nearest one, one eye closed and alerted. What do you want from me? I barked, trying to let anger replace the adrenaline now coursing through my veins. Who are you people? We follow the broken man and await his coming. We are here to prepare his servants for the arrival. What we want from you, another spoke, is your sight. I cocked back the hammer of my weapon, ensuring a shot would hit its mark. Start making some sense. One of them started to convulse different parts of his skin bulging and rippling in a grotesque manner as he transformed into a stout man in a suit and tie, bearing the glimmering sterling silver star of a mayor. I knew which particular mayor he was supposed to be without even seeing him before. You know what we want as well as I, the mayor spoke, told him far more fitting for one. Another began convulsing this time, becoming someone I remembered from the night of my first shapeshift encounter, the boy who met us at the end of the night. You could see them, you could see the eyes. The eyes in the suitcase, a suitcase. Everyone could see them, I said, starting to panic as they began walking towards us. Ariana watched, seemingly ready to attack in a moment's notice. No, no, you could see the eyes, Mercer, but sight, the curse is given. My blind is removed. We'd ill you had come here. We made sure that for you will be the one to give at sight. Ariana looked at me through lowered brows. Is there something that you haven't been telling us? How could you see these eyes? I didn't think it would matter. I made sure not to turn my attention away from the horrific figures standing before us. It was never supposed to matter. It's simply a genetic defect. No! I jumped as their sudden deafening scream assaulted my eardrums. I felt sweat beginning to form on me, overwhelming the cool surroundings. It is not a defect, spoke the mayor. Face contorted in rage to the degree it looked inhuman, with a comically stretched mouth and leathery wrinkled skin. Your eyes, your sight is perfection. A rare perfection, one that must be harvested. What are they talking about? Ariana demanded more than asked. Damn it. There's no time to explain. These freaks must be killed. I need to know. My conscious was forcing me to make a decision, prodding me like a farmer to his cattle. I felt indecisive, confused, maybe even afraid. This was a secret that I was not to tell, not under any circumstances. My right pointer finger felt the grooved trigger of the flintlock, arched and feeling right at home. That trigger was screaming at me to pull it, to opt out of this situation. I obeyed. A blinding flash lit up the room as an inanimate round flew from the gun's barrel. These creatures were sure to have fields, protective shields made from Cambria focused around the user. I put mine up as I fired, ready for an intense fight. Flintlock weapons were specially made to cut through this field, and in nearly all cases succeeded, unless the target managed to focus enough energy in a single place to protect them from the attack. There was a sharp hiss as my bullet hit the mark on the boy. No, the shapeshifter imitating the boy. For a brief moment, a yellow, glass-like coating was visible as the projectile reached it, cutting right through and diving into the creature's flesh with an impactful thud. Hot, black blood sprayed outwards as if a water balloon full of the stuff had exploded from within its chest. It hissed in anguish, stumbling backwards and clutching the wound. You will see there is no sanctuary. It wretched as its allies began to charge my way, each transforming into the same horrible figure I had seen in the Farago Hotel, the true form of the shapeshifter. Their claws were sharp, but the compounded titanium forged steel of the Blackguard Cutlass was sharper, this I knew for a fact. I hurriedly returned my flintlock to its holster and drew my blade, the curved end and a crescent moon of deadly metal singing as it was drawn, longing to taste the blood of my foes. I readied it before me as they descended upon us, knowing there was no time to run back from where we had entered. There were so many fangs, long needles, skin, deathly white, for the first time I could remember I felt fear for my life. Pyroblaine Magnus, Arianna shouted. For a second I could feel the searing heat licking my flesh, the cinders batting my eyes, but as spears of searing red fire flew through the air, just being in the vicinity stung. It hurt. It was so incredibly bright that my eyes were strained to see a thing as the creature's skin began melting from their bones. As they were engulfed within an ocean of crimson flame originating past the Apprentice's palm, there was a similar fire in her eyes as she watched them burn, as she watched the room char and blister in protest. It was a truly awe-inspiring sight to behold. Yet they kept coming. Their cries were of every tone, every wretched screech your mind could comprehend. In spite of the tendrils of fire pushing them back, they continued clawing their way forwards like the demons of hell they were. I remember vividly the exposed bone and purple tissue I could see as part of one of their faces turned to a gooey resin, melting and forming a pool on the ground near the feet. The exposed innards were charred black, yet the creature continued onwards. It had been over 30 seconds straight before Arianna stumbled forwards, the jessi-fire at last ceasing to emerge from her hand. She breathed heavily, clearly exhausted from the amount of energy the spell had claimed from her. Smoke had enveloped the entirety of the room now. My lungs straining for air as I inhaled the smell of ash, wood and seared flesh on my way to help her to her feet. To my amazement and horror, only five of the creatures were felled by the attack. The rest, while blistered from claw to skull, lazily crept forwards, hissing weakly but angrily. Somehow their eyes hadn't been incinerated, but I attributed this to them focusing their energy to protect that sensitive part of their bodies. Come on, we need to finish the rest of these bastards off, I said, coughing as I breathed in more smoke. She rose back to her feet without my assistance, looking as strong as ever. That was just a little welcoming present. She sounded weaker than she looked, however. There were still five of them walking towards us, walking, not running. But the primary cause for concern was the concentration of smoke in the air. Wicked, blind, thong! I pushed forward with my palm, and a shockwave of wind flew through the innards of the room, powerful enough to divert a majority of the smoke to the back and a surreal and pitch-black concentration. It seemed to stall the shifters too, but that was not my primary intention. At least now we would have some time before the smoke began spreading outwards again. From my coat, I removed a syringe filled with a glowing red liquid and relaxed the flow of Cambrian energy to my left arm, plunging the sharp needle through my skin and pressing the liquid into my body. It took a few seconds, but I felt weightless now, gifted with strength and speed normally unnatural to a mere man. I ran at the encroaching terrors, blade at my side, zigzagging to prove a more difficult target to hit. It was so easy now. My stamina was without end. With ease, I leapt two full meters into the air and spun my body with my blade, striking the side of one of the creature's necks and taking the head clean off with ease before it could even react. The fields surrounding them had been weakened immensely by Ariana's fire and now was the opportunity to strike before they had an opportunity to regain their energy. By the looks of it, they regained their energy quickly as one was already upon me as I landed, its claw hissing as it grazed my own field. If it wasn't there, it would have been a very deep wound. More speed, I needed more. Fly! There was nothing heavier than a feather in my hand now. I brought my blade to bear with the shapeshifters' exposed torso once, twice, thrice, all within a single second. The skin was brittle from the heat, crunching under the force of each swing and sending flakes of reddened flesh flying. By the time it brought its claw down again, three more hits had all but cut it in half and I leapt away with the speed of a swallow. I was a machine, a dynamo of unstoppable power. I felt that power flow through me as I moved behind the shifter in a blur, driving the tip of my sword through the nape of the opponent's neck and out of its mouth, partially shattering the skull. Three more were upon me. I didn't care, another claw struck my field hard. I didn't care, even as I felt my Cambrian energy fading each second. Only three remained now. I dodged left as one delivered a diagonal strike my way, two others flanking it. The claw missed and I took the opportunity to sever the arm from the attacker with a well-placed hit to the joint, another claw going from my neck. I ducked underneath and gutted the thing, only to see no blood leaking from the wound. And then, weight returned to me, hitting me like a sack of bricks. I was slow, unresponsive. They seized my moment of weakness, cutting the last of my field away, fragments of blue energy dispersing into the air as I was thrown aside like a rag doll. Panicked, I rolled away as one pounced, looking to impeal me with its devastating forked blades attached to his hand by what I presumed to be evolution. It just barely missed, wasting no time in cutting open the right side of me and bathing me in my own blood. Just one cut from the thing was absolutely devastating, and these creatures had almost managed to keep up with me while I was using stems. I was in trouble, and I knew it. Luckily, just as the demon was about to eviscerate me, a glowing knife of some kind struck near its head, throwing it aside but seemingly only scratching its field. I rose to my feet and looked over the torn sinew of the side. I could still fight, but it didn't stop me from taking out another syringe, this time containing revitalizer and sticking it where the wound was to stop the bleeding. If I were to actually look, my flesh would be growing back almost instantly, but I was too busy readying my weapon for further attacks. Ariana, on the other hand, was conducting a strange and exotic dance, allowing her to throw some gruesome-looking daggers at startling speeds, each time cloaking them in some kind of elemental energy. She pirouetted away from an enemy strike and used the speed to propel a blade through the weak eye socket of her opponent, slicing through the field. She wasted no time and barraging the two that remained with more of them, but their fields held strong. One of the shapeshifters began charging me, despite being struck by at least three of the razors, which were each traveling at some hundred miles an hour, no doubt. Not even my sword could stop the sheer force as it threw me to the ground and positioned one of its talons near my eye. Now we take your sight, we take it, hissed the shifter, plunging the appendage into my socket. Everything went black. There was pain, that much I knew, a harsh and stinging pain that wished for me to not wake up again if it depended on it. I wanted to listen, to stay asleep without the pain, but there was something in the background calling to me. Maybe you'll think of me when you are all alone. Maybe the one who is waiting for you will prove untrue. Then what will you do? Garbled, distorted. I heard the beep of a heart monitor somewhere, but even as the noises grew louder I couldn't make sense of it all. I couldn't see a thing, but I heard muffled shots in the distance and what sounded like the pops of fires. Maybe where I can see, away from the meadow. There was a brief crackling static noise and the music ended abruptly. You have to respect the classics, isn't that right, Mercer? The voice was familiar. I knew who it belonged to, but the haze was too strong.  Eighty-four.  Wait. My eyes. What happened to me? Who are you? You don't recognize me? I heard the sound of some kind of liquid being poured. Shame, that is. Usually you recognize me immediately. Well, obviously, you again should fate still prove accommodating. Seems you have some very special eyes. Footsteps began walking away from me into the unknown, leaving me with only the beep of my heart monitor and the horrible screams of the people dying in the nearby streets, belonging to people dying because of something I wish I never saw. A horrible thing. An ice. Up next, it's part four of A Story from the Black Guard by Justin Reinars, When Weird Darkness Returns. I came to on what I assumed to be a hospital bed, feeling as if my lungs had been burst. A sharp cut of pain clung hot to my abdomen and my hand instinctively moved to clutch it. Amidst this pain, I almost forgot why all I could see was black. A smooth voice, robotic with a sort of gentleman-like sophistication to it, droned to me from the void. Ah, it seems the anesthetic has worn off. You should be most happy to know the operation was a success. A hiss, contorting as another jolt of suffering ran through me. What operation? The chuckle that followed was a rough synthetic baseline. You would want to be running about without eyes, would you? I would use a more respectful tone. The operation costed more than most people make in ten years of their meaningless lives. My vision lit up and blew. The brightness of it was so jarring that I almost yelped, but my surprise shifted to curiosity, as MiroTech systems appear to top the sapphire ocean in neat aerial font. What is this? I asked. The pain replaced now by confusion. They are prototype, cybernetic eyes capable of producing nearly lossless vision. Applying a magnificent level of ten on command and a host of other features, I am certain a man of your persuasion will find useful, said the voice. My middle and index fingers met with the bristle of my brows. I hesitated before dipping them toward my right eye. Cold metal was all I felt within the socket. Cold metal and a rush of adrenaline. Lord and lady, I muttered. The loading process should be complete within a minute or two. In the meantime, I can tell you what has been happening during the past few days, said the voice. I grunted and said, This will be rich. It is actually quite horrible, not like you would care. Personally, I don't like to affiliate myself with you, mucus-lipped, upright walking sacks of meat, but Master Beckett insisted. Beckett, as in the Commander?  It was a barely noticeable hint of sarcasm in the voice. I was hardly able to pick up on it. You want to know the reason he even bothered to give you this surgery in the first place? He knows of your lineage. He knows that you are related to this ice. More pain. I groaned. So what is going to happen to me out of this whole mess, huh? Will I be hanged like the rest of the ice blood? I prefer to be shot quicker that way. Well, that could be arranged, the voice replied. The could emphasize in a way I found slightly worrying, but Beckett needs you for research purposes. He is willing to make you a deal. Help him and your secret will be safe. Help him with what? My sight went black again momentarily. Then there was a flash and a hospital room revealed itself to me in stunning definition. The vision I had before would eventually blur the farther I looked. Same for everyone's vision. But it seemed that these eyes could somehow show even the sign reading admission at the far end of a sterile white hallway in front of me crystal clear. I actually felt sorry for anyone unable to experience sight this way. He wants to know how an ice would react to a best, I mean a hybrid between its species and a human. You know, just three days ago everyone but visionaries and lunatics thought ice didn't even exist. It's rather interesting to see how far we've come in just a few short days. My eyes searched for the voice, and there, at the right side of my bed stood a creature the likes of which I had never seen before. How best to describe it? Well, to begin with, it looked as if a skeleton had been spray-painted chrome and then a mess of spider webs had been stretched across all the empty areas like some kind of strange mock skin. Those had been spray-painted a dark chrome as well. The hands held five fingers which each ended in a fine metallic point that resembled talons. The creature cast two glowing blue dots toward me from sunken black sockets. Its face was a skull made of fine, meshy wires that shifted in order to display a mannequin's equivalent of emotion. It was eerie yet strangely intriguing. Like what you see, it asked, regarding me with a face as unimpressed as any humans could get. It was almost comical, and an amused smile came upon me through the pain. Oh please, I'm a horrific skeletal monster, not a comedian. The creature continued. Just what are you, anyways?  I am Eden, the world's first synthetic lifeform. If you want to hear how I came into existence, I could always tell you. I imagine there's a catch, I grumbled. Another throbbing sting reverberating through my body. Outperceptive of you, said Eden.  Already had to do something like that a few times, actually. Very enjoyable. I sat up from my bed and scanned the rest of the room. Two curtains on either side of my bed veiled most of the surroundings from view, but I could see a hallway, the foot of another bed, and a sink mounted into a counter. It was a hospital, all right. Then it all came back to me. The shape-shifters, the mission, Ariana, everything came back. Soon my bare feet were pressed cool against the tile floor, and I was walking towards the hallway. What are you doing? Eden asked. I stopped, realizing I had no idea what I was doing either. Where's Ariana? I looked at the blue gown hanging from my battle-scarred body. Where's my uniform? My weapons. I turned back to the synthetic. The being shrugged. The tattered brown cloak wrapped near his neck rippling from the movement. A man with a foreign accent apparently brought you and some red-haired woman here a couple of days back. I suppose he left a black bag at the reception office, though. Perhaps that's what you were looking for? Wait, Ariana's here? Where is she? Eden pulled back the curtain to the right of my bed and revealed another cut with the instantly recognizable Ari laying on it, a respiratory mask over her mouth and a sheet over her chest. I felt as if my heart had stopped as I walked closer. She looked like a corpse, face as pale as the linen covering her. Ari? I half-whispered. She stirred, eyes slitting open and meeting mine. Mercer? Her voice was weak. Yeah, it's me. Each breath she took was followed by a hiss from her respirator. What did they do to you? She asked. What was necessary? Eden answered for me. Your recovery will take longer, Ariana, but Mercer is needed now. In order for that requirement to be met, reconstructive surgery was a necessity. I held an arm before me and touched it. My flesh felt the same as usual, but when my finger reached what should have been bone, something felt different. Wait, you just operated on my eyes, right? I asked. I knew the answer before it came. Your skeleton has been refined with Tysantium ore. You should feel no real difference in a year or so. I've heard the procedure causes brief back pain when you first adjust to it, Eden said. Is there anything else you've done to me?  Should I even be alive? You were already dead. We simply installed a few artificial organs, introduced a clotting agent to your blood to stifle wounds that get past your subdermal armor and replaced your eyes with better ones. It's like nothing has changed at all. Realizing you should be dead, that you were dead, is not a particularly happy experience. My hands looked the same as they always were, but they felt as if they belonged to someone else. I didn't know what other horrors could have been done to me without my consent, and it immediately began to gnaw at the back of what I loosely called my mind. Mercer, the city is a wreck, Arianna said. It looks like hell burst forth from the ground and her eyes widened. Find Cyrus, now! I almost didn't hear her over my own thoughts. My eyes were anchored to one of the white tiles on the ground. You think my power even qualifies as a fraction of this? How could I help such a man? Well, that's strictly not true, Eden cut in. This surgery has made you into a much more effective weapon. In combat, you should find your abilities far surpass your previous ones. I'm not a weapon. Eden shook his head lightly. From the very moment each of you joined the guard, you became weapons for the Emperor, for Cyrus. Most men cower in fear when faced with the darkest abominations of this world, but you, the Black Guards, meet such horrors without question or fear. Just look at me, for example.  You're just another experiment by Beckett, I countered, and high-functioning is debatable. Eden's gray lips curled upwards. So are you. Perhaps we have more in common than you would like to admit, Mercer. Be a weapon, commanded Ariana, sitting up on her bed. I have no shape to help my commander, and the strongest person in this city is you. Go find Cyrus and do your duty to the crown. That's in order. I let my eyes drop and I bowed. Then I'll be your sword. Do better than that. Be, Mercer. For once, Eden's smile looked genuine. My armor had been shredded and beaten by the shapeshifters, so I had little choice, but to don the lighthouse-crested Scarlet Gambison of the Regiment II Guard and a pair of simple trousers. It was a light outfit, but I didn't need the armor. A sturdy plate seemed to lurk just over my ribs, what Eden referred to as sub-dermal armor. The very concept was foreign to me, but in a sense I couldn't help but be interested in my new abilities. Thankfully, my sword and my flintlock were just the same as always, and I lashed them to my waist securely before exiting the main entrance and stepping onto the streets. The destroyed husks of buildings flanked me on either side of the cobbled roads the hospital led to, hands of flame waving their orange fingers from shattered windows and piles of debris. I stopped a moment to take it all in. Smoke was choking in the air, but for some reason my lungs didn't reject it. They must have been modified during the procedure as well. I didn't find out the full extent of what had happened to me as a result of the operation until years later. What unnerved me most was how people still walked the streets. They weren't people though, but walking corpses with peeled leather skin appearing as if they'd been flayed. Some were more intact than others, but a few had to crawl along the ground due to lack of body parts.  The way he it approached remains with me even now, as if he was taking a stroll through a park on a Sunday. He said, you know why I'm back? His voice was coarse as it was gravelly. He whispered rasp from a withered man. Perhaps others would have drawn a blade or took off running in this situation, but I knew better. Afraid not, I said back. Want to go back? said the corpse. My family and I were happy together. I want to go back. Know what's keeping you here? Or it shrugged. Like, no, I wish I did though. I remember waking up in the morgue if that helps. I hope it helps. I can't find my family, you know? I want to be back. I nodded, and after a bout of hesitation, clapped him on the shoulder. But skin I felt was squishy and loose, like grizzle on a chicken bone. I quickly pulled my hand back. Hey, look over there. The corpse pointed toward the sky with his shredded right arm, and I found a great beam of golden light cutting through the ash and clouds at a downward angle where he indicated. Maybe that's what's causing all of this, huh? Like, is it the apocalypse or something? Is this the end of the world? Wow, that must be bad for people like you, very bad. He yawned through a mutilated mouth and began walking away. I'll be looking for my family. I miss my family, you know? Yeah, I whispered more to myself than it. As I walked through the desolate streets, I passed more walking bodies and more signs of destruction. My mind couldn't imagine what sort of force caused this, but I knew it wasn't of this world. And regarding the rest of the world, was it like this everywhere or just the city? Was the world really coming to an end because of some prophecy from a rundown hotel? The ships had been burned in the harbors. Landmarks I remembered seeing what felt like mere hours ago had been shattered into pieces or set afire by some unseen force. I watched as what remained of a galleon's sail was devoured by flames. The waters around it great wooden form hissing and throwing up steam which appeared like fog and the waning auburn light soaking the streets. How hot was it? Was the atmosphere scorching and I couldn't feel it because of my new body? The last thing I expected to hear as I stood there overlooking the devastated bay was a high-pitched string of a fiddle or a violin, but that's what I heard from behind me. No particular tune was attached to it, but it made me whirl to locate the source all the same. There, leaning against the brick wall of what used to be a bank, stood a man who must have been 6'3 at the least. His hair was a messy chestnut and he was clothed in a simple brown tunic and muddy cargo pants. He held a fiddle in his hands and a sly grin on his bristly, rogue-like face. Old Earth they say Emperor Nero watched his city burn while I play in the fiddle. You know where I got this one? I shot him a look that wouldn't hide my suspicions. No. A shop lifted it, the man said, casually taking it in both hands by the slender end and bashing it along a stone pillar. It splintered into dozens of pieces with an off-pitch crash, and the man laughed. And that was before all of, well, this. Who are you? I would tell you, he said, putting his arms at his sides and swaying like a drunk as he walked towards me. But I forgot. Liar. No, like seriously, I forgot. Now I lowered my brows. For some inexplicable reason, it didn't look like this person was trying to joke around, even though forgetting your name in the first place is a bit of a joke in itself. The stranger stopped on his way towards me, realization running across his visage. Wait. Zane. That's it. Zane Morgan. Yeah, that's me, I remember now. If there was another person standing beside me, I would have given them a confused stare. Okay, well, can I help you? Well, I'm Commander of Regiment 2, so, like, oh, I had honestly forgotten. Yeah, like, I got caught up in the whole sort of dramatic slash mysterious entrance thing, and so, so yeah, like, you forgot my name for a second there. That's not even me being ironic. That actually sort of just happened, you know?  I never expected the Commander of Regiment 2 to be anywhere near as ridiculous as I had heard from rumors. Since there seemed to be commanders crawling from the woodwork as of late though, I couldn't say I was surprised to find another, even in a hellscape like this. Splinting my eyes a certain degree applied a variable zoom to my vision. I turned around and magnified what was once a food stall and found a large splatter of brownish blood coating it. What happened here? I asked. The news is claiming that it's hell, Zane said, his towering form pulling to a halt beside me. As in literally hell. The day the incident occurred, people claimed to have seen the dead rise from their graves. Oh, and by people, I mean the ones who weren't caught within the fires raining from the sky on day one. Day two, a plague set in, a plague that we've never seen before which killed nearly everyone infected within the time span of one hour. There were no viruses and no bacteria. Crazy stuff, huh? They evacuated this place, right? Yeah, Zane nodded. Cyrus and a small group of the guard are over there. He pointed to the golden light at the distance. He said to look around for some guy with flat, graying hair, a cute little mustache, and an overly serious expression on his face. That wasn't hard. So on day one, those emotions towards a skeletal creature on one of the docks, things appeared. Then there was a plague. Well, what happened on day three? Zane shrugged, put out his palm toward the spindly zombie I had indicated and said, Pire, as casually as one would say hello. The bolt of crimson fire rocketed forth from it, hitting the creature square in the head from what must have been a hundred yards out. For what I could see, only ashes remained of the skull and the corpse fell limp into the water below with a muffled splash. The commander roared with laughter and slapped his knee.  I wasn't actually expecting to hit that. I exhaled as his fit continued. Did you see that? Right in the freaking head. And his body just gave up and his laughter faded to a chuckle and then an amused grunt quickly. Should have ragged all of it. That would have been an ideal scenario right there. You know there aren't hurting anyone, right? Neither are chickens.   Now if you excuse me, I have some more target practice to engage in. I could scarcely believe it as he began sauntering off with a carefree whistle in a swaying step. What are you doing? I just told you what I was doing. This is your city. It's been besieged by forces we don't even understand and you're here using the dead as target practice. Zane spun on his heel and shot me in a annoyed look.  That's your duty. Cyrus said I could do whatever I wanted as soon as I found you and now I've found you. See, everyone wins. He turned back around following a sarcastic smile and whistled an indistinguishable tune on his way towards an adjacent street. I knew there was no arguing with people such as him. Now that I'd actually met Zane, it confirmed all my greatest fears about our system of government. It was frightening that some of our nations were under the protection of this sort, but at the very least I knew where I was going now. It was a haunting silence to the streets if you were to listen past the faint groans of the dead or the cracks of fires. I remembered a family of three ordering ice cream at a roadside parlor that was now covered in chunks of rubble and how a drunken harlequin had paraded himself down a familiar lane with a bottle of booze in one hand, only for him to be replaced by a throng of ghastly demons who just stood and stared at me as I walked by. Come to think of it, they hadn't been doing that before, but whenever I came within close proximity to them now, they stopped whatever they were doing, locked eyes with mine, and traced my position until I could no longer see their gruesome forms. I had the queerest feeling that they were being controlled, like puppets by some horrid demon or another, cursed to spend days in a world that had long since forsaken them. As I grew closer to the light, they became more and more agitated, their groans increasing in volume until they mutated into anguished screams. Some clutched their heads with whatever rotted appendages they had, while others scraped the brick sides of buildings or forced themselves on a shattered glass. Even though they were monsters, I felt regret with every step I took. The light looked just a block or two away when the first one threw itself at me from a small crowd. It screamed, I'm sorry, at the top of its lungs as it did so, trying to use the exposed points of bones where its fingers had been as weapons. I'd been ready to defend myself soon as I saw the first of these creatures, and I'd made quick work of the poor white, or the same word Zayn had used at the docks, engulfing it in cleansing flame. More followed in this one's footsteps as I ventured further, but the attack that stood out to me most as I walked was when a twig-thin, rotted husk lobbed itself my way while a group of three other corpses grabbed onto it and dragged it to the ground, preventing the attack from even happening. For a moment I just stared in disbelief as they tore the thing limb from limb and then looked back towards me and stared. I couldn't help but express my thanks with a reverent nod even if they were unaware of what they were doing. The path to the light took me past an old library, what seemed to have once been a brothel and even a self-defense class. As it turned out, the cutting beam of gold illumination anchored itself within the town square. A sprawling courtyard, flanked by palms grown from rings of soil, and a great circular marble wall with grapevines snaking through it. The metal gates granting passage through this wall were wide open, revealing a field of lush grass wherein raspberry bushes, trees and a swath of different flowers had sprouted. It was an oasis in these horrid surroundings and a welcome relief from all the death and chaos.  The inside of this building held a simple front desk with a computer terminal propped upon it, a ceiling depicting a blue sky pocked with swirling cotton ball clouds and what appeared to be angels, beings with proud eagle wings, grinning faces and high unattainable bodies in regards to both genders. A sign above the front desk read, Welcome to the Lankerton Memorial Statehouse Building, and a swirling cursive on glassy marble. Mercy! I heard an accented voice say from the flight of stairs in the left corner of the room. A man in blackguard uniform stood there, his eyes wide as saucers and his feet rooted in place. Cyrus said, You died. What the blazes are you doing here? And what's with your eyes? They look like blue glass. I walked across the polished cream floor, my footfalls echoing the unseen halls times over. You'd think I'd know, wouldn't you? I responded with a sigh. Where's Cyrus? There's a lot that needs to be said to that man. My comrade motioned to the long flight of stairs behind him with his head and folded his arms over a thin chest. Quarter of us died fighting it. It? It's an ice. Never got to see it myself, but the command was very clear that no more of us were to engage it. Save? Save who? Well, you. In an instant I realized that Cyrus already knew about my status as a half-ice. Just that thought sent a shiver down my spine as I pondered how long he had known for and why he decided not to tell anyone. Did he tell anyone? I certainly hoped not, or I'd hang after this whole ordeal. Not an optimal way to end an adventure. My name's Sam, by the way, said Sam, actually kind of admire you. They've been calling you the shapeshifter slayer in the magazines, not like those are the most reliable sources of information or nothing. He chuckled awkwardly and I fell into pace beside him as he began descending the stairs. Where are those magazines? Never quite found any of them. Oh, well, the one I tend to read called The Patriot, the one who authors it. His name's Charles Becker. He's done movies, right? He directed The Voyage and Fall Sanerai. What nation's he from? Six, just like me. Joined the God from six. Load of bullocks when the only coverage you get for your actions comes from another nation. I've been reading the Nation 9 news and I haven't heard a thing about that night. Sam shrugged, trying to hide his obvious enjoyment of the conversation. I guess the government might have coveted up for just Nation 9. Other nations wouldn't panic if they found out another was attacked by shifters, but panic spreads fast when there's a reason to be panicked, right? So are you a film buff then? Quite an interesting medium, but I haven't had much time to appreciate it as of late for obvious reasons. Sam pounced on the question. His stormy eyes glimmering in the warm sheen the chandeliers cast through the hall we had stepped into. It was a lavish-looking locale, sporting framed, oil-painted depictions of town cardinals who had looked after this city in previous years, tall, lined pillars ascending all the way to a rough, cold ceiling, and giant archways leading to rooms decorated in rustic antiques and devoting purposes that I couldn't quite discern. For all I knew, the rooms were just there to look pretty and house city council meetings when things weren't as awful as they were currently. At the very least, there were no rotting corpses traversing the hall. I hadn't seen a single one since I reached the light and believe me, that was a good thing. My personal favorite from last year was Rose Thawne. In my haste to look about my surroundings, I had completely ignored Sam's reply, but I nodded in acknowledgment before he could realize this. They're taking more and more inspiration from Earth movies, and while you'll get a bunch of old cutes saying it's destroying our identity, I personally think that refining a tried-and-true method is just as good as it being your own, right? Not wanting to offend the young man, I relinquished a yeah. Now I can tell them that Mercer Cedric agrees with me. I don't think they'll care all that much about my opinion, kid. Come visit Nation 6 sometime and you'll see how much they idolize the Black God. That's why I joined. They've made movies about us, written novels. Heck, I bet someone on Earth's writing about us right now.  The author would have to be mad to write about such nonsense. Well, I think it's plenty interesting. What time I'd be biased? Am I biased, Mercer? Considering you're living out the very story you praise, and worse, you're optimistic about it? I spoke in a half-mumbled, I'd have to say yes. As we continued down the seemingly endless corridor, I had a sinking feeling that neither of us knew where we were going. I hesitated to ask Sam the inevitable question, uh, where is Cyrus, Sam? Oh, I forgot what we were doing. I have such a bad memory, right? We ended up having to head back, all the way towards the bottom of the stairs. The first archway on the left led to a paneled iron door sequestered behind a dusty old library. Cyrus said that Cardinal Mordain Glaes had a secret network of tunnels and chambers constructed during his command of the city 200 years back. The door you're seeing now can only be opened by a specific key that went, ah, then why is there a slash mark where the lock should be? I asked. Where the two halves of dark metal met, there was a giant scar, cutting lengthwise across both, deep and long. Oh, that was Commander Cyrus. The other way to open the door, of course, is to break it in half through the middle. You laughed a little. A massive circular chamber revealed itself as I parted the door. Soldiers sporting black-scaled leather of the guard sat around scattered tents that they directed. A group of three were playing a game of cards while others just sat around drinking or talking. What is this?  Oh, the commander ordered us to stay out of it.  He's fighting the ice. I shook my head. Just because you're ordered to do something doesn't mean you still shouldn't do it. We have a duty to our country, our nation to uphold and even if all of us die in the process of fighting this thing, we can at least say we tried. I'm assuming these folks haven't done that. I could see the seeds of doubt rooting themselves into Sam. His eyes evaded mine, but Cyrus said he could handle it. His voice was just shy on mutter. That doesn't mean he can. Where is he anyway? Where is this fight occurring? Sam motioned to the end of the room and a door of a similar nature to the one in the library, except on a far larger scale.  You don't mean to fight it, do you? Sam asked. I do. I'm a weapon of the emperor and a servant to the mire. My life is an afterthought. Sam shot out an arm to impede my progress, but I rushed it aside. Listen, I don't know you very well, but I never really thought you cared this little about your life. It's fine to put all that stuff first, but I don't think you should just treat your existence like it's disposable. That's no way to live. Don't think my life is disposable. I just believe that the lives of thousands take precedence over my own. His steps were close by my side, and I could tell he was thinking up some way to dissuade me. Truth be told, it brought me a little hope, saying a young man who cared enough about some guy he just met to try talking him off the ledge, even if his efforts would be in vain. There were about 30 people in the room. How none of them had gone in to assist their leader was beyond me. Hell, maybe if you already had, but judging from this tone, this Sam fellow was giving me, it didn't seem that way. Cyrus wasn't the friendliest person by any means, but he was fair and always fulfilled his duty to the best of his abilities. In a sense, I admired him, but perhaps that feeling wasn't mutual throughout the guard. Sam threw himself in front of me. I could have pushed straight through him, but I decided to at least hear the boy out. Listen to me, right? Cyrus is the most powerful combatant in all of Nation 9. I folded my arms before me and perked a brow. He's been on the opposite side of those blasted doors for just over an hour now, and we are still hearing noises. If he hasn't been able to kill this ice in all that time, then what good could any of us do, right? Don't know until you try. He didn't attempt to stop me as I walked past him, but still followed wordlessly. I received a few confused or peculiar glances from guardsmen as I walked them by. A few descended into conversation, likely regarding me soon as I passed them by, while others kept their eyes glued to me all the way as if I was one of the cadavers that had swarmed the above ground. The doors were even larger as I came within a stone's throw of them, grand monoliths of heavy iron which had been cast into the exact frame of what must have been a giant's doorway. I stopped a moment just to look at them, and no sooner had I done so than one of the panels began to rumble open, tailed by a stony roar which echoed through the entire room.  My hand was on my sword. What scarce conversation that was present swiftly perished, and I could tell without looking that every last person's eyes were rooted on the doors. A large gap sat between the metal tower and the concrete wall as Cyrus stepped out from behind. At first I breathed a sigh of relief, but all breath soon fled me as I saw what remained of his body. His left arm had been bent until half of it was facing forward where your elbows supposed to point, and his night sky trench coat was covered in holes and liberal amounts of blood which still dripped to the ground below the commander, leaving a trail of bright crimson and a pool of it when he stopped to look at us with a face I could barely even recognize.  Needles of black hair choked his crimson eyes, the order that usually described that hair absent now and replaced with an oily, bloody mat. His left leg had a grisly gash near its kneecap, and multiple gashes dotted his chest. I could scarcely believe the man was still alive after incurring such wounds. Commander? An incredulous Sam said. Cyrus hobbled over until he stood before us, hardly more intact than one of the ghouls roaming the streets. Messer? He gurgled. You need medical attention, I said. He shook his head and looked over his shoulder briefly. I don't need anything except wine, now. I thought she drank cream soda. He wasn't amused. Wine. Sam hurried off towards the tents, leaving me alone with the commander. He let out a long grunt and slid his back down the side of a door until he crumpled to the ground, blood smearing the metal behind. Killed the shape-shifters. And one of the ice, I asked. Damn the ice! Damn this city! He coughed. I think I weakened it. Could have kept going if you'd arrived later. And why do you want me here, sir? He shot me a look that was more intimidating than any ice could possibly be.  I put up with it for the longest time. You've served me well, and I reward good service. He said as he turned his gaze away, but I've had enough. I want that thing dead. Kill it. I'd never seen Cyrus this tired before, if tired was how I could describe it. I said, if you don't mind me asking, how are you still alive, sir? Don't call me sir. We've been over this, he grumbled. I've been alive for centuries, and I've had worse wounds. You don't see many hybrids between human and vampire, nor do you see many of ice and man. When I was in my developing years, some sap in the capital found out I was a vampire. They sent half the gods in the city after me, and I killed every one of them until Edmonton Black himself came down from his palace and offered me my position. That spent my life killing. Might as well lead an organization that does it, right? You've done that organization proud. Killed more than anyone else, sure makes me proud. He looked behind me and bellowed, where the hell's my wine? Sam dashed towards us from one of the tents carrying a green bottle with a slender neck in his hands and a comically frightened expression on his face. Here you are, sir. Sam handed in the bottle with a shaky hand, and Cyrus snatched it with a poisonous glare. If someone calls me sir, one more time I'll gut them.  He roared, ripping the cork from the bottle and guzzling the liquid within. Sam was almost trembling as the scene unfolded. What happened to you? Why are you like this? Sam trembled. Cyrus finished half the contents of the bottle and lobbed it into the distance, a shatter marking where it landed. I'm a commander to do one thing. Kill. That thing lurking behind this bloody door is still alive, and what good am I? What use am I if I can't do the one thing I was ordered to do correctly?  You're the one to do it, Mercer. You will be immune to most of its abilities. Go. Now. My inner voice screamed that talking more would just make things worse. With a deep breath and a hand upon my blade, I walked towards the opening Cyrus had made in the door. What are you doing? Sam asked. My job. A dark presence pervaded the very air once I stepped through that barrier. It was as if I had crossed between worlds with a single step, and I knew at that moment that no matter the outcome of the battle awaiting me, my journey in the Black Guard was about to reach its conclusion. Up next, it's part five, the finale of a story from the Black Guard by Justin Reynars when Weird Darkness returns. Treating for the Black Guard had robbed me of many things I thought made me human. In truth, there was some sort of strange disconnect, a divide that made it so I couldn't separate my humanity from what my profession had made me into. I didn't know if I was even human now. Even past this point my mind became wracked with questions, questions of just where the threshold between man and machine was drawn. I didn't know what I was, and as I entered the darkness those gigantic doors veiled, I felt my future was as murky as the surroundings. My eyes sliced through this haze like a razor to a sheet of paper, however distinguishing a tubular cavern and its bizarre fittings. My boots carried me past a maze of glimmering brass pipework and nozzles, spewing steam into the chill air. Gears and cogs spun within the walls, clicking together to form an odd mechanical symphony. As I progressed further, the steam punk around me had almost overtaken the natural stone of the cave altogether. I was stepping over thick pipes and brushing past messes of valves and clouds of hot moisture. I clenched my fist, mind flashing back to the scene of Cyrus, his fury at his perceived failure. I'd looked up to him for a long time as a beacon of what I should become. I thought Cyrus invincible and unstoppable if prickly, force for good. Seeing him bloody and broken changed me. Those words that weren't of comfort but of defeat and anger. What chance did I have against this abomination? Visions of its spun in my head, of wretched, hairy beings craving flesh, of monsters of metal or some bizarre nondescript supernatural entity. I asked myself what I could possibly hope to do against something like that, even if I was of its own kin. You can try. I heard Sam's voice echo through me. I stopped a moment, feeling a spark of drive ignite in the void of my spirit. Succeed where I have failed. Cyrus ordered gruffly, Do better than that. Be Mercer. Arianna her parting words. My fists clenched. They clenched until I almost drew my own blood. I inhaled deeply and let it all out. Worry left my mind. All that remained now was a strange sense of determination. Foolish, misguided determination. I drew my flintlock, tracing its bore with my right hand near the hold, fingers naturally finding themselves into the grooves of the design and angular brass fixings. Mine was a long one, just under a foot long. It thusly packed more power than was generally used by the Black Guard, allowing for effective engagements set up to medium battle standard range. With these new eyes, perhaps my accuracy would improve even more. My finger cocked back the hammer and I slid a fresh new canister into its chamber, sliding it into the firing mechanism. The flap that had previously been opened to allow for such an exchange clicked shut, signaling my shredder round was now ready to fire. Shredder rounds were on the borders of what was legal, truly. Back in the Ramarian Wars of Yor, where the Meyers Empire did battle with the Ramarian Isles and their vampiric inhabitants, shredder rounds were very nearly prohibited from use in future conflicts due to the intense loss of life and extremely painful deaths they tended to cause. The Meyer had long been at war with Ramier and, as such, a treaty had been formed which dictated the rules of engagement. Weaponry such as toxic fumes, high-powered smoothbore muskets and land ships had all been prohibited under it in order to preserve honor on the field of battle. Luckily for me, even if Shredders had been banned, the Regiment 9 Black Guard was given special permission by the High Council to use unconventional munitions and weaponry. We weren't really meant to be fighting enemy nations, just eliminating supernatural threats, but I distinctly remember a course during my training specifically concerning guerrilla warfare and room clearing techniques. I suppose you'd have to be another sort of naive to imagine the Empire would go down without resorting to its more unsavory weapons. It seemed, in the event of an emergency, the Black Guard would be repurposed as a special forces unit. Anyhow, regardless of why I had those shredder rounds, I had them. It gave me some level of reassurance to know that with the pull of a trigger, I could unleash more fire power than a batch of linemen, but apprehension still nagged away as the tunnel became more and more mechanical. Soon, it was as if there had been no cave at all, and I was walking through something reminiscent to the hallways of a battleship. After a while, I found a door. Its circular window had been shattered to bits and a corpse lay crumpled on the ground before it, painting the thick metal frame in blood. There was a heavy mechanism similar to the wheel of a ship on this door, but it refused to budge. It seemed this unlucky guardsman had tried escaping inside, only to be slaughtered. As I continued forwards, more bodies lined the halls. Their faces were expressionless, mainly. Our lack of emotions resulted typically in a strange sense of calm when meeting with death. It was as if the hall had been lined with a host of life-sized dolls, bloodied and battered. Gore littered the ground as well. Entire arms and heads had been severed with surgical precision. No jagged edges in the flesh or bone. Just a perfect cut. There were certainly swords capable of producing such cuts, but to do this so many times without leaving a messy cleave? I ruled that out quickly. This was no mere man. Come to think of it, I had seen a similar display of corpses before, but far more battered. And I was back in nation too. I remembered the suitcase I had recovered there, the one which had been holding the eyes. Just what was so important about eyes to these forces? First it was a curse, and now it was some kind of way to summon an ice. Perhaps that was the curse. Neither my mother or father had believed in things, such as curses or the supernatural. I remember my parents tearing me away from the books of the paranormal, of alien visitors and spirits. They had said no good could come of such things. But in my opinion, knowledge was one of the greatest goods that existed. I had read about ice too, of knights consisting of clockwork with bizarre abilities and weaponry, neither man nor machine. Father took particular offense to these tomes and used to toss them straight into the fireplace. So why did I join the guard? I still don't really know the exact reason, but I imagine it had something to do with my interest in the supernatural. And to think my parents probably still believe I am some average businessman in Nation 9. Now, that was never my destiny, no matter how much they wanted it to be. I was first a soldier, then an elite, and finally a guardsman. That was my identity. That was why I was continuing down this damned hallway to a fate uncertain. The air became a cold finger through my uniform, carrying with it a dampness that spread fast through my body. I halted a moment realizing I had been going down a gradual decline after looking behind me. That explained the temperature as I was heading deeper and deeper into the depths. The corpses had grown less now, as there weren't too many remaining in the guard anyway considering our previous losses. I found it rather worrying that the majority of the bodies were concentrated toward the beginning of this strange tunnel network. Those people died, running. Up ahead was even more tunnel, but a steam born from the hiss of many valves obscured what was up ahead. Thick and billowing. Even my eyes couldn't seem to make out what was past it. Considering thermal vision only showed deep tints of red near this stream and a bluish outline. Sure enough, as I entered the moist clouds, they were warm. Hot even. For whatever reason, I found them rather refreshing, taking a long breath of the stuff and feeling my lungs loosen. It was a welcome break from the horrid stench of decay and smoke from before. Turn back! I heard to my right. Someone had only just managed to sputter these words. I turned to find a guardsman lying against the wall with a dullness through his eyes. A vacancy. His midsection had been rendered to the point a thick pool of blood had escaped him, drizzling lazily downwards into the veil of mist. I could see organs exposed. Quickly, I reached into the pocket of my gambison to find nothing. I cursed, realizing I had forgotten my revitalizers within my old uniform. Hold on, I said. I think I know a word that will stabilize you, but I am hardly proficient at the healing arts. I thought healing words are forbidden, he mumbled. Indeed, they are. Luckily, I put my country and people above any nonsensical rules. I pressed a hand to the wound and spoke, majo, meaning mend. Sharp strands of flesh sprouted from both ends of the cut, beginning to twist around each other until patches of skin were afloat in a sea of gore. The skin grew in strange pulses until it had bridged the gap altogether, leaving only the deep crimson that had soaked into the nearby fibers of the man's armor. I shuddered. Such a word was taxing, but it seemed he had been stabilized for the time being. That vacant expression still remained, though. It looked as if he was asleep, while his ocean eyes remained starkly open, staring blank towards the ground behind a needle curtain of brown hair. I pressed two fingers to his neck, feeling a pulse. The skin was cold, but soft. Slightly tan, but certainly pale before it had been applied. You there? I asked. I guess. Alright. I looked briefly down the hall, as far as my vision would allow. I saw what seemed to be an inactive alarm node affixed to the ceiling. It was of old make with a singular light bulb covered by a scarlet, cup-shaped shell. I don't have time to get you out now, but I shall come back for you once I've dealt with this beast. Beast? He grand-weekly. That's just it. It isn't one. I bored into it emergently. What do you mean? It's beautiful. So beautiful. His eyes fell shut. A shot of adrenaline burst through me as I aligned my fingers back to his neck. Still a pulse. I breathed a sigh of relief and stood back to my feet, continuing forwards once more whilst pondering his words. It was only natural to assume he was speaking in a state of delirium, but something struck me as strangely sincere about the way those words crawled from his mouth. Soon the hallway spread out as the steam faded. I found myself in a room containing three blast doors. One was ajar. Two brutalized ends of what was once a person had been thrown to either side of that door, coating it in a most lovely and in no way revolting display of gore. I suppose that's the way forward then, I thought, gently pushing my way into the hall that the door guarded. This one was darker, basking beneath the glow of many of those red tinted alarms. They flashed off and on, lending an eerie atmosphere to the grated ground and pipework walls and ceiling. It begged the question of where all those valves led to and just what they could be powering. The hall was cold. The atmosphere was cold. I felt as if something would leap out from the shadows as the alarms alternated between dark and their ghostly crimson. I raised my flintlock and kept it steady as I proceeded, halting momentarily as I heard a faint echo of something. I couldn't quite make out just what that something was.  The incline became more pronounced until the hallway ended at what appeared to be an elevator, a platform taking up the end of the line with a simple lever affixed to a tower in the center with two labels, one red up and the other down. Easy enough. My hand felt a lack of cold on the lever, meaning it had been used recently, but how then were there so many corpses on this level if the beast was yet further within the facility? I then felt every last one of the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It soon registered that a horse, raspy breathing, was emanating from directly behind me. Unable to be paralyzed by the fear due to my training, I immediately whirled and let fly my shredder round into the adjacent hall. A brilliant flash scorched the dark of the tunnel into just about daylight as ten individual razor blades traveling at the speed of bullets flew true, embedding themselves into a hulking figure that threatened to stand taller than the ceiling. These blades would hardly stop by just entering flesh, however. From there, they would burrow through the victim until they either burst out the other end leaving a jagged gash or ripped apart a vital organ. These blades were capable of burrowing through up to a class two armor, but to my astonishment it seemed that whatever this thing was, it exceeded that class. As the roar of the gun faded and the lights above allowed me another burst of light, I made out the shape of what seemed to be a knight. It looked more a robot than anything. A thick silver breastplate turned red with blood just the beginning of this creature's carous space. A helmet rested atop the head, casting two searing ruby eyes my way past a seemingly glass visor and a rigid panel design where the mouth should be supported, thin strips where metal was absent. It was as if there was somebody underneath that helm, but they would have to be gigantic to fit into that suit, what with the extremely thick plates comprising the armor about both the legs, arms and chest. There were like slabs of concrete, but instead some kind of hyper-resilient steel. I had little time to think before the gauntlet, a savage, scale thing from which three talons each as long as rapiers emerged was sent flying my way. I caught burn and scorch marks and bullet dents all across the make of this thing as I stumbled backwards. The claws ripped open a pipe like it was made of cardboard, spewing vapor into the air as I threw myself toward the elevator controls and set them to down. I wasted no time in extending an arm. Helen Wick, I shouted. I unleashed a concentrated blast of empowered air that threw the machine away from me, sending it to the ground with the mighty cacophony of metal meeting metal.  As the elevator descended, I heard a terrible roar from above, muffled under the layer of steel. Another of the red alarms was my only source of light within the cramped device, but it was more than enough for me to gather some of my thoughts and perhaps sort out what the game plan was. I knew the creature possessed heavy armor, and that it was both fast and deadly. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be able to resist my Cambrian words, so I at least had that method of dealing with it. Adrenaline and instinct had completely engulfed me. A fire ignited within my veins as the body alterations they gave me during training kicked in. My mind felt faster, my limbs lighter, and my muscles stronger. I reached toward the pocket of my uniform again, only to remember I was wearing the wrong one. I cursed, knowing I'd be fighting without combat stimulants or revitalizers. I felt the elevator pick up in speed. To the degree, it was very noticeable, metal grinding against metal until the contraption hissed to a halt and the doors began to part. As soon as there was room, I took off sprinting into a hallway identical to the one above. This one did have one major difference, however, the light of an end. My boots clapped the grating beneath me hard, and I pulled back the hammer of my flintlock, allowing the cartridge in the chamber to hiss its way into the air and clatter to the ground behind me. I replaced the shredder with an armor piercing round, one capable of piercing up to class III armor, which was the second strongest documented. These rounds were modeled off heat shells on earth, which were made to destroy tanks. While smaller in nature, these operated in a similar fashion and could scorch their way straight through most composite metals with ease. Above me, I heard a hollow thumping, deep, heavy footsteps seeming to originate from directly overhead. I knew what this thing was planning and began running as fast as my legs could carry me. At this point, I was sprinting faster than I had ever sprinted in my life, likely due to the implants received from that Eden unit. There was hardly a space between my footfalls, the clatter of my boots melding together in a metallic string of pure noise. Wind burned past my face. By then, I was somehow running faster than a horse, faster than perhaps some of the early cars on earth, yet somehow the thumping from above seemed just on my tail regardless. Then, with a horrid twisting of steel and a spraying of yet more steam, the night burst straight through the ceiling, landing mere meters behind me and beginning to throw itself forward whilst pumping its gigantic gauntlets, an unstoppable juggernaut. I couldn't force myself to go faster, but let off a shot towards the creature that burned itself into a miniature gap in the armor situated near the shoulder area. Here, in between two slabs of silvery plate was a dark, rectangular line seemingly devoid of much protection. An audible growl followed me down the tunnel as I ran now. I'd clearly wounded the creature somehow and it was becoming certain this was no mere automation. Returning my eyes to the front, I realized I'd almost reached the searing light of whatever lay past this hall. With a hearty battle cry, I leapt forward with all my might into where this hall terminated. Into that light, the only beacon that there was to be my guide. I halted and took a deep breath, allowing a second to take in the room as I spun to meet the approaching threat, holstering my footlock and drawing my crescent blade. The room was circular in nature, like an arena with a green-tinted glass chamber in the center that had been shattered. Ice clung diamond to the walls, glimmering in the illumination the panels above allowed. It was cold. My breath was visible in it, like the exhale of a smoker. I had little time to survey more as the armored creature plowed its way through the top of the archway, leading to the room, scattering the mangled scraps of steel across the floor around me. It fell to a jog and then slowed to a walk as it approached me. I began to take steps backward as the creature brought itself to bear, dwarfing me in size. Its massive feet echoed through the chamber, reverberating many times over. I heard breathing, raspy yet audible breathing. I was kept here for 5,000 years. A voice tinged English and, sparkling with an eerie youth, rang brass from out of the night. Long before humans came to Aries, when what you call vampires froze me in ice and constructed a tomb. It grunted the swords about its gauntlets hissing away and leaving only three dark holes on each. A secret I have been kept by your government, but now I am free as the sun nears its final days. Astounded in panting, I managed to ask, what do you mean? That is information I cannot disclose, I am afraid. I operate now under protocol C-51. I must eradicate all forces who stand in opposition. First the eyes lost their searing red glow, then the armor began to unfold itself like some elaborate work of paper mache. Cogs and gears clicked together as the plates folded aside, revealing the body of a man, muscular and broad-shouldered, white in complexion. This man looked young, perhaps in his late teens even, with burning blue eyes that seemed like gateways into some kind of alternate dimension as I peered into them. Mesmerizing, the hair was long, falling past his shoulders and appropriately disheveled, whilst a strange tattoo had been imprinted on his chest, a tattoo of a sun. It looked to have been chiseled haphazardly into the flesh and hummed a cherry tint. The light within the cuts of the sun rose and fell in some kind of unknown rhythm, melding with the crude swirls to create an etching not unlike what one would expect from some ancient artifact. Beneath the sun, thankfully, was a pair of simple, tattered brown trousers and simple bare feet. Aside from the pants, this fellow wore no clothing at all, making him a most bizarre sight. Was this truly the one who had slaughtered so many? In spite of my doubts, I readied my blade and prepared to take the man's head, if need be. The man smiled a jagged smile and took a step forwards. Do you really think you'll stand a chance against me, when clearly none of your silly comrades could?  Instinct. What are you? I asked, adrenaline blasting through me. My heart threatened to fly straight out of my ribcage.  At this, the being's brows furrowed a little. Like me? The sad little human, such as yourself, clutching no more than a sharpened stick. He seemed to study me for a few seconds, folding his arms and frowning. Oh, how unexpected. But it matters not. He took a step backward as his eyes began to sear even brighter, the strange being slowly walking forward as a crushing energy began to pulse out from him. My grip tightened on the handle of my saber, and my mind began racing for ways to somehow sneak an attack in past his guard. For whatever reason, though, I felt that if I lashed out unprepared, I'd be dead immediately. That feeling resonated within the deepest depths of my soul. One wrong move, and I was as good as dead. Since you are of my kind, however vaguely, I shall smite you with my full power," said the being, curling his fingers inwards and raising an empty palm towards me. Air hissed and sizzled as a ball of some kind of red energy began to grow within it, miniature bolts of lightning somehow pouring through the mass and growing with it. I was frozen as it went from being the size of a baseball to that of a soft ball and soon nearly as large as a basketball. The entire room had taken on a bloody hue, and I felt like I was being crushed by this power. I have to wait for the exact moment, I thought, lowering my saber and focusing only on my inner energies. That's known as kimbria. It had been long since I had used such energy in its raw form. The reason I hadn't tried doing so earlier was because I thought it would be weaker than a simple barrier word, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt a mere barrier would do nothing against this. I had to match wills with this thing, beat it at its own game, or die trying. YAH! My foe shouted, the orb of energy blasting forwards at blinding speed. My now superhuman eyes registered it, however. I had time to create the barrier. Drawing all the power of my spirit forth, I focused all my mental fortitude on enhancing the protective field around me. The room echoed with immense power as I stood my ground, red energy rippling just above my skin like some kind of balloon. I braced for impact. For death. The entire world lit up a blinding white as I felt myself being thrown backwards at great speeds. Air fled my lungs as my back hit something hard, crashing straight through it and going further. I finally came to a rest after striking yet another barrier I couldn't even see. There was no pain, only a ringing, blindness. I groaned as the world faded back in. As soon as I felt in control of myself, I threw myself back to my feet, breathing frantically. The white haze faded like a fine mist, and as I looked towards my chest, I saw massive fragments of glass jutting forth from it. Exactly eight of them, each long as knives. Was I going to die? I saw blood but not near as much as I thought there would be. I must have been thrown straight through the strange glass chamber destroying it. My hand yanked one of the glass shards out and life spilled across the floor below me. I grimaced and felt where the object had been. Metal? I tapped it. It was hard but hardly bone. Then I remembered. Subdermal armor. So that must mean I had an armored plate under my flesh. What was more, my internal organs didn't seem to have been damaged by the shockwave. Perhaps I had a chance. Even with the glass sticking out of me, I stepped forward towards my foe. He looked like he'd just been robbed, bewilderment, frustration. How could such a thing like you share the same abilities as me? What have you perverted scientists created in order to emulate me so? At this point, it seems I am equal parts man and machine. No matter. As pain began to sear through me, so too did anger. A massive red range. If that was you at your best, then you stand no chance of defeating me, I bluffed. We shall see. The brown-haired one hissed. I knew not exactly how much time it took for him to appear directly in front of me. But what I did know was that he managed it in the time I used to blink. On opposite sides of his shoulders, I could have sworn I had seen wings. Beautiful, massive, feathery wings that arched forth medicinally, like those of an eagle about to make a kill. Then they were gone. Something as sharp and daringly blue as a polished sapphire blazed towards me at an angle, but I'd still held onto my weapon. I raised it to block and my foe's ethereal blade glanced off the edge. That was when I got a look at it. A simple longsword, comprised of wavering blue energy. What amazed me most was how fast he materialized it, but I had little time to think before another blow assaulted me from the opposite side. I faded back, using the momentum along with a turn of my saber to redirect the blow towards the ground. Tiling and soil burst into the air as it landed, shattering the very foundations of the room. My weapon was made from tougher material, though, and as long as it stayed intact I was confident in my ability to deal with this threat. Now it was my turn. I lunged and striking up to down from right to left, hoping to cleave him diagonally. I saw the wings flicker before me once again as the enemy dodged backwards, somehow evading the blow altogether. He was fast, very fast. I'd send, I commanded, focusing the word's power on the glass in my chest. The seven remaining shards flew out of their resting places nearly as fast as bullets, hurtling toward the angel-winged monstrosity. I caught a look of surprise on its face as it faded sideways, fast as ever. Even so, one had caught him just below the shoulder on my left. As it turned out, ice bled just the same as humans. The man stumbled to a knee, gasping and clutching the jagged green spear now embedded in his chest through clenched teeth.  Blood seeped from where the glass had been in my chest, but I could see red tinted metal in the holes. I felt the blood already beginning to clot, however. Likely another addition to my new body. Perhaps as long as my armor wasn't breached, I'd stand little to no chance of death from my chest or gut. I felt like a monster now, but I loved it deep down. I had the power to stand up to what was essentially a demigod. I focused, then vaulted forward, the crack of wind sounding a full second after I was at my enemy's side. A vault was a high-speed movement technique that needed to be mastered to the degree you needn't speak the word to use it. Vault was an additional usage of the Cambrian word for wind, wick. It allowed one to blast forwards at the speed of a tempest nearly instantaneously, but misuse could end with you being a red splat on a wall afterwards. Of course, I already went over this before, but it never does hurt to have more. My saber howled for blood as I sent it towards the angel-thing's neck and I caught a glimpse of panic in one of those blue eyes before the ice vanished with a whip. My eyes traced the movement back toward where the being had left its armor. I don't see how you're able to enter that armor with that thing stuck in your shoulder, I said, pointing towards the angel, who was now holding his ethereal weapon only loosely. He flicked his wrist, seemingly dispelling, said Blade with a zip. You would be unwise to doubt me. With the hand far really swinging his weapon, the angel took hold of the glass and growled as he yanked it free, a flow of blood beginning to spatter onto the ground before him from the gash. However, in the time it had taken him to do so, I had already unholstered my flintlock and loaded a cryo round, a bullet capable of encasing limbs in exceptionally hard crystalline formations. These were among the most expensive available to the guard. Each of us only had one or maybe two depending on our rank. I unfortunately only had one. Even so, as the angel walked backwards, spreading his arms out and letting the suit begin to fold over him, I unleashed my ordnance, aiming for the midsection. The bullet left its chamber with a low kchung, like a ball rapidly being launched from a long tube. My aim was true, and before I knew it, a transparent mass of crystals had sprouted just above my foe's chest, effectively freezing open the armor and trapping the angel within it. The armor groaned and stuttered against the jagged formation of mock ice, but the cluster didn't budge. While the cryo rounds didn't last for more than a few minutes, they were exceptionally strong. One had to know the best method for destroying the crystals, or else they would be severely handicapped if hit. Looks like you should never have left that armor, I said, walking past the remains of the glass canister and kicking aside a few stray pieces of it. If you had done that, I might have been able to freeze a leg or an arm, but as long as your armor held, you could have just waited it out. Now you're wide open, all because of your pride. His arms, legs, and body were covered, only partially by the suit, not enough to move and certainly not enough to protect them from further damage. Then I heard something I thought I'd never hear from someone in such a situation. Laughter, raucous, uproarious, laughter. Do you know just how much power it takes to lay siege to a city like this? The voice of the ice echoed, you really thought you won.  The lights began to flicker, and the earth beneath my feet trembled. It was as if an earthquake had just occurred directly beneath me, and I stumbled to the ground, watching an outline of blue begin to burn around the ice as the lights continued to sputter and fail. The sheer amount of energy floored me, bringing me to the ground until all I could do was fruitlessly attempt to rise back to my feet. I remember thinking it was impossible for such power to exist, for a man so close to defeat to suddenly turn everything around so quickly. At that moment, I felt like an ant compared to this thing. I wrenched my eyes upwards in time to see the crystals start to groan from the pressure being suddenly applied to them. In training, I had been told it would take thousands of pounds of pressure to shatter them. You weren't supposed to try shattering them through brute force under any circumstance, but here I was, watching it happen right before me. Then I saw a man appear behind the armor, blonde-haired and distinctly blue-eyed with a grim expression written across his face. He was dressed in close to all gray from his black-rimmed military hat to his waistcoat and slacks, but I remembered this man. It was the one from the train, the one who'd shown me the strange magic trick. You rarely get this far, Mercer.   Just get to your feet and touch him, hurry, Mercer. At that moment, I was at my last reserves of strength, but I had no idea what else I'd use it on, if not for this. If not for this final shred of hope I had of maybe, possibly overcoming this threat. Rising to my feet was like having to carry a 300-pound weight on my shoulders, but somehow I managed it. With each step toward the burning blue outline of my enemy, it felt as if I was being dragged down by some kind of magnetism. My legs were made of lead, or it sure as hell felt that way. I focused my energy, priming for another vault.  In that moment, I'd concentrated just about more than I'd ever concentrated in my life. It was almost easy to bridge the distance so precisely. This thing was like some kind of black hole, exerting more gravity the closer you got. My bones threatened to shatter the unseen force attempting to bring me to my knees, but with the last vestiges of strength I had, I grabbed hold of the ice's right arm, praying the armor wouldn't slam shut and cut it clean off. Ice generate the energy, humans direct it. I heard the strange blue-eyed man shout that, absorb the power, and repurpose it, Mercer. Feel his energy as if it's yours. It sounds like cultish bullocks, I called back. I looked into the apparent ice's cool pupils and saw what seemed to be panic within them. It is cultist bullocks, he said, suddenly not so confident in himself.  Very well then, I focused my power and felt all the crushing strength around me. Suddenly, as my concentration peaked, that power felt bearable. In fact, it felt as if it had been mine, was mine. In all my years, I never knew I even had such an ability. But as I used it, it felt natural, like an old pair of shoes you fit back into after months of neglect. I don't know why you killed those people, but I do know that the law cannot serve you justice nor its servants. Therefore, I moved my other palm towards the face of the angel, fuming upon remembering the faces of those slain by this monster. I will pass your sentence. I channeled all the might this thing was exerting into a single word, wick. I wanted a gale so concentrated and strong it could blow apart his armor and incapacitate or kill him simultaneously. That was exactly what I got. There was a symphony of roars like a pride of angry lions from the storm that followed. I felt for only a moment that I'd unleashed the equivalent of a hurricane from my palm before everything faded into a dreamlike state of darkness and unfeeling. I beheld the man I'd met ever so briefly on the train when my vision returned. A booth was behind me, a table before me. The ground shook and trembled, my body jostling ever so slightly every few seconds. I looked out the window to my side, seeing a nightscape of ocean and a burning city in the distance. Embers flickered toward the sky, but the fires seemed to have quelled. Oh yes, this was where I'd been. My name is Ekko Zezekiel. The man's voice broke the silence and the train's hum. You are the first version of Mercer Cedric to defeat that ice. Still woozy, I replied in what I imagined was a monotone. So I won. For the time being, more silence.  Cyrus and the others are they okay? Yes, for the time being. Ekko's took a drink of some clear liquid sitting before him. You have no idea just how excited I am, Mercer. I've been living a life of misery, trapped in an endless cycle of hope being crushed. You, Mercer, are now my hope, the world's hope as we move into this next age. What are you talking about? I asked. My mind an utter mess. Ekko's grinned, looking out the window with a wistful look in those cool blue eyes. In time, we'll see. to get noticed. You can also email me anytime with your questions or comments through the website at WeirdDarkness.com. That's also where you can find all of my social media, listen to free audio books, shop the Weird Darkness store, sign up for the newsletter to win monthly prizes, find my other podcast, Church of the Undead, and find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression or dark thoughts. Plus, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, you can click on Tell Your Story. A story from the Black Guard was written by Justin Reynars. You can find a link to the story as well as the author's website in the show notes. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright Weird Darkness. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Philippians 4, verses 6 and 7. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. And a final thought from Will Smith. Sometimes you have to forget what's gone, appreciate what remains, and look forward to what's coming next. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness. Find it at WeirdDarkness.com. Slash, listen.