???

A man in full battle armor stomped across the metal walkway, helmet obscuring his face from view. He wielded a large assault rifle held across his chest with the ease of a professional. The desert sand picked up, causing him to curse once again. He didn't know what was so urgent he'd been called here, but whatever it was, he might be stuck here till the storm passed.

He stopped in front of a metal door and gave it his identification. It scanned the I.D card, assessed his voice, then promptly slid open, having confirmed his credentials.

The man grunted as he stepped inside, taking off his helmet only after the door shut, and the air had pressurized. A light brown ponytail slid appreciatively off the helmet's insides and down, no longer trapped in its cage.

He held the helmet in his left hand and massaged his forehead with his forefinger and thumb, then wiped a bead of sweat trickling down his blue skin. He promptly walked down the only hallway in the lonely outpost, eager to get this assignment over with.

He passed through a connecting bridge, then another checkpoint, which thankfully led to the control room he was looking for.

The control room was a small auditorium filled with rows of tables, and workstations were employees once sat to observe and study the stars above. It was empty now though, dust and spiders the only interested parties.

A sound from the front row caught his attention.

Oh yeah, there was one person left here. A man who insisted on chasing wild fantasies. Dark grey eyes scanned the room for the man who had summoned him to this forgotten place.

"Haha!" A man laughed, screaming while he did so as he rose from behind a workstation. "That you Dark!? What'd I tell ya!? Told you I'd find it! Took me twenty-five years, but I found it, the blasted thing!"

The man called Dark set his helmet down on one of the tables and approached him. "Speak Bruce, I don't have time for this."

"Fine, fine. No patience seriously," Bruce grumbled as he shuffled over to one of the still-functioning workstations. "Look up there." He pointed at a giant screen overhead on the wall that displayed... nothing. Just a bunch of stars.

Dark frowned. "What am I supposed to be looking at, Bruce?"

"That is point 32 Delta, 65 Gardon, 128 Java. This is what it looks like now. But..." Bruce clicked something, and the image on the screen changed. "That was thirty hours ago."

Dark's eyes widened in shock. "What the fuck am I looking at, Bruce?"

"Looks like a giant mask, in my opinion." Bruce offered.

He returned the ridiculous statement with an incredulous glare. "I can see that much! I mean that planet! What the fuck's a planet doing there?"

"Don't know, frankly. One second it wasn't there, next... poof, gone. Best guess there's some sort of cloaking device."

"For a whole planet? Nothing has that kind of power."

"I'm a scientist, not a god Dark," Bruce stated. "We wanna know what's there, we gotta investigate. Send a drone or two, maybe."

Dark frowned. "Those are expensive. Don't think Siri has any to spare."

"Then get her to change her mind," Bruce retorted, tone rising rapidly. "I stayed behind in this hellhole for twenty-five years Dark, Twenty-Fucking-Five Years! All so I could save you ungrateful lot! With the amount of radiation poisoning I got, I won't live long enough to see how this pans out anyway. So, when I say I need one or two measly drones, you get that bitch Siri to fucking deliver! Got it!?"

Dark sighed as he balanced the rifle on his left hand and raised his right to placate the old man. "Fine, I'll get on it. Might take some time, though."

"Look around you." Bruce gestured around the room. "All I've got is time."

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked swiftly to the exit, picking up his helmet along the way. If he hurried, he could still beat the storm. "Oh, yeah," he said, stopping at the door. "Shouldn't have to say this, but you do know you can't tell anyone about this."

Bruce's green eyes flashed with rage. "I've been doing this since you were sucking on your momma's tits boy. Don't insult me."

"Sorry, Bruce," Dark apologized. "Protocol and all that. Gotta say it. You know how it is."

"Yeah, whatever," Bruce grunted. "Just get me those damned probes."

"Will do." The young man put on his helmet, its familiar hiss letting him know it was now air-locked. He ran outside the facility, jumped off the side of the railings, then dashed to his glider (hoverbike). He placed his assault rifle in a compartment reserved for it, then turned on the machine.

A slight hum and turn later, dust kicked up as the machine kicked into over-drive and sped across the wasteland, its rider eager to beat the rapidly encroaching sandstorm...

Deserun,

Merriheim.

3rd Ryzul, 1092.

Kashi strode through the mansion's hallways, inspecting the damage incurred during Razznik's episode. It was probably a good thing only Kashi and Miote had been in the building. Coming up from the basement, they had time to prepare before attacking. Anyone else caught in these hallways would have been swarmed in an instant.

The damages themselves were superficial, nothing a little money couldn't fix (though at present he was relatively short on funds. The guild had sunk most of its profits into the bridge, islands, and bank investments.) Huge gambles on all fronts, but ones both he and Leila were assured would pay off sooner rather than later.

Well, he still had the money he was supposed to have used to subjugate the south-south region of Merriheim.

Satisfied with the inspection, Kashi went downstairs to the living room where all Maggots in Merriheim were present and waiting, along with Rider. He had also teleported Stryke and his team (which took forever since he could only take one at a time) over, Leila the only player missing. Well, he would update her whenever she logged back in, which Stryke had informed him would be a while.

Kashi squeezed his way through the fully packed room, to the only free spot by the fireplace. He had spent the last forty-eight hours thinking of the best way to go ahead and had finally decided. He glanced around the room, fingers shaking ever so slightly, evidence of his increasing unease.

What Kashi has about to ran contrary to everything Suzuki stood for. In fact, he was pretty sure while Razznik Y'Terlow might not particularly care, he would still shake his head at this endeavor. Not that Kashi could blame them. Every fiber in his being screamed against this move, but – he glanced at Rider – now that he knew the true identity of that man, he could no longer hesitate. Better to have him momentarily mad, than become his enemy in the future.

Kashi swallowed his unease with a deep breath. The faster he got this over with, the better. Once he had calmed down, he fixed his gaze at Rider. "Lu-lu."

Rider, who had been resting against the opposite wall jerked upright, eyes darkened with rage. "What did you just call me?"

"Lu-lu," Kashi continued in a low voice, determined not to throw his eyes from Rider's cold glare. "Lucius Ludarak. That is your name. Only one person called you Lu-Lu for short."

All light was drained from the room. The next second, light returned, and Rider held Kashi by the throat. "Are you going to claim you heard that from the history books too?"

The Maggots rose in a frenzy, each about to strike, but Kashi quickly shouted, "Stop!" He could feel his throat being crushed by the hybrid's force, and patted Rider's hand in a futile attempt to get him to release his chokehold. Wincing, he managed. "A-alive. Sh-"

"What did you say?" Rider's grip tightened.

Kashi pointed at his hand and frowned, making a face that totally did not match his situation. His eyes seemed to say, 'How am I supposed to talk with a crushed throat, you moron!?'

Stunned by the daeben's defiance, Rider relaxed his grip.

Kashi's desperate lungs sucked in oxygen too fast, sending him into a coughing fit. After he had relaxed, he matched Rider's glare. "She's alive, son of Dracula... Zeno is alive."

Son of Dracula

"Haa? You say your name's Ludarak? That's just an anagram of Dracula isn't it?"

"Dracula is my Uncle's name. I..."

"Well, you hate your pops. So, I guess your name makes you the son of Dracula, don't it?"

"He's my Uncle."

"Whatever you say, Son of Dracula."

Rider stared at the daeben, eyes a mixture of shock, question, and a hint of fear. "How do you know that? That name."

"Same as always," Kashi rebuked, regaining his confidence. "You fail to see what is truly important. I said Zeno is Alive!"

"I, I heard that," Rider replied listlessly. "However, I have no reason to believe you. Not until you explain to me your relationship with Razznik Y'Terlow."

There was a collective gasp across the room. No wonder. Those who had played the previous game knew Razznik quite well. Those who didn't know had been regaled with his tales – slightly exaggerated sometimes – by those who did know.

"Was planning on doing so anyway," Kashi chided. "Now, would you please let me down? It's hard to talk with your throat under the constant threat of being crushed."

Rider hesitated. He knew of Kashi's teleport ability. However, if the daeben knew so much, he should know what would happen as a result of that action. If he did try to escape, then it proved he knew nothing, and would be wiped from existence for his deceit. With that in mind, he let the daeben go.

Kashi landed on his feet, and massaged his sore throat, wincing as he did so. As far as gambles go, this had been his biggest of his life. Zeno had been his ace, but if Rider had refused to fold, he would have been dead by now. A gamble with his life as the stakes. He wondered if Kenny Rogers would approve.

"Are you still familiar with how we Summoned come to be?" Kashi asked once he had regained his composure.

"Yes. There is a host body in your world from whom spirits enter our world. Is it still as I remember it?"

"Yes, it is." The fact that the Residents were aware that Summoned came from another world was a bonus beyond measure. Especially since, unlike videogames, the world didn't pause when they logged out. It also allowed people to talk about real-life situations without breaking the minds of the residents, as the residents just viewed it as another thing done in that peculiar world. It was still, of course, taboo to speak of, or in any way, try to alert the residents to the fact they were A.I's or part of a game. Actions like that were stopped by the system and could result in a lifetime ban.

Kashi took a deep breath and steeled himself. "I share the host body of Razznik Y'Terlow."

The odd phrasing took a second or two to sink into the Maggots, but when its meaning did... Pandemonium.

"What!?"

"What do you mean!?"

"You were Razznik!"

"What was that in the sky then!"

"You can control two characters at the same time!?"

Like a recently cracked dam, the questions kept rushing in faster than Kashi could answer, their overwhelming force threatening to swallow him whole. Luckily, he had an unexpected savior.

"Repeat what you just said." The dark rage consuming Rider's voice silenced the frenzied crowd.

Kashi matched his glare. "I share Razz's host bo – Whoa!" The daeben floundered, eyes wide as he gazed at the mansion a hundred feet below him. He brought his eyes to the hybrid, who as well hovered in front of him. Cold breeze carrying whispers of winter licked his hair, the sky grey as it prepared to receive the morning sun. "Well, this is new," remarked the daeben in an oddly relaxed tone.

"You do not seem bothered by this," Rider noted, tone measured. "Though I suppose it should be so. You are Razznik, after all."

Kashi opened his mouth to correct him—but then decided against it. Some secrets were not his to give out. Besides, he doubted he could explain the complexity of his situation without somehow alerting the hybrid of his true nature. "Yes, and no. The Razznik I was died at K'iol. This one can be considered my... soul, yes, my soul if you will."

Rider's eyes narrowed. He spoke his doubt, but his eyes revealed the frightened hope that hid beneath. "How do I know you speak the truth?"

Kashi shook his head. "I told you of your true name. Surely you remember only a handful knew that name. Come to think of it, I also didn't know your true appearance... Is this even your real appearance or just another fake?"

"I ask the questions."

"Of course," Kashi relented. "What do you wish to hear?"

"Where did I first meet Razznik?"

Kashi frowned. "Do you mean when you two officially met, or the time you crossed paths in Rist pass while he was dragon hunting?"

"Ah... It would seem you are who you claim to be," Rider remarked, and Kashi swallowed hard as a wave of bloodlust assaulted him. "Surely, you wouldn't blame me for your death?"

"Wait," Kashi urged. "I was serious when I said Zeno's alive."

"If what you say is true, take me to her this instant."

Kashi grimaced. "That is impossible at this mo-" he clutched his throat, wincing as his throat was slowly crushed by an unseen force. "We need Skyrm!" He panted as the force relented. Damn, he was starting to regret his decision. "She is safe, but we need Skyrm to rescue her."

Rider frowned. "If it is a matter of strength, then I-"

"It's not strength or skill. Skyrm is the only one who can undo the locks that protect her."

"No problem," Rider professed. "We shall go meet Skyrm this instant. He should willingly offer his assistance."

Kashi shook his head in disbelief, shoulders shaking with rising rage. The man called Lucius Ludarak had not changed one bit from the past. Sure, physically, he looked nothing like the red-bearded Norwegian whose acquaintance Razznik had made, but he still lost sight of everything whenever Zeno was involved. "In case you forgot, just a few days ago, you shut Razznik out of this realm."

Rider's incredulous gaze asked, 'So What?'

"So, only one being on this continent has enough power to simultaneously cast so many portals at the same time," Kashi explained. He winced as he recalled the beast flying away, clawing at the soul-stone embedded in its chest. At the time, he had hoped Skyrm would find a way to rid himself of the stone. Apparently, he had no such luck.

"Let us assume you are right–"

"I am."

Rider completely ignored Kashi's declarationt. "Assuming you are right, why is that important?"

Kashi glared at the hybrid. "I don't suppose you know where Skyrm is, do you? And on the off chance you do, are you confident you can take him on?"

Rider's brow rose in confused disbelief. "Why do you suppose I would fight alongside you? I may only interfere in matters relating to Razznik Y'Terlow. You're a bit of a grey area, but I am sure killing you is, in some way or another, following the guidelines. Fighting Skyrm is not."

Kashi was actually stunned speechless. Of all the scenarios he had in mind, he had never really considered this a possibility. "We're talking about Zeno here."

"Yes," Rider admitted. "But my duty outweighs my personal wishes. As you claim to be Razznik, you should know this."

"So, you won't fight Skyrm?"

"Not unless he once again becomes directly related to Razznik's return."

Kashi palmed his forehead as a frustrated grunt escaped his lips. In his haste, he had forgotten it was this man's loyalty to duty that had gotten Zeno in that mess in the first place. Never one to wallow in needless despair, the leader of the Hopeful Maggots immediately drummed up a new course of action. "Fine. You won't fight, I get that. However, you will have to wait then."

"Why?"

"Quite simply, because my guildmates and I are far too weak."

Rider frowned. "It could take a decade for you to get strong enough to challenge Skyrm. Do you think I can wait that long?"

Tired of playing the injured party, Kashi shirked his faked fright and went on the attack. "First: You don't have a choice. Kill me, and you lose all chance of saving Zeno. Second: I might share the same body as Razznik, but it would do you good not to think of us the same. I would never send those in my charge to their needless deaths just to further my cause. Third: It would take three decades for us to challenge Skyrm. I should know. It took Razznik that long. And he really cheated."

"Anything else you would like to point out?" Rider asked dryly.

"Yes, actually. I don't have the patience to wait three decades, either. We will only need six months."

"Impossible."

Kashi snorted. "If we were trying to kill or defeat Skyrm, yes. My aim is a little different. We just need to destroy or remove the soul stone in his chest."

"How would you do that?"

"I know Skyrm's true name. I can bind him to his human body for a limited time."

Rider's eyes for the first time that morning showed something not entirely negative: a smidgen of respect. "You know the true name of the Lord of Dragons?"

Kashi shook his head. "It isn't as good as it sounds. Most I can do is bind him to a spot for a few minutes." Which was kind of a bummer. With most divine creatures, their true names gave its wielder almost complete command of them. Skyrm, however, was so overpowered that using his true name was something akin to a minor irritation. That, of course, didn't mean he wouldn't absolutely murder anyone who had the guts to disrespect him by using it.

Kashi sighed, and then complained, "Downside is, I have to be whisper his name into his ear. He would kill me, regardless if I shouted his name for the world to hear."

"I see. Have you considered what the outcome would be if you shattered the stone while it resided within him?" Rider asked. "The corruption could very well merge with his very bloodstream. I have witnessed similar cases."

Kashi grimaced. "It's a chance I'll have to take. The only mage I know I can trust is a blood mage. It was quite difficult for him to remove an inactive soul stone from an unconscious opponent. We can't knock Skyrm out, so he is out of the question."

"Syèl, was it?" Rider mused. "Yes, the halben who makes a mockery of the blood arts."

Kashi laughed weakly. Only this man could call Syèl's frightening proficiency and skill a mockery. After Razznik, Syèl was the person the daeben least wanted—yet also most wanted—to fight. In the end, Kashi had to admit that Rider did have the right to make such a proclamation. "I wouldn't call him a mockery, but yes, he's the one."

"As long as he remains a blood mage, he will suffer when it comes to magic from the Restoration branch," Rider pointed out with a shake of his head.

"Maybe." Kashi sighed. "All of this is meaningless if we cannot find Skyrm in the first place. He could be anywhere."

"I cannot directly interfere, but I am allowed to advise," Rider started. "A brethren of mine received a prophecy recently. It might help you find him."

Kashi winced as the wind momentarily picked up, stinging his cheeks with cold. Seemed winter was around the corner. "You would help me?"

"No." Bam! Flat! Instant Rejection! "I do this for Zeno."

"You didn't need to force the No so much, you know? Fine, what is this prophecy?"

"Madness Without Equal, Destroyer Beyond Measure. An Army of Death Shields the Light of the Sixth Moon. Thunder Deafens the World, yet no Light Breaks the Darkness. The Earth Bleeds Where Chaos Reigns. The Destroyer Returns."

Kashi ears perked at the last two lines. He brought up his quest menu and scrolled to the quest to kill Razznik. A smile spread across his lips. "I don't know where he is now, but I know exactly where he will be in six months' time."

Rider's eyes sparked, attention drawn. "Where?"

"Oni Hill," Kashi said with a short laugh. "The damned place still exists."

???

Gunder, the soul that now inhabited Skyrm's body walked meekly behind its recognized lord and master, Cathek. The duo traversed a monastery hewn into the side of a mountain, in some remote location. Harsh winds razed its surroundings, enshrouding the building in a mirage of snow.

The dragon gazed at its reflection on the finely polished floors, ignoring the men and women that passed by, some in armor, others in robes. Some of them smelled like gold, others the ever lingering smell of the sewers and all bowed to its master as he passed by.

A grunt from its master hastened it to the door where he waited. He pushed it open and held it for the dragon to enter.

Gunder walked in, examining the medical laboratory as he did so. Several warriors—denoted by the armor by their bedside—and mages were sprawled on beds, attended by the finest of mages in the art of restoration. Most were victims of the Paladins' attacks, while some had inevitably suffered from Razznik's failed summoning.

Well, no one expected there not to be any casualties.

Gunder watched Cathek exchange words with one of the physicians, then place a reassuring palm on his, and promise all the aid he needed. His master then beckoned him closer, and Gunder complied.

"So, Perah, what is it that ails him?" Cathek inquired.

The physician called Perah was a wood-elf past his prime. Wrinkles marred his forehead as he examined the dragon, greying brown hair, bound neatly at his back. "There's nothing physically wrong with his constitution. You have a healthy elder dragon, Sire."

"I should," Cathek agreed. "But he cannot replicate any of the high tier skills or magicks. And his mana pool is ridiculously low for a dragon, let alone the King of Dragons."

"Hmm. Let me run some more tests. Do you wish to visit Lady Taris in the meantime?"

"No," Cathek declined. "I will wait. This is of far more importance."

"I would not be the one to tell her that."

Gunder barely listened to this exchange, fascinated instead by the bodies moaning around the room. It was interesting how much tenacity they had to live, even with some having only one or two limbs left.

The glasses-elf started poking him with more stuff. He wondered why he did not feel a thing, though. Maybe it was because of this body? Since he got this body, killing had been so much easier that it was almost dull. But it seemed master was not satisfied for some reason. He wanted more, and if glasses man was supposed to help, then he would stay quiet and do as told.

Several hours later, Perah had reached his conclusion. "Your problem's not so much physical as it is spiritual."

Cathek regarded the physician with a slight frown. "What did Skyrm do?"

"I've never seen this done in practice before," Perah muttered. "He shattered his own ki centres."

Cathek closed his eyes in silent reverence to the King of Dragons. Right until the end, he found a way to buy the realm as much time as possible. "In the end, it's just buying time. How long until they are repaired?"

"Quite frankly, I am amazed we can even speak of repairing them. Any other being would be unable to use magic for life, but the fact that Gunder can already use low-level magic is proof that they're healing quickly."

"So, how long?"

"He heals at a very fast rate. In a few months, you should be able to use high-tier spells again."

Cathek nodded, pleased with the answer. The 'Seven Broken Swords' needed a year before they could use Aerith's Keys again. "What is your professional estimate on the [Nether Gates] spell?"

Perah rubbed his chin in thought. "I would say anywhere from five to eight months. This is not an exact science. It's my first time encountering this myself."

"Thank you for your assistance," Cathek said with a short bow, which was returned in kind. "I will speak to Her Highness regarding your station. Our wounded brethren will not be neglected."

"I would be most gracious."

Gunder followed his master down the maze-like hallways to a grand door which two heavily armored warriors guarded.

The guards bowed as they pushed the doors open.

Cathek ordered the dragon to wait behind as he walked inside, the doors shutting him from the dragon's view.