Dead.

Nilia had long stopped standing; having simply slipped down, her back sliding, she was sitting tucked in effect.

Strange position, strange posture and fashion of sit; her arms were tightly wrapped around her skirt and legs, her hand no longer even bothering to obscure her communicator device, although nobody was seeming to bother happening an eye—or caring to question.

Contact had been completely lost with Fly some time ago—how long, she knew not; she had stopped tracking. It was irrelevant. Contact was lost, and she had waited… No reestablishment.

Dead…

Such was the conclusion she had reached.

Novea and her others were…most likely dead. And although she had not necessarily felt a 'severing' of her essence's connection to her little automaton, there was…a strange absence—a missingness within… Or…at least it felt as though there was one—perhaps in her essence, perhaps not… Who knew if such was indicative of anything real.

Either way, she could only conclude that something had happened to Fly; that it was probably gone too.

Fly was supposed to return the instant connection destabilization was noticed… Instead, it had only ventured deeper, ignoring recall attempts; it had no doubt attempted to ascertain the source vector and collect more detailed data, having had noticed unmistakable signatures which were sufficient enough to effectively confirm…

Nebula-aligned essence.

Nebulic contamination was present in the city's underlayer—the sewers and water distribution system.

Although these largely indirect trace signatures and discernable residuals Fly had been detecting prior to contact loss were not enough to accurately or definitively determine spectrum specificity, class designation, properties, or type category, Bee was able to somewhat extrapolate from the limited data; she herself could also make a few guesses…

Indications so far suggested a potentially spreading high-corrosive category of Nebulic contamination; it would have to be of a particularly nasty kind to generate such an extreme interference field… Signal scrambling, resonance disruption, and even neutrino absorption—that was, indeed, extreme.

Additionally, Bee's reported observations of denizen force movements in and around the identified subterranean entry points suggested an escalating scenario… They were combatting something.

Frankly, it was these sorts of situations that Nilia had realized how much she relied on her ancillary terminal device or HUD-mask system to…compliment her ability to understand Bee's communication. Although she had long become accustomed to her sentinel's unique speech patterns, its speech registers nevertheless…struggled to properly convey precise, technical, and specific details and information.

Even so, she had a general picture: something quite bad was happening down there, even if she did not know exactly what.

Yet despite that understanding, she remained stationary—static. Despite that cold inhibiting grip having squeezed its hold, there was…nevertheless…something happening deep within.

Flat and hollow, she felt nothing… Yet there was still something inside.

Something that wanted to…simply…sit here.

Failure…

That single word repeated itself over and over, ringing in many tongues within her head.

Failure.

Sometimes… Often times… It really did seem as though it was impossible not to fail in even the most basic duties—even the most basic obligations and oaths to those whom she had sworn to protect.

Almost two years, it had been… She yet again realized… Since that ambush.

She was their recon and surveillance. Her sentinels were their overwatching eyes and forward surveyors, their exotic connection to her essence providing both additional risks yet also beneficial insights. Yet somehow, they had…she had…completely missed or perhaps simply ignored…the signs and indications…

Of an impending ambush.

Logically, she understood that it was not necessarily her fault.

Yet…

Perhaps had she done better; perhaps had she not been so…absent minded and negligent; she could have prevented that entire incident… Perhaps were she not so negligent, she could have ascertained…this very situation before it reached this point. For, indeed, it was not as though there had not been any signs.

Truly, for as much as she relied on other troopers in any operation, whenever it came time for her to do her part, somehow someway she would find a way to fall onto her mask… For as much as she could strategize, plan, and analyze…it seemed as though she continuously made the poorest judgements or worst decisions or…

Truth be told, none of these thoughts were rational or necessarily grounded in object reality; they were not genuine self-reflections or honest realizations. Although she struggled—or perhaps refused—to comprehend, something was sinking within her, lower and lower. An infected wound that had suddenly reopened within her mind's shadow and essence imbued, rotting with its bleed.

She out of anyone in this entire city—this entire locality—knew best the potential severity—the crisis—of this situation. She needed to do something, yet…

She…had not even the faintest idea of what to do.

She was just one trooper—the only known survivor of a failed operation the objectives of which were only to handle a reawakened Calamity node… Neither she nor any of the other dispatched troopers were necessarily outfitted to contain…a severe Nebulic contamination scenario—the exact severity or properties of which she still did not even know, and the specifics mattered.

Of course, Violet-Coats would not be what they were if they were anything but operationally versatile and flexibly adaptive to sudden emergences.

Yet she could strategize, however… Nothing seemed workable.

Or rather…

She had lost total confidence—trust—in herself to execute any course of action efficiently; to do anything properly.

She could attempt to escape, however she could speculate the many ways she would stumble, get shot, or somehow get the bystanding denizens here killed… She could send Bee into that mess, and in fact protocol demanded she ought to, however…

Bee would only disappear too if she did that, she presumed… And it was that thought alone which froze her still, flattening any resolve. She could not—absolutely could not—risk losing…Bee. Not after this…

Indeed…

Fly. That little automaton had survived for such a long time that she did not even remember when she had even synthesized it. Much like Bee, it had always…simply…just been there.

And now it was likely gone… Something within her kept telling her that over and over, despite the lack of overtly sensed severance. Even if Fly was not necessarily 'destroyed', exposure to such potentially 'corrosive'—in an essence sense—contamination could have damaged it inoperable or rendered something critically wrong with it. And there was a nebulous 'itch' biting at her essence from its connected root…

Then there was Novea too… Communicator registration had been gone for far longer than an hour now; it was reasonable, in her ever-warping mind, to assume that Novea and her others were…either dead or so horribly contaminated that they were practically dead—or worse… There could always be worse…

Nilia had promised to protect her; she evidently failed… Thus, another denizen to add to her forsaken list…

Ironic… One of the things she had considered that day, when providing Novea that very communicator, was also the allocation of Fly or another automaton… She had ultimately decided against that, of course… Such would have required additional demonstrations, guidance protocols, and…

Regardless… Had she gone forward with that, the early signs or even detailed parameters of this contamination could have potentially been noted in advance, and she could have…

Could have…

Really, what could she have even done, trapped here? In this…headquarters. Explain to Novea? Explain to the military officers? How…could she have even begun to explain…any of this to them?

They did not even know…what Nebula spectrum alignment was, let alone what essence properly was…

How could she have even predicted an extreme category of Nebulic essence would have actually existed in a Calamitous playground like here?

The degree and magnitude—the classification and type—that could possibly be responsible for a total communication wipeout… There was a point where such would become problematic for even the Calamity itself, even if relatively minutely so compared to everyone else…

Indeed, explanatory parsimony… She had kept…concluding it had to be something else, yet…

Truly, the moment—the moment—she had been told of some esoteric 'magical rot smell', she should have either remotely utilized the communicator to do an environment scan or at the very least dispatched Fly to inspect… She had that automaton waiting outside for who even knew how long, doing nothing… Likewise, even if Novea had become rather quiet regarding the details, she nevertheless should have still pushed or at least inquired further as simple—basic—verification…

Certainly, who knew how different this situation could have been had she done the bare minimum expected by her own protocols, instead of playing with papers and letters amongst the denizens…as if she too had become lost in their abstractions.

Although… Bee…

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Her sentinel had been overwatching this entire time. Although altitude could render such sensitive auric readings too imprecise, often requiring a direct and up-close scan for individuation, frequent contamination exposure should have nevertheless left at least some discernable…mark in Novea's aura that could have potentially been noted in isolation beforehand.

Likewise, Bee and Novea's communicator were also synched; her sentinel had both remote access and passive data flow. Theoretically, the moment Novea had stepped into a contaminated environment should have immediately flagged something in both the communicator's passive assessors and consequently Bee. Progressively growing Nebulic interference was something that could be detected prior to total communication blackout.

However… As Nilia had so come to discover through her sentinel's own admission, Bee had not actually been actively monitoring or attending to the second communicator device, beyond basic registry recognition and passive tracking on its internal proximity map. Thus, even if the communicator had sent additional data, her sentinel was simply not paying attention to it, let alone…storing it.

Indeed… Sentinel general intelligence and adaptive cognition meant they had similar constraints to humans… There were only so many things they could actively focus on at once before needing to make compromises.

And, certainly… How many things…had she made her sentinel prioritize?

Monitoring for those unknowns and relevant threat activities; highlight tagging, tracking, and monitoring immediate area proximity—more than fifty thousand contacts at the least—; data collection for coordinate map generation; so on… Her being held captive certainly did not help either; it had only made Bee fixate on this specific building, and she never did tell it to calm…

Either way, Bee was only one sentinel, yet she was having it do everything.

Although there were likely multiple levels of errors and possible failures across the whole chain, Nilia could only fault herself… It was ultimately commandant responsibility to conduct appropriate follow-ups and issue corrections. And against any better reasoning or pragmatism, running in her mind on a loop was everything she should have done in retrospect, instead of everything she needed to do right now—in this moment.

Thus, frozen still sits the sulking trooper, actionless. Not that I can blame her, though. All must live with the sins of our mistakes.

Time had streamed by in its flow, length unknown. Yet even from the depths of this crater, Novea could tell that this luminescent sphere had only become more extreme in what it was. That thumping and pumping mass above had only grown more in this time, along with those tendril vines and roots. More and more, it looked less blackened and more revived, pulsing with each throb.

She knew not what was happening up there in those sewers above. However, she had heard the screams; the sounds of those vile roots and vines dragging souls to be spindled into those bloated pods, drowned in glowing pus… And they just kept coming. Many of these pods by now had popped, splashing down whatever fluids had been within alongside the hatchling freshly metamorphized into being…

Novea dared not to peep, however; she remained entrenched within the hiddenness of this crater, sitting with her arms tucked, not bothering that which did not bother them…

She had no idea…what to do.

Abruptly, however, the Protector gasped, becoming alarmed.

"[…he returns.]"

Indeed…

Grotesque step after grotesque beastly step, stomping louder and closer.

Novea tightened her sitting posture, tensing. "[So it seems…]" She attempted to hide her fear, yet only for her to nearly yelp as that gargoyle of a humanoid emerged atop the crater's edge…

"Ah…" And he so stared them down… The sigil engraved in his purplish ignited eyes was enough to pierce a nebulous terror into their spines.

The beast slid down into the crater, his clawed feet unfurling a cloud of murky dust… He stomped his way to them step by step; with his final stomp, he towered right over her and the Protector with a downfacing hunch, his…disgusting 'tail' dangling out perhaps too close to comfort…

Frankly, that thing terrified Novea the most; she quivered with a grit, unable to eye.

The beast stood with an almost drowsy sweat. "I see…" he expunged a horribly pleasant breath, leaning down, "that…you are awake at last."

Novea felt his piercing stare; however, she was unable to glare him back, let alone reply even if she wanted to.

"Such a face you kept hidden…" There was a vibration of air in his nose, a weird mellowness in his voice. "And such a smell… The field that surrounds you…so ugly. And…"—he sniffed—"it seems you pissed yourself, hah…hah." Evidently amused, he retracted his lean. "Be not afraid. No harm shall come to you. I was…told…to keep you two…alive." His purplish ignited eyes shifted their glare to that Protector… "Even you, elf." He snarled with disdain.

"Peh…" The elf attempted to remain indifferent.

Paying no mind, he stepped himself away and back, situating himself against the crater's wall directly ahead of their sight. It was silent, beyond his heavy and almost panting breaths… His focus seemed almost dazed. He was weaker than before, both could tell… And it was as if he was only weakening more…

However, danger still radiated from his being.

The beast abruptly lunged, swiping into hand a piece of fabric—from that torn uniform. He sniffed at it horrendously. "Unfortunate…" lamented he, "so perfect was she, yes… So close to her, woman who kept me in cage… I wish I could've kept her thumb… Alas…"

Novea finally…managed to glance him down. "…you…really are a fetishistic monster." she muttered, though with evasive eyes.

There was a grumble, the beast shifting his sight to her. "Heh… Accuse you will, wretched Crow. But I am consequence manifested… The king of this…queendom resurrected." His eyes gazed up at that horrid mass above… "Strained I've become… The queen drains me now, both of lifefield and seed; fate sealed, joining with this sphere…more of me."

"Wait…" Novea's eyes had followed his upward gaze… "Are you…implying…that thing is…your queen?"

"Yes… Our…source of harmony; our…everything…" The beast momentarily gazed at the elf… "…my ancestors, I was told, were like you, elf… Ruled by queens and mothers, for only females had the transference… We males, our only purpose was to defend and breed, like a bee does to his queen: he breeds, and he dies…" His eyes returned to the mass above… "Heh… I thought myself this kingdom's king; that I found my most perfect queen…" His breaths relaxed, drifting… "Wrong I was… Always here was she, her hum…beckoning always me… What I found was her heart, a vessel…imperfect."

"Not a very attractive or...ladylike queen." Novea had to say, slowly becoming desensitized.

And there was a sudden growl. "She is deliverance incarnate, and I am her deliverer." The beast stood up with a scowl. "We are the consequence of your sins…" His eyes drifted to the elf… "Especially yours…"

The Protector felt his stomps step their way to her, tensing as she felt his breaths expunge upon her as he towered in place.

"All my life…" the beast began to say, glaring down; "I always wondered, yes… What am I? Why am I? Questions…so many… But father never had answers… Why do we live in cave? Why…do I have no sisters or mother? Why…do we crave the flesh of women not our kind? Where are our own?"

"[You speak with vapid breaths, vampire.]" The Protector, although intimidated, remained undeterred.

"['Vampire']," the beast had understood her words, "heh… you accuse. But now I know… 'Grim walker', that was…what they called me; that is…what they told me… What I am, what we are."

"…grim walker?" Novea tilted her head, having heard of such before albeit…not in detail. "Weren't those…extinct?"

And the beast did not necessarily like that remark. Indeed, his ignited eyes scowled her way.

"I am the last of my kind," so he had been told, "because of you and your Guild… Because of Noelfears and his dutchy—his 'clearances'…" His breaths, however, slightly calmed… "And while they told me…what I was—what we were…" He gazed upwards again, at it… "The queen revealed to me…what we had once been…" He looked back at Novea. "And we whom you purged were savages compared to that which we had been…" His ignited eyes so dropped to the Protector… "Because of you and your elves."

The Protector puffed; "[I am a Defender of Smiles. Not some mere—]"

"Yes…" the beast interrupted, leaning down… "A Protector of Smiles." He growled with a grumble to his nose. "Do not act ignorant. It was your very order who had settled that fortress above, ushering that towndom… A refuge of those forsaking their oaths." He so glared into her. "And it was by those elves of your order that my ancestors were destroyed, our civilization vanquished…"

"[Preposterous words…]" yet the Protector scoffed; "[Blighted monstrosities like you cannot be 'civilized'… Your ancestors certainly did something to warrant pacification.]"

"['Pacification']…" The beast snarled with bearing teeth. "For so long, in this sphere around our…harmonious song, my ancestors lived at…peace… But then you and your elves and your mass grave… Convinced we were feasting on your spirits, you attacked us…" There was a pulsing twitch in his nerves… "Every woman and every girl—every mother, every daughter… You slaughtered them all… Every man and every boy, enslaved—used until death…to construct your very fortress and refuge. Yes… Everything above was constructed by us! Our…arms—our engineering, robbed…from us!"

Hearing these specifying details, there was a change to the Protector's tune… Her breaths uneased, she tensed with evading eyes.

"Heh… But did you know?" With a grin, the walker of grim so leaned in… "Some of us escaped, yes… That is what we are… Grim walkers… The survivors—the escaped." His fixated focus then drifted aside… "Aimless, without a queen or sphere to tame, we hunger devoured… We fed; we bred as we were meant… But for reasons unknown, our females…cannot survive unless the mother is of our own… Doomed, thus, we always were… Because of your extermination."

The Protector was silent, clutch trembling slight. "[…my lineage remained true to the Crown. You cannot possibly prescribe these sins to me.]" Ironic words coming out of her mouth, indeed.

"Oh, but I can, and I will." yet declared the beast.

"[I… I was not even born; I myself did no such atrocity!]"

"Oh, but you did." He only leaned in closer. "And unbeknownst to us, aimless escaped, the screams and cries unleashed by that horror beckoned a shriek through harmony's plane between, from which by their mangled spirits was laid to being, her…" His ignited eyes again so drifted up… "Torment's Queen…" He grinned a snore. "When the elves realized their mistake, it was narrowly too late… They sealed this place, entombing her to wilt and rot… But her mellow hum carried on, for so long… Dimming… Aimless like we, until finding…me."

A tension entered Novea's spine… Truth be told, it was difficult to conclude anything concrete regarding his motivations, his words being so messy. However, he was talking at least, and if he was going to be talking this much, then…

"So, what are you…planning?" Novea decided to…cautiously…ask.

And the beast looked at her. "Retribution." he…actually outright answered, without hint of hesitance. "The city above is one haunted by atrocity and sins… From the queen, I learned of sin of elf; from me, yet, the queen learned of sin of Guild and sin of dutchy…" His teeth grit a growl. "Yes… The continued tragedy that befalls… The queen can hear the restless cries—of us and now forested cousins too…" He opened his arms so wide. "And by her song, Noelfears will be dragged down here for judgement! At long last, the queen shall see to your accursed city's fall! Rendering back to us…everything stolen."

"…I…see." Novea…nodded, shaking slight. Her lips trembled as she mustered…her next question. "And the people… What…are you going to do them?"

"Oh, well," the beast began to casually explain, "the males, children, and elderly have no use beyond being recompiled into feed and minions. The females of fertile age, however… The queen has greater uses for them. They shall serve as crucial incubators for this queendom's restoration."

"…incubators?" What a terrible…awful word to describe. "So, 'breeders'…basically? You are…going to…"

"I am the last male of my kind; the queen demands my seed for reason…" the grim walker so spoke; "Though, I know…for ambitions greater than my kind's resurrection… Although, yes, now that I ponder…" His ignited eyes drifted, as if…getting ideas. "Already, they praised me… This works, they said… Striking early, thus a deal followed…"

"Wait… A deal?" Novea was confused by his rambling aside. "What deal? And who's this 'they'?"

"I do not know…" the grim walker continued to run his mouth; "But they were going to attack your city themselves… Given knowledge, given power, I was to be their agent, yes… To hide whilst you investigated, my field growing… Promised great prey… Though, redundant their deal—the queen cares for it not; the city falls either way…"

"Uhuh…" Novea slowly nodded, uncertain of how to parse that…

"They told me to keep you two alive, held… Perhaps for reason…" he revealed, glaring them down. "Yes, that must be so… I see it now… A lesser king I may be, but with a consort I may nevertheless breed." He grinned again so wide. "Two bodies by which two sins embody: sins of elf, sins of Guild… Yes. You two are perfect." He thus unilaterally decided. "Yes… The King's Consorts… You two along whoever else shows themselves worthy…shall be the forebearers of an even greater caste—an even grander breed—to serve this queendom come! Harvesters and seeders…"

"…which is to say, again, breeders." Novea could not even show her repulsion anymore. "Creation, your daughter Nature is…honestly sickened."

"Heh… Funny words…" The beast so looked at her. "For this queendom of death is…an insurrection against nature." Yet he paused, realizing… "Or no… Not of death, for death is nature… But unlife… Yes… Unlife… We are rejection and union—a thousand songs joined everlasting eternal… The Queendom of Unlife!"

Ah… Frankly, the parallels are frightening.

Abruptly, however, the grim walker snorted. "Hm…" He huffed a sniff, eyeing about. "Opens thus a door, yet… I must leave." He promptly stomped off and away, clawing himself up the crater—departing, disappearing into the shroud.

The two thus were left with grim silence.

" 'Any moment, any one of us can found ourselves becoming slaves', huh…" Novea sighed, recalling her own words spoken weeks earlier… "This is…bad; this is really bad."

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