A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Deathless Fortress]

The Deathless Fortress revealed itself long before anyone reached its shadow—less a fortress and more a monument. Even at a distance, it loomed far too tall, the proportions subtly wrong in ways the mind resisted acknowledging. As the group moved closer, its impossible geometry sharpened: walls leaning inward like ribs, spires spiraling upward unevenly, and towers tapering to razor-thin points that disappeared into the gray sky.

No two parts of the fortress aligned. One segment bore arches, another angular metal plates, a third something like very old stonework yet too smooth and seamless. It felt as though generations had each added their own "layer," resulting in a contradictory structure that should have buckled under its own defiance of architectural logic—yet it stood in stubbornness.

The main gate ahead was a single immovable slab of black stone engraved with spiraling sigils. No hinge. No seam. No visible means of opening, as though the idea of a "door" was merely a suggestion it tolerated.

Perched on Dante's shoulder, Tamamo flicked one of her golden tails, emerald eyes gleaming with both curiosity and disdain. "Quite the ominous fortress," she mused. "More akin to a castle that got tired of being a castle and decided intimidation was better. And there's mana flowing through every inch of it thick enough to taste."

"It does not seem like the kind of structure merely reinforced with mana," Gretchen murmured, tilting her head back to study the slanted walls. "It feels… crafted by magic from the ground up."

"I'd wager the sorcerer who rules this place had a hand in constructing it," Tamamo added. Alexander raised a skeptical brow at that.

"Someone built this—just with magic?" he asked. "Are we sure that's even possible?"

Ivan sniffed. "If someone did, they must be unimaginably powerful."

Tamamo hummed. "It's not as impossible as it looks. Even an average mage can build a colossal structure if they've got enough concentration and decades of free time. The only real issue is patience." She shrugged lightly. "But enough talk. Onward."

Dante stepped forward without a word. His coat swayed with the movement as the others followed.

Reaching the gate didn't take long. It had guards—many. Two dozen stood atop the walls, perfectly still, and two more flanked the central entrance. All wore identical pitch-black uniforms trimmed in gold, long gloves, heavy boots, swords at their hips, sleek firearms on their backs. Their helmets were shaped like smooth, black skulls, hiding any trace of a human face beneath.

Dante reached into his coat, retrieving the skull-shaped magical artifact Morgan had given him. He lifted it slightly, letting it be seen.

The guards didn't move, but something subtle shifted in their posture. Recognition, or confirmation.

"Mortifer Morgan le Fay will meet you in the courtyard," one of them stated, their voice flat and metallic. "Proceed."

Dante nodded once. The guards stepped aside with machine-like movements.

"That was… surprisingly easy," Ivan muttered as he stared up at the enormous spiraled gate.

A deep rumble echoed through the stone as it began rising, pulled upward by an invisible force. Dust and loose gravel trembled at their feet. When the gate reached its peak, the path beyond yawned open—dark and vast.

They proceeded through.

The courtyard stretched out ahead, wide enough to swallow a small town. Yet despite its scale, it felt devoid of life. The grass was dull, drained of color. Broken statues lined the paths—armored figures—though erosion and damage made them almost unrecognizable. Everything looked forgotten, as if the world had moved on without it.

Which made the lone splash of color stand out even more.

Off to the right, a small patch of flowers bloomed: white, yellow, pink, red—radiant and impossibly alive in a place that clearly rejected life. And standing in front of them, studying them with a faintly thoughtful expression, was the Mortifer herself—Morgan le Fay.

Gretchen faltered. "That mana… that's an absurd amount." Her voice shook. She saw it clearly, a vast expanse of radiant violet outlined in pure black. It seemed to engulf the entire fortress, even extending far beyond that. "Can a human really possess that much mana? That... that can't be normal."

Tamamo's tails swayed. "She is a Mortifer, after all. I would worry if she wasn't terrifying."

Ivan and Alexander exchanged looks, a mixture of disbelief and wariness.

"That's the Mortifer?" Ivan muttered. "She—she looks nothing like what I imagined."

Her beauty seemed too perfect and radiant. As though the world sharpened itself around her.

"Three days," Morgan called, her voice carrying effortlessly. "Much quicker than expected."

Ivan stiffened. Alexander nearly flinched. Gretchen tensed but stood her ground. Dante simply approached.

Tamamo grinned. "We could have arrived earlier, but someone insisted we pick up some extra baggage." One of her tails flicked toward the three behind them.

Morgan hummed. "A Nil, a lycanthrope, and an alchemist. Unexpected company."

Alexander stiffened further. She ignored it, eyes drifting toward Dante.

"I'm glad you came. Have you considered my offer?"

"As I said," Dante replied, "it depends on how the Retorta Guild intends to pursue their goal."

Morgan's gaze lowered to the flowers. "Then an in-depth explanation is overdue." She sighed softly. "Unfortunately, this place is unbearably dull. Far too dull to converse. Alas I am forced here more than I'd like, so I attempted to grow a garden…" She gave a helpless gesture. "But the malevolent mana suffocates anything I plant."

Tamamo snorted lightly. "Your mana is stronger than anything saturating the air. You could overpower it if you wanted."

Morgan smiled ruefully. "True, but the old sorcerer who governs this fortress becomes… unpleasant when I interfere. And retaining a stable relationship between this place and the Retorta Guild is preferable to poking a temperamental old man with a stick." Her eyes flicked to Dante again. "In any case, I have a private office where we can talk properly. I trust none of you object to teleportation magic?"

Tamamo leaned in conspiratorially. "I don't mind. Dante does."

"I do not mind," Dante corrected sharply. "I simply do not appreciate being displaced through space by others. Do not attempt anything foolish. I will know—and no amount of distance will save you."

Morgan laughed softly. "Charming as always." She glanced to Ivan, Alexander, and Gretchen. "Teleportation isn't my strongest field, so I can only take three individuals. The rest of you may explore. I've already instructed the head sorcerer to steer clear."

Dante looked back at the three silently.

Ivan inhaled slowly, steeling himself. "We'll manage," he said, trying for confidence. "Just don't take too long."

Alexander swallowed but nodded. Gretchen gave Dante a curt, "Go."

He turned back to Morgan.

A violet glyph unfurled beneath them—broad and intricate, the shape of a raven spreading its wings. Light pulsed outward as Tamamo's tails lifted.

Morgan clasped her hands and with a soft, soundless flash, the three of them vanished.

Only to instantly reappear in a much more enclosed space.

It was not big, but it was barren in a way that felt almost hostile to the senses—gray, dull floors and walls that looked as though they hadn't been touched by warmth or life for centuries. Two shelves of old books leaned tiredly against the far wall, their spines cracked. An ominous window—black and depthless—poured in no light at all. Beside all this bleakness sat a single clean oak desk, so polished and new it looked almost surgically transplanted from a different place. Behind it rested a plump red chair, notably too comfortable for the rest of the room. Two plain wooden chairs were placed before the desk.

That was the extent of the "decorations." The room was hopelessly and unapologetically barren.

"This is very sad," Tamamo noted bluntly, her tone flat, ears twitching in disapproval. "Like depressingly sad. There are prison cells with more personality."

Morgan let out an exhausted sigh as she made her way to the red chair, dragging a hand dramatically across her forehead. "Yes, very sad indeed. A tragedy of interior design." She plopped down with all the grace of a woman who had lost the will to care. "I'd rather not bring in my own decorations to make this temporary office more lively—the mana here is too putrid. It kills plants, fabrics, joy, and probably taste. But feel free to sit."

Tamamo took the offer immediately, leaping off Dante's shoulder with a small playful bounce and gracefully perching on one of the chairs. Dante remained standing, arms folding across his chest.

Morgan eyed him with an amused raise of her brow. "You know, you're allowed to sit too. I promise the chair won't bite."

"They look like they might," Dante replied dryly.

Morgan laughed softly. "Fair." The Mortifer admitted. "I'd offer a beverage," she continued, "but I'm not sure it is wise to drink anything brewed within this room. The teapot, if it exists, is probably cursed, sentient, or both."

"Aww~" Tamamo whined dramatically, shoulders slumping. "I could have used some alcohol. Something fruity and irresponsible."

Morgan smirked. "I'd say alcohol is bad for your health, but as a spirit, I doubt that applies. If anything, you'd just get adorable."

Tamamo gave a smug grin. "I'm already adorable."

Dante sighed.

Morgan's violet eyes slid toward him, expression shifting to business. "I suppose we should get down to it."

"Aiming to kill The Keepers of Order…" Dante began, his voice analytical. "I would normally question if that were even possible. But I doubt the Retorta Guild is delusional enough to make that their goal without a plan. Which means you've considered something."

"You'd be right," Morgan mused, tapping a manicured finger against the desk. "After all, it's all but impossible. These are beings far beyond anything—far beyond us. Their only equals being the Bringer of Death and the Source of Life. And even they adhere to the laws The Keepers established."

"The Divine Principles," Dante stated.

Morgan nodded slowly. "The unbreakable chains. The unseen laws that bind even those supposedly free of fate."

Tamamo glanced upward thoughtfully, tails swaying. "To even think of challenging The Keepers of Order… one must first break free of the Divine Principles. Or at the very least, peel apart their seams."

"That is all but impossible," Morgan said, her tone crisp. "The most one can do is find loopholes—tiny, fragile cracks."

Dante's lenses narrowed as he recalled a past horror.

("Three hundred years ago, the Bringer of Death exploited the Divine Principles via acting through a conduit to claim Alyssia's soul.")

"The Divine Principles aren't absolute," Dante said aloud, "but there are still glaring problems. Many Gods still serve The Keepers of Order. Before even reaching them—or that which lies in the moon—you must pass through those Gods. That alone is enough to annihilate most attempts."

"Attempting to battle Gods never was an easy task," Morgan agreed softly.

"But you're quite powerful," Tamamo chimed in, leaning forward, genuinely curious. "A Nil on their fifth evolution, and apparently a rather strong sorceress. You could probably combat a God if you needed to. And I imagine the ones above you in the Retorta Guild are even stronger."

Morgan chuckled lightly. "You would be right. Although I'm not one for combat—I prefer strategy and politics. But our higher-ranking members? They are expected to at least combat Primordial Gods."

Tamamo's eyes practically sparkled. "Ooh~ now that's a high bar. You must have some very interesting individuals in your guild."

"You have no idea…" Morgan muttered, rubbing her temple. "Nightmares in human shape. And one in not-so-human shape." Her gaze drifted to Dante once more, sharpening. "But I am curious. I heard that three hundred years ago, the Bringer of Death descended into the realm of Uhorus. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

Tamamo perked up immediately, ears tilting in Dante's direction.

Dante remained silent for a moment, thinking.

("Does she somehow know I am from Uhorus? Hm, I suppose it's not impossible. I may have underestimated her. And Tamamo mentioned they've been meddling with realms… but for the Retorta Guild to know this as well? Unexpected. However if I expect useful information, exchange is necessary.)

Tamamo leaned in. "So… did the Bringer of Death truly descend?"

"It did," Dante answered. "Through an avatar. The realm must have only registered the avatar's presence—hence The Keepers of Order's delayed reaction."

Tamamo's eyes widened. "So it really happened…"

Morgan whispered, "But what reason could it have possibly had to risk defying the Divine Principles What could warrant that level of danger…?"

"It was after the soul of Octavia's spawn," Dante said, "or more accurately—an Angel's soul."

Tamamo's tails froze mid-sway. "Ah… it wanted to create a new avatar. Something superior. Something better suited for interacting with the realms. But how do you know any of this?" she pressed, squinting suspiciously.

"It matters little," Dante brushed off, earning a dramatic pout from the fox spirit. "What matters is that the Bringer of Death found loopholes in the Divine Principles."

Morgan exhaled slowly. "Indeed. We assumed it was just an exaggerated rumor… but it did happen three hundred years ago."

"So the time dilation of Uhorus is the same as Álfheimr?" Dante asked.

Morgan nodded. "Yes. The realms closest to Uhorus share its temporal flow. But the ones that stray further? Their time becomes unpredictable."

"I see." Dante folded his arms again. "I assume the Retorta Guild has long since mapped out loopholes in the Divine Principles."

"You'd be right," Morgan said. "We make a habit of studying the forbidden." She hummed, resting her delicate chin on her hand, eyes gleaming. "But for your confirmation… I suppose you deserve something in return. Mainly why we would even dare face The Keepers of Order."

"I imagine it has to do with those in your rank," Dante said.

"Correct," Morgan replied. "Mainly our top three members."

Tamamo leaned in eagerly.

Morgan's voice lowered.

"Those three… are real monsters. They include a Demigod… the incarnation of a Seraphim… and—"

She paused.

Her tone dropped to a near whisper.

"—and an avatar of The Abhorrent. One of The Keepers of Order."

The room suddenly felt colder.