A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Deathless Fortress]

It did not take long to find Morgan. She stood in the courtyard again—still as a statue—gazing down at the ground where a fresh ring of dead flowers lay collapsed in brittle heaps. Their color had evaporated entirely, drained by the suffocating mana of the fortress.

Morgan exhaled, a wry but weary sound. "I suppose I feel a little foolish for telling you to take your time choosing, I left you to deliberate on your decision—yet it seems you made it far quicker than expected." Her eyes turned up to Dante's imposing silhouette.

"There were only a few matters that required weighing," Dante replied, arms folded loosely. His gaze drifted to the wilted petals. "Your flowers suffered the expected outcome."

"As ever," Morgan exhaled. She knelt, brushing her fingertips lightly over a wilted petal that collapsed to dust at her touch. "It's almost comedic, isn't it? I knew the malevolent mana here would choke the life out of anything I planted. And yet I planted them anyway." She gave a light, almost self-mocking chuckle. "Perhaps hoping for a miracle."

"If you believe the outcome is immutable," Dante said, "why persist?"

Morgan straightened, clasping her hands behind her back, shoulders rising with a quiet, reflective breath. "Maybe I hoped one would defy this place. Maybe I wanted to see something small resist something overwhelming. Even if it's foolish."

"Flowers cannot wage war against malevolence." Dante countered, tone even.

"That's a rather bleak way to look at the world," Morgan responded with a gentle laugh. "Especially considering we are planning to kill the Keepers of Order. If we are to achieve what every sane mind believes impossible, perhaps we should nurture thoughts that allow impossibilities to exist."

Dante tilted his helmet slightly. "Then you believe the impossible can be ascended?"

Morgan's expression shifted into something bittersweet. Her gaze lifted toward the dim skies overhead. "Once, I tried to seize the impossible. I thought myself capable of ruling in place of a king revered across realms. But I was met with resistance—far more than I expected. Loyalty to him was unwavering. My dream collapsed."

"And yet," Dante said quietly, "you would challenge the Keepers of Order. You still see impossibility as a wall to be climbed."

Morgan's smile widened—not in triumph, but in a appreciative way. "You understand me well."

He was silent a moment before answering, "Perhaps."

Morgan turned to him fully, a subtle breeze stirring her dark hair. "Then humor me. Tell me—why do you think the impossible can be made into a stepping stone? What shaped that conviction?" She gestured lightly with one pale hand, her eyes sharper now.

Dante's helmeted head turned ever so slightly. "My reasons are my own." His tone was firm and final. "The only thing you require is this: your guild's aims align with my own. But…" his voice cooled, "…I still lack clarity on how your guild intends to achieve its plan."

Morgan rolled her eyes lightly. "So serious. You're about to become one of us—you could afford to relax." She shrugged. "As for our Lady's grand plan… risky, yes, but nothing that endangers the masses. Right now the calamities demand most of our attention. They threaten every realm equally. Avoiding them is not an option."

Dante nodded once. "Then what of Albion and Ddraig?"

"That," Morgan answered with annoyance pinching her brow, "is our current headache. They're always fighting—like children who never outgrow rivalry." Her lips pursed. "Albion is slumbering, somewhere we haven't identified. As for Ddraig… he disappeared into the Abyss."

"The Abyss…" Dante repeated quietly. "If he's as powerful as believed, then he will not return weaker."

"You say that like you've been there," Morgan remarked. Her violet eyes sharpened. "Have you?"

"I have." Dante's voice did not waver.

The words struck her like a sudden shift in wind. She blinked, her composure faltering. "You… have Then—explain. What makes you so certain it strengthens him?"

"The Abyss follows rules unlike any realm in existence. The Divine Principles hold no power there."

Morgan's eyes widened outright. "What?" Her composure cracked. "…What do you mean by that?"

"What I said." Dante's tone remained steady. "The Abyss exists outside the authority of the Keepers. Even Death holds no dominion in the Abyss. No true dying occurs there. Every being—every creature—revives. Again and again." His voice carried gravity. "And because they cannot die, they evolve. Adapt. They become monstrous—far beyond what the nine realms would allow. Even Ddraig, powerful as he already was… he is likely far more dangerous now. There are creatures far beyond even him. If he emerges, he will be changed."

Morgan looked genuinely shaken. "How—how do you know any of that?"

"It is irrelevant," Dante's reply was curt. "What is relevant is that when Ddraig emerges, he will not be the dragon the realms remember."

She frowned deeply, glancing aside. She pressed a hand to her chin, brows furrowed as her mind spun. "The Abyss… exempt from the Principles…" She looked up slowly at Dante. Her thoughts spiraled, audible in the stiffness of her breath. ("I sense no falsehood. If he's telling the truth… then how? How can he know so much?") Her eyes drifted over the violet lenses of his helmet. ("Who are you really?")

Dante continued, "I suspect your Lady knows of this."

"Then why hide it from her Mortifers?" Morgan whispered.

"Because rules—though restrictive—maintain order. And a realm without rules is tempting. Too tempting. The Divine Principles bind, restrain, and suffocate—but they also counter chaos. The Abyss has no rules. Only hierarchy. It is temptation for those hungry for freedom or power." He paused. "Perhaps she fears what some of you might do if you understood what lawlessness truly looks like."

Morgan went still. "…There are members who would leap at that chance," she admitted quietly. "Some want freedom at any cost. Even from themselves." Morgan stared downward, silent for several heartbeats. ("Alice would… absolutely try something reckless…") A small sigh escaped her. A humorless chuckle followed. "Quite the revelation you've handed me. You really do enjoy tilting someone's worldview on its side, don't you?"

"Hardly," Dante replied dryly.

She stepped a bit closer, studying him—those soulless violet lenses, the polished gold trim of his coat, the way he stood like a dignified knight. She gave a thoughtful hum. "Still… it makes you all the more intriguing. You carry yourself like a knight—but at the same time, there's something… unnervingly detached about you. Something that doesn't quite fit." She peered at the emotionless mask of the helmet. "It's like trying to read a statue."

He said nothing.

Morgan exhaled through her nose. "You know… most people flinch when confronted with uncomfortable truths. But you don't. Now I am truly curious." She tilted her head, still studying him. "Does anything unsettle you?" she asked quietly.

"Unsettling things are irrelevant," Dante answered at last, voice low. "Threats matter. Noise does not."

Morgan let out a faint laugh—not mocking, but almost sympathetic. "You speak like someone who's forgotten what it's like to live." He didn't respond. After a moment, she simply said, "At any rate, welcome to the guild, Dante. Whether you like it or not." Morgan suddenly lifted her chin as a stray thought stirred across her mind. A soft hum slipped from her lips. "Ah—right. Before I forget," she said, turning her violet eyes back to him, "will your companions be joining you as well when you enter the Retorta Guild?"

"That depends," Dante answered, "on the nature of the process."

Morgan smiled lightly. "Well, it isn't terribly complex. Not in the way official orders tend to be. The Retorta Guild, as you no doubt know, is not sanctioned by any governing body. No king formed us. No council maintains us. We exist entirely on our own terms. Independence—pure and unsoftened." She tapped one finger lightly against her arm as she continued. "We're large, though. Frighteningly so. Former knights, sorcerers, witches, scientists, scholars, runaways, visionaries, criminals who sought new paths—many types make up our ranks. A background check is performed whenever possible, but mainly it's to ensure one has the skills to contribute. That's all. Competence over pedigree."

"And what of the three that came with me?" Dante asked.

Morgan's lips curled back into a smile. "A Nil, a lycanthrope, and an alchemist… that combination alone raises eyebrows—good ones. They'd be accepted immediately. No evaluation needed. Normally we'd send them to different branches to match their respective talents, but… I imagine you intend to keep them together."

"That is appreciated," Dante said simply.

"Oh? You do have manners," Morgan teased. "And here I was beginning to suspect you were simply some dour, morbid fellow."

"I am not morbid," Dante corrected—though a slight shift in his tone suggested irritation. "Now. To another matter."

Morgan arched a brow. "And what would that be?"

"That presence in the depths," Dante said quietly. "Do you know what it is?"

Morgan blinked once, then twice. A small crease formed between her brows. "Oh? So you can sense it. I was almost certain I placed enough seals around the cavern to drown that presence out entirely." She tapped her chin again, thoughtful. "Well… no point in hiding it, I suppose. That would be the S-class Deseruit Beast Progenitor—Echidna."

Dante considered her silently. "Hm. Is the Guild working with the cult that worships Echidna?"

"Not quite," Morgan denied with a wave of her hand. "The fifth-ranked Mortifer was assigned to work with Sorcerer Koschei to attempt to bring Echidna back. The formers idea. S-class threats are classified as such because only Mortifers are expected to face them—for the more dangerous S-class threats, Mortifer ranks one through five, ideally. Echidna sits near the very top of the danger scale."

"So she was revived because the Retorta Guild intends to use her," Dante concluded.

Morgan nodded slowly. "Correct. She's a force of nature—one we hoped to redirect. And assisting her cult kept them from stirring trouble elsewhere. But… Echidna has been growing in power far too quickly. I suspect Koschei's involvement. He tends to push boundaries—sometimes blindly. I doubt she will follow anyone's commands."

Dante's head shifted slightly. "I question how reviving a being like Echidna was even possible."

Morgan exhaled sharply—annoyed, or perhaps weary. "Koschei never explained the full ritual. But from what he did share… the body of a God was used."

"What?" The violet lenses of Dante's helmet narrowed.

Morgan raised her hands defensively. "I do not know the specifics. But apparently the ritual relies on the idea and identity of Echidna. You use the divine body as the design's foundation. And Echidna herself never truly died. One of our high-ranking members defeated her long ago—her body was destroyed, yes, but her soul endured."

"And by focusing on that identity," Dante said, "they created the perfect beacon. They wanted a copy—and summoned the original."

"Exactly." Morgan's shoulders fell. "And attempting to slow her growth was futile. Koschei's apprentice kept feeding her mana—absurd amounts. She's already returned to full strength."

"How foolish." Dante shook his head. "To revive something like that."

Morgan let out another sigh—the kind that came from experience, not fear. "As if that weren't enough, I suspect—"

She didn't finish.

A massive BOOM slammed through the fortress grounds, echoing off stone walls and rattling the air itself.

Dante and Morgan turned sharply.

From one of the towers, something enormous burst free—rock and iron exploding outward like shrapnel. A Deseruit Beast erupted through the debris: a massive salamander-shaped creature, red-eyed, smoke pouring from its scales.

Then the skies above ripped open.

Winged Deseruit Beasts—twisted, woman-shaped things with feral expressions and wings grown where their arms should be—launched upward, screeching. The ground trembled and in the distance, Deseruit Beasts tore upward from the earth, each wildly different: some towering as high as battlements, some small but unnervingly fast.

A colossal black serpent coiled around a nearby tower, crushing the structure until it broke and collapsed.

Morgan stared, unimpressed but irritated. "Case and point," she muttered. "Echidna is on the move. Strong as I am, the best I could do is seal her if I'm lucky." She glanced at Dante with intentional drama. "Now, if only there were some sort of knight nearby who might save this poor damsel."

"I am not a knight," Dante said flatly. "But Echidna's presence in this realm invites chaos. I would have dealt with her regardless. Lure her to the plains. I will handle her."

Morgan smirked. "My hero."

"Hmph." A sudden burst of force cracked the air. Dante vanished, leaving only a rush of displaced wind swirling where he had stood.

Morgan's gaze returned to the chaos. Guards scrambled, prisoners screamed, Deseruit Beasts smashed through stone like it were parchment.

She exhaled through her nose.

"The paperwork," she groaned, "is going to be a nightmare."