In ancient times, darkness once ruled everything. Before fire had been kindled, before humanity had learned to make tools, they could only curl up in caves at night, shivering.
Back then, no one knew what was outside.
Bjorn gripped his axe and stood before the three of them. He had moved them all into the room, and the shield formed from magic had not rejected his touch. That saved him a great deal of unnecessary work, and also made him begin to feel that this had been the Captain's plan from the very start.
Mission.
He gave a bitter smile. This feeling could no longer be described as merely loathsome, yet he had to stand here and face it all. The real world was cruel and made no sense. Who could he say these words to?
The answer was himself.
Bjorn slowly rubbed the haft of his axe. He could not touch it directly, but he could sense metal scraping against metal. The corridor was utterly silent. Bjorn could imagine its darkness, but what was there in the dark?
He had no answer. He only knew that he had to stand in front of them. No matter what, a mission was a mission.
Mephisto's consciousness seemed to drift through a long river made of light. He could not see their exact forms, only felt that all those radiances were gazing at him. The river flowed without rest, moving ceaselessly. His field of vision gradually pulled away, rising above the heavens and arriving in a dark void.
He should have been wary of such a sight, but he was not, because someone was standing beside him.
"I'm sorry," the man in black robes said in a low voice. "For not telling you the truth."
"If deception is one of the