Black flames spread unchecked across the mountain village ruins. A hot wind swept up sparks and dust, whipping them against the temple-like building. Amid the roar of a helicopter, the windows rattled.
The room was dim. The firelight seeping inside illuminated only a little dust.
The glass shook, its rattle carrying across the roof. By the time the sound reached the Darkroom behind the bookshelves, it had dwindled to a faint, lingering hum. The Darkroom was empty now, and the briefcase was gone. Only tiny currents of dust remained in the air, shifting with the sound, disturbing one another and tracing different paths.
After completing the Scenario mission, Xia Lun and White Line had vanished from the Darkroom.
Tap.
A speck of dust suddenly struck the crystal ball atop the bookshelf to the west. With an ugly creak, the ball split open like an insect cocoon!
Two miniature human heads rolled out of the crystal ball and dropped to the floor like cherries joined at the stem, kicking up dust. A sigh sounded in the Darkroom.
"Ah."
The two connected heads swelled rapidly, returning to normal size within a few breaths. A few heartbeats later, sticky black liquid spurted from beneath their necks like growth from a grafted tree. It crept and flowed like oil, finally settling into a human shape.
It was Prime.
Prime no longer had the ethereal air he had possessed at Dunwodlin Tower. The gauzy, floating sashes that had once veiled his glossy black pus were gone. Only mushroom-like buds of flesh remained, making him look rather pitiful.
"Ah."
Once restored, Prime let out another heavy sigh and slumped unceremoniously into the chair Xia Lun had just occupied. His child's head muttered, "How did things end up like this?"
Ten years ago, he had been one