Black flames spread unchecked across the mountain village's ruins. A scorching wind swept up sparks and dust, hurling them against the temple-like building. As a helicopter roared overhead, the windows rattled.
The room was dim. The firelight seeping inside illuminated only a little dust.
The glass shook, its rattling echoing beneath 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, shifting with the sound, disturbing one another and tracing different paths through the air.
After completing the Scenario mission, Xia Lun and White Line had vanished from the Darkroom.
Tap.
A speck of dust struck the crystal ball atop the bookshelf on the west side. Suddenly, the ball gave an ugly crack and split open like a cocoon!
Two miniature human heads tumbled out of the crystal ball and landed on the floor like cherries joined at the stem, kicking up dust. A sigh sounded in the Darkroom.
"Ah."
The two connected heads swelled rapidly. After a few breaths, they had returned to normal size. A few heartbeats later, sticky black liquid gushed from beneath their necks, as though they were a successfully grafted tree. The liquid crawled like oil before settling into a human shape.
It was Prime.
Prime no longer had the ethereal air he had possessed in Dunwodlin Tower. The gauzy, floating streamers that had once draped his glossy black pus were gone. Only mushroom-like buds of flesh remained, leaving him a pitiful sight.
"Ah."
Once restored, Prime sighed heavily again and slumped 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