Factory Reset: Divine Corruption

Chapter Eighty-Four

Chapter Eighty-Four: The Fear of Caligaria

"I feel something."

Ja'Kles voice was carried along with the harsh wind lashing against the planet's surface, dust being thrown and torn asunder. Mason huddled close to his body, feeling it shudder as the air was nearly toxic to him. Mason coughed up dust as he too felt an odd presence within the planet itself. They knew why, of course, but still.

Mason had brought along Ruinate, for obvious reasons, Rallycry just in case they needed to leave quickly, and Fallout to help deal with any Pattern-Screamers that were obviously going to be on the planet itself, "I feel something as well. It's faint, but... It's there." Mason replied, gripping at his arms

"We need to follow the feelings, then." Ruinate told them, unsheathing his sword as he walked forward, his fur tumbling in the wind, "If we follow your feelings, we'll find the beacons. Or we should, at least. It's our chance." He explained further, and Mason nodded, gulping down the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

"Well, let's get started then. We don't have much time." Fallout told Ruinate, his fingers igniting with a soft light. Ruinate nodded, "Then let's go." Fallout continued, glancing at Mason and Ja'Kle. The two glanced at each other, before Mason reached out a hand. Ja'Kle took it, and the group started on forward.

The planet itself was barren, that much was certain. The nearly toxic air whipped against the crust of the planet. The soil wasn't grainy, it was nearly a fine powder and it was a deep brown color. There were no plants, no visual signs of life and no way for life to survive if it ever attempted to exist there. A planet unable to give life again.

Ja'Kle closed his eyes, feeling the soil beneath his paws as they spread. Despite the nearly desert-like environment, the planet was cold. Deathly cold in fact, so cold that it stung their paws, and their heaving breaths weighed heavy on their lungs with gulps of icy oxygen.The sky was a deep shade of orange despite the singular, small sun appearing in the middle of the sky.

Ja'Kle clenched his fingers arounds Mason's hands, feeling his breathing slowly become more wild. The feeling was growing stronger. It was like a pit in his stomach, an empty feeling. Like that of long overdue regret and guilt eating away at the psyche. It wasn't a divine entity, but it wasn't the presence of a Pattern-Screamer or a Silent-Screamer either. Maybe it was the beacon itself?

It seemed Mason felt the same way, his hands going clammy and his knuckles white as he felt that same pit, but instead of regret, it was fear. Fear of loss and the fear of replacing something. It ate away at his mind as they moved on, the only thing keeping him afloat was Ja'Kle ever present grip on his wrist. Neither said anything, but they gripped one another furiously, coming closer together to prevent themselves from succumbing to that feeling.

Fallout felt it as well, though to a vastly lesser extent. The pit in his stomach stung of iron and of guilt and shame. Small flashes of his deepest regret, what happened on Gold-Standard-1 sank deeper and deeper into his consciousness. The protogen pressed his hand against his visor and generated a shockwave, effectively punching himself and making him focus on the mission at hand. Now was no time to mourn, he had to do this. He had to stay alert.

Rallycry marched forward, claws clenched tightly around his weapons, his twin pistols that he owned, edge-illy named Blood-Drop and Blood-Bath. Was it any surprise he had asked Viscera for what to call it? Not really, they were rather fond of weapons if that wasn't obvious. Rallycry shook himself. Now was not the time to think about Viscera, or his weapons, or any of that. Just keep a lookout, he reminded himself.

Ruinate marched on forward, his sword dragging against the soft soil, his power manifesting through the accursed toothed-blade, the soil splintered and cracking as decay set in. His Visor was set on his captain and his captain's lover, waiting and yearning for them to have a reaction to something so they know if they're getting close. This is their chance, this is their chance. He repeated those words. This is their chance.