The ghost's head tilted further, feathers rustling with a sound like dry paper. One eye blinked, then another, then a third that shouldn't have existed a moment ago.
"Oh, don't be shy!" it said cheerfully. "I'm terrible with introductions, always have been. Let me try again—ahem."
It cleared a throat it didn't have, beak clicking. "I am the Keeper of What Should Not Be Known, the Whisperer of Truths That Unmake, the—mm-hmm—oh, that's too much, isn't it? Just call me Secrets. All my friends do!"
The pause hung heavy.
"Well, they would, if I had any. But we can fix that, can't we?" Its head swiveled completely backward, then forward again. "Seven new friends! What a wonderful day."
Cassius found his voice. "We're leaving."
"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm." Secrets nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that's what most visitors say. But you walked so far to get here! Surely you want to know something first? That's what guests do—they ask questions, and hosts answer. It's only polite."
The ghost picked at its wing feathers, head cocking at an impossible angle. "Oh! But I should explain the rules first. I'm the Outer God of Unquiet Secrets, you see. I collect things people shouldn't know. And when I share them—mm-hmm—there's always a price."
It leaned closer, voice warm and conspiratorial. "The weaker you are compared to me, the more it costs. And if you try to tell someone else what you learned? Same rules apply! Isn't that fun? It's like a game that never ends."
As if responding to his words, more than half of the Narkals suddenly burst into a shower of blood and gore.
The Envy champion grabbed Cassius's arm. "We run. Now."
But the reconnaissance specialist was already moving, breaking from the group in a dead sprint toward the altar. "If we're dying anyway, we take that stone!"
The rest of the team reacted on instinct, breaking concealment and charging.
Narkals erupted from their kneeling positions, weapons raised, but the seven champions cut through them like wheat. These were priests, not warriors—they died quickly, their blood painting the path to the altar.
Secrets watched from above, head bobbing left and right as if following a particularly interesting dance.
"Mm-hmm! So determined! I like that. But since you're in such a hurry, let me help—I'll just tell you what you came to learn!"
His voice remained pleasant and chatty, like a merchant explaining his wares.
"First thing—and this is important, so listen closely—I'm not alone up here. There are others like me! Quite a lot, actually. We call ourselves—"
The remaining Narkals exploded.
Every single priest burst simultaneously, their bodies rupturing into red mist. Thousands of them, gone in an instant, leaving the clearing painted in gore.
The human team stumbled through the carnage, boots slipping in viscera.
"—Outer Gods!" Secrets finished brightly. "Isn't that a fun name? We picked it ourselves. There are seven of us in total, all gathered around your little planet like—mm-hmm—like moths around a candle! No, that's not quite right. More like... well, you get the idea."
The Greed champion collapsed mid-stride.
There was no wound or cry. He simply fell and didn't get up again, blood leaking from his eyes and nose.
The medic from Lust dropped next, choking on nothing, clawing at her throat as something invisible crushed it from the inside.
"Oh dear," Secrets said, picking at his wing feathers. "Was that too much? I forget how fragile you are. Where was I? Right! The Narkals. You probably want to know about those, don't you?"
The remaining five forced themselves forward. The altar was close now, the stone pulsating with light less than ten meters away.
"So, the thing is—and this is the fun part—those creatures you've been fighting? The ones that have been killing you for centuries?" Secrets tilted his head completely upside down, beak gaping in what might have been a smile. "They're fodder. Bottom-tier. The cosmic equivalent of—mm-hmm—weeds in a garden."
The pathfinder from Gluttony burst like an overfilled waterskin.
"Those pillars you found? Wonderful discovery, by the way! Those are just... workshops, I suppose? Factories? They pump out the little ones constantly because—and this is important—they can. No effort required. No cost. Just endless production of disposable soldiers."
The Envy champion's danger sense must have been screaming, but there was nowhere safe to go. She made it three more steps before her head simply caved in, skull collapsing inward.
Two left. Cassius and the reconnaissance specialist, both covered in the remains of their friends, both still running.
"And the really interesting bit—" Secrets leaned forward, voice dropping to a stage whisper. "—is who makes them. One of my friends up here! Very talented fellow, bit of a workaholic. Goes by the title—"
The reconnaissance specialist burst apart mid-leap, close enough to the altar that his blood splashed across the stone.
"—The Broodfather of Sterile Fertility!"
Cassius's head erupted with pain, but he didn't die.
He'd already heard that name. Already paid that price when he'd read it from the pillar's pattern.
He slammed into the altar, hands scrabbling for the stone.
"Oh!" Secrets sounded genuinely surprised. "You're still here! Mm-hmm, that's unusual. You must have already—wait, did you read one of the pillars? That's cheating!" The ghost laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "I love cheaters. We're going to be great friends."
Cassius's fingers closed around the stone, still slick with blood.
"But we're not done talking yet," Secrets continued, drifting closer. "There's so much more to tell you! For instance, did you know that the Shroud around your planet is the only thing keeping us from—"
Cassius ripped the stone from its mounting.
The connection severed with an audible snap. Secrets' form flickered, wavered, and his beak opened in what might have been surprise or delight.
"Mm-hmm! Clever boy! But don't worry—we'll talk again soon. After all—"
The ghost vanished before finishing the sentence.
Cassius stood alone in a clearing full of corpses, both human and Narkal, holding a multicolored stone that thumped against his palm like a second heartbeat.
Distantly, he heard roars. The warrior-caste Narkals would be coming soon, drawn by the commotion.
He pulled the portable teleportation circle from his pack with shaking hands. One use, one person. Enough to reach the edge of Pride domain.
He activated it without looking back.
⛧⛧⛧
The council chamber felt suffocating.
Cassius stood at attention, trying to explain what he'd learned, what he'd seen—but every time he opened his mouth to speak about the Outer Gods, about the Shroud, about what was coming—
Nothing.
The words stuck in his throat.
"The... source," he managed. "I found—"
The Pride delegate leaned forward. "Yes?"
Cassius tried again. Tried to say Outer Gods. Tried to explain seven.
His vision blurred. Blood dripped from his nose.
"I can't," he gasped. "There's a curse. I can't tell you what I learned without—"
"Without what?" the Wrath delegate demanded.
"Without killing you."
Silence.
"That's convenient," someone muttered from the back.
They didn't believe him. Of course they didn't.
The Pride delegate's expression hardened. "Soldier, six men died on that mission. If you're withholding intelligence—"
"Let me try," Cassius interrupted desperately. "Just... stand back. Please."
They humored him. Moved to the far end of the chamber, placing distance and magical wards between them and him.
Cassius opened his mouth and forced the words out: "There are seven Outer—"
The nearest delegate's head exploded.
The others recoiled, shouting, but Cassius kept going, fighting through the agony in his skull. "—Gods surrounding the planet. The Narkals are—"
Another delegate collapsed, blood pouring from every orifice.
"STOP!" The Pride delegate's voice cracked like a whip.
Cassius stopped, swaying, tasting copper.
They tried everything. Magical recording devices that shattered when he spoke. Written reports that burned the moment words touched paper. Telepathic communication that killed the receiver instantly.
Every method ended the same way.
The curse was absolute.
Finally, they gave up.
"You're assigned to the frontline," the Pride delegate said coldly. "Under General Rowan Vance's command. He and Morikawa will... keep an eye on you."
The message was clear: We don't trust you, but we can't kill you. So we'll watch you until we understand what you are.
The order would have normally angered him. He had spent most of his life fighting for humanity, risked his life in a suicide mission under their orders, and all he got in return was suspicion and wariness.
But Cassius felt none of it.
He'd lost something in that clearing. Not fear—he still understood danger. Not determination—he could still follow orders.
But when he tried to imagine humanity winning, tried to picture a future where the endless waves stopped, where children grew up without war...
Nothing.
The emotion was simply gone. Even if he had survived his encounter with the Outer God, he never escaped unscathed. While his life wasn't taken, something else was snatched in its place…
Hope.
Secrets had taken his hope.
⛧⛧⛧
Rowan Vance was not an unkind man.
When Cassius arrived at the frontline, hollow-eyed and silent, Rowan saw what the council had missed: a soldier dying from the inside out.
Especially when he compared him with the previous version of the man who seemed so full of life and hope.
"You had a wife and a daughter, right?" Rowan asked one evening.
Cassius nodded. "In the inner territories."
"Go see them," Rowan said. "That's an order. You're no good to anyone like this."
This was the least he could do for a comrade who fought beside him for years.
Cassius wanted to refuse… wanted to say that seeing them would only make it worse… How could he look at them knowing what was coming, knowing humanity's true enemies, knowing he could never warn anyone?
But he went anyway.
⛧⛧⛧
The door to his home hung open.
Cassius's hand went to his sword automatically, but he already knew. Could already smell it.
The Blood, fear, and desperation… He wasn't a stranger to any of this. But that was all on the frontlines. Here, it was his home where those things had no business existing.
He stepped inside. And he wished he did not.
His wife lay on the floor, dress torn, eyes open and empty. His daughter beside her, small and broken and wrong in ways that made his mind fracture.
And the men—three of them, scrambling for weapons as he entered.
"Wait, we didn't know—"
Cassius laughed.
It started as a choke, then grew, spiraling into something hysterical and twisted that scraped his throat raw.
He killed the raiders slowly. Made it hurt… all while making last.
When it was done, when they lay in pieces across his family's blood, he stood there shaking, staring at nothing.
Then he began to dig.
⛧⛧⛧
The graves were shallow. He didn't have the strength for more.
He knelt between them, hands still caked with dirt and blood, and stared at the freshly turned earth.
"Is this it?" His voice cracked. "Is this the race I've staked my whole life protecting?"
No answer came. Just wind through dead grass.
"Is this how I'm repaid?" He looked up at the sky, at the distant moon. "Why, gods…?"
A beat of silence… and no one answered.
"Hah, even gods want to exterminate us, how could I forget?"
His hands curled into fists.
"Maybe they're right to do so."
The thought settled into him like a key finding its lock.
"Yes," he whispered. "But why wait for their mercy?"
He rose to his feet in a slow, unsteady motion, his eyes stretching wider as that glimmer of madness quietly seeped through.
"I'll do it myself. I'll kill them all. Every last one of them."
The laughter came back, quieter now, threaded with purpose.
"Haahahahaha."
⛧
⛧
⛧
Present day.
"—and that's when I started building the cult."
Cassius blinked, the memory fading as Magnus's face came back into focus.
Except Magnus wasn't standing anymore.
He knelt on the ground, blood streaming from his nose, ears, eyes. His hands clutched at his chest, breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Magnus." Cassius dropped beside him.
"The... curse," Magnus managed. "I can... feel it. Corrupting..."
His faith… that pure, unconditional belief that had fueled him for twenty years was turning black. Cassius could see as Secrets' essence spread through Magnus like ink in water.
"You're not dying," Cassius said. "If you were just a bit stronger, I wouldn't have been able to tell you any of this. The curse scales with power difference, and anyone higher than me in might, I won't even be able to talk or divulge these secrets to them. You're close enough to my level that it won't kill you."
"Then... what?" Magnus coughed, red spattering his lips.
"After countless tries trying to break this curse of mine, I've discovered something interesting… The curse can corrupt faith when it closely interacts with it."
Cassius held up the multicolored stone. "And your faith—corrupted now, tainted with Secrets' essence—will be absorbed by this. And somewhere in Narkal territory, their priests will feel it like a beacon."
Magnus's eyes cleared slightly, understanding.
It seems that while the stone won't be able to summon the Outer God himself, it will allow his priests to track it with enough faith.
"Everybody dies, Magnus. Some just need a little help." Cassius's voice was flat. "...you're going to be the trigger for that help."
"I see." Magnus let out a wet laugh. "It seems I've put all my faith and hope into a hopeless man. What irony."
He reached for the stone with shaking hands.
"I'll do it. But with this, the debt," he whispered. "Of you... saving my mother is paid."
Cassius said nothing, only held out the stone.
Magnus placed both hands on it, and the faith of twenty years of pure belief now corrupted into something dark and hungry—began to get sucked in on its own by the stone that ate it like a feast.
The stone blazed with light, shifting from divine white to sickly purple-black.
"…Everyone will die eventually anyway."
⛧⛧⛧
Somewhere, deep in Narkal territory, a priest's head snapped up.
He could feel it.
The sacred stone. The beacon. Their god's connection to the world.
There.
He began to run, and behind him, thousands more stirred.
They were coming.