"My lord. They have arrived." — a trembling voice sounded from beyond the door.
"Very well. Clear this entire floor of all servants and let them in." — Within a couple of minutes, the entire floor of the manor was cleared of people, and three figures, shrouded in a light haze, stepped inside. They wore tight-fitting armour that looked like simple fabric with no protective qualities whatsoever, but the lord knew it was, in fact, highly protective. Their faces were covered by massive masks with tubes extending from them — one large tube at the front and seven smaller ones at the back; behind their backs were canisters containing some unknown substance.
The Emperor's Blades had arrived.
"What brings you to these lands this time?" the lord asked, his tone stern yet respectful. He knew exactly who they were — he was one of the few who understood what they did. And if they had appeared here, something terrible was about to happen. Their arrival always heralded disaster.
"The perimeter has been breached." — Those few words were enough to make the old lord's face harden.
"What is required of me?" — The old lord knew what would happen if the Emperor's Blades failed. It wouldn't just cost him his lands — it could threaten the entire URSUS.
"Before we begin, we need information about the Vampire and the Knight."
At these words, rage flashed across the lord's face, quickly replaced by impotent fury.
"They appeared in these lands three months ago. They killed the squad hunting the infected, who were under Lord Valeriy's protection. After that, Lord Valeriy immediately organised a suppression squad to deal with the criminal." — The lord clenched his fists tighter as he spoke.
"They destroyed two suppression squads, then treacherously attacked Lord Valeriy's manor, killing his entire family and burning the lord himself at the stake." — The Blades listened intently. Then the lord's face twitched, and his anger gave way to fear — fleeting though it was, the Blades noticed it.
"They… they tore them all apart, eviscerated them, and hung their heads and bodies like garlands all over the manor. After that, his closest friend, Lord Terentiy, sent all his men — more than a thousand soldiers. They were all killed. And then Lord Terentiy suffered the same fate as Lord Valeriy."
"Do you know their objective?"
"All these inhumane atrocities were committed simply because the vampire's hunt was interrupted. But I don't know who exactly he is hunting. I'm not sure if this information is useful, but they travel with an Originium-infused slime." — One of the Blades nodded, then they turned to leave. But the lord suddenly spoke up.
"May I ask why you need to know about them?" — he asked with undisguised curiosity.
"We have encountered them."
"Encountered them? And those criminals are still alive?" — the lord said in disbelief. The Blades simply turned and walked away from the lord's manor. But before disappearing through the door, one of them spoke.
"There were six of us originally."
Nomat.
"Master, I didn't think you would let them go."
"Hmm? Oh, I wanted to kill them all for attacking me, but they're already dead. Besides, he was the first person who managed to do any real damage to me. They provided a good fight with their swords. It's a pity their magic proved too weak against me."
The Emperor's Blades. People who willingly let this abomination into themselves to fight it. Their armour is nothing more than a mobile coffin on legs.
Collapse.
I finally learned what these creatures are called. They are beings from another world — they invade this world and "infect" it. Creatures that violate the laws of reality and disrupt the cognitive thinking of living beings.
If a person learns about them, the Collapse grows stronger — not just in one place, but everywhere, affecting every single person.
A terrifying enemy.
Even I will admit that. If the whole world were to learn about the Collapse, Terra would perish.
Their goals? Unknown.
They simply destroy all intelligent life and infect the land itself, rendering it incapable of supporting any intelligent life ever again.
While I was lost in thought, walking through the snow, the landscape gradually changed.
The nearby territories were enveloped in darkness, and in the heart of the forest, a crimson vortex of energy could be seen. Scattered across the snow were a few corpses of animals.
I was only pulled out of my thoughts when a child's figure appeared right in my path.
A child whose head was a black void. Yet, to my surprise, I could still discern the child's silhouette — a silhouette untouched by the corruption.
"What the hell?" I muttered in disbelief, staring at the child. Seeing me, he started running towards me. The Knight had already drawn his spear, ready to impale him, but I stopped him.
"Master, what are you doing?" the Knight asked, but I paid no attention to him.
"What is this? Why can I see the silhouette of a whole child? Is this a trap? But the Knight can't see him. Even Serdolika isn't reacting with hostility," I said with growing interest, staring intently at the child and completely ignoring the Knight's helmeted head, which was fixed on me.
"Mister! Help!" The child reached me and began pleading for help.
"Help? What do you need help with? Wait, though — aren't you afraid of me?" I asked curiously, crouching on one knee right in front of the child and gazing into the black void that served as his head.
"Why would I be afraid of you? You have such kind blue eyes." he replied. I froze in disbelief, then gathered my thoughts.
"Boy, how do I look to you?" After I spoke, I heard a slight movement — the Knight had lowered his spear. At my words, the child's projection tilted his head in a silent question.
"Well… you're handsome." he said quietly, blushing slightly, as if ashamed to be saying such a thing to an adult.
"Your eyes are like a lake at the very start of summer — the water is still clear, and you can see every grain of sand at the bottom. And your hair is as white as the snow at dawn, before it has time to melt, glittering as if tiny snowflakes are hidden inside it."
"I'd almost forgotten what I used to look like. Hmm, you still haven't told me what kind of help you need."
"Oh, right! My dad needs help! Dad said he went to get Mom and would be back soon, but Mom is in heaven, so I don't understand." he finished sadly, while I kept watching him.
"So where is your father?" My words snapped the child out of his daze, and he grabbed my hand. I immediately felt otherworldly energy trying to seep into my body — and in an instant, I activated my "magic berserk" to force the energy out.
"Mister, this way!" The child ignored everything and started pulling me towards the crimson vortex of energy. In a single motion, I tossed Serdolika straight into the Knight's arms.
"Don't get too close — you won't be able to resist this corruption the way I can."
The boy.
"What's going on?" the boy blurted out, bouncing on the spot with impatience.
His father looked up, and the boy's insides seemed to clench. The father's eyes used to shine so brightly that it seemed like little sunbeams were dancing in them. Now they looked glassy, as if someone had covered them with a thin layer of ice. Red threads snaked across the whites, heavy dark bags hung under the eyes, and wrinkles creased his face — as if someone had hastily traced it with a rough pencil. The hair that used to be thick and dark had turned grey, and in some places it had simply fallen out, leaving uneven bald patches.
And yet, his father wasn't even twenty-seven yet… The boy knew that for sure — he'd helped his mom bake the cake for his last birthday.
Any adult who saw his father now would probably step back and whisper something fearful. But the boy wasn't afraid. This was his dad — the same man who used to swing him on his knees and whisper that no monsters would ever dare touch his son.
The father set aside the papers covered in strange symbols and those odd stones — the oridium, as he called them. The stones glowed dimly, and the boy always thought tiny lightning bolts were hiding inside them.
The father came over and hugged his son tightly — so tightly that it became a little hard to breathe, but the boy loved it.
"Soon, I'll bring Mom back," the father whispered, his voice sounding strange, as if he were repeating a spell he couldn't forget. "I'll fix everything, you'll see."
He'd been saying that for many, many days in a row — maybe even for a whole year. Still, the boy ran to the workshop every single day, hoping that today his father would be like he used to be: he'd smile, ruffle the boy's hair, and say, "Well, hero, shall we go looking for adventures?"
And then one morning started like any other. The boy woke up, stretched, rubbed his eyes with his fists, grabbed his little wooden sword, and ran to the workshop. He could already imagine throwing the door open and being greeted by the smell of wood shavings, dust, and his father's scent — a little bitter, but so familiar and dear.
But instead of the familiar wooden hut with its crooked door and peeling paint, a huge vortex lay before him. It wasn't like the water in a river or the waves on a lake — it was blood-red, as if someone had poured an entire barrel of thick paint into the sky. The vortex swirled, roared, and pulsed like a living heart, only a very angry one.
The boy froze, his mouth slightly open. He wanted to step closer, to look, to touch, to understand what it was. But as soon as he took a step forward, an invisible wall pushed him back, as if someone were holding him firmly by the shoulders and whispering, "Don't, don't go there."
Then the boy turned around, searching for someone who could help, someone who could explain what was happening. He ran up to an old woman with a basket, to a man in a tattered cloak, to the girl who usually gave him an apple. But all of them, the moment they saw him, recoiled in horror and ran away, as if he'd suddenly become an invisible thing that everyone was afraid to notice.
"Why are they running?" the boy thought, feeling a hot lump rise to his throat.
"I'm a good boy! Mom and Dad always said I'm the best son in the world!"
And then he saw them.
A man with white hair stood there so calmly, as if there was no vortex at all and it was just an ordinary day. His hair was as white as the gentle snow at dawn, and his eyes were so blue that for a second the boy forgot how to breathe; tiny silver sparks seemed to be tangled in them. Those eyes reminded him of the lake nearby — the one that melted every summer, leaving behind wet grass and the smell of fresh earth. He'd loved going there with his mom…
Next to the man stood a woman. Her hair was the colour of ripe wheat, and when the light fell on it, it seemed like little warm lights were hidden in it — as if someone had sewn pieces of sunset into it. She gave off such a cozy warmth, like a stove on the coldest winter day, when you just want to curl up and never leave. Her face was stern, as if she was used to seeing many, many bad things — the same kind of face the soldier uncle had, the one who used to visit Dad.
They didn't run away from me.