About twenty armored vans were scattered across the estate of duplexes, more than forty people darting around like ants.
Some wore white lab coats and gloves that stretched past their elbows, carrying pairs of body bags and tossing them into the waiting vans without a shred of hesitation.
The rest wore golden armor, gleaming under the morning sun. Energy rippled across their bodies—power that Elias could feel now, sharp and undeniable, ever since he'd awakened. They moved into the houses, and each time, maddened screams pierced the air… followed by silence.
Elias's fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms. His face twisted with hatred. He knew the Choir Knights weren't exactly "wrong" in what they were doing—after all, the Echolings were barely human now—but imagining his parents screaming as these bastards tore through them made his blood boil.
Enough reason to hate them. More than enough.
But before he could take a single step forward, his instincts screamed.
He activated the cloak without thinking, vanishing completely just as a man appeared out of nowhere. Behind him, a cluster of strings snapped and popped like fireworks in the quiet morning.
Elias's heart slammed against his ribs. The man looked casual, almost lazy, dressed in normal clothes, but the dreadful ripple of a Chordbearer radiated from him in waves that made Elias's stomach churn.
He held a bottle of champagne in one hand, pale blue hair plastered to his forehead as if he'd just stepped out of the shower.
"There's no one here," the man said, amusement curling through his words, curiosity sparking in his red eyes. "Perhaps I'm mistaken… maybe I really am getting old."
And just like that, he disappeared.
Elias exhaled, the breath he'd been holding tearing out of him.
Who the hell was that? None of the Choir Knights had ever made Elias feel this sense of crisis. That lazy-looking, drunk bastard… he sent a chill straight through him. Elias took a deep breath, willing his heart to calm.
He couldn't waste the precious time the Lament had given him—it was only supposed to last two minutes. Sprinting through the cacophony of screams, tossing body bags, and people scurrying across the estate, Elias pushed every ounce of his speed forward.
He traced the familiar layout of the street, running toward home as fast as his legs could carry him. The stretch of Choir Knights was thinning, but it was only a matter of time before they reached his house at the end of the street.
[Time Limit: 4 Minutes.]
The cloak's effect faded just as Elias reached the front doors.
"Familiar" felt like a cruel joke.
The doors were shattered, windows reduced to jagged shards scattered across the ground. Walls had gaping holes where concrete once stood, stones and debris piled in chaotic heaps.
"Mum! Dad!" Elias called, his voice breaking as he rushed inside. Please… just be home…
The sitting area was a disaster. Cushions were ripped and tossed aside, tables splintered into jagged wood, broken equipment and torn belongings littering the floor.
At the center of it all was a crater, jagged and deep, plunging straight into the bunker below. Broken floor tiles and twisted metal scraps lay scattered around the gaping hole.
Elias shuddered, eyes darting across the room, heart hammering.
And then… he saw them.
Hidden behind the broken walls was his dad, slumped against a pile of rocks and debris, newspapers clutched in his hands like he was reading something urgent.
Only the papers were upside down.
His mum stood in the kitchen, a jagged grin curling across her lips. She stabbed at a stack of tomatoes on the counter with a short knife, over and over, her eyes wide and maddened, locked on him even as the stabbing continued. The sound—tap tap, squish squish—echoed through the ruined house.
Elias swallowed hard, relief and horror twisting inside him. Somehow… some small part of his parents survived the corruption. The familiar habits, the little quirks—they were still there, buried deep beneath the madness.
He knelt beside his dad, teeth gritted, fists trembling.
"Hey, Dad," he called, voice shaky, almost breaking. He knew it was foolish. Stupid even, to expect an answer from someone corrupted.
But… a tiny, foolish part of him hoped.
What if nothing had changed?
What if he was still the same, even with the corruption gnawing at his mind?
There was no crime in hoping, right?
Right?
His dad lowered the newspaper slowly, face calm at first.
And then it snapped.
A grin stretched unnaturally wide across his face. His eyes gleamed with something utterly deranged.
"HIHIHIHI!" His voice cracked into laughter, saliva flying from his mouth as he snorted through his nose. "HIHIHI… HIHIHIHI!"
Elias froze, fists clenching as some of his dad's saliva smeared across his face.
[Time Remaining: Two Minutes.]
Through his enhanced senses, he began to detect movements outside the building, growing sharper and closer by the second.
"I will get it all back," he said, hands gripping his dad's shoulders, ignoring the maddened laughter that tore through the room. "No matter what, I will find your sanity," he continued, voice low, cold, filled with unshakable resolve. "Hell itself will be damned to stop me… and this world will bleed if it tries. I—"
His head throbbed, the strain of his drawback forcing him to stop speaking. The rest of his vow played in his mind, echoing with weight that stiffened his heart.
'And I won't give up. No matter what. So rest… leave it all to me.'
He closed his eyes, feeling the Realm pulse beneath his awareness. Ever since he had sat on the dark throne, control had become instinctive—as if the Realm itself had folded into a private space, one only he could access.
Like an absolute dominion where he was god.
Instinctively, he knew he could pull anyone there, provided they didn't resist. His dad, lost in madness, wasn't sane enough to resist anyway.
When Elias opened his eyes, his father was gone. The newspaper had fallen to the ground, landing without a sound.
[Time Remaining: 1 Minute.]
The footsteps grew louder, closer—ripples of power from the intruders brushing against him like a warning.
Elias moved toward his mother. Her eerie eyes never left him, still fixed even as her knife stabbed endlessly into the tomatoes, now a thick red paste smeared across the marble slab.
He barely stepped into the kitchen before she lunged, shrieking with maddened glee, tongue lolling from her mouth, knife raised high to strike.
But Elias reached her first. Hands on her shoulders, head bowed low, unwilling to see the madness twisting her face.
'I love you too,' he thought, right as the knife clattered to the ground.
Two Choir Knights stormed through the shattered doors, their Sonic Swords humming with raw power. Golden armor gleamed under the dim light, each bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Choir of Dawn.
One was red-haired, the other blonde, their eyes burning with the fanatical devotion the Choir Knights were infamous for.
They paused, tilting their heads as if trying to determine whether he was one of the mad.
"Answer with a word… or your head will roll," the red-haired knight snarled, sword tightening in his grip.
Elias couldn't speak. His head stayed low, eyes locked on the knife his mother had tried to strike him with. Even now, his chest tightened at the memory.
Clenching his fists, he slowly raised both hands, crossing his middle and ring fingers in the unmistakable sign of the Choir.
The knights froze. And then, almost reluctantly, both lowered their swords.