The silver bell rang, and it rang, and then it rang a final time before it stopped unceremoniously.
Worthy had been knocked away by a burst of energy that sent him flying, luckily, onto a nearby rooftop. He hadn't actually sustained any damage, but still groaned due to the disorientation that came with being thrown in such a violent fashion.
He should've sustained injuries, but he hadn't.
Rather than being hurt, he felt like he'd simply been shoved. Despite flying dozens of meters away from the belfry, he remained unharmed and slowly rose to his feet, watching as the bell slowed to a halt after its third ring.
Once the third ring chimed, a brief moment of silence absorbed the world, and then it finally passed. The silence was interrupted by the sound of the world shaking, as something sprang to life.
Worthy could not believe his eyes, but what he saw was real. The bell tower was crumbling, and the darkness that was within it remained standing like a tower of its own. It was like the litany of spirits and their burdens were bones, and the exterior of the tower had been nothing more than flesh.
Shedding its skin, the darkness was finally revealed to the world again, and after several moments of idleness, it sank to the ground and flooded the streets. It swept away the debris of the ruined bell tower and stretched endlessly.
People were caught in the darkness too.
The child opened his mouth to shout something, maybe a warning of some kind, but then he grew silent. Nothing had happened to those who were caught in the spread of the darkness. Nobody was absorbed or assimilated into the black mass. Instead, it harmless flowed past them like a dark expanse of flowing water.
Every crevice of the city floor was doused in a harmless, black mass of burdens.
Once the expansion on the ground was done, the darkness within the wall stirred next. Rather than spreading to cover itself to the walls however, it poured out of cracks that the child hadn't even known were there, joining the darkness flooding the city.
'This ink'll drown the world before anything can come and kill us.'
There was nothing the child could do now. There was nowhere to escape to, so all he could do was sit on the roof and wait and watch.
Watching the black substance move on its own was fascinating, no doubt, but equally as frightening.
Whatever Alice had done to this place, its magic was still very much alive.
Once all of the liquid from the wall had been completely drained into the sea below, there were no drownings. Although the volume of the substance should have increased, there was no noticeable change to be found. When a change did come, it was not in the way the boy expected.
The liquid, the burdens, conjoined and slithered in different directions, flowing in unique, esoteric patterns that the boy could not comprehend. There were some that flowed across rooftops and became idle while others crept back up the wall, where Climbers looked on in awe.
Worthy could not see it, but those on the wall could: the ink was flowing to create symbols, potentially letters, all throughout the city. They had no meaning to others, but to Alice, the image must've been a crucial component to some sort of runic engineering. Throughout both worlds, there was certain to have been at least some similarities in mysticism. Runes were among the most extraordinary methods in which humans obtained power in the world Worthy was from.
He did not know how to read runes, but he thought he could dig deep into his memory—the recollection of Alice's story—he could find something… Instead, he found nothing. The memories weren't something the boy could channel at will. Perhaps they too were thoroughly sealed away with the fragment of Alice. Maybe the fragment of Alice had tampered with his memories so that he'd forget miniscule details. Remembering another person's life would be a rather overbearing action with frightening consequences on the mind.
Regardless of what his mind might've been missing, the boy knew one thing for certain: the rune didn't matter. What was of true, undeniable importance, was the effect the runes had. Already, the world was shaking, and it showed no sign of calming itself either.
Once he acquired adequate footing, the boy looked around for a way off the roof. He wouldn't want to risk being on top of the thing if it suddenly crumbled under an unexpected force. Hell, it'd miraculously remained standing despite a structure near it crumbling to dust.
Right as he approached one of the ledges in search of a ladder, something stopped him in his tracks. It was a voice whispering in his ears:
[Within the maws of the demoniacal deity, three tolls of a bell announced the final efforts of man.]
"W—What!?"
[With nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide, the burdens of tragic spirits woke and came to their aid.]
Something was different about the world around him, but he could not tell what. Worthy looked around, and saw that nothing had changed. The ink was still moving and creating whatever array it was designed to form.
[The Accursed Port—the name Alice assigned humanity's final bastion—was fitted with a means of transporting all who had the will to challenge the world.]
Suddenly, the child understood what had become different.
The sky was rippling, and there were shapes emerging from it. People.
People were falling from the sky, down into the Prime Settlement left and right.
The descent from the fall would've killed most people, but somehow, miraculously, everyone was unharmed. As a matter of fact, he recognized some of the people who were here.
That was because among those who were falling from the sky, he saw around two dozen armored individuals whose once shiny armor were bathed in blood descending too, radiant swords in hand. They were the remaining Knights that he'd seen entering on the same day as him.
Among the emerging series of hundreds, no, thousands of different faces falling from the sky, he recognized another group.
Seven men with jackets, housing a sword insignia over their hearts landed. They looked rather worse for wear, but none looked all too exhausted. In fact, one or two of the men looked ecstatic, as if they'd been enjoying a wonderful brawl beforehand. They were the Golden Shanks, the capital-funded mercenary group who'd entered at the same time as Worthy.
[Thus, those who have the will to challenge have been brought to the same place, and will face the final challenge together.]
The Tower… was transporting people into the Accursed Port. There'd already been a lot, but now, thousands more were joining in the collective effort of defending the city.
Or, perhaps not…
Because soon, someone emerged beside Worthy… her clothing had been all but burned away, leaving her with far less coverage than what any woman would be comfortable with. It looked like her skin was in a constant state of deteriorating and repairing itself, much like how Walkyr's skin had been superheated by whatever battle he was having.
Esme's olive flesh seemed a bit darker, but was slowly but surely regaining its pigmentation.
"Ms. Esme!" The boy was shocked to see her standing there. Unlike the others who hadn't been in the Prime Settlement at all, she was nearby within the belly of the bone beast. Yet, she'd also been transported just like the rest of those who were not on the wall or in the city.
Then… that meant those who were holding a defensive line outside must've also been transported all throughout the settlement and walls.
[Climbers, you received an objective: Clear the First Floor.]
'...Clear?!' That… was impossible. There was no way a person could ever clear the First Floor, or any floor of the tower. War Reaver had spent decades walking through the wasteland, eradicating all the enemies he met and then some more in collateral. After all those years, the total number of enemies didn't seem to increase at all, only the sum of gateways to escape went down.
[Destroy the heart of the demoniac deity, and you will receive a tremendous bounty. Fail, and all life will be lost.]
Worthy hadn't even noticed when the ink disappeared from the world, absorbed into the city.
He also didn't notice when the sky began shifting, moving in accordance to the movements of the city beneath his feet.
In his stupor, he could not observe the sudden increase in power from the artillery of the wall, which counteracted the approaching spear of bone and sent fragments of it flying into the horde of approaching monsters.
It was good that he wasn't on the wall to bear witness to how the abominations clung to it and attempt to climb, only for many of them to slowly but surely have themselves absorbed into the wall itself like a hungry carnivore, devouring them and using them as fuel as the entire Prime Settlement moved.
There were so many things going on that the child, as well as the thousands of others who were abruptly transported, didn't have the opportunity to unpack it all.
[Good Luck, Climbers!]