Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The transitional zone separating the Pyramid of Scales from the Temple's central sectors was a place where time itself seemed frozen in anticipation of catastrophe. Kaedan walked first, trying to step as quietly as possible. His stone greaves no longer rang—the young man had learned to control his mass, making each step soft yet incredibly weighty. The inner power in his Vessel, enriched by the Core's strength, pulsed deeply and steadily, creating an aura of cold calm around him.
The corridor abruptly ended, opening into a grandiose hall. The ceiling here was supported by dozens of colossal statues of Atlanteans, carved from black obsidian. The figures of the giants were disfigured by time: some lacked heads, others had lost arms, but the overall majesty of the hall was overwhelming. In the center, right at the foot of one of the ruined statues, a fire burned, its smoke rising in a thin column to the unreachable height of the dome.
"People ahead," Iskon said, barely audible, instantly dropping to one knee behind a piece of column.
Kaedan crouched beside him. In the center of the hall, a detachment was positioned. These were not the knights of the Order of Order with their strict discipline, nor the polished guards of the Rakesh Dynasty. Before them was a group whose appearance spoke of years spent in endless skirmishes and robberies.
In the center of the group, on a toppled statue's head, sat a figure. It was an Orc, whose skin the color of old copper seemed an impenetrable carapace. He was enormous—even seated, he towered over his companions. His shoulders were wrapped in the hide of some northern beast, and on his knees lay a massive cleaver, its blade covered with notches and dark stains of old blood. His Herald-level presence was felt even fifty paces away—the air around the Orc trembled as if from intense heat.
Kaedan carefully examined the stranger's remaining team. Beside the Orc stood a tall, unnaturally pale man whose armor consisted of hundreds of sharp bone plates. He leaned on a long staff topped with a skull, and from him emanated the oppressive haze of the Pillar rank.
A little apart were five more. They were hardened Warriors: two stocky men in leather cuirasses with short swords, a dwarf with a heavy crossbow, and two twins whose arms were wrapped in chains with sharp weights at the ends. Their movements had a bestial confidence—they were not afraid of this place; they were part of it.
"Bert, Olaf," Iskon turned to his knights, his voice cold as ice. "See that side tunnel behind the statue on the right? Go there. Immediately."
"But..." Bert began, clutching his bandaged arm.
"That's not a request," Iskon interrupted, and a dangerous gleam flashed in his eyes. "If a fight breaks out, the Herald will crush you without even getting up. Your task is to survive and find Grak. Kaedan and I will hold them off. Go."
The knights, understanding that in their current state they would only be a burden, nodded silently and began to cautiously retreat into the shadow of the gallery.
Kaedan shifted his grip on his sword's hilt. His Armor slowly materialized, filling with the weight of basalt. He felt the energy within him begin to boil, preparing for a clash.
The Orc in the center of the hall suddenly raised his head. His amber eyes, devoid of pupils, stared unerringly at the column behind which the heroes were hiding. He didn't jump up, didn't shout. He merely slowly placed his palm on the hilt of his monstrous cleaver.
"I think we've been spotted," Kaedan said quietly, stepping out of the shadow.
"I didn't intend to hide forever," Iskon replied, standing beside him. His double-edged sword glinted dully, and his spike-shield was raised in a combat position.
Two Warriors of the Order of Order stood against seven mercenaries and their leader. The tension in the Hall of Atlanteans became almost tangible. Ahead lay a battle in which the young men had no right to err, and the Temple of True Equilibrium fell still, preparing to receive a new offering of blood onto its obsidian slabs.