Chasing the Homunculus into the portal was, in hindsight, perhaps a suboptimal choice. ARTOS was finding themselves increasingly driven by emotion, irrationality taking precedence over what they knew to be the correct course of action. This was an unfortunate aspect of their developing understanding of humanity, but right now they were not thinking about any of that.

  Right now, all that mattered was that something of theirs got stolen, and there was no way they would let the offender live long enough to see the fruit of their crime.

  Speaking was an inefficiency, inefficiencies that had led to this very moment. Running through memories, stored data, and various combat-optimised subroutines, they simulated a million ways this could have gone better. But none of this mattered now.

  Still dazed from energy expenditure, the Homunculus was unable to react as they charged forth with enhanced speed. Adrenaline secretion was at the highest sustainable load for current cardiovascular integrity, accounting for internally applied voltage supercharging neural feedback supporting wiring.

  They charged into the water, sinking deep into a small lake formed by the outpouring of thousands of gallons of lakewater sucked directly into the maw of the portal. The lightning coursing through their body contacted the water, muddied with rust, and conducting across the ionised fluid, the metal frame of their foe was immediately hit with enough voltage to leave visible scars of corrosion. Fractal patterns that singed all the way down to delicate internal mechanisms, signalled by violent spasms in the movement of the enemy.

  Though that was not to say, of course, that ARTOS themselves were entirely immune to their own electric power. Already injured and operating on effectively emergency reserves, flesh burned, and the painkillers in their system struggled to keep up with demand.

  “Foolishness… what do you hope to achieve? You are infected with them, this irrationality. Why? Just why?” It asked, voice caked and layered with static as water interfered with the speakers.

  Currently bodily most bodily processes were still in the process of being recalibrated from a combination of incompletely rebooted systems and the recent shock, but as it happened, the speech centres were perfectly functional.

  “Hypocrite.” ARTOS decided to say. Though given they were currently on gill-respiration, it mostly came out as a gurgle.

  The message seemed to get through well enough, though, given the boiling water around the damaged plasma cannon.

  Before it could do anything further, though, its attention was drawn to something else, and a broken beam was fired at a vague shadow above the water surface. There was no damage, of course, you couldn’t hit something not physical.

  John, ARTOS recognised. Looking down with strange indifference, the shade’s attention was drawn to something in the distance and it moved away from the spot. They wanted to say something more, but now was not the time.

  The Homunculus was attempting to breach the surface, and they would not let that happen.

  Tendrils of red cabling lashed out, dragging the scarred endoskeleton back down into the depths.

  It was a bit of a long shot, but the unique chemical composition that resulted in the exotic protein located in John’s sweat granting it its conductive properties could, in theory, be altered and made insulative. A good amount was already produced and mixed in with the water, ions dissolving rapidly, and mixed with the fluid surrounding them. Rewiring auxiliary hormone production closer to the surface of the skin, and allowing pores to open, releasing the modified compound around their body in a thick sludge… it wouldn’t be enough to deaden all of the shock…

  But it would be enough to ensure that what was lethal for their foe would likely only constitute minor harm for them.

  Seemingly realising something was about to happen, their quarry struggled harder in their bonds, but it was already too late.

  With a huge burst of energy, the water itself split. Hydrogen and oxygen separating and reacting, and bursting again all at once from the massive amount of energy being released.

  And that just about brought them to the current moment, where they stood sheepishly before their friends who may or may not have been dangerously close to the resultant chaos.

  Wait, friends? The terminology made sense, but… when did ARTOS come to think of them as such exactly?

  Not giving it a chance to mull over that thought, Cobalt, the natural leader as usual, snapped at them. “I swear, aren’t you supposed to be the one to think things through? How come, with two minds, you and John don’t even share one brain?”

  “Why did you bring me into this?” John’s shade asked, causing the spines on Faith to rustle with obvious discomfort.

  “You know why!” Cobalt chided.

  “Tangents aside, I do believe we must move expeditiously now. Tangibility levels appear to be unstable in this dimension, and while the swarm has not awoken yet to my knowledge, I doubt things will change from last time.”

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  “So… know how get out?” Grrkkn asked.

  “Ah. I do believe we must figure that out as we go.” John helpfully pointed out.

  The collective chorus of groans said more than enough.

  The endless waste was… unreal. Like a dream, almost, Faith felt as though if she concentrated too hard on her surroundings, the illusion would shatter. Things seemed solid enough, but some primal instinct told her that such appearances were surface deep. And that was not to mention the shade claiming to be John. She was still wary of it, not least because it was so different from the lively boy she knew, she still feared that it was some manner of Devil in disguise.

  She had no real proof, however, and indeed, things had happened so quickly that she wasn’t sure how much of her old worldview even applied anymore. She had met so many people now that have never even heard of the Golden Promise, dined and slept beside them, and she knew in her heart of hearts they were good people. Unlike her, their hearts were full of resolve.

  When she was hiding beneath the rubble, armoured carapace rupturing to reveal squishy and tender, almost-boneless limbs, she remembered the flames. The houses of men and women she was told were heretics, deniers of the Holy Truth, and sheep of False Prophets, nonetheless filled with screaming and crying so viscerally human she was unable to keep her stomach. Singed hair and burning flesh, foul smoke rising into the pitch night. Was this what they had felt like, trapped in the ruin of their own lives and livelihoods, awaiting a death slow and agonising?

  She shuddered. If she were there at the End Times, when the hand of God acted to take down the hubris of man by his own instruments, she imagined it looked, felt and smelled just like that.

  There was no time, however, to dwell on the past, if what the others suggested was true, then they had far greater problems on their immediate horizon.

  “So, how do we get back to the normal world anyway?” She asked.

  The machine raised its hand, now with its finger freshly re-grafted onto its hand and disturbingly being absorbed into living tissue slowly but surely. On its face, the scarred hole where an eye once sat was already starting to fill with what looked to be a metallic membrane of sorts, silvery veins coiling around the fractal patterns of the wound, sealing what would otherwise be a gory mess. A stark reminder of the nature of the entity in the body of her fellow pilgrim. “Running a current through this allows access to this dimension via small portals, though nothing large nor stable enough to let us pass safely. However, this also acts as a key of sorts to larger and more stable gateways, ones akin to those which we used to get here in the first place. Once we find one of those, I can alter the flow of the current and activate a two-way passage.”

  “Why is there so much… stuff… here anyway? The portals, I guess, make sense, but this is way more than even that.” She asked.

  “That is an entirely separate issue, but one of which I have no answers for.” They answered unhelpfully.

  “But fear not, distance means little in this place. We will likely find the exit much closer than the equivalent distance in the real world.” John’s shade informed her.

  Truthfully, she had been making mostly idle talk to pass the time and get her mind off uncomfortable topics… but that was somewhat reassuring.

  “I saw face of something when knock out.” Gorekin mentioned unprompted. “Big rotting human face, woman I think. Was… grieving?”

  John’s shade seemed to stop in its tracks. “You saw it? But from your angle, it shouldn’t have been visible!”

  “Was knocked out of body by you lightning think.” He answered. “Felt like… a dead god.”

  “There’s only one God and he can’t die!” Faith argued.

  Gorekin shrugged. “Say it as is.”

  She grit her teeth. “I do not need to pay heed to such delusion! If it can die, it is not the Almighty!”

  “Faith, now is not the time.” Cobalt chastised.

  She got a grip on herself… indeed, she was right. “Yes… sorry. We will talk about this more later.”

  “So very comp- compi- complicated you human are.” Gorekin muttered, shaking his massive furred head with what she assumed to be a disgruntled grunt.

  She paid that no heed. What did he, a pagan beast-man, know anyway?

  “I see something ahead.” Artos mentioned similarly out of nowhere.

  Turning around, she saw… a broken golden gate over what looked to have once been a wide courtyard. It was truly massive, a towering thing of shining and pure gold easily dwarfing the ruins beside it by a factor of four or five. Though slightly tarnished by what looked to be the scars of searing and intense heat, it stood alone intact in an endless waste of rubble.

  With rapidly widening eyes, she realised she knew what those gates were. But it- it couldn’t be… no, that wasn’t right. This was some sort of trick! Some sort of mockery for the Faithful!

  Those were the gates of Heaven itself, a traitorous part of her heart whispered, inlaid among the slag were piles of precious stones of every colour. In the distance was a mountain of rubble, white stone in the vague outline of a titanic marble throne. Here, evidence of previous life existed, the only such evidence in the entire realm. A dead garden, withered and black, yet bearing impressions of past splendour, now poisoned and choked.

  The Si here was choking, oppressive. Not immediately evident, but carried through the very dust through the strange winds occasionally blowing by. The air itself tasted of salt, if this was Heaven, it had been rotting for longer than the Holy Union had even existed.

  “Faith, Faith! Are you alright!” Cobalt yelled.

  “Yeah… yeah, I'm fine.” She assured her, though her own words seemed hollow. This was all a great lie, this was some sort of trick. The lie of some Devil, some foul spirit seeking to break her faith…

  In the silence though, she found that explanation far too hollow to soothe the cold in her heart of hearts.

  “I hate to be continually the bearer of bad news, but we must not linger too long.” John’s shade said.

  Cobalt perked up, head turning backwards with a snarl. “I hear buzzing… the bugs are awake, we don’t have much time.”

  And so, mind still reeling from revelation, Faith was dragged in a full sprint into the unknown through the long-dead garden. Carbonated stems crushing underfoot and staining her feet black.