The border of trees surrounding Squad Gold and their hellish companion’s sides opened to a wide and decayed clearing. The earth, poisoned. The grass, dead. A city, ruined. Dilapidated and tall stone gates adorned the entrance to this dead clearing, and just beyond it, the hellknight could see the ruins of stone structures. All that was built, destroyed under black ichor, all behind a lowered portcullis. The gateway did not save the city from utmost ruin.

  “Hold, Knight Paladin!” a silhouette of a person bellowed from the ramparts of the gate, standing above the portcullis. “What has your expedition found?”

  Bryann’s sash whipped around to look at her squad’s careful and precise formation, and then to their blood-red-skinned envoy. Yenlar shrugged under a raised brow. “A Hellknight!” The paladin screamed back. The first silhouette seemed frozen under the waned sunlight of this forsaken place. The hellknight knew that at his every introduction eyebrows would furrow, intentions judged, and inspections abound. The only thing that bothered him about all those was that time would be wasted. The silhouette atop the ramparts beckoned as another visage of a humanoid arrived from a rook nearby.

  “Is this routine?” Yenlar’s voice wounded Squad Gold’s ears. “The lot of you are really good at wasting time.” He continued, adjusting both scabbards as he sat on the befouled ground.

  “You must understand your company is worrying.” One of Bryann’s knights, one of feminine persuasion, pointed her helm at his form.

  “My company spells victory, " the hellspawn explained, connecting both his index fingers with his thumbs. His armored legs, ending at cloven hooves, sat cross-legged.

  “For whom? The forces of evil?” The knight rebutted.

  “The forces of .” Yenlar corrected, shutting his golden eyes, veiling them from the abhorrent visage of a city in ruins.

  Yenlar’s breathing soothed as he entered back into his mind. There, he silence. The sounds of the foul wind filtered out, as he heard the crackling of his fiery soul’s warmth. He was encased in it, both physically, and mentally. He inhaled, as he felt the disgusting air enter his system no longer bothered him, every particle of air squeezed his lungs. He clenched the air there, his lungs full of tension he deliberately held for a dozen heartbeats. Each beat begged for it to be the one where all the air, all the tension, all the reckonings would be released. At an impromptu beat, he finally exhaled. The plagued air escaped as though steam from his mouth—all the tension; was released, as his breathing returned to equilibrium.

  He felt the eyes of the knights gazing at his meditating form. He’d bet their minds thought it was a sort of ritual to summon a Vordine, the infantry of Hell. He realized their idiocy stemmed from their chain of command. Yenlar had to kill a Vordine to gain the rank of Hellknight. Every Hellknight did. He remembered it like it happened hours ago.

  The devil spoke in the crude tongue of Diabolical, its throaty dialect wounding Yenlar. The pentagram-shaped portal that The Adorned opened closed shut as the room reeked of brimstone.

  There, Yenlar saw a mirror of himself. His appearance matched Grunndram’s, from horns to hooves. The devil’s eyes were the one distinguishing factor, as the Vordine’s were irisless-red to his irised-gold. Yenlar stood with his two swords drawn, on the opposite side of that blasted empty chamber. Only a few yards away from the trident-wielding fiend. He finished as he raised his swords. The Hellknight Test was a fight to the death. Were an Armiger to fail, the order would bury their bodies with zero remorse, stating the soldier was a waste of resources. Grunndram’s body laid headless at the end, though Yenlar also had pronged holes in his armor from the adversary’s trident. That is how he gained his rank of Hellknight.

  Even after he reminisced about his gained rank, he felt their eyes aimed directly at him. They were studying him, testing him. They were…looking into his soul. They focused an endless gaze on his being. At that moment Yenlar realized he wasn’t viewed by The Knights of Lastwall. He felt the gaze of one, two, ‘Endless voices murmured in his own mind. None were Yenlar’s voice. It was countless voices in unison, one for each eye that he felt stared at his soul. Its speech was akin to Ishurak’s. Whereas His Master’s low authoritative voice is dominant amongst the endless, this being had no true cadence.

  Yenlar tried to look into each eye, to gain some hold, to glean into whatever it was that gazed with unending eyes into his soul and being.

  The hellknight sent his mental clawed gauntlet at the being, to hold one of its eyes. He felt the cringing of the being as Yenlar’s mind gripped at its magical existence. He was in the presence of a soul already judged by Pharasma, The Judge of Mortals. The hellknight knew how it felt to be judged by her. Yenlar’s own mind, confirmed to himself. The hellspawn’s face tensed as he attempted to gain more ground over the adversary. Each grip of an eye gave less and less quarter as Yenlar assaulted that which invaded his mind. Retribution; one eye after the other.

  One out of thousands, Yenlar attempted to peer into an eye, his inner voice yelling at the arduous battle. Each movement of his hands felt like wading through water, Yenlar felt this being hindering the movements of his mind. There, he saw an endless mountain, as his entire being felt the kind and benevolent touch of a different plane. It caressed his being, his soul, his body as the eye revealed the visage of a lawful plane. One that reeked to Yenlar of overwhelming compassion. He gritted his teeth at the difficulty of this mental fight, which he felt the adversary let him have this edge. He felt the mercy of Heaven. both his physical voice and mental voice rang as one, both troubled.

  Each god of the Godclaw had servants, stemming from their own plane. The Aeons of Axis, the Devils of Hell, and the Archons of Heaven. Irori and Abadar commanded the Order of Aeons. Asmodeus alone leashed The Legion of Devils. Torag and Iomedae led The Choir of Archons.

  He hated his mind being invaded against his will. By fiend, or by celestial. Both are corrupted by malevolence and benevolence, respectively. His law is objective, to be corrupt by either is to destroy The Measure and Chain. Through his gritted teeth he let out a groan, both his hooves stood once again as he fought the heavenly force inside his mind. His mental wail turned into a physical one as he let out a short scream, and both his physical scabbards now stood empty. Hellfire; conjured as weapons to his heated hands. The force banished itself from Yenlar’s mind as the fires of Hell joined their mental dance, and he opened his eyes anew. To a raised portcullis and a squad of knights aiming their weapons at him.

  He still knew how to defeat them, but they had backup. To fight them, the entirety of Opulence, was a fool's errand. He knew that. He groaned with audible disdain, looking at the Knight Paladin, lowering his Hellfire weaponry. “An Archon crept its way into my head.” He said, as his mind sent a jolt of brimstone to disarm him, the weapons appeared back in their scabbards.

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  “And this is how you reacted?” Bryann did not lower her cold-iron longsword, as he realized its pommel is blessed by the sunburst of Iomedae. Her helmet covered her facial expression, but he knew that now her face was set on fighting him were he to choose the incorrect words.

  “It infiltrated my mind,” He argued, measuring what words would net the best situation. “Studied my brain and soul against my will. I will not apologize for my reaction.”

  The knights of Squad Gold shared a look, all ending at their Knight Paladin. Her visor turned to Yenlar’s exposed face. “Our Shield doesn’t do that. Are you sure it’s an Archon?” Bryann demanded. For all their stupidity, Yenlar was somewhat grateful that there was a conduit of his Goddess amongst The Knights of Lastwall. He didn’t appreciate their subjectiveness in their approach to law, favoring ideals and virtues over actions and results. Yet both he and the forces of Heaven fought for the same goal. So long as that goal didn’t involve the infiltration of his mind.

  “I saw Heaven in its countless eyes. It’s an Archon. Can I meet up with ‘Your Shield’?” Yenlar raised quotation marks at the mention of another Archon.

  The knights never relented from their weaponry, always walking with their weapons drawn at him. Only Bryann held hers at ease as they wandered inside of Opulence.

  The masonry of this once glorious city has all but collapsed and decayed under the ironically radiant spell that destroyed this nation. All stone painted black, corrupted by The Lich’s rule. The wooden market that once sprawled the central plaza of this city turned to fine ash, only evident by partially ruined stone bases. The watchtowers flanking each cardinal point of the city are exposed to the putrid elements, yet they were the bastion that stayed the most intact. Even the destroyed beacon that towers over the city’s buildings in its center could not survive such a horrid wilting.

  “This place has seen better.” Yenlar commented, his eyes fixated on a near-ruined sign that he barely identified as hanging off a dilapidated stone building. “It was once called The City of Lux,” Bryann called from the front of her star formation. “The Jewel of the Border.” she finished with a somber voice, leading the team through the stone road and into one of the main squares.

  She led them near a ruined tavern, its interior all but collapsed into itself as the wood started to decay and turn into black ash. The Knight Paladin sheathed her sword as her gauntlet met the soot-filled stone road next to the dead tavern. She patted the ground half a dozen times, before a confirming noise indicated that she found something. A small black and round handle that she pulled upwards, sending black ash everywhere, but revealing a stairway to a cellar. The star formation stood broken as Squad Gold’s knights went down the stairs, leaving only Bryann and Yenlar at the ruined city. She opened her palm at the stairway, her helm faced the Hellknight. He complied with a fake and cooing smile as his armored form went down to the basement.

  This cold cellar was repurposed in its entirety. Round spots on the brown floorboard and walls stood brighter in neat rows, both vertically and horizontally. Dozens of maps, notes, parchment, and weapon holders adorned the walls of the large room. Several training dummies made of hay and wood stood at the nearby edges, and the room’s main feature is a large desk. Several knights flank three doors at the other side of the chamber, leaving one unguarded. All of them were at ease and not wearing armor. Some ate bits of rations, some played dice, some enjoyed light reading. All the armorless knights stared at Squad Gold, readying to draw daggers from their boots at the visage of a hellknight. Their demeanor turned from hostile to cautious at the sight of Bryann closing the hatch.

  “The Knights of Lastwall,” Yenlar stared at the dilapidated barracks combined with a planning room. “Reduced to a sad resistance.”

  “Ma’am,” One of the resting knights trudged towards Squad Gold, “Our Shield is expecting you.” The blonde, young human scanned the Hellspawn with his hazel eyes. His scanning finished as he looked at Yenlar’s plate. “Hellknight.” The young boy sneered before walking back to his fellowship who threw around dice and bet with silver coins. She nodded twice with boredom before letting her hair drop from beneath her helmet once again, attaching the protective headpiece to a buckle on her belt. “Come, Yenlar.” She addressed the hellspawn by his name for the first time in a while. He smirked at the invitation.

  The irked eyes of all the resting knights were laid onto Yenlar’s being when he followed the Knight Paladin towards the door farthest back, guarded by no one. Each pair of eyes he returned a gaze to drop downwards to meet the floor.

  Squad Gold all departed the head of their pack as both Bryann and Yenlar stood at the foot of the wooden door. Bryann breathed heavily at the door, once. Twice. Thrice. It was clear she was either scared or revered what was behind that door. Yenlar’s gauntlet went to meet the handle for the Knight Paladin, as he turned it.

  There, the large room was empty, save for one entity. A floating piece of metal stood hovering above the floorboards, taking the form of a tower shield. Six feathery orange wings spurred from each side of the sextuple aegis as well as four arms, each on random edges. On the ground beneath this giant targe was a golden lance - twice Yenlar’s height - embedded into the floorboards. As the door opened fully, the shield turned on its axis as Yenlar met two sets of eternally watching eyes, irises colored in red. Both knights entered and Bryann closed the door.

  The paladin dropped to her knees with haste, her sword drawn and pointed downwards alongside her face. Yenlar stared at the knight with understanding as he felt her vambrace hit his right greave. “Kneel before a servitor of Our Lady.” She whispered through gritted teeth.

  Yenlar debated whether he should kneel inside his infernal mind. He revered Iomedae for her offense on the battlefield, she was the leader of the crusade that once reclaimed this land. He kneeled before devils back when he had to, and the moment he would meet His Aeonic Master he would drop to a knee. Knowing Ishurak, he’d order Yenlar to never kneel before him again.

  Iomedae filled his being with justice. With the fervor of battle. With . She was the lady who gifted Ishurak with power that broke the Lizard from his curse. Right after Yenlar sacrificed himself. That alone merits reverence.

  Yenlar bowed his head before the aegis, bending one knee as he summoned Reckoning to his hand with Hellfire, pointing the long blade at the floor. The shield narrowed its eyes at the kneeling hellknight as he summoned diabolical fire.

  This being didn’t have a mouth, yet spoke. Its will alone emanated a noise that mimicked speech, as the otherworldly powers wished a language that graced both knights’ ears. Every word had a different tone, different gender, different voice. Hells, Yenlar heard the word ‘Knight’ in Diabolical.

  Yenlar never mentioned his name.