Johannes Volkner bid farewell to a healthy body or condition. Slowly, his vision began to return to him as he reached the brink of consciousness once more, and the first thing his senses experienced was pain. He was battered, burnt, had several broken ribs, and covered in his own blood. Yet, worse than his own condition, was the fact that he did not see Jill. Reaching out with Ansuz, he could not feel her anywhere near him to communicate using the rune either. She was gone, and for what? He was alive, but laying in some half-destroyed home, barely in any condition to do anything himself. It was at that moment he considered just giving up. He could sit here, wait for evac; for someone strong like Wilhelm and his Spirits to end the Distortion for him. He could stay here, he could hide and let those stronger than himself handle it while he rested.

  He could run and hide, like he always had. Once again, he'd let some small girl take the fall for his own weakness. It was a pitiful thing, and he'd let it happen again and again. Jill was stronger than him, and the logical part of his mind knew that it wasn't his fault, but he should have done something regardless. He hadn't been able to match up to her performance, and she was the one who paid the price for it. Those emotions ate away at him like a vortex, a whirlpool slowly dragging him down, but they ignited something at the same time. He didn't want to be this way. He didn't want to be the same weak coward who ran after letting someone close to him take the fall for his own pathetic demeanor and lack of competence.

  He didn't want this guilt to chain him down any more.

  Drawing Beissende Hunde, he resolved to change something, anything. He had no idea how many minutes had passed since he fell unconscious, but he could hear combat around him continuing on. Carving into the stone bricks under him with the tip of the blade, he began setting to work. First, on the exterior, the rune array SAFNA, meaning to gather and collect. He knew his magical energy reserves hadn't recovered - wouldn't recover, either, until it was far too late. Yet the air was saturated with magical energy, especially in a time hundreds of years prior, when so much of that magical energy hadn't yet been transferred into other, more wasteful forms.

  Of course, refilling one's own magical energy wasn't quite as simple as just writing out a collection spell. If it was, he would have put one in a bracelet ages ago, and never had to worry again. It was much easier to fuel other spells rather than directly give that energy to his own body, but he didn't need to worry about the 'why' right now. Instead, he focused on what to direct that energy to, and went with the quickest option. He was too pained and frantic to think up something new that might help, so he took the easy route and carved several Berkano runes in the ground around him. Using his own energy, he kickstarted the whole thing by pouring some into the SAFNA array, and let that energy pull in more from the world, like a small pond soaking up the rain.

  Soon enough, he could feel his horrid wounds beginning to 'fix' themselves, a process that was not quite painful, but seriously uncomfortable. He could even feel his broken bones realigning and partially fusing back together, not that he would trust them to stay strong against further impacts. The plating of his armor was already cratered, any hit from a Spirit, or for that matter a non-Spirit attack with magical force or modern technology behind it, and he could very well find himself dead for real this time. With a light sigh, he readied his mostly-recovered body to go back into the breach. He was still exhausted, mentally and magically, but he would have to press on.

  Of course, without a Spirit by his side, even the more mundane enemy troops were a serious threat to him. He had never killed a man before, and he was no trained soldier. Thankfully, the streets were clouded with smoke that allowed him to continue skulking through the alleys, and he soon saw the main 'palace district' for lack of a better turn, as well as the many bodies surrounding it. Wilhelm had already arrived, but he hadn't succeeded yet. Something was wrong, and a pang from Flash of Inspiration only reinforced this idea. If the Distortion was still ongoing, that meant Wilhelm had failed to retrieve the plug, and yet...

  He couldn't even begin to consider the idea that the reason for that was Wilhelm losing. Rather, he glanced towards the main temple, the one which the Aztecs performed ritual sacrifice at. If they were going to pull something large scale with the plug, it could only be assumed that they'd do it atop the temple, which had a connection to the wider magic of the world as well as likely containing several tools to store and use that magic. Quickly turning, he changed his route to the temple. Both Flash of Inspiration and his own logic seemed to be in agreement that it was the only 'real' route that he could take if he wanted to succeed.

  Soldiering onwards, he had prepared to use Perthro to hide his presence until he was close enough to see the Aztec priests and magi, to know what he was dealing with and assassinate them. Yet, what he saw instead chilled him, despite the fact that it 'took care of an objective'. There were several bodies on the ground, dressed in ceremonial and clearly magical equipment, and covered in blood. What killed them was obvious, as they all had bullet wounds that were practically overflowing with magical energy - too much to be from one of the muskets their troops had. He froze up, only seeing two ways that such a weapon could be in use here and now.

  Either one of the Aztec-summoned Spirits had gone rogue and betrayed them, or the traitor who had run away and his Spirit were at the temple for their own purposes.

  In either case, this wasn't something he was ready for. Spirits had much sharper senses than ordinary people usually, and if it was the traitor who had arrived, there was no way they hadn't set up a covert detection field. He would be noticed before he entered. No chance for surprise, outgunned, and either against an enemy who didn't need to know anything about him, or one who would have had access to his files, if the traitor had taken the time to read through them all. Every factor was sure to move against him.

  Regardless, his footsteps echoed on the bloodied stone stairway as he walked up the stairs, blade drawn.

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  Soon, they were joined with a rhythmic noise that matched them - the clapping of two gloved hands.

  As he reached the top, he had been ready to strike, but he found the traitor unarmed, the plug slotted into the central bowl of a large stone vessel shaped like a jaguar. He let out a breath as he looked to the plug, and then to the traitor between them.

  "Well, now, Caller 015, was it? You've done well. In all honesty, I expected you'd be dead before now. Why don't we have a chat, given that I've already appeased my Lord? Even if you killed me with that ever so mighty stick you call a magically imbued weapon, it wouldn't stop what's been set in motion." For the first time, Johannes heard the traitor speak. A smug tone from a young man who still sounded impossibly old, it was hard to gauge whether he was nineteen or ninety, and caused Johannes's head to ring slightly.

  Still, if he had already formed some ritual using the plug, why was he so smug about it? Everyone knew that an in-progress ritual could be interrupted by outside forces, especially destructive ones like Beissende Hunde. He needed more information, to see if this was a bluff or not. If the traitor managed some kind of protective array, attacking randomly would only lead into their trap.

  Johannes met his words. "And why is that? You're not banking on using the plug to perform your own grand ritual, are you? Even if the magical energy was your goal, you could've used the temple itself for a massive quantity, it should have thousands of units available."

  The traitor blew a low whistle, hoarse and long, as he sat down on the side of the slab used for human sacrifice. Johannes knew nothing about him, not his name or even the basic foundation behind his magical capabilities. The closest he knew was that the man had a gun enchanted with far too much magical capability. "It's certainly not my grand ritual. My Lord will blot out the sun, and this ritual will seal it, you see. Do you know the mystical symbolism behind the Aztec sacrificial rites? Why my Lord would pick such a place and time, and leave it less guarded than every other? It's not some form of simple barbarism, 015. Above all else, the Aztecs worshiped the sun, and sacrificed to the sun."

  Johannes's eyes glanced back to the plug, and then to the traitor, and then up to the moon overhead. He hadn't noticed until now, no doubt due to his own continued unconsciousness. The skies above were tinged red, not with the smoke and bloodshed of the siege, but by the moon itself. The moon and the sun were overlapping above them, and Johannes couldn't help but grit his teeth. Ordinarily, a sacrifice to 'the sun' at night should be impossible, but at this exact time, it was completely viable.

  "And what would you sacrifice to the sun? Are you going to burn everyone here for more magical energy? Even the temple itself can't--" Johannes was about to point out a flaw in the traitor's plan, that the temple could not kickstart such a massive reaction unless it was in waves, and by then even this madman's own allies would turn on him, but he realized the flaw in that logic immediately.

  A single clap. "Exactly, I see you stopped while you were ahead. With the immense magical energy provided with the plug, such a massive sacrifice is entirely possible. And on the day of the Lunar Eclipse, sacrificing to 'the sun' can just as easily sacrifice things and people alike to 'the moon'. Hadn't you wondered why we picked 1493 to set as a Distortion, as opposed to before Columbus's voyages, or after when they were warring? It was because of this famous, mystically significant lunar eclipse. A ritual of this scale is simply too massive for a weapon like yours to interfere with, 015. The difference in energy values is so absurdly high that even with every possible advantage, any rune you were to try and use would be brushed aside like a leaf in the wind. Not only can you not stop the ritual, but you can't even steer it off course."

  Johannes grit his teeth, as the pieces fell into place. That was why this traitor was so confident. So smug and sure enough to tell him all of their plans. Yet, there was absolutely a method he could use to interfere, one that nobody but himself was left alive with knowledge of. He couldn't retrieve the plug, he had no doubt that the ritual would instantly start if he attempted to pull it away, but he could send it off course and ensure that neither 'side' of the matter won. Rushing forward, he swung Beissende Hunde's blade down at the bastard's neck, aiming for the place where his armor would be thinnest. The rune of Thurisaz, of thorns and giants and swords, enhanced his strike, only for it to spark and screech as steel met steel, his arm nearly breaking as his blade bounced off.

  Still, the impact force sent the traitor to the ground, laughing it off. "015, did I not tell you? Even if you could kill me, or had some special trump card in that blade that could overwhelm my armor, it wouldn't matter. The sacrifice will go off without a hitch, and I will be reunited with my Lord. I have faith that he will reward me upon fulfilling his plans, and bringing forth the sun and rains that will nourish the Roots of the Tree. As for you all, you won't be returning to your precious Heliopolis. Once my Lord gets ahold of you, you will join or die."

  Johannes couldn't help but feel a mix of anger, and pity for this man. He'd done so many terrible things, and aligned himself with some foul ritual that was clearly set up to kill people, even if he had danced around what the true purpose of it was. And yet, he was clearly nothing more than a pawn, one who had been pulled under this 'Lord' of his, likely unable to ever even consider the idea of a better life. In a way, they might not be too dissimilar, as vile as the traitor's actions were. He approached the plug as it began to pulse with magical energy, readying the light that would use the water lens above to reach the moon and perform a city wide sacrifice.

  In those last moments, he couldn’t help but think on the matter. Blind obedience would not have gotten him this far. Had he not taken choices of his own initiative, made his own moves, he would be powerless at this moment. Yet, by taking a step forward, he unlocked a path that nobody else could know. Not the Director, not Wilhelm, not the traitor. This path, and this final key, were his alone.

  He dipped his head down as he extended his right hand to the plug. Forcing what little magical energy he had left after his empowered slash out, he activated the ring of Ansuz runes carved into his arm. He had one source of magical energy large enough to disrupt the ritual, even if it meant being potentially unable to secure the plug - the Command Array.

  "Break your chains."

  He didn't know if the command was an imperative to himself, a hope for the ritual, or a plea for the traitor. Regardless, it resonated with something inside of him, as he disrupted the initial ritual path, steering it not to the center of the moon, but along a different path. The towering beam of light fired up from the plug, twisting slightly with the green tint of his Command Array's magical energy as it bent just the smallest amount.

  The last thing he saw while conscious was the too-white, too-clean walls of Heliopolis's deployment room.