Bob and his crew moved cautiously through the Pink Fog, their steps muffled by the heavy air. They had just returned the missing members of the safe zone to the old man's settlement, choosing to heed his advice and avoid direct confrontation with the Red Hands. Instead of facing a battle they weren't prepared for, they had slipped away into the mist, following the less-traveled roads deeper into the ruins.
The fog thickened as they advanced, twisting the landscape into eerie, shifting shapes. It was here, in the heart of the abandoned city, that they encountered the Archivists. Six figures emerged from the dense mist, their Glint forms shimmering with an unnatural glow. Their presence was neither hostile nor fearful. Two of them stood with controlled precision, while the remaining four lingered in the background, more like assistants than fighters.
Bob tensed, fists already tightening as he prepared for a fight, but the lead Archivist stepped forward, raising a hand in a gesture of non-aggression. There was something eerily knowing in their eyes, something that said they had been expecting this meeting.
"You must be Bob's crew," the figure said, their voice steady but firm. "The traveling medics spoke of you. They told us that you are strong."
Bob blinked, then grinned. "Strong, huh? Did they say how strong? Like, 'punch-through-a-wall' strong or 'rip-a-tree-out-of-the-ground' strong? I need details here."
Sly sighed, rubbing his temples. "Bob, I swear, not everything is about your muscle flexing."
The Archivist paused, as if deciding whether to engage in this nonsense or ignore it entirely. Eventually, they responded. "They said you were reckless but effective. That you help people."
Bob nodded, pleased. "Ah, see? That's what I like to hear."
"They also said you are difficult to work with."
Sly burst out laughing. "Now we're talking."
Bob placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "I am a delight to work with."
The second Archivist, a no-nonsense woman, stepped forward. "What we need is assistance. The Voynich Manuscript ended up in this ruined city, it traveled the world for research before the meteor impact. Now it's stranded, and if we don't act, it'll be lost forever. We intend to preserve it."
Sly scoffed. "You're risking your lives for an old book?"
"Knowledge is just as valuable as survival," the Archivist replied. "This manuscript is part of our history. And history should not be left to rot in the fog."
Gabe tapped his chin. "And let me guess, the place where the manuscript's stuck is swarming with Fades?"
"Worse," the Archivist said grimly. "Three Callers have claimed this ground. And they're about to tear each other apart."
Bob cracked his knuckles. "Three? That's a lot."
"We aren't asking you to fight them," the second lead Archivist, the intense woman, clarified. "We only need the manuscript. If there's a way to retrieve it without engaging the Callers, that would be ideal. But if there isn't, then we need just enough time to secure it and leave before things escalate."
Bob frowned. "So... we are bait."
The Archivist sighed. "We're asking for assistance, not throwing you to the wolves. You are the strongest fighters here. If those Callers evolve into a Boss, no one—not us, not you—will be walking away."
Normally, a Caller built power slowly, 'calling' and controlling more Fades until their reach stabilized into a territory. But if one Caller defeated another, they absorbed control of that caller's Fades. Two fights, sometimes even one, was all it took. The transformation to boss was brutal, fast, and irreversible.
And once a Boss was born, everything changed. Territory, power, numbers. All of it escalated.
Bob exchanged glances with his crew. He could already tell what they were thinking. The job was insane. But then again, so was everything they did. Bob exhaled.
"Fine," he said. "You focus on the book—we'll keep the heat off you as best we can. But we're not fighting all three Callers head-on. Don't expect a rescue if things go sideways."
The Archivist gave a curt nod. "We don't need babysitting. Just time."
---
The Pink Fog churned like a living thing as the distant sounds of monstrous roars filled the air. The Archivists had spent days observing the movements of the three Callers, carefully studying their patterns and calculating their inevitable confrontation. Their clash was bound to happen, a territorial battle that had been escalating over time.
The Cyclops Caller, a massive brute with a single glowing eye and thick armor-like skin, had established itself at the center of the ruins, a dominant force awaiting challengers.
The Swarm Caller, a twisted, skeletal wendigo-like entity, moved with eerie speed, summoning waves of lesser Fades as it prowled the battlefield, looking for an opportunity to strike.
The Wraith Caller, a shadowy figure that flickered in and out of existence, remained on the outskirts, its deadly precision making it a formidable predator.
The tension between them had reached its peak, and now, at last, they would fight for complete control of the territory.
Gabe's sharp eyes caught movement in the fog. "The Wendigo's moving in on the Wraith."
He didn't take his eyes off the unfolding clash as he spoke. "Remember the plan—we wait for them to fight. While they're busy tearing each other apart, we hit the Cyclops Caller. That way, we only deal with one, and whoever wins their fight comes out weaker."
Sure enough, the Swarm Caller lunged first, unleashing a horde of Fades to drown the Wraith Caller. The Wraith reacted instantly, phasing through the first wave of attackers before slashing back with razor-sharp claws.
Bob grinned. "That's our cue. The big guy's still waiting for his turn. Let's not give him one."
The Cyclops Caller turned its massive, single eye toward Bob's crew as they approached, its earth-shaking footsteps sending cracks through the ruined ground. Around it, twisted Fades lurked in the fog, their glowing eyes locked onto Bob's crew. The Cyclops let out a guttural roar, and in response, its minions charged forward.
Bob dodged the first Fade's swipe, shifting mid-step as he summoned his Fog Gauntlets. He slammed a punch into the creature's skull, sending it flying back. "Alright, big guy. Let's dance."
Iris took to the air, her wings flaring as she dived toward the Cyclops Caller's eye. The beast swiped at her, but she twisted mid-air, avoiding the strike. "The big one's slow—but it hits like a truck!"
Gabe, in his Griffin form, soared beside her. "Then we stay out of reach!"
Sly vanished in a flicker of movement, reappearing behind two of the smaller Fades. He drove his dagger through one's throat and slashed the other across the leg before blinking away again. "The grunts are fast. Watch your backs!"
Bob charged forward, switching from his gauntlets to his Fog Club, bringing it down onto the Caller's massive leg. The impact sent a ripple through its armored skin, but it barely staggered. The Fades swarmed him, forcing him to pivot. With a flicker, his weapon shifted to a long Fog Pole, which he swung in a wide arc, knocking the creatures away.
The Cyclops roared, its single eye glowing ominously. A pulse of energy rippled through the battlefield, causing the grunt fades to surge forward in renewed aggression. Bob barely had time to react before one grabbed his arm, fingers like iron clamps. Gritting his teeth, he twisted and used the momentum to slam it into another before shifting his weapon again—this time summoning his Fog Gauntlets.
Iris swooped down, cutting through two Fades with her blade. "Bob, don't just stand there getting swarmed!"
"I'm working on it!" Bob growled, driving his fist through another grunt Fade's chest before turning back to the Caller.
Sly darted through the battlefield, cutting down grunt Fades with precise strikes, but a heavy swipe caught his side. He winced but kept moving. "We need to bring the big guy down! These things aren't stopping."
Bob planted his feet, eyes locking onto the Cyclops Caller. "Fine. Let's go big."
With a booming stomp, he launched forward, summoning a massive Fog Club mid-air. He brought it down onto the Caller's head, sending cracks through its armored skull. The beast reeled, but instead of collapsing, it retaliated with a devastating backhand. The strike caught Bob square in the chest, sending him skidding across the battlefield.
Iris gasped. "Bob!!"
Bob groaned, coughing as he pushed himself up. "Yeah… that one hurt."
Gabe and Iris unleashed a coordinated aerial strike, forcing the Caller to stumble. Sly blurred between its legs, slicing at its tendons.
Bob wiped the blood from his mouth and grinned. "Alright. Time to use my muscles!"
The Cyclops Caller reeled, its massive form teetering under the relentless barrage. Cracks splintered across its thick, armor-like skin, its glowing eye flickering in erratic bursts. With a furious roar, it swung its colossal arm in a final, desperate attempt to crush Bob, but he was already moving.
Summoning his Fog Club mid-stride, Bob twisted his body and launched himself into the air, the sheer force of his jump cracking the rubble beneath him. The Cyclops let out a confused, guttural snarl as Bob brought the club down with a bone-shattering impact, striking directly into the glowing center of its eye.
The beast let out an agonized, earth-shaking bellow, its body convulsing violently as the energy within it ruptured. Its eye burst apart in a blinding explosion of Fog energy, the force ripping through its massive frame. The ground trembled as the Cyclops collapsed like a falling monolith, its enormous body crashing into the ruins with enough force to send debris flying in every direction.
The remaining grunt Fades, sensing the loss of their Caller, broke formation and scattered into the fog… disorganized, panicked, and no longer bound by a command.
Bob landed in a crouch, breathing hard, his club dissipating into mist. He straightened up, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, that was fun."
Sly, clutching a gash on his arm, shot him a glare. "Yeah, a blast. Especially the part where we almost got crushed."
Before they could recover, an ear-piercing shriek cut through the fog. The Wendigo Horror stood atop the ruins, its skeletal frame trembling with excitement. It had defeated the Wraith Caller, and now its hollow, glowing eyes locked onto them. The victory had cost it—deep wounds marred its elongated limbs, and a section of its torso had been ripped apart during the fight. But despite its injuries, it let out a spine-chilling howl and leaped forward, its horde of remaining Fades swarming in behind it.
Bob clenched his fists. "Guess we're not done yet."
The Wendigo moved with unnatural speed, its twisted body slithering through the fog as it lunged at them. Gabe barely had time to react before it was upon him, its clawed fingers slashing through the air. He twisted mid-flight, avoiding the brunt of the strike, but the impact sent him spiraling. Sly flickered in and out of the mist, cutting down Fades as they surged forward, while Iris tried to keep the creatures at bay with her aerial strikes.
Bob swapped his club for his Fog Gauntlets, meeting the Wendigo head-on. Their clash was brutal, its skeletal frame deceptively strong, each impact rattling through Bob's arms. He managed to land a solid punch, sending it skidding across the rubble, but it twisted unnaturally and righted itself mid-motion, its hunger for blood unshaken.
"It's fast," Iris warned, slicing through a Fade. "We need to pin it down!"
Sly appeared beside Bob, panting. "Easier said than done. It's barely feeling its injuries."
Bob gritted his teeth. "Then we just hit it harder."
The battle raged on, exhaustion creeping in as they struggled to keep up. The Wendigo, already battered and drained from its fight with the Wraith, lashed out in a final frenzy. But Bob's crew fought smart, targeting its weak points, staying mobile, and wearing it down further. A coordinated attack forced it onto its back, and with a final, thunderous strike from Bob's Fog Club, its skull caved in. The creature twitched, then went still, the remaining Fades scattering into the fog.
Bob barely had time to catch his breath before Gabe shouted, "We've got company!"
From the ruins, figures emerged, Darius "Ironjaw" and Felix "Viper", leading twelve elite Red Hands members, all in Glint form. The air tensed as they closed in, their red insignias gleaming even through the dense mist.
Darius's massive form loomed over the battlefield, his armored Juggernaut-Class Siege Beast Glint exuding raw power. His body was like a living fortress, his thick, plated skin resembling unbreakable stone, each movement sending tremors through the ground. "That was entertaining," he said, his voice like grinding stone. "But you've done enough. Now it's our turn."
Felix smirked, his Serpent-Class Naga Assassin Glint slithering through the mist, his elongated, coiling body tensed like a predator preparing to strike. His claws gleamed, venom dripping from their edges as his forked tongue flicked out. "You look tired, Bob. This'll be over quick."
Bob tightened his grip on the club. "Yeah, I'm tired. Doesn't mean I'm done."