Tension clung to the air like a living thing.
Sweat poured down Bulk's exposed skin, tracing glistening paths across his broad face and thick palms. His massive chest rose and fell in heavy, audible breaths that echoed slightly off the grotesque pillars. The big man's usual easygoing demeanor had cracked; his prosthetic leg shifted restlessly, and his hand hovered near his launcher even while it remained slung across his back.
Quinn glanced over his shoulder at him. "Calm down, big guy. Take it easy. Now's not the time to show weakness."
Bulk gave a short, grunting nod, but the sweat kept coming.
Quinn turned his gaze back toward the far end of the chamber, where the woman in violet stood beside the grand Ciborium Pavilion.
The air changed the moment she walked in. Who the hell is she supposed to be?
"Eye-catching," Camilla murmured, her voice low and appreciative. Then her grin widened, sharp and feral. "She looks too good to be true… opening her arms like we're a bunch of lost children. Let me at her!"
Rate's face had recomposed into its usual stoic mask, but only on the surface. He studied the woman carefully, eyes narrowed. At first glance she appeared to be nothing more than an eccentric, strangely dressed lady. Yet the instant his augmented perception shifted, the truth slammed into him.
A condensed hurricane of mana swirled around her like a living vortex, dense enough to distort the air itself. It flooded the entire floor, pressing down on everyone with invisible weight—abnormal pressure that tugged at mental stability and made the colored candle flames flicker erratically. Rate's expression faltered for a split second. His eyes returned to normal, but the aftershock lingered.
The words landed with the heavy, dull thud of an impossibility.
He opened his mouth, but his throat had tightened into a hard, dry knot. A phantom chill swept across his skin. The room hadn't changed temperature, yet the foundation of his understanding had just dissolved beneath his feet.
"What… is… this individual that feels so familiar?" Rate muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
Through his enhanced sight, he caught the faint movement of Agatha's lips, subtle, almost imperceptible murmuring.
Did she just—
Rate couldn't finish the thought. His mind raced.
Was that a spell she just cast? This floor reeks of necromantic resonance. She has to be either an occultist or a warlock…
Goosebumps prickled along his arms. Caution flooded his system. Every instinct screamed for him to take a step back, yet his pride and responsibility as captain kept him rooted.
This is not good. She's powerful, there's no doubt about it. But with me involved, we might still triumph… even if it costs an arm.
Rate stepped forward. Six measured steps. His posture remained perfectly stoic, orb of light hovering faithfully beside him. Quinn, Camilla, and Bulk watched in silence but didn't follow. The weight of the moment pressed on all of them.
Rate stared directly at the woman. "I presume this must be your doing."
Agatha tilted her head slightly, the knowing smile never leaving her lips. "Could you clarify your proposition? It sounds rather… unconventional."
Rate advanced three more steps, boots ringing against the stone. "Everything up to this point, especially the second and fourth floors."
"Ohh?" Agatha's voice carried a playful lilt. "And what about the rest? Do you not assume so?"
"You could have used other methods," Rate continued, voice steady but edged. "Associates. Proxies. It didn't have to be crafted by your own hands."
Agatha chuckled lightly, the sound soft and melodic, yet it sent an uneasy ripple through the chamber. "Are you firm on your words?"
"I am certain it's true." Rate took another step forward. "Tell me, who are you?"
"I have no obligation to reveal myself to you. Who do you think you are?" she replied, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"It doesn't matter," Rate answered coldly. "I'll say this once: Step aside and surrender everything you have in your possession. You'll receive a swift death by my hands. There should be no point in dragging this out any further."
There. A direct threat. Let's see what kind of being she truly is.
Agatha's laughter came softer this time. She lowered her open arms, the dramatic bell sleeves swaying like living shadows. "You jest as you put on an act." She took one graceful step forward. "You think you have what it takes to draw my blood?"
"Specifically," Rate said, locking his hands behind his back in a deceptively relaxed pose, "I'll leave you at the hands of death. Take me lightly and you won't know what hit you."
I can make this work. Draw her focus entirely on me. Let the others strike from the sides if it comes to that.
Agatha crossed one arm beneath her chest, lifting the other in a confident, almost theatrical gesture. The candlelight caught the lace appliqués on her bodice, making the deep violet fabric shimmer like pooled blood and wine.
"Look at you," she said, voice dripping with mocking sweetness. "You insolate little fools. You Eclipse-Walkers are all the same."
"Eclipse-Walkers…?" Rate repeated in a low tone. His eyes widened in genuine shock this time.
Who on earth is this woman!
Rate's mind reeled. The word "Eclipse-Walkers" hung in the air like a blade pressed against his throat. No one outside their circle should know that name. Their presence in this dungeon was meant to be invisible, ghosts slipping in to harvest its forbidden resources before vanishing without a trace. Yet this woman had spoken it with casual, venomous familiarity.
Agatha's smile sharpened, reading the fracture in his composure like an open book.
"Oh? Did I strike a nerve?" she purred, her voice echoing softly through the candlelit chamber. "You Eclipse-Walkers always wear that same startled expression when someone remembers what you are. Centuries pass, and still you scurry about in the dark like naughty children who think no one sees them."
Rate forced his expression back into cold neutrality, though his pulse hammered. Fragments of an old memory stirred, something from his youth, a terrifying encounter he had buried deep. A figure in violet. A power that made the world feel small. But the image refused to clarify.
"Who are you?" he demanded again, voice lower and more dangerous. "Only a handful of people alive should know that name."
Agatha let out a soft, theatrical laugh, one hand rising to touch her lips. "Alive? What a limited perspective. I have outlived entire bloodlines, empires, and foolish orders that once hunted me. Yet here you are, a little Eclipse-Walker whelp, asking me to introduce myself."
She took two elegant steps forward, the train of her dress whispering across the stone. The mana vortex around her pulsed once, sending a visible ripple through the colored candle flames.
"You really don't remember me, do you?" Her head tilted, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You were so very young the last time our paths crossed. Barely more than a frightened boy hiding behind his master's robes while I painted the sky in screams. How time flies."
Rate's hands tightened behind his back. A cold sweat broke along his spine. The phantom memory sharpened for half a second, violet fabric, laughter like breaking glass, and the metallic sweetness of blood in the air, then slipped away again.
"You speak too much," he said flatly. "If you truly know us, then you know what we're capable of. This doesn't have to become messy. Stand down. Surrender the dungeon's core and any artifacts you've claimed. I will make your end painless."
Agatha's expression shifted into exaggerated pity. "Painless? How generous. Tell me, little walker, do you still believe your little faction's tricks work on someone like me? I was ancient before your grandfather drew his first breath. I have danced with death so many times she calls me by name."
She spread her arms again, the dramatic bell sleeves flaring. "Go on then, draw blood. Take what you came for. Or are you starting to realize how far out of your depth you truly are?"
Rate's jaw clenched. He could feel the oppressive weight of her mana pressing against his skin, testing him. Behind him, the rest of the team was growing restless.
Quinn stood rigid a few paces back, arms loose but ready. His eyes flicked between Rate's back and the witch in violet.
This is bad, he thought. The captain never loses his cool like this. Whoever she is, she's not just another dungeon boss.
He leaned slightly toward Camilla and Bulk without taking his eyes off the confrontation. "You two catching this?" he muttered under his breath. "She knows the name. Our name. That shouldn't be possible."
Bulk wiped fresh sweat from his brow, his heavy breathing still audible. "Yeah… and she's talkin' like she's met the captain before. This feels wrong. Real wrong. My gut says we should blast her before she finishes monologuing."
Camilla, on the other hand, looked positively thrilled. Her eyes sparkled with dangerous excitement as she bounced lightly on her toes, molten greaves leaving faint warm imprints on the stone.
"Ohhh, I like her," she whispered, grinning wide. "She's got style. That dress? The drama? The way she's roasting the captain? Queen, we should keep her. Or at least fight her."
Quinn shot her a glare. "This isn't the time for your games, Camilla. She's dangerous. Even the captain looks shaken."
"Dangerous is fun," Camilla replied in a singsong voice, completely unbothered. "Besides, she called us 'insolate little fools.' I respect the energy. I want to see if she can back it up."
Bulk grunted. "You would say that. I'm over here trying not to piss myself and you're fangirling."
"I'm not fangirling," Camilla protested quietly, though her grin said otherwise. "I'm… professionally appreciating a worthy opponent. There's a difference, old man."
Quinn exhaled through his nose, exasperated. "Both of you shut it. If she really knew the captain when he was young, that means she's been around for decades, at least. Maybe longer. We need to be ready to move the second the captain gives the signal. Bulk, keep that launcher hot. Camilla… try not to charge in like an idiot this time."
Camilla pouted dramatically. "Who are you to tell me what and what not to do."
"This isn't fun, it's a potential massacre," Quinn growled.
"Exactly," she shot back, eyes still locked on Agatha with hungry interest. "That's what makes it fun."
Up ahead, Rate took another careful step forward, trying to reclaim control of the conversation.
"You claim to know us," he said, voice steady despite the storm inside. "Then you know we don't bluff. This dungeon and everything in it now belongs to the Eclipse-Walkers. Resist, and I will personally ensure your long life ends here."
Agatha's laughter rang out again, richer and darker this time. She took one more graceful step, closing the distance between them even further. The air grew heavier, the colored candles flickering wildly as her mana pressed down like an invisible ocean.
"Bold words from a boy who still can't remember anything." she whispered, loud enough for the entire party to hear. "Very well, little Eclipse-Walker. Entertain me. Show me how much your faction has grown since I last toyed with your kind."
Her eyes glowed with ancient, wicked amusement as she waited for his next move.
"From all what she had said… could she be who I think she is?" Bulk muttered, his voice unusually low and strained.
Sweat continued rolling down his face in thick beads. The big man looked paler than usual, his prosthetic leg planted wide for balance as if the very air had grown heavier.
"What are you trying to say?" Quinn asked, eyes still locked on the distant confrontation between Rate and the woman in violet.
Bulk wiped his forehead with the back of his massive hand. "My thoughts are stuffed… I know of only a few female individuals who've ever crossed paths with our faction and lived to talk about it."
"How many are we talking?" Quinn pressed.
"Four. From a full millennium down to our time." Bulk's breathing remained labored. "First is Barbara, the Apostle of Nyx."
"Ba… rba… ra," Camilla repeated slowly, tasting the name like a new weapon.
"Wasn't she an immortal who had a short-term alignment with the faction?" Quinn asked.
"Yeah, but it can't be her," Bulk replied. "Based on every description I've heard, Barbara's hair is blacker than the void itself. This woman's is silk-dark, but not that."
Quinn nodded once. "Alright. Who else?"
"Lady Gandulf. A knight who investigated and fought against us around three hundred years ago."
"Lady Gan… dulf?" Camilla snorted, sarcasm dripping. "That's a stupid name."
Quinn ignored her and kept his focus on Bulk. "She's probably dead by now. And even if she isn't, we can take her."
Bulk shook his head. "Gandulf was built like a fortress, tall, muscular, broad-shouldered. Doesn't match the elegant figure we're looking at."
He paused, wiping another layer of sweat. "Then there's one from about a hundred years ago. Sartyx Maeyd, a noble daughter from the Arcane Kingdom. Follower of the God of Dominance. After she barely survived one of our operations, she swore to wipe the Eclipse-Walkers from existence and disappeared in search of greater power."
"Any clear description of her appearance?" Quinn asked.
"Not much. Old Man Dr. Nalon said she was quite petite with peach-colored hair. That's about all I remember."
"Old man Nalon." Camilla sweet tone.
Quinn let out a low whistle. "The organization really kept documents on our enemies, huh."
"Only the ones flagged as future threats," Bulk answered. "The rest are stored in the memories of members who survived them."
Quinn's brow furrowed. "Are those all the females who've come against us?"
"Not even close," Bulk said. "I could only recall those four right now. One of the biggest long-term threats to the entire organization is still the well-known Arthur The King of Heroes."
Quinn's breath caught at the name. "I suppose those four don't quite fit the one standing in front of us…"
"What if Satex Maid just put on some new skin?" Camilla chimed in out of nowhere, eyes sparkling. "You can't really tell these days."
"Sartyx Maeyd," Quinn corrected, exasperated. "Not 'Satex maid' or whatever you just butchered."
"Whatsoever numbskull!" Camilla shot back instantly.
Quinn waved her off and turned back to Bulk. "What about the last one?"
"The last one…" Bulk's voice dropped even lower as he dug deep into memory. "I think she was from the witches' coven. The one that terrified several kingdoms and nations with her diabolic deeds. Massacred people wherever she went. Even heroes and churches are after her head. What was her name again…?" He tapped the side of his head repeatedly, brows knitted.
"You don't mean Agatha?" Quinn said slowly. "The Calamity Witch? The rumors when I was growing up said the weak and those who fall from the light paths will have their destiny taken by Agatha. Child trauma stuff."
Bulk's expression darkened. "I don't think you should take it so lightly just because you've never crossed her path. Agatha slaughtered fifty squads from our organization when they tried to get in her way."
Quinn's jaw tightened. "I don't take it lightly. But you don't have to worry. We'll get out of this. It's probably not even her. Why would a runaway witch be hiding in a—"
His words slowed to a crawl. Quinn turned his gaze forward again, staring at the graceful figure Infront of the Ciborium Pavilion.
It's not possible… right?
Camilla, having absorbed every word, suddenly lit up like a child who had just solved a riddle. "Agatha? Ohhh, it's Agatha!" She spun toward Rate and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Captain! It's Agatha! AGATHA!"
The name echoed across the vast chamber, bouncing off the grotesque pillars and leering gargoyles.
Rate froze mid-sentence. The puzzle pieces slammed together in his mind with brutal clarity. Forty years ago, as a young recruit, he had barely survived an encounter with that very name. He remembered the violet carnage. The laughter. The fifty Eclipse-Walker squads reduced to broken armor and silence. His foot stepped back involuntarily. A single drop of sweat slid from the corner of his ear down his neck.
"Agatha?" he whispered, voice hoarse. "Are you actually Agatha… the Witch?"
Quinn noticed the rare backward step from their captain and felt ice crawl down his spine. Something was very wrong.
Agatha's knowing smile widened, elegant and predatory. "Hmm… what if I am?" She took one graceful step forward, bell sleeves swaying. "You aren't getting cold feet now, are you?"
Rate's mind raced at dangerous speed.
If this is truly Agatha, escape is no longer an option. This is beyond trying to slip away.
Her fingers twitched with subtle intent.
Rate reacted instantly. In a burst of explosive speed, he leaped backward, covering the distance to his team in a single fluid motion. The hovering orb followed him like a loyal shadow.
"Uh, Captain?" Quinn asked, tension thick in his voice. "What's going on? That's not Agatha right?"
"It is her." Rate who's usual calm finally cracked. "Now I fully recognize that face."
"Oh, the gods!" Bulk groaned, visibly shaking as fresh sweat poured down his temples.
Camilla, by contrast, looked electrified. Her grin stretched wide, eyes blazing with excitement. "I want to know if she's the real deal. Let's go!"
"Finally taking this seriously," Agatha called out from across the chamber, her voice carrying effortlessly. "Took you long enough."
Rate's hand moved like lightning. He pulled a sleek saber from within his jacket, drawing it with a sharp, metallic ring that cut through the oppressive silence. The blade gleamed with restrained menace.
"Oh no… this is bad. Is this how bad it is?!" Bulk stammered, fear evident in every syllable.
"What?" Quinn asked, alarmed.
"The Captain just pulled out his sword. His sword!" Bulk replied, voice trembling. "This is serious!"
"I know that," Quinn muttered. He stared forward, throat dry.
The captain never draws his sword against any opponent. She's really Agatha?
Rate's presence shifted entirely. Dark energy erupted around him, coating the saber in writhing shadows. The power condensed further, forming long, ominous tentacles that extended from every vital point on his body. The air around him distorted and pulverized under the pressure. His eyes darkened to bottomless voids. A dreadful, otherworldly physique emerged.
"We're going all out on this one!" Rate commanded, voice cold steel. "No questions asked!"
Quinn flexed hard. Enormous aura exploded outward, amplifying his already powerful physique several times over. The raw energy surged upward like a golden pillar, pressing down on the surroundings until the air itself became suffocating.
"I never knew this day would come," Quinn growled. "I'll bring this entire floor to the ground if I have to!"
"I'm always ready whenever you are!" Camilla declared. Her molten greaves ignited to temperatures beyond thousands of degrees Celsius. Lava-like energy expanded violently around her legs, sinking slightly into the stone floor as the air warped and burned around her.
Bulk, however, dropped to one knee. The overwhelming pressure from his three comrades combined with Agatha's oppressive mana vortex proved too much. He gasped at the brink of collapse, chest heaving.
"Bulk! Try to keep up!" Rate ordered sharply.
The three powerhouses prepared to charge.
"Be careful of your surroundings," Rate warned, voice urgent. "One wrong step and she'll get you. One more thing, try to understand this: When you see an opening, do not take it. Withdraw immediately. That's my last warning!"
Quinn glanced at him for a heartbeat, confusion and doubt flashing across his face.
How is that possible? Then how the hell are we supposed to beat her? This just got way harder than it already was.
"Leave it to me, Captain!" Camilla laughed, cheeky and wild. "I know what to do."
Agatha stood at the front of the grand pavilion, arms slightly spread, the colored candles casting shifting wine and violet light across her theatrical dress. Her smile had turned into something mischievous and utterly confident.
"Come now," she said, voice ringing with dark invitation, "and let me show you the path to the afterlife!"