Blurry figures loomed over him as he blinked open his heavy eyes. Five shapes. Their outlines wavered, shrouded in a haze as if pulled from a dream.
He groaned, squinting against the orange glow of a nearby oil lamp that bathed the room in a dim, flickering light. The shadows danced on earthen walls, whispering of unfamiliar surroundings.
Murmurs filled the space. Whispers in multiple tongues—some vaguely familiar, others utterly foreign. Confused, disoriented, he strained to listen.
"He's waking up," a woman's voice said softly, her tone a mix of caution and relief.
Callum winced. Even the lamp's weak light stabbed into his skull like needles.
How long have I been out?
The landslide. That was the last thing he remembered—screams, crashing debris, the stench of disturbed earth.
"Where…?" His voice rasped out, barely more than a whisper.
"Quick, bring water!" a man ordered, urgency coating his voice.
Then came a sound—a familiar cadence, a tremor of recognition.
"Führer!"
His head turned sharply. "Karlan?"
"Yes, it's me! Your loyal soldier," the man confirmed, stepping into the lamplight. "Oh, thank the Lord. I thought we'd lost you after the landslide buried everything."
Callum blinked rapidly, focus sharpening. Karlan's face had aged in weeks—dark hair now brushing his earlobes, worry carved into every line. He handed him a bowl of water with shaking hands.
Callum sipped. Then choked. "How many… survived?"
Karlan hesitated. His voice broke when he finally spoke. "Two."
Callum coughed violently, nearly spilling the water. A woman steadied the bowl.
"Take it slow," she advised gently.
"Who?" he asked, eyes locked on Karlan.
"You and me," came the quiet reply.
The truth hit like a hammer to the chest. Only two.
The weight of that number settled deep into his gut, colder than the water on his tongue.
"I had gone ahead to scout the terrain," Karlan explained, his voice brittle. "The ground trembled. Horses screamed. Then the slope gave out. The debris fell like thunder, and I could do nothing but watch… helpless."
Callum closed his eyes. He had been bringing up the rear, guarding for ambushes. He remembered the thunderous crack. The crushing force. A flash of something—stone, perhaps a tree—before darkness claimed him.
"I couldn't save them," Karlan continued, bowing his head. "Forgive me. I showed weakness."
"You blame yourself too much," Callum muttered. Trusted men weren't forged in training—they were earned through hardship. And now most of theirs were gone.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"The eastern bunker. One of the few safe remnants where both humans and demons take shelter."
Callum looked around again, registering the worn but sturdy construction, the faces filled with fatigue and hope in equal measure.
"Führer," Karlan asked, more formally this time, "what are your thoughts?"
Callum sighed. "I'm… uncertain. What have you learned?"
Karlan nodded. "The people say their leader—the man who watches over this bunker—is gone. He's leading a war effort in the west. Built an army of his own."
Callum's interest stirred. A man who could build such an army from scraps in these times was not ordinary.
Over the following days, Callum asked around. Old men, mothers, even children—he asked them all.
They called the man a protector. A savior. He had taken in the elderly, the injured, even the outcasts, and forged them into a community with order, dignity, and strength.
"We are ever grateful to be under his command," said a woman from the Zhonguo Republic.
She explained that seven bunkers were built—each hosting refugees according to their homeland to avoid tensions. Peace had become policy. Survival, a shared mission. And all of it, they claimed, stemmed from this mysterious leader.
"You don't go to the surface often?" Callum asked.
"We do. But monsters still roam. Many of our men joined his army. We women train the young and each other to carry on the defense."
"Can you describe him?" Callum inquired one evening.
She hesitated, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
Callum realized how odd it must have sounded—digging into someone's appearance. He offered a nervous chuckle. "Just curious. A man that influential… it's natural to wonder what he's like."
She nodded slowly. "No one knows his name. But they say he has stern features. Black hair, black eyes. Built strong. About your height, maybe taller. And his ears… there's something off. Slightly pointed, like a demon's. Scars too—on his face."
Callum straightened. "At the corner of his mouth?"
"Yes! But how did you—?"
Callum suddenly laughed—a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the chamber and startled everyone nearby.
"That bastard is alive!" he exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes. "I can't believe it!"
"Führer?" Karlan asked, wide-eyed. "You know him?"
"Of course I do! He's my brother—Erebus. That fool never once spoke of building armies or leading people, and now look at him!"
Silence fell. The crowd around them stared in disbelief.
"His wife and son," Callum said suddenly, "they must be here. His boy was three, and his wife was expecting their second before the war began. Where are they?"
No one responded.
"He was married?" the woman whispered, stunned.
"She's a heavenly beauty," Callum added proudly. The woman beside him looked suddenly guilty—perhaps recalling thoughts she'd had about Erebus for her own daughter.
"But… there's no mention of his family," she said slowly. "None of us ever knew."
Callum's heart sank.
"I remember," someone muttered. "He once told a soldier… he had a child. But that he lost them during the war."
The words hit like ice.
Callum's mind spun. It made sense now—why Erebus would rally soldiers, build bunkers, declare war. Something had been taken from him. Something precious.
"Where's that soldier now?" he asked urgently.
"He left with the General.for the western front. I'm sorry. No one else knows him like you do." The guard along the doorway claimed.
Callum stared into the distance.
Luciana. Nemesis. Gone.
Erebus is not the same. His army rises. His grief burns.
And me? I'm just a shadow without him. As I always have been.
"I need to go back...." He said quietly. Maybe he could take soldiers from here and follow Erebus. But first he needed to inform Calypso that he was alive lest false news reached her ears.