The Overlord of Mysteries

Hello, this is my first time writing a fanfiction. If you notice any errors, please feel free to give me constructive feedback. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please mention them in the comment section at the end of the chapter. Let's begin the story!

Word Count: 5100 Words

Note: Just a reminder that I've changed the Guild Auxiliary chapter. I've made some changes to it. I've removed a couple of NPCs and added a few.

Due to my college work, I was unable to upload the chapter sooner so I've made this chapter longer. Increased the word count.

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Trapped within the Reality Marble of the Fool, Saber accompanied by Illyasviel, found themselves adrift atop a never-ending ocean of darkness. Light, feeble and failing, barely traveled an inch beyond the surface of the water, swallowed by the surrounding gloom.

Their transition into this world had been abrupt, disorienting, and when they finally looked up, they found the one responsible for their predicament.

Standing alone in a distance, observing them as if they were his mere toys to play with.

Saber wasted no time, her instinct to strike immediate and deadly, but just as her blade cut through the air, massive, decayed hands—wrapped in ancient bandages—emerged from beneath the black waters.

The hands reached out with terrible purpose, seizing Saber and the others, strangling them with overwhelming force, dragging them beneath the surface into the abyss.

Meanwhile, in the cavern, Rin and Sakura stood alone. The scene before them had dissipated into a dense fog, a dark grey fog that consumed everything—people, surroundings, even the omnipotent Holy Grail. Though one thing was clear to them, the dark grey fog originated from one being: the Fool.

Yet, despite the foreboding nature of the fog, Sakura let out a sigh of relief. She trusted the Fool more than the Grail. There was no greed in his demeanor, no desire to claim the Holy Grail for himself.

His dispassionate, almost dismissive attitude toward it spoke volumes. To him, it was a mere trinket, far beneath his notice.

His scorn for the Grail, paired with his scathing view of the other participants of the war, had cemented a vision of him in Sakura's mind. The Fool would handle everything.

Her faith wasn't without reason. Even a servant of the Fool had instilled an unimaginable fear within Avenger—a terror that resonated deep within her.

The moment the Fool had entered this world, marked by her grandfather Zouken's death, Avenger had fallen eerily silent. It was a striking contrast to the vengeful spirit that had once thrived on malice, eagerly awaiting the completion of the Grail.

But with Zouken's demise, Avenger's fury had been quelled, leaving only silence in its wake.

---

They materialized within the amalgamation of the corrupted, sunken city of R'lyeh, a chaotic vision of alien architecture and ancient ruin.

The ocean here, they passed through was different—the Chaotic Sea of Madness that surrounded had devourered them had sapped their strength and willpower, a relentless debuff weighing down their minds.

Saber and Avenger, who now possessed Illyasviel's fragile body, collapsed to their knees. The oppressive madness pressed against their souls, making it difficult to even process their surroundings.

Saber, by virtue of her warrior's resolve, fared better. Using her sword as a makeshift cane, she stood, defiant, scanning the horizon for their enemy.

The battle thus far had been brutal, with Shirou's death reducing the number of Masters to two: Rin and Sakura. Rin, without a servant, was no longer a Master and had lost her rights to the Grail.

For them, the Fool's very existence posed an insurmountable obstacle. Their carefully laid plans, built upon Zouken and Kotomine's twisted ambition, had crumbled in the face of his presence.

Though their goals were different, both Zouken and Kotomine had painstakingly nurtured Avenger, feeding the creature their malice and guiding its path toward the Grail's completion.

They opposed each other, their goals different and their vision with the Avenger different.

They had done their part, to bring the story so far.

Yet all of it was undone by the Fool's mere existence.

---

Saber's ambitions, her wish to save Britain, had been cast aside. All that remained now was the corruption of the Holy Grail, twisting her will into something unrecognizable. She was a slave to the darkness, a mere pawn in a game that had long since spiraled out of control.

The honor she had once cherished was bleeding from her soul, replaced by a slavish devotion to the very force she had sought to defeat.

Saber, using her sword for support, let out a weary sigh as her eyes continued to scour the twisted landscape. The Holy Grail, now fallen into the Fool's Reality Marble, was rendered inert.

Illyasviel clutched the empty vessel, its connection to the Root severed. The Grail, incomplete and powerless, no longer had the capacity to gather the sacrificial energy needed to open a path to the Root—the ultimate goal of the war.

It baffled Illyasviel. The Grail had always been connected to the Root. The Root was everything—an infinite source of existence. It was everything and nothing. To be cut off from it was unthinkable, a breach of reality itself. It being what it was "". It was as if they had crossed into a dimension beyond comprehension, beyond everything they knew.

She was worried for her guess to turn out false, for she worried the place they had ventured to be not a Reality Marble, she had assumed it to be, but a Dimension beyond everything she knew off.

She questioned herself, had they ventured outside The Root, itself.

Illyasviel and Avenger, their faces etched with worry, glanced around the nightmarish city. Saber's gaze, however, was fixed on the alien infrastructure. Parts of the city lay in ruins, while other sections retained an unnerving, haunting beauty. It was a city so vast, so beyond anything humanity had ever conceived, that they could not fathom its full size. The architecture was foreign to their senses, yet it possessed an almost hypnotic allure.

Their eyes, filled with both dread and fascination, lingered on the giant temple standing at the city's highest point. The temple was a monumental structure, an architectural masterpiece that spoke of ancient aeons long past, of civilizations long forgotten. Its size dwarfed anything they had ever seen—larger than any human achievement, more eternal than the oldest ruins.

The sight of it invoked a deep, primal horror within them. It reached into their very souls, stirring their darkest fears, edging them toward madness.

Though Saber and Illyasviel were formidable, bolstered by the Grail's power and their natural resistance to insanity, the unrelenting pressure of the city's malevolent aura tested their limits.

The curses inflicted upon them by the Chaotic Sea of Madness caused waves of dizziness and pain, yet they held on, their spirits fighting back against the madness.

In agony, they studied the temple further. At the very top, they spotted a silhouette—a figure standing ominously against the black sky. Human, perhaps, but in this city of eldritch horror, assumptions felt dangerous.

Sharpening their resolve, they began their march toward the temple. Illyasviel clutched the Grail, now devoid of its once formidable power, following Saber closely. The Grail, stripped of its connection to the Root and Third True Magic, was a hollow relic, incomplete and useless.

Despite holding the object that could grant her deepest desires, Illyasviel felt powerless. The Grail had lost its magic, and with it, all hope seemed to dwindle as well.

---

Darkness erupted from Illyasviel's hands as they charged toward the silhouette, which soon revealed itself to be the Servant of Sakura. The moment they stepped onto the temple's premises, the battle began in earnest.

Black, box-like projectiles, shaped like grilles, rained down upon the Fool. But as the attack neared, his figure dissipated into a swirl of dark grey fog. He vanished into the mist, only to rematerialize before them in an instant. Before they could react, Saber attempted to strike him from behind, her sword cutting through the air with lethal precision.

However, the Fool, now taking on the form of Bruce, turned with a smirk. Amusement danced in his eyes as he teleported behind Illyasviel, his mocking smile deepening as he taunted them, relishing the situation.

Escaping Illyasviel's onslaught of dark projectiles with ease, Bruce danced around the battlefield, evading each attack with a deftness that seemed almost playful. He appeared to be enjoying this game more than he let on. Any anxiety he had about the fight had evaporated, replaced by a newfound revelation.

'So now, I'm strong enough to face Saber Alter and Illyasviel, with Avenger, all at once. With this Reality Marble—or whatever this is—there's no reason to fear even the Holy Grail.'

Bruce scoffed at his past self, from just an hour earlier. All the concerns that had once loomed over him seemed trivial now, irrelevant. Realization had dawned upon him—his identity, his true nature.

'An Eldritch God, no less. Or more accurately, an amalgamation of many things—a fusion of Cthulhu, Gilgamesh, and Gojo.' A grin tugged at his lips. 'I haven't even tapped into Gojo's abilities yet. As for Gilgamesh, I've only used Ea. Perhaps it's time to see what I can really do.'

With a casual flick of his right hand, Bruce summoned a red orb, its surface swirling with malevolent energy. His left hand produced a blue orb in tandem. With a swift motion, he combined the two, forming a volatile purple sphere that pulsed with destruction. Without hesitation, he hurled the orb at Saber.

Saber transitioned from offense to defense, raising her sword to intercept the projectile. But as she braced for impact, she realized this was no ordinary attack. Instead of a mere projectile, she was met with a massive, swirling orb of annihilation.

"Purple Hollow."

---

Saber gasped, her chest heaving as she recovered from the devastating impact of the attack. Even though she had managed to deflect some of the blow, the force of it had left her shaken. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend the identity of this mysterious figure. His power, his demeanor—none of it matched what she had expected from an Eldritch God.

He was toying with them, playing with their lives like a whimsical deity. But this felt different. The Eldritch Gods, whom Archer had once speculated the Fool might be associated with, were far less indulgent. They wouldn't hesitate to kill, their nature cold and uncaring. Yet this being was unlike them. His behavior was too erratic, too playful.

Still, there were exceptions, as Merlin had once explained to her back in Avalon, under the concealment of their distant eyes. Some Outer Gods, particularly the children of *the one who should not be named*, were known to be mischievous and deceitful. But even they, and their creator—the Daemon Sultan, the sleeping nuclear chaos—were not beyond the Root.

This realization tugged at her heart, unsettling her further. Who was this being, if not one of those ancient gods? Despite her suspicions, she was still bound by the corrupted Grail, unable to oppose Avenger or the twisted forces controlling her.

Unlike Saber, Avenger and Illyasviel seemed to have no understanding of his identity. To them, he was simply an alien god, a force beyond comprehension. Saber, even in her corrupted state, held onto the hope that this mysterious deity might end it all—might put an end to the Grail War and the madness it had unleashed.

Bruce, unaware of Saber's inner turmoil, continued to revel in the power he held over them. He was in control, and it thrilled him. Though he allowed himself to play with them, he never lost sight of the bigger picture. Every dodge, every leap, every movement—he was testing them, pushing their limits, all while gauging his own strength.

He explored the power that coursed through him, the strange combination of abilities he now possessed. With each attack he evaded, he analyzed his capabilities, drawing up a new power system centered on his unique blend of skills. He studied his own presence in this world, noting how the very fabric of reality seemed to respond to him.

Occasionally, he threw out a casual attack, just enough to keep them on edge, while he pieced together the mystery of his own existence.

'This should do for now,' he thought with a smirk. 'Let's finish this soon. I'm strong, but I'm certainly not the strongest being in the Nasuverse. Not yet, anyway. I've got a few cheats—powers from my own lore, mixed with some from the Overlord verse and the Nasuverse. And then there's this unknown factor... something related to that ROB that brought me here, like a Reality Marble, but different.'

Bruce's gaze flickered to the Grail. Even within his domain, he could feel its mana, though it had lost its once otherworldly glow. When he had seen it outside, the Grail had been surging with power, ready to engulf the world. But now, within his Reality Marble, it was diminished, its power waning.

'That must have been its connection to the Root,' Bruce mused, his thoughts quickening. 'If I'm right, then the ever-present Root can't reach inside my domain.'

His eyes narrowed in thought, glancing at Illyasviel, whose distressed expression seemed to confirm his hypothesis.

'If this is true, then...'

Unsure of his conclusion but willing to take the risk, Bruce steeled himself. There was only one way to find out.

'Now, let's test it.'

---

Bruce sidestepped Saber's strike, her blade slicing through the air where he once stood. As she surged forward, intent on cutting down the Fool, golden chains erupted from his shadow, materializing around her in an instant.

The chains coiled around her limbs, binding her tightly, and despite her desperate struggles, her body refused to respond. Strength drained from her, and her limbs felt like lead.

The intricate scribblings etched into the chains caught her eye—runes, powerful and ancient, something far beyond anything she had ever encountered.

While Saber fought against her restraints, Bruce teleported behind Illyasviel. She spun to strike, but he vanished again before her dark shadow projectiles could make contact with him.

When she glanced down, her heart stopped—the Grail was gone. Her eyes frantically scanned the surroundings, searching for the sacred artifact. When her gaze finally found it, her blood ran cold.

The Grail rested in the hands of the Fool.

With complete disregard for its value, Bruce casually tossed the Grail into the air, juggling it with one hand. For anyone else, this would have been an unforgivable act of sacrilege. For a Magus, Master, or Servant fighting with their lives on the line to claim it, this would have been the ultimate insult.

Yet, Illyasviel felt no anger—only dread. The Fool, the one they had feared, was treating the Grail like a toy. He was playing with them, and worse, he knew it.

At the death of the Arch Shadow Demon, its memories had flooded into Bruce, painting a vivid picture of how they perceived him.

'Fascinating. They've built this elaborate image of me in their minds, one that I can now see clearly,' he thought, his amusement growing. 'Using the information at hand is just basic courtesy when engaging in a fight, after all. And as for the Grail, right now it's nothing more than a magical trinket with a bit of energy left in it. It's when we step outside of this domain that it will reveal its true nature and bare its fangs. Until then, I'm free to toy with it as I please and I'm also safe from it.'

From the corner of his eye, Bruce watched Saber still struggling against the chains of Gleipnir, a World Item from Yggdrasil.

'Gleipnir—the chains that bound Fenrir, a divine beast, and a demi-God back in Yggdrasil, crafted by dwarves to hold him. Even so, to think Saber would be caught so easily... Is her Excalibur not strong enough to qualify as a World Item? Or is she simply too weak to break free?'

His gaze shifted to Illyasviel, panic visible in her wide eyes. A new thought struck him.

'Or maybe... could it be because her Excalibur is incomplete? Am I wrong, or did I possibly bring Shirou along with them when I summoned them here? A theory to consider.'

With a flick of his wrist, Bruce commanded his Domain—the fusion of Gojo's and the Reality Marble.

'Calling it a Reality Marble feels a bit too formal and tedious. Since my Domain has merged with this space, let's just call it the "Domain." It fits better with how they see me.'

In response to his command, a dark grey fog descended, accompanied by a storm. From the shadows of the city, a pair of massive hands emerged—the same ones that had brought them here. Within their grasp was the lifeless body of Shirou.

Saber's and Illyasviel's faces paled with shock as they beheld Shirou's corpse. The horror and disbelief were plain in their eyes.

But Bruce paid no heed to their reactions. Instead, he extended his right hand toward the body. The swirling fog thickened, shrouding the scene in darkness, partially obscuring their vision.

{Dark Wisdom.}

'I didn't use this much in Yggdrasil,' Bruce mused. 'A skill from my Undead form. Ainz had it too—one that required sacrifice to learn new spells. Though, I'm not entirely sure what it will do here in this world. I barely remember its lore. If only I had my Guild, or better yet, World. I could've checked the library for relevant information or asked her. But alas, I'll have to experiment as I go.'

With a resigned sigh, Bruce pressed forward with his course of action.

Responding to his skill, a crimson orb rose from Shirou's corpse and floated toward Bruce. It entered his chest, and he felt his body absorb it. Though he didn't expect much, curiosity got the better of him.

In Yggdrasil, this skill required the sacrifice of other players to acquire new spells—it couldn't be performed with monsters or even World Enemies. Here, things might be different.

Since his reincarnation, Bruce had been without a guide, much like Ainz, but at least Ainz had the library and his Guild for reference. Bruce had no such luxury.

As the red orb merged with him, a flood of information filled Bruce's mind. For a moment, he stood frozen, breathless.

'Tracing and Projection...'

Instantly, regret settled deep within him. He cursed his past self.

'If it were just Tracing or Projection, I'd have been fine. But now I've somehow inherited Shirou's pseudo-Reality Marble. Damn it. I should've used this as Mors, my Undead form. Dark Wisdom in my base form has only partially worked.'

His mind raced as he considered the possibilities.

'Had I used Mors, I could have gained his full Reality Marble. Now, I'm left with a mere function of it—a few weapons, Tracing, Projection, and the ability to store all the weapons I've laid eyes on. A cheap copy of the Gate of Babylon. I already have a superior version of that... But the full Reality Marble would've been something else. Gears floating above the city, it would've been quite the sight.'

---

Dejected, Bruce turned his attention back to Shirou's corpse, more specifically to his chest, where the red orb had emerged. Something caught his eye—a faint golden glow radiating from where Shirou's heart would be.

For a fleeting moment, Bruce felt something stir within him.

Without hesitation, his hand plunged into Shirou's chest, fingers digging through the flesh as he pulled out the heart. 'So, my eyes weren't deceiving me after all.'

A golden flame flickered within the heart. Bruce crushed it in his hand.

Blinding light erupted from the shattered heart, its intensity overwhelming. The brilliance filled the air, searing into the eyes of anyone who dared to look.

When the light finally faded, Bruce glanced down at his hand. There, resting in his palm, was a scabbard.

A grin spread across his face, a new excitement sparking in his eyes. 'This should do. Sorry, Saber, but I'll be taking this one. I wonder if this will suit the Saber back home...'

Raising his arm, Bruce prepared to disperse the grey fog, his thoughts briefly flickering to what had just transpired. He glanced down at his hand, still holding the scabbard.

'What did I just do...?'

As the fog lifted, Bruce's gaze remained fixed on his hand, even as he held the prized scabbard in his left hand, a sense of dread creeping upto him.

---

Saber and Illyasviel stood paralyzed with worry, watching helplessly as The Fool summoned Shirou's corpse, the thick grey fog blocking their path.

The desire to rush to Shirou's side burned within them, but they were powerless. Saber, though bound by the golden chains, could feel a tight knot of concern pulling at her heart. Even if she had been free, the command spell compelled her to prioritize her battle with the Fool, leaving her with no choice but to focus on the fight, even as Shirou lay there lifeless.

When the fog finally dispersed, their eyes were drawn to Shirou's body. The sight of the gaping hole in his chest sent a stab of pain through them both. For Saber, the shock was doubled—her eyes locked onto the object in Bruce's hand. It was her scabbard, Avalon. The realization struck like lightning, and her sword, Excalibur, responded immediately to the scabbard's proximity.

The legendary blade gleamed with Darkness, and with a flash, it shattered the chains binding her. Dark energy erupted from her in powerful waves, shadows swirling around her like a warning, ready to tear through anything that stood in her way.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. He hadn't expected her to break free so soon. To him, it seemed like the typical intervention of plot armor or the overplayed trope of the power of friendship.

With newfound strength, Saber charged at Bruce, determined to reclaim her scabbard. She swung her sword in a wide, sweeping arc, intending to cleave him in two in one fluid strike. But as her blade neared him, something unexpected happened.

"Excalibur... disappeared!"

Both Saber and Illyasviel's reactions were almost comical to Bruce, though he did regret witnessing such a masterpiece, a true work of art, disintegrate before his eyes. The legendary sword, Excalibur, was obliterated the moment it made contact with him.

Panic surged in Saber's heart as she watched her weapon vanish. Unlike Illyasviel, Saber immediately understood what had occurred. Her blade hadn't just failed to cut him—it had been completely erased from existence.

Bruce stood there, mildly amused by their reactions. He had spent too much time idly toying with them in this domain. Ever since he had stepped into his Domain, he had done little more than observe, entertain himself, and let them struggle in vain. Saber and Illyasviel had tried, at least, to attack him.

'This should be enough,' he thought to himself. 'Sakura is waiting for me outside. Time to finish this.'

His gaze shifted skyward to the multitude of moons hanging in the darkened sky.

'Let's hope completing the Grail War allows me to leave this place.'

With cautious optimism, Bruce traced the scabbard in his hand, recalling the memory of the sword he had seen moments ago when Saber used Excalibur against his summon.

Activating the projection for the first time, Bruce felt as though he had wielded this weapon countless times before. In one smooth motion, a blade materialized in his hands, its form unmistakably Excalibur—yet, it was different.

The sword gleamed in his grip, a strange hybrid of gold and darkness. One side shone with the golden brilliance of Saber's Excalibur, while the other was as black as the void, a reflection of the corrupted form used by Saber Alter. The sword was a fusion of two versions of the legendary weapon, born of Bruce's mastery of projection.

Saber's breath caught in her throat. Her heart raced with disbelief. Though the sword was unlike any version of Excalibur she had ever seen, there was no denying it—it was her Excalibur. She could feel it.

Without hesitation, Bruce stabbed the sword forward, and to Saber's shock, it wasn't her body that was pierced. The blade impaled Illyasviel. The young girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she clutched the sword protruding from her chest.

She looked down, then up at Bruce, her mouth opening in silent protest. Saber stood frozen, her mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. But her gaze quickly fell upon her own body, realizing that her time in this war was drawing to a swift and brutal end.

With no mana left to sustain her form in the mortal realm, Saber's body began to fade. Light particles, like specks of dust, drifted from her form as she dissolved into the air, her existence drawn into the scabbard now in Bruce's possession.

As her body faded, so too did her power and the mana that once sustained her. Saber tried to resist, but it was futile. The scabbard, *Avalon*, absorbed everything. Her strength, her very essence, vanished into the artifact, leaving nothing behind. Her life ended as the last of her mana left her.

Illyasviel, meanwhile, cursed the blade that had struck her down. She cursed her ill fortune, her connection to Saber severed as the mana sustaining the heroic spirit ran dry. Without that connection to the Throne of Heroes, she was nothing more than a fragile vessel, cast adrift in this strange, hostile domain.

The corruption of the Grail coursed through her veins, intertwining her fate with Saber's. Illyasviel could feel it clearly now—Saber had been defeated. The moment they had entered this eldritch domain, they were nothing more than prey in the hands of the mysterious entity—an alien god whose power they could never hope to comprehend.

Bruce pulled the sword from Illyasviel's body, letting her crumple to the ground. As her body lay still, Avenger stirred, his presence leaking from Illyasviel's broken form. The dark shadow that had been lurking within her extended toward the nearby building, desperately fleeing from the eldritch horror before it.

Perched on the rooftop, watching the scene unfold, was Tower. The white little creature balancing the Holy Grail on its head like a crown, calmly observing as the final act played out. Avenger lunged toward it, his last, desperate effort to escape the domain of the Eldritch God.

Tower sensed the approach and leaped gracefully into Bruce's arms. Bruce smiled and petted the creature, plucking the Grail from its head. He had entrusted Tower with the Grail earlier when he had summoned Shirou's corpse.

Holding the Grail aloft, Bruce spoke, his voice commanding yet strangely calm.

"Now, don't make this difficult for yourself. Just get inside the Grail. I promise you, the alternative won't be pleasant. The Grail is your safest option now... maybe even for eternity." His words trailed off, imbued with a quiet, persuasive power.

Avenger hesitated, but realizing he had no other choice, he retreated into the Grail, withdrawing his presence from the battlefield. As his existence was absorbed by the Grail, magic and energy seeped away from Illyasviel, leaving her in a weakened, almost human state.

Bruce observed the process carefully, ensuring everything had gone as planned. Satisfied, he spoke to Tower.

"Let's get out of here for now."

Behind Bruce, a clock materialized, its presence signaling the closing of this twisted reality. Avenger, trapped within the Grail, gazed at the clock as his final moments approached. Resigned to his fate, he lay down within the confines of the Grail, awaiting the end.

In his final moments, Avenger heard the last words spoken by the Eldritch God.

"Maximize Magic: True Death."

And with that, Avenger's consciousness faded into oblivion, lost to the eternal void.

---

Bruce stood still, his eyes scanning the scene before him. To be sure everything was in order, he raised his arm, summoning a cane that appeared effortlessly in his hand. He poured the corrupted Holy Grail Mud onto the floor, watching it spread out in dark, twisting patterns. With a deliberate tap of the cane against the mud, he sighed.

"Yeah, that should do it," he muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the cane. "This cane... it gives me the confidence to face all this madness. Honestly, dealing with the Corrupted Holy Grail is practically a death sentence."

He stared at the cane a little longer, as if it were more than just a tool—it was his anchor, his way of keeping some control in a situation where everything else was spiraling. Throwing the rest of his items in his inventory, he wrapped the Grail carefully, just like he'd done with the locket.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the two corpses lying nearby, their presence no more than a quiet reminder of what had to be done.

Bruce was ready to leave. But something stopped him.

The Grand Temple of the Sunken City of R'lyeh loomed in the distance, unsettling and strange. He'd noticed it before, on his last trip here, but he hadn't had the chance to explore it. Back then, circumstances had yanked him out before he could investigate, and now that same curiosity bubbled up inside him. But along with it came a deep sense of unease. There was something wrong about that place—wrong in a way that made his instincts scream at him to stay away.

He wrestled with his curiosity for a moment, but eventually decided it could wait.

"I'll come back with World," he thought, forcing himself to look away from the temple. "Right now, I need to focus on getting out of here."

Taking a deep breath, Bruce steeled himself. He looked one last time at the eerie temple and the bodies at his feet before turning to leave. The stillness around him was suffocating, like the city itself was holding its breath.

"Now that this is done," he muttered, "I just hope the way home opens up soon. Oh, please, ROB... give me a break."

With a dramatic flick of his hand, Bruce walked away from the dark, sunken city, hoping this part of his journey was finally behind him.

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**The End**

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