Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!

Meanwhile, at the Sentinel's Headquarters…

All seven of the Sentinels sit around their meeting table in silence, waiting to hear Nazakiel's report. The leader of the Sentinels stares off into the distance, not saying a word.

"Is he going to say anything?" the one known as Franzel Ahrman says quietly to the demoness on his left. He pushes a tuft of his purple bowl-cut hair out of his eyes and adjusts his thick glasses.

"Hmph."

Franzel's bickering doesn't amuse Lamashti.

Solana, sitting next to Nazakiel, murmurs in quiet contemplation.

"Returned from afar - Our Leader prepares his speech - On the enemy."

Donatella puts her feet up on the table. She doesn't speak - she'd probably just get tongue-tied if she tried - and she knew better than to speak up in front of Nazakiel.

Within the Sentinels, they all have a rank relative to one another. And at #6, she's not in a position to complain or question anything."

"Donatella thinks - Though I do not know of what - Her brain is spoiled."

She glares at Solana, the musically inclined Sentinel who can enthrall and control a person with a single strum of her instruments. The two women have been at each other's throats for years, but as the higher-ranked Sentinel, Solana revels especially in the abuse. After all, Donatella can't fight back.

The other Sentinels - the petite woman with silver hair, and the menacing bloodhound, say nothing. They simply await Nazakiel's words, as they have always done.

"I believe we all owe Donatella an apology," Nazakiel says slowly, though his words do not sound sincere. "I doubted your abilities when you returned from Ordella and failed your task. But no longer. The crab known as Clancy was a formidable opponent."

Donatella opens her mouth to correct him - according to her memory, the crab's name was Barnacles - but he doesn't offer her a moment to interrupt.

"He is dead. Though in his dying act he created some type of barrier around Dimartino. I was unable to kill his human tamer."

The room falls into stunned silence. None of them were expecting such a revelation - the great Nazakiel, undefeated and almighty…he failed to complete his mission.

"The human was no threat, lest you all worry…" Nazakiel says darkly. "With their king dead, Dimartino will fall into ruin. What's more - the hordes of the Corpsi have collapsed upon the barrier. A group thirty thousand strong. The humans remaining inside are trapped like the rats they are."

"But the barrier," Franzel ponders, rubbing his hands all over his face. "It's intact, isn't it? It must be? Surely it's intact. What did you do, Nazakiel, to try and break through this barrier? Nothing? Everything? I must know."

Nazakiel flips his hair nonchalantly. "It is not a barrier that can be broken with force. And no creature of the apocalypse will be able to pass through. It is made of a special substance that cleanses evil."

"Every barrier has a weakness," Franzel cackles. "We just need to find out what it is. Oooh, a lovely job for me. All for me! Does anyone object? I want to figure out how to break open this barrier. It sounds so much fun."

Solana rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, making herself look small.

"A task fit for you - Break into the barrier - None of us here care."

Franzel is oblivious to Solana's words - his cold and calculating brain is already scanning through eons of data on Secret Art barriers and the tools with which to undo them. It wasn't a matter of IF he could break through. It was a matter of WHICH tool in his repertoire was right for the job.

He all but vanishes from the conversation, lost in his own hideous inner world. He laughs to himself and squirms in his chair. So many ideas, and no little time to try them out.

"I must lay my eyes on it and see…" he mumbles. "Yes. Seeing is believing. And believing is how we work through our problems, isn't it, Franzel? Yes, yes…"

He continues talking to himself, jolting and twitching in his chair. The others hardly pay any mind - it's not an uncommon behavior for him.

"I don't care what happens to Dimartino," Nazakiel states plainly. "I have done my task. The crab is dead, and with him, their ability to revive the dead…"

"But that isn't true, is it?"

Everyone turns to the speaker - the small woman with the silvery white hair. She sits with her legs up in the chair, and her arms wrapped around her knees. Her long hair falls over her face, obscuring her.

"The barrier is made of the power to cleanse darkness, Nazakiel. You yourself noted this ability. Which means the human with Resurrection can easily use it as a conduit. We're no better off than we were."

"Blatantly false," Nazakiel counters. "It may be a boon to them for now, but it is also their prison. Corpsie is there among the horde. I have explicitly told him to not let a single human leave that barrier. If they do, the horde will be set upon them in an instant."

"You seem to have made excuses for yourself, Nazakiel. Did you forget your place?"

He lowers his head. The only person he fears in the world was her - within the walls of Headquarters, anyway. She had a power beyond imagination that extended only as far as the outer walls of their geometric castle - the power of totality. Everything in this space is as she wills it - including the people inside.

Within this space, she could undo even Nazakiel. Tear him apart at the atomic level. And she could do this without rising from her chair.

"The human was our primary target. You control Emperor Yharan's brain. I fail to see how this is unknown to you."

"I did what I could. That's the end of it, Edel. I can't get through the barrier."

She blinks slowly - almost…bored.

"Truly a dark day for the Sentinels indeed."

"I agree, Edel - First, Donatella's failure - Now, uncertainty."

Edel doesn't address Solana's comment. Rather, she simply addresses them all.

"We have grown weak these past years, my fellow Sentinels. There have been no trials on which we could sharpen our blades. Refine our skills. It has made us sloppy. And that is not the will of the Emperor. We are supposed to be perfect. We are the ones who bore the Emperor's burden for all of these years. The ones who made his every wish come true. If he could see us now…"

Franzel peers at her from over his glasses, his eyes boring down on her.

"He can see quite well," Franzel winks. "And that's why I know it is my time. You - all of you - every one of you - fools, fools, fools," Franzel says with a dramatic flourish. "You Nazakiel. You Solana. You think you're better than me because you have stronger attacks, but ah! AHA! You're fucking IDIOTS is what you are. Yes. Yes. Donatella too. Of course her too. The failure who couldn't make a single wish come true.

"Idiots. Failures. Idiot failures. You rely on strength. I rely on my mind. I will show you all. Listen to me Edel. LISTEN. I will solve the problem. I will make the Emperor happy. I will undo their barrier. I'm the only one who can. You all know it."

Donatella huffs and flicks her hand. "I don't know anything about bagic marri- magic barriers. If you want to make a fool of yourself, Franzel, do it."

"Barriers hear naught - I admit I am useless - Like Donatella."

"Bitch," Donatella murmurs.

"Then it's settled then. Even the great Nazakiel couldn't break it but I can. I know I can," he giggles. "And then you'll all see who the real leader of the Sentinels should be. Who cares if Nazakiel can punch a hole through a wall, huh? HUH? I can build the future itself."

Edel tilts her head away, thoroughly disinterested in all that Franzel might have to say. Nazakiel, on the other hand, has words.

"I support your effort."

Everyone froze.

'Nazakiel…being supportive? That's one for the books,' Donatella thought to herself.

Lamashti, the demon general, rises from her seat. Blood drips from her arm - she'd clawed through her own flesh during the conversation as a means to distract herself from it.

"I agree with Nazakiel. The crab is dead and the threat is neutralized. Franzel, spend your life rotting away with the undead, trying to figure out a way into the barrier. I have better things to do with my time."

Franzel glares across the table at the one person who hadn't yet spoken - the man who goes only by 'The Bloodhound'.

"What about you? Quiet over there, I see. Thinking a lot, aren't you? I could use you. We could team up. Your abilities. Your skills. My eyes. Your nose. My intellect. It's all so perfect. A match for the heavens. We can do it together."

The Bloodhound spit. "Is this an official mission?"

Edel flutters her long eyelashes and leans back in her chair, curling into a fetal position.

"Yes, Hound. Consider it official. You and Franzel will find a way to destroy the barrier, and I won't have you back here until it is done. Such is the will of Emperor Yharan."