Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oh god, it was Creepy Girl! Well, this run had just gotten a new obstacle… 

I’d seen her before— only once, but she’d creeped me the hell out with the noises she was making. This ‘sex’ thing wasn’t something I was interested in finding out much more about, and I wasn’t taking my chances with somebody that was squealing like that.

I was about to start running again when… she collapsed.

Shit.

Should I approach? Would she try to grab me or something?

No, she was hurt. She was hurt BAD… Her arm was almost rotting away…

Screw it. I was getting backup. The Collector could handle this freak.

~~

She never should have left the abbey. She never should have left…

She had seen the flame-faced savior… She had tried to follow him… she should have known from the way he reacted that she wasn’t worthy. And now she was going to die to the Malaise…

She thought she saw the dark fire flickering towards her again, a vast shadow approaching behind him. She struggled, but the dark creature’s clawed hands clamped onto her.

She didn’t know where it was taking her. But soon, a blast of searing pain plunged her into unconsciousness.

~~~

“They keep trying to run when I try to heal them!”

Roland the blacksmith chuckled as he helped his hooded friend create a prosthetic for the poor girl Bobby had found.

“Maybe you could try not dressing like the Grim Reaper.”

“Absolutely not,” he said without a shred of hesitation.

Chapter Text

“Oh— she’s waking up…”

The voice was raspy, looming over her like the shadowy figure it belonged to.

Laure SCREAMED, and began instinctively trying to escape.

“Nonononono— NONONONO— Stop!”

The thing’s scaly, clawed hands started trying to pin her down, and she began to fight.

Her fist connected with the dark being’s head— which immediately sent a MASSIVE shockwave of pain up her arm. She fell back onto the slab she had awoken on, screaming and clutching her arm, only to find metal.

The figure, instead of finishing her off as she expected, screeched and drew back, clutching at some kind of snout beneath their hood and cloth mask.

“Get back, demon!”

“I JUST SAVED YOUR LIFE, YOU IDIOT!”

An awkward silence followed, interspersed with the two of them distressedly gasping for breath.

“Your arm,” he panted, “had to be amputated before the Malaise damage… was irreversible… gah… And you just used your prosthetic to attack me…!”

Laure stared in horror and awe at her hand, now replaced with a metal prosthetic. But she had made a fist as though it were her own flesh…!

“Mr. Collector, are you okay?!”

Something resembling a chameleon combined with a child was peeking in.

“Yes, yes— I-I’ll be fine, Guillain…”

“What are you…?!”

“Hey,” chirped Guillain, “that’s racist!”

The being visibly rolled his glowing blue eyes.

“I am a sophisaurid. I can only assume your isolation as a Guardian of Truth means you’re not familiar with people other than humans…”

This was no monster. This was a person. And he wasn’t just sentient, he was extremely intelligent— she was surrounded by medical and alchemical equipment. 

“…Thank you…”

“There. You’re welcome.”

There was an awkward silence, potions bubbling almost soothingly in the background. Laure moved her new, mechanical fingers. She hadn’t even thought something like this was possible…

“I… I didn’t think you had this much… outside of the Abbey, I mean…”

“We do. And it was scraped together through grit, science, and working together… instead of blind tribalism.”

A dull flicker from the doorway caused Laure to gasp in awe.

“YOU KNOW THE FLAME-FACED SAVIOR?!”

“The… the what…?”

The alchemist, the Collector, as the child had called him, looked at her in confusion, his eyes shifting in the shadows of his hood indicating that he was tilting his head.

“The Flame-Faced Savior…! There is a prophecy that my order have kept, that in our land’s darkest hour there will come a flame-faced man who will save us…!”

The child looked back at the door, before turning back to Laure in confusion.

“…You mean… Bobby the Blobby…?!”

“Bobby?!” the Collector said incredulously.

“His name is… Bobby…?”

“Yeah,” said the chameleon-boy, “He’s Bobby… the Blobby! Me and some of the other kids came up with it! He likes it!”

Laure could hardly believe it.

“The Flame-Faced Savior’s name… is Bobby.”

“I find it far more unbelievable that there’s a prophecy!”, laughed the Collector.

The supposed subject of prophecy peeked his ethereal lack-of-a-head into the room, stepping in and waving once he was fairly certain that Laure wasn’t going to jump up and molest him.

Their meeting was cut short by a resounding roar of an unstable portal. Running out to investigate, the Collector and his homunculus were met with the sight of the Time Keeper slumped on the ground.

Oh. That was why there was a prophecy.

Chapter Text

The Time Keeper was NOT in good condition.

Blood was running down her neck from beneath her mask, from what couldn’t have been an ordinary nosebleed. Though she was unconscious, every so often she would twitch horribly, somewhere between a seizure and a nightmare.

The Collector and Guillain’s grandfather, the last full-fledged medical doctor on the island, were doing everything they could, but they couldn’t figure out what had even happened to put her in this state. Bobby kept returning, checking in on her between supply runs.

Laure was overwhelmed. The other Guardians of Truth had told her that their abbey was the safest place on the island, but… here, in the Havens, she was met with more than she’d ever thought possible.

~~~

The Collector watched the Time Keeper like a hawk. No one was left behind. He didn’t know what happened to her, but she was going to pull through, damn it!

He did what he always had— threw himself into his work.

Until the Time Keeper’s voice croaked out, “Collector…”

He was at her side immediately, and she grabbed onto his wrist  shackle with feverish determination in her eyes.

“I found the source of the Malaise.”

~~~

A comparatively enormous amount of people had gathered for the Time Keeper’s revelation, Laure included. Multiple had tried to get her to rest after what she had been through, but she insisted.

”Yes,” she admitted, “I am the source of the prophecy. But… on the way back… I saw something. Fragmented memories, suspended in time and space. This island… the Graveyard catacombs, the Forgotten Sepulcher, the Slumbering Sanctuary… this is the remnant of an ancient city known as Dobor.”

Confused murmurs rippled through her audience.

“The source of the Malaise is what the city contained. It… it is called Staphy… I don’t know what it is. But it saw me. Through time. And then… I… I…”

That was what had happened to her. The Collector instinctively moved a step closer. But the Time Keeper clenched her fists and steeled herself.

“It’s a god. That’s why the Malaise doesn’t function like a normal disease. That’s why all of this started when the King started mining for those crystals! He let its will out. That’s what the Malaise is.”

“I’d had my suspicions,” chimed a voice.

Through the small crowd strode none other than the Queen, surrounded by her three masked Servants.

“Your Majesty…” the Time Keeper bowed.

Everyone else simply stared in awe, especially Bobby, who was visibly afraid.

“It all makes sense now… the abnormal disease… the anomalies in the sea…”

“So… we’re doomed…” the Blacksmith said.

“No, no!” said the Collector, “Quite the opposite! I’ve seen from these visits to and from other worlds… even gods can be killed. Do you realize what this means? We don’t have to worry about synthesizing enough Panacea! We can end this plague at the SOURCE!”

“You… are a good man, Dr. Tiiko,” said the Queen, “This validates my decision. I have come to your Haven to join your efforts.”

Laure was paralyzed with shock at everything around her.

“We welcome you, Your Majesty, and your Servants,” the Collector said, “Let’s kill a god.”