Fire continued to spread across the Empty City, but for all its appearance of chaos, the fighting itself was slowing. In spite of their terrible appearances, the beasts which Grendel had brought couldn’t hope to kill the Fears, only damage their physical bodies. And that damage was quick to heal. Hundreds of the Intrusion’s insects were crushed, only for more to crawl out of the cracks; the Cold Boy was shattered time and time again, only to reform from each wound. Grendel’s army did not share this invulnerability: ghouls were torn apart by dozens of Nightlanders swarming over them, legions of night gaunts fell dead as the Dying Man passed through them, and the Rake tore apart swarms of shantak birds with its claws. In spite of all the power of the Brute and the Burning Bride, they were still only two Fears, standing against many.

The fighting had long since passed beyond the Brute’s prison, and nothing remained there except bodies, and an abandoned blue sword. But within the pit was movement. I-330 hung from a piece of rubble with her remaining arm, gritting her teeth as she pulled herself higher. Her feet found steady ground on another shard of broken buildings, and she  used it to kick off, grabbing another outcropping above her. Slowly, inch by inch, she was climbing her way out. The pain she felt was immense, but she fought against it, focusing only on the light at the top of the pit.

Her hand grabbed the top of the pit and she started to pull herself out. But just as she was almost over the edge, her fingers slipped, and she fell. She tried grabbing another ledge, but her descent was too fast to stop.

Then, something caught her in mid-air. She felt thin threads wrap around her waist, pull her up, and then throw her out of the pit. I-330 got up from the ground, and saw the Wooden Girl. She dove for her sword and grabbed it, but the Girl’s strings were already coming for her. The strings grabbed her left arm, and wrapped around the wound, stopping the bleeding.

I-330 look at the makeshift bandage in surprise. The Wooden Girl’s voice whispered in her head, “You don’t get to die until I give you permission.” It flipped its yarn hair. “Now stand back and watch as I save everyone from their incompetence.”

More strings attached to skyscrapers, and lifted the Wooden Girl into the air. It waved a hand, and the street in front of it was ripped apart, killing all the creatures standing on it.

I-330 removed her tie, and took a deep breath. She took one more look at the bandage, and upon concluding that she wasn’t in imminent danger of bleeding to death, charged toward the horde of monsters. A ten foot tall, hair covered beast with only a gaping mouth for a face reached towards her with one of many arms, but I-330 sliced its body in two. Her attacks were unskilled, but the sword cut through everything so easily that much skill wasn’t needed. She swung back and forth, carving a bloody path through.

More of the sky crumbled away, and tentacles reached through the new opening. Through it came a being stranger than even the Dreamlands could have produced. Its shape was constantly shifting, with parts randomly appearing and disappearing. Sometimes masses of tentacles covered the whole form, other times claws and teeth. Dozens of unblinking eyes flowed across its skin, and it flashed with ever changing colors. It was Yog-Sothoth, The Lurker at the Threshold, the Key and the Gate, the All-in-One and One-in-All.

For a regular human, the sight of the Outer God would have been maddening. For one who saw the world through time…. When I-330 looked at the god, it was like looking straight into the sun. The vision was too terrible for her mind to comprehend. She tried closing her eyes, but even in the darkness could still see the madness of time that was Yog-Sothoth. She was immobilized, frozen in place as she fought against the images in her head.

As Yog-Sothoth lowered itself into the city, the buildings around it crumbled away. The Wooden Girl sent out its strings at it, but they fell apart before they could reach Yog-Sothoth. One of its eyes turned to look at the Wooden Girl, and the Girl’s body was blown apart. The wooden body began to reform, but was again ripped apart by Yog-Sothoth’s gaze.

Thousands of Nightlanders came from every corner of the City and swarmed toward Yog-Sothoth. A shimmer in the air and a shrieking tangle of sounds followed them as the Choir joined their attack.

A wail echoed from Yog-Sothoth, and as the sound passed over them, the Nightlanders disintegrated. The wail clashed with the Choir’s cacophony, and overpowered it. The shimmer vanished, and their sound disappeared.

The Wooden Girl had rebuilt its body during the brief fight, but only took one more look at Yog-Sothoth before choosing to flee. It vanished, and the surviving Fears followed it. Not even the Brute and Bride were willing to stay in the City as the Outer God rampaged through it.

With the Fears gone, the ring of destruction around Yog-Sothoth expanded. Buildings were ripped out of the ground and suspended in the air, and the grid of streets and blocks was ripped to pieces.

In the midst of the destruction, a small black branch was growing out of the cracked streets. The growth was slow at first, but it accelerated exponentially. The asphalt street was thrown aside as a black tree grew out of it. The tree kept rising until it towered over even the tallest skyscrapers in the City. Its black bark was covered with the shapes of screaming faces, and rivers of blood flowed down its limbs. A canopy of black leaves spread from it, casting a red shadow over the City.

The branches moved aside, and from them stepped the Slender Man. It strode down the street with purpose, and the tree’s branches and roots grew across the city behind it. Rubble moved aside and the street repaired itself underneath the Slender Man’s feet, creating a clean, orderly pathway between it and Yog-Sothoth.

The Outer God unleashed another piercing wail, and when the sound hit the Slender Man, its body spasmed, and for a moment it lost its human shape, appearing as a black nebulous form. But it quickly recovered, and it began striding forward once more, its suit unblemished. All of Yog-Sothoth’s eyes turned towards the Slender Man, and it let out another wail, but this time the Slender Man’s walk was not even slowed. It stopped when it stood just before Yog-Sothoth. The pale blank face looked at the God, and dozens of burning eyes stared back.

The roots that had been following behind Slender Man rushed forward as hundreds more burst from the ground. They came together, forming a cage around Yog-Sothoth. It screamed, and slammed against the wooden bars, but could not break through. Then, the cage began to contract. The roots bit into Yog-Sothoth’s bulbous flesh, slowly crushing the god. The harder it fought, the tighter its cage seemed to grow. Its struggling began to weaken, and the vibrant colors that had been dancing across it drained away. As the cage became tighter, Yog-Sothoth began to break apart molecularly, disintegrating away, until all that that was left in the cage was heat and scattered subatomic particles.

With the horror gone, the visions left I-330’s mind. She opened her eyes, and looked upon the City. It had become a desolate ruin, silent save for the rustle of the immense tree’s leaves. The fight there had ended.

But through the portal left behind by Grendel, I-330 could see the fight on Earth was still ongoing. The city of Cairo was in flames as the armies of Grendel’s revolution tore it apart. I-330 closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to steady herself. Then she ran through the portal, back to Earth.

***
An older I-330 had just finished her descent into the center of the multiverse, standing at the heart of all reality. Absolute darkness surrounded her, empty of any detail save one: the immense black gate in front of her, covered in ancient symbols which glowed with a sickly green light. A faint sound could be heard from beyond the gate: a whistle. It was a weak, sound scarcely gaining the strength to be heard. I-330 reached for the gate, but stopped when a familiar monotone voice spoke behind her.

“Step away from the gate, Nyarlathotep.”