Fallen Justice

Malice Canon (Fallen Justice) is a Raid Event scheduled to start on April 2nd, 2016 at 12:00 PM (PST) and end on April ?, 2016 at 7:59 PM (PST). It is the first episode of the Dark Stigma storyline.

Half-time Reward Calculation Period is from April 3rd 7:00 PM to 7:59 PM (PST).

Raid Bosses Skill Cards

 * Royal Executioner Rudolph (UR) Anti-Raid Boss Skill Card, obtained from the Oath of Survival Card Pack
 * ? (UR) Anti-Hidden Raid Boss Skill Card, obtained from the Oath of Survival Card Pack
 * ? (UR) Anti-Secret Raid Boss Skill Card, obtained from the Oath of Survival Card Pack
 * ? (UR) Special Evolution Card blocks Bosses attacks, obtained from the Master of Fate Card Pack

Story
"I really didn't want to resort to this, but drastic times call for drastic measures."

Your mind was lost in a murky fog. A man's voice could be heard, but you saw nothing save the unending darkness.

"Sorry to be so rough, but you just had to go and pull that little stunt..."

His voice continued to echo through the void. It had a warm and gentle quality, but was utterly sinister.

"...And so I was left with no other choice. Don't worry; there might be some minor side effects, but you'll survive."

More pressing than the identity of the voice's owner, you wondered where you were, and the realization that your eyes were closed finally dawned upon you. You were simply emerging from a dream, and its final remnants mingled with your awareness as they faded away. You opened your eyes...

...And nothingness again filled your view.

You blinked once, twice, but there was no change. Yet despite the oppressive darkness, you did not feel fear... or much of anything beyond confusion. Suddenly, the man's voice returned.

"I know, how about a simple question: Do you still think you're a 'Hero'?"

That word jostled a faint memory from the depths of your mind. Indeed, you were a Hero.

"I see. Then you have my pity."

He gave a dry laughter as an odd murmur arose from some indeterminate direction.

"Thgi leht wollaw skra dyam..."

The irregular cadence of the ominous chant repeated without cease, the jumbled voices' timbre combining the anguish of the living and the rejoicing of the dead.

"Ah, so you can hear that lovely melody, eh? It doesn't seem like you understand the language of this world, but that can be easily remedied..."

At that moment, a strange flavor filled your mouth, a sweetness like that of nectar. It was the first physical sensation you felt since stirring.

"There, that should do the trick."

"Thgi leht... wollaw skra... dyam... May... the light..."

As the chanting continued, it began to warp and contort until...

"May dark swallow the light..."

...Grim meaning was revealed from the senseless noise.

"All there is to do now is start the show. You've been given a new chance, free from all those sad, sad memories. And don't worry, everything's already in place for you: equipment, a job..."

The voice grew increasingly distant.

"And even your cute elf friend. She might be a little out of sorts since she's going through the same thing as you at the moment."

A bright light filled your vision.

"I just have one request for you: Show me the meaning of 'justice'..."

......

"Hey, rookie! This ain't the time to be standin' around! The main unit's bringin' in a bunch of Stigmals and I don't wanna hafta babysit ya, a'ight?"

A brash voice and the odor of corpses assaulted your senses. You had woken up beneath a bivouac in a desolate village nestled within a valley. Judging by the incessant booms of explosions and the scrambling soldiers, you were in close proximity to a war zone. A dragon flew high in the smoke-filled sky, a rider tightly controlling its movements. The vague recollection of a voice addressing you in a dream nagged your mind, and you could only stare in a daze as you struggled to stimulate your memory.

"Get to work, rookie! Did you forget how to pluck a Stigmal?"

The same man, also a soldier, yelled at you again. You then noticed the other soldiers near you were stooped to the ground, arms up to their elbows red with blood. Their hands moved along the corpses that were being brought to the tent. They were not quite dissecting them, but were clearly removing something from the bodies...

"All right, get a good look at this. Ya gotta find these Komora Stones somewhere under the skin."

The man thrust a small jewel-like object up to your face. It was bright red and shaped like a small heart, throbbing faintly.

"Every Stigmal's got one, usually in the back. If ya don't pluck 'em out, they won't die."

Ending his explanation, he threw the Komora Stone into a nearby basket.

"I tell ya, this whole world's gone nutso. Any livin' thing can turn into a Stigmal at any moment, and they'll completely lose their mind and start doin' all kinds of evil stuff, even if they were already pure evil. It's gotta be infectious..."

"Stigmal" must have been the term for those who were transformed into monsters, which meant the bodies that lay before you may have been human. Feeling nauseous at the thought, you began to totter. Somehow, that sensation was familiar...

"Hey, watch it! That's a bottle of Creepmud there! Get even a drop of that on ya, and you'll turn into a Stigmal yourself! Some of these monsters will start leakin' it after we take their Komora Stone out. We gotta keep it in those magic bottles to make sure it don't affect nothin'."

Your mind was able to grasp very little of what he said, even going back to when he called you "Rookie." Then, all at once, your stupefaction turned to shock. You finally noticed that you were wearing the exact same uniform as the others. It appeared that you were part of their unit, but you somehow believed you were in the middle of a journey...

"What's the matter, get the willies? They were only supposed to let ya into the Lightholders if ya had already killed at least one Stigmal. Didn'tcha do that by taking care of that elf girl?"

Your heart stopped as a name ascended in your mind: Elimval. She had been your cheerful, irreplaceable companion as you traveled across the land. A fierce pain assaulted your head and brought you to your knees. The other soldiers looked at you with dubious eyes. The aching continued as unknown visions floated to the forefront.

A sky palace. A terrified scream. Your bloodstained hands. A sorrowful wailing. A beautiful woman.

Any one of those incomplete scenes could or could not have concerned Elimval. Still, you could not prevent yourself from imagining the worst: you had killed her. The pain subsided, but your breathing remained unsteady. Noting your unusual behavior, the man spoke to you again as he patted your shoulders.

"This yer first time in a real battle? The contamination's been spreadin', but don't worry. The fightin's only just started in K'wyen valley, and the empire sent their best fighters here. All we gotta do is take care of these Stigmals. Then, once they've found Kelka, we can pack up and head home, once we've made a sweep of the houses around here to secure any, uh, offerings of gratitude..."

The grin upon his face made his intention clear, and you were offended that one could be given over to such base proclivities as theft while representing an army. And if he exemplified the rest, you would greatly prefer being unassociated with them. However, if your memories were accurate, then you felt you did not the moral superiority to judge them.

"You liars! You aren't here to kill Stigmals!"

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice rang out. A winged female figure bearing a large vase flew from the rear of the camp.

"Even if some of the villagers were infected, you louts crossed the line into slaughter when you started killing innocent people!"

"What, do you live in this valley too or something? Then you should know what happens when you resist the Lightholders of the empire..."

The soldiers around you moved to watch the spectacle. The fairy, despite her defiance, was now trembling slightly.

"You need to pass this along to your commander: Kelka has been the guardian of the Urn since she was a child, which means she has never left the temple in years! Whoever said she was a Stigmal is a phony!"

"Don't blame us, we're only acting on orders. Maybe you got some traitor on your end, haha!"

"How dare you!"

While still holding the vase, the fairy raised her leg to kick, but it was easily caught by one of the soldiers. Everyone laughed, and one even unsheathed his blade to wave at her. The next thing you realized, you had dived through the crowd and swiped the blade away. Shielding the fairy, you thrust the weapon at the nearest soldier, who happened to be the one who had spoken to you before.

"What's gotten into ya...?!"

Unwilling to listen, you stepped closer and pressed the tip against his nose.

"A-are ya a turncoat? Tryin' to make an enemy of the Lightholders? We got over two thousand soldiers here, and a dragon. Whatdya think ya can accomplish by yerself? Maybe... you've become a Stigmal?"

You said nothing in response, for your entire mind was devoted to planning your next move.

"Wow, I'm glad there's someone here with some sense..."

The fairy piped up from behind you.

"My name's Clichy, and I serve Kelka, guardian of the Urn. Please, you need to help her and the valley. She should be hiding somewhere in the underground temple, but I'm afraid these brutes will get to her first. I know the way, but I don't think they're going to let me off..."

You listened to her plea while retaining your gaze upon the man. Your arm held the sword firm and steady, as unwavering as your will. Yet regardless of the faith you held in your ideals, you felt the hazy memories contained hints of a painful past, one that involved the killing of an ally... As you were mired in thought, the man suddenly gave a strange grunt as an arrow appeared in his forehead, causing him to fall over backwards. You looked behind you to see an unknown man standing on a support for an adjacent tent, gripping a bow.

"Someone named Elimval asked me to find you and give you a hand. I told her I would, but only if you were gonna save this valley from these frauds. What do you say?"

The archer's words filled you with joy and relief, but before you could reply, panicked shouts rose around you.

"We're under attack! The Stigmals are here!"

You had been branded as a Stigmal, prompting calls for reinforcement. Rather than argue against their accusation, you decided to resist through force. With the capable-looking man by your side, you believed you could overcome the crisis, and so you signaled your agreement to him.

"That's what I wanted to hear. Now I don't have to give a refund. Anyway, we need to do something about that dragon first of all."

With a bold smile, he pulled another arrow from his quiver and fired it into the air. It struck the rider atop the dragon, and he fell to his doom as the crowd gasped in awe. Free from control, the dragon then turned towards the camp, breathing a stream of fire.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

Amidst the chaos, you grabbed Clichy and ran towards the silver-haired man. Though a number of soldiers thought to stop you, you swiftly foiled their designs with a few well-placed strokes of your blade. You knew not where you were or why you were present, and the mysterious visions relentlessly plagued your mind. However, you could do nothing but run forward, trusting in your own morality.