Vermillion's nose scrunched up when the bogging smell of swamps and dumpster fires struck him like an arrow to the heart. He placed one hand against his lips, clamping the orifice shut to keep the puke from spilling out. His other hand went to his stomach, holding his torso like that would have any effect on his rolling organ. His eyes began to squint as the smell assaulted his other senses. He could feel the scent crawling against his skin like an oozing slime, and he was certain that he could hear bubbles popping across the moss-green waters and the flickering of flames surrounded by metal. It was a truly horrendous attack, and it was something the Corrupted Cauldron simply did without being conscious of it.

As far as Vermillion knew, a long time ago, there had been a scientist who devoted his entire life to uncovering the secrets of the universe. When his powers manifested, he was caught up in an unfavorable situation. For one reason or another, his consciousness transferred into a huge cauldron in his laboratory, imbuing it was partial sentience. The scientist's memories had faded, but his will remained. The Corrupted Cauldron continued to create chemicals in the pursuit of what the scientist could never find. Arch-Illager weaponized this, and it seemed that Clara was following in the former leader's footsteps. Too bad neither of the Apex leaders could find some way to get rid of the nasty smell that permeated so thickly in the air it was a second enemy on par with the cauldron itself.

Vermillion pulls out his daggers as he comes to the bottom of the staircase. He presses into the cement walls, the broken railing of the stairs pressing uncomfortably into his backside. He peers over the corner. He can see the Corrupted Cauldron sitting plainly in the back corner of the room. It seems that the heroes' intel wasn't inaccurate. The Corrupted Cauldron really was stationed underneath the Rose Petal's brothel in the Ravine. It wasn't a horrible spot to be, all things considered. It was near the center of the whole Ravine, and the brothel was semi-famous. It catered to a lot of customers, and this would enable the spread of the drug Impulse. Vermillion wouldn't have guessed this place in particular, but he could see the value of the basement area.

Vermillion wondered if he was going to be getting back-up. The heroes were planning on coming, but he wasn't sure when that would be since he came earlier. Unfound couldn't come, and someone would have to stay with him. Vermillion wondered which three heroes would come by later. Beau was in the area per his directions, but she wouldn't know what location to come to specifically. He was, for the moment, on his own, and that thought startled him.

He had rarely been alone in his life. His youth was spent with Arch. His escape was led by a new friend. He was guided by Alyssa and H. Bomb while in the Ravine. The people of the streets in Logstedshire took care of him. Beau worked as his partner for the longest time. The heroes spent their precious free time with him. Sam, Mamacita, MD, and Nook supported him after the end of his career. He enlisted the help of so many other people since that moment. Even though he decided to isolate himself, he was astounded by how many times he was helped by the people he was running from. The painful thought struck a chord in his heart, and tears started to rise in his eyes. The last time he had been alone, truly and well alone, Clara was walking away from his revived body, leaving him with uncontrollable impulses and death anxiety.

Vermillion shook his head, snapping out of it. His emotions were running a little wild because of the events that had occurred earlier that evening. Unfound was fine, he assured himself, and it was better for everyone if the heroes had yet another reason to never forgive him. Dream coming after him was a fluke. He simply wanted answers, and Vermillion knew that they were more than owed. He would give them answers eventually. For now, he had a mission to complete.

Vermillion rolled into the room, keeping himself down on his knees. He hid behind a metal table, crawling underneath it. The undead Mobs working to collect and distribute Impulse from the Corrupted Cauldron's opening didn't notice him. The dark room, putrid smell, and Vermillion's wind muffling his movements ensured that he was hidden as long as he didn't make a whole lot of senseless noise. He continued beneath the tables, crawling from one side to another before skidding across one of the alleys between two tables. One of the Mobs curiously stared at the spot where he was with glowing, empty eyes, but they quickly went back to the task given to them. Vermillion turned his attention away from that specific guard to look at the Corrupted Cauldron.

As the name implied, it was a black cauldron about the height of a car. A face made from glowing purple cracks shone across the surface, locked in a perpetually smile like a jack-o-lantern. The cauldron seemed to bounce as it bubbled merrily, producing a near limitless amount of Impulse. A stool had been placed right beside it, and undead Mobs were climbing up and down to collect the drug in glass tubes. The tubes were placed on the table so that they might go through an assembly line of undead workers. An empty row of chairs lay against the wall stretching to one side of the cauldron. All of it reminded Vermillion of his youth, and that singular aide-memoire made a rush of anger coil darkly in his body.

Vermillion threw both of his daggers. The dark purple metal effortlessly slotted into the eyes of the Corrupted Cauldron. The mouth of the beast widened while remaining in the shape of the smile, a low-pitched scream resonating in the room. The undead Mobs looked to the Corrupted Cauldron, responding to the noise without knowing what it meant. They noticed the daggers, and before their deficient brains could try to figure out where the daggers came from, Vermillion threw the table off of him. The tubes of Impulse clattered to the ground. Glass broke and the drug spilled across the ground. Vermillion closed his fist, and a whirlwind spun away from him. The undead Mobs were thrown into the walls. Some of them dissipated into smoke at the impact, but others remained tethered to the living realm. The Corrupted Cauldron, knowing where his opponent was now, released waves of purple fire. Unlike the Wretched Wraith's paradoxical fire, these flames caused heat and would burn him if he touched them.

Vermillion dodged out of the way of the fire, stumbling back. He grabbed the torn shirt of an undead Mob, and he threw the creature over his shoulder in front of him. The zombie groaned as its body fell into the flames. With the zombie poised there, an opening had appeared in the line of fire. Vermillion jumped over the decaying corpse in order to get closer to the Corrupted Cauldron. Vermillion grabbed the hilt of his daggers, pulling them out of the cauldron's eyes. Vermillion twisted the daggers in his hands as he pressed one foot against the rim of the cauldron. He pushed off the black metal, flipping in the air as the cauldron released another wave of purple fire. Vermillion landed on the other side of the room, using his body weight to push down some undead Mobs with his foot.

The wooden stick inside the Corrupted Cauldron stirred around the circumference of its opening before stilling. As the wooden stick stopped moving, creatures began to climb out of the oozing purple liquid inside the Corrupted Cauldron. Vermillion leaned down on his knees as the husks and petite zombies riding chickens formed from the boiling substance. Vermillion shot forward with the wind powering his steps, his daggers whirling around his body to attack the creatures. He had to be careful. Although it would be easier to speedily dispose of the undead Mobs, he knew that the dead corpses could be reabsorbed by the Corrupted Cauldron in order to heal itself. What the Corrupted Cauldron lacked in actual combat power, it made up for in regeneration. It was a tough opponent, for sure, but not an impossible one.

Vermillion lifted into the air, using the wind to power a downward kick against the cauldron's rim. Cracks appeared at the same moment Vermillion felt pain shoot across his ankle. He didn't dwell on the pain as he pushed off his heel. He shot into the room like a bullet from a gun, his daggers twirling around to cut into the rotten flesh of the husks and chicken jockeys. He whirled around at the last second, sliding across the floor. He stopped moving when he reached the base of the stairs, his daggers rising up in front of him in a defensive position.

Vermillion finally noticed the noise. It was unlike the groaning of the Mobs or the bubbling of the Corrupted Cauldron. It was a steady rhythm growing louder like a heartbeat... like footsteps. Vermillion ducked his head, and he knew it was the smart choice when the footsteps stopped and a cold wind washed against the skin. He peeked up to see Combust flipping into the room with one leg outstretched. His leg turned into a mass of flames that exploded outward when he landed, the hellish red flames swallowing up the purple ones. As soon as the flames began to wash across the edges of the room like cresting waves, the fire retreated back to Combust, reforming his leg so he could stand steadily.

A whooshing sound startled Vermillion as it blurred past his ear. One of the few remaining metal stables crumpled to one side as one of the legs was cut in half. The metal prop fell to the ground, and all the contents on the table shattered against the ground. Vermillion looked over his shoulder to see Croupier standing on one of the stairs with a deck of metal playing cards in his hand, sharp as knives and twice as deadly when thrown. He looked down at Vermillion with a conflicted expression. He walked down the last few steps, leaning down beside Vermillion. He whispered to the vigilante in a tone wrought with emotions, "Prescient wanted to stay with Unfound to monitor his fate, and Dream reasoned you didn't want to see him right now. We came to help you."

"Thanks," Vermillion whispered back, turning his attention away from Croupier's black eyes. Combust was easily taking down various opponents, his flaming fists pummeling the rotting corpses. Croupier stood up, his throwing cards flashing out in mere afterimages as they took down the monsters trying to crawl across Croupier's back. The hero tilted his head to give a grateful smile, and to his credit, his expression didn't shift when he met Vermillion's eyes. He still seemed happy. Vermillion shuddered, turning away as he dove into battle alongside Croupier and Combust. He was going to ignore any expressions he saw from either of them until he had time to unpack the full weight of it.

With the undead Mobs inconvenienced, Vermillion focused all his attacks on the Corrupted Cauldron. He used his daggers to chip away at the creature and the wind to lift him above the purple flame attacks. It was a troubling process, but it was the only way to win this battle. He couldn't exactly imprison or nullify the powers of a creature that was, at the end of the day, merely an object. The Corrupted Cauldron's origins might have lied with a human scientist, but the humanity had long since been lost in translation. The Corrupted Cauldron was nothing more than a cauldron given the dying mission of a failed scientist.

With one last wind-charged attack, the crack in the cauldron grew substantial enough that the purple liquid inside began to leak out. Vermillion smiled in relief until he realized that whenever the liquid hit the ground, it tended to explode. The purple flames fumed and bubbled with a gaseous substance that must have been volatile Impulse. The Corrupted Cauldron made a grating noise that sounded awfully similar to a laugh as the purple light faded from its eyes. The liquid continued to sputter out, the explosions growing larger. Vermillion cursed. He summoned the wind immediately. The air moved in a circular motion around the cauldron, creating a dome around the bubbling liquid. He looked over his shoulder at Combust and Croupier. "You two need to evacuate the area."

"We're not leaving you," Combust smoothly replied as all his limbs snapped back into place. Croupier was gathering his playing cards, but he abandoned the task when he heard Vermillion's voice through the sound of the biting winds.

"This isn't your fucking choice. I have to keep this thing from exploding, but if I can't... people will die. You two are heroes. Fucking save the people," Vermillion demanded through a strained voice. The wind was viciously fighting against him, and the explosions were threatening to break through the fallible wall. Vermillion opened both of his hands towards the dome, wishing the thing would explode already. "Go! Get the fuck out of here! Save people, damnit!"

"Fine!" Combust muttered, racing up the stairs. Croupier was hot on his heels, but the hero stalled at the bottom. He looked back at Vermillion with something truly pained in his eyes. Vermillion gave him a cheeky grin and a nod, hoping to calm and assure him that Vermillion wasn't going to die. Croupier looked away sharply, his voice disappearing into the shadows of the stairwell. Vermillion turned his attention back to the cauldron and the airy prison holding back the large explosions. Vermillion felt tears press into his eyes as his arms shook. The wind began to enclose around the cauldron, and the purple lights from the explosions illuminated the room in a ghastly color. Vermillion seethed, a tight breath passing through his clenched teeth. The wind began to thin, and Vermillion pushed the last bit of his waning strength into keeping the barrier up. Vermillion could have sworn he saw the Corrupted Cauldron wink as the main body exploded.

Vermillion was thrown across the room as the wind dispersed in ribbon-like currents. Vermillion landed against the stairs. Fire filled the room, bright and purple like amethysts shimmering in sunlight. Vermillion stared at the flames as pain flared throughout his body. Warm blood dripped down the stairs from his various wounds, sizzling when it touched the burning ground. Vermillion felt his memories swirl from the present moment to his death. He shook his head to rid himself of that moment, and it helped him see someone walking down the stairs. The person leaned down beside Vermillion's body, a neutral look on their face.

He recognized those green eyes...