Chapter 35: Unfamiliar Alicia (5)

"I get it now. It all makes sense," Kreed muttered, his voice a mix of disbelief and newfound clarity.

He found himself seated in a rickety wooden chair, facing the grim and distorted figure of Dell. The room seemed to warp before him, the very walls trembling and swaying like fragile sheets of paper in a storm. With each passing moment, their solidity wavered until they folded inward, crumpling into nothingness. Then, as if drenched in heat, they melted into an utter and infinite darkness.

Kreed recognized this place. He had been here before—long ago, when he first encountered the Father of All. The memory washed over him like a cold tide. In the far-off void, a gleaming silver orb hung suspended in the blackness, radiant and otherworldly. Its brilliance should have illuminated the abyss, but it was swallowed whole by the oppressive void, leaving only an eerie, distant glow.

He sat motionless, taking in the vast emptiness around him. Slowly, the realization dawned on him—he was back in the realm that housed his very soul. A place he had thought he would never revisit. It was only because of the golden runes now suspended before him that he understood the truth.

Had he not touched the Hemorrhagic Talisman, he would have been trapped in a trance, endlessly cycling through illusions crafted by his own mind. Each vision, each setting, had been meticulously conjured to lull him into a false sense of security. He looked down at the dull, flickering lantern on the table before him—a battered relic of his fabricated reality. Its rusted frame and faint, defiant flame now seemed pathetic.

With a single thought, the scene transformed.

The lantern's corroded exterior burst into sparks, reshaping into a gleaming silver frame, intricate carvings spiraling along its surface. The weak flame erupted into life, growing vast and brilliant. It consumed the surrounding darkness, banishing the shadows and carving a small bastion of light within the endless void.

The table beneath it changed as well. The once-scratched and splintered wood morphed into a polished marble slab, its pristine surface streaked with veins of gold and silver. The glow from the lantern illuminated its immaculate patterns, each swirl and line exuding an aura of quiet power.

Kreed turned his gaze to Dell, whose grotesque features were now starkly visible in the light. The creature's sunken, hollow eyes and jagged smile sent a chill down Kreed's spine. Yet, there was something captivating about him—an unnatural charisma emanating from the twisted horns protruding from his skull.

"How interesting," Dell murmured, his tone low and amused.

Without warning, a third horn began to sprout from his forehead. The sound was excruciating—bones scraping and twisting against one another, echoing painfully in the vast emptiness. The horn extended outward, shimmering faintly as it grew. Unlike the previous two, which curled back into his spine like a grotesque crown, this one jutted straight forward. Its sharp tip gleamed like polished steel, giving Dell the unmistakable appearance of a demon from the underworld.

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Kreed watched, an unsettling laugh bubbling up from his chest. It escaped his lips—a sound of bitter irony and grim acceptance.

After a moment, his attention shifted back to the glowing runes before him. They hovered in the air, etched in gold and pulsating faintly. He read them aloud, his voice reverberating in the abyss.

Relic: Hemorrhagic Talisman

Relic Type: Item

Rank: Bronze

Grade: IIII

The relic's summary unfurled in his mind like a vivid memory, each word carrying the weight of a forgotten tale.

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Relic Summary

In a world where strength reigned supreme, two brothers sought dominion.

The elder, Kweku Tisn, was a man of unyielding virtue. Hardworking and noble, he pursued his dreams with relentless determination. From a young age, he played the role of a healer, tending to the sick and desperate. His kindness and diligence became a beacon for those around him, and as the years passed, his strength grew to match his lofty ideals.

Tisn’s younger brother, Ananse, was the opposite in every way. Sly and cunning, he preferred guile over hard work. He was a trickster, a master of deception who relied on shrewdness and illusion to achieve his goals. Where Tisn inspired others with his selflessness, Ananse manipulated them with his craft.

As the brothers aged, their paths diverged. Tisn’s strength brought hope and change to the world, while Ananse quietly amassed power in the shadows, always one step ahead, his true ambitions cloaked in secrecy.

One fateful day, Tisn invited Ananse for a conversation. "Brother," he began, his voice heavy with concern, "when will you abandon your schemes? You have surpassed even the king in strength, yet you live like a pauper. What is it that you seek?"

Ananse laughed, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You know me well, dear brother. But fear not. My desires are far beyond what any king can offer."

Years later, the world was thrown into chaos. A devastating war erupted, the likes of which had never been seen before. Nations clashed, their rulers wielding power that seemed godlike. Amidst the turmoil, Tisn fought valiantly to protect the innocent, aligning himself with one of the kings. But as the war raged on, a terrible truth emerged.

The conflict had been orchestrated by a single man.

One day, a magician claiming to be a god appeared on a simple stage. Around him lay the bodies of the kings, each cocooned in silk-like spiderwebs. The scene was broadcast to the entire world, shattering its fragile balance.

Tisn was devastated. He recognized the magician—it was Ananse. Betrayed and heartbroken, he confronted his brother in battle.

The clash was swift and ferocious. Tisn, driven by justice, struck Ananse down. As his brother lay dying, Tisn demanded answers. "Why, brother? Why bring such devastation to the world? Why betray me?"

Ananse’s smile was wide and triumphant. "Oh, brother," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "You truly fell for it. Thank you. My desires have been fulfilled."

In that moment, Tisn realized the truth. The war, the deaths, even the bodies of the kings—it had all been an illusion, a grand trick orchestrated by Ananse. And now, Tisn had killed his own brother.

Consumed by grief, Tisn performed a final ritual, breaking Ananse’s body into fragments. Each piece transformed into a monstrous creature, a testament to Ananse’s trickery. Among them was a bloody monstrosity, a horrifying reminder of his brother’s cunning.

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The details remained obscured, shrouded in mystery. Kreed stared at the flickering text, his mind racing. The relic held immense power, but its true potential eluded him.

Dell’s voice broke the silence. "Fascinating, isn’t it?" His tone was almost mocking, his new horn glinting in the lantern’s light.

Kreed said nothing, his gaze fixed on the glowing runes. The vast darkness around him seemed to press closer, yet the lantern’s light held firm, a beacon against the encroaching void.

"Ananse was a genius," Dell continued, his voice carrying a strange reverence. "A man who saw through the illusions of the world and chose to craft his own. Tell me, Kreed—what kind of world will you create?"

Kreed turned to Dell, his eyes cold and unyielding. "A world without tricksters like him."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with a sudden surge of determination, Kreed reached out and touched the relic. The go

lden runes blazed brightly, casting a warm light that cut through the darkness.