Chapter 270

6 weeks since arriving in The Abyssal Descent…

The training regimens were brutal for everyone, but most of all - Fay continued to have the hardest time. They pushed her the most because she was, above all, the least useful.

And thus she tried the hardest.

On one of the abandoned peaks surrounding the city of the Abyssal Descent on Floor 1, she remained sitting in meditation just like she’d been doing for what seemed to be days on end now. Time did not seem to have substance here in this state of everlasting torment, as the cyclic rotations of her cursed energies continued to eat away at her from the inside. Blood trickled down her face in place of tears as she concentrated on maintaining her spells past the normal breaking point. But the more she inflicted self harm through the curses, the stronger they became - and the more her body adjusted to the backlash, allowing her to push even further.

So far she’d increased her available power output by nearly 20%, and that amount was only climbing by the day.

“Concentrate, Fay.” Her self-appointed mentor, Lavini, said while steepling her fingers in a sitting position across from Fay’s own meditative pose. “You are improving. Do not give up now, push through the pain. It is only mental, and as long as you don’t push too hard too fast - your body will be able to maintain a steady climb until you reach the precipice at level 200. Only then will your soul lattice be able to connect, and you have the most to climb of all.”

Fay winced, but kept her eyes closed and did not falter. The green flames of cursed energy that Lavini herself had imparted knowledge about now rotated around Fay like planets orbiting a sun, five fireballs imbued with malice that both outstripped normal Unholy energy in power but also applied “Insanity” debuffs to enemies that temporarily afflicted an opponent’s outlook on reality. The problem was that channeling such a potent, destructive curse also did damage to Fay’s mind as well - but the images of alternate truths about the universe at large had been kept to a minimum with Lavini interfering whenever Fay drifted too far into madness.

“Your break is over. Open your eyes, Fay, and tell me what you see.” The redheaded, winged woman commanded in a tone that brokered no argument.

Fay, though not necessarily wanting to, did as asked - and a torrent of images slammed into her mind as the world twisted and the flames grew larger. The fires rose higher and higher, forming outright pillars of cursed energy in a swirling vortex as the five points began rotating even faster while the madness took hold again.

Fay stuttered a reply. “I see… I… See…?”

She stopped, shuddering when the image of Lavini turned into that of Riven - his headless body leaning forward with hands steepled in front of him. The sky above them shattered and broke, and the laughing faces of the cultists who’d kidnapped her months before rose up from the ground like wraiths.

“Concentrate Fay. You know what to do.” The headless version of Riven told her without a mouth to do it.

Fay shuddered again, pushing the cursed mana through her pillars in ways that circumvented her core - only releasing them at the very tips of her pillars and putting up mental barriers in her mind. Real teardrops intermixed with the blood leaking from her eyes, but her jaw clenched in firm resolution while she pushed through. She knew this wasn’t real despite what her mind was trying to tell her, and slowly - ever so slowly - the images began to take on their real forms. The laughing cultists disappeared, Riven’s body vanished - in its place the other succubus sat smiling across from her, and yet - the pillars of green fire swirling around Fay remained just as potent.

Yes! She was making progress! It’d only taken her half the time to complete this round from when she’d first started, only half the time to regain control of her mind.

Smiling despite her internal agony, Fay met Lavini’s eyes and flared her wings. “May I try the next step?”

Lavini glanced to the sky where a rumbling sound echoed out, the flashes of deep purple sin energy lighting up the darkness on the outside of the system’s dome protecting the city of The Abyssal Descent. Out there in the beyond, two void titans - each larger than the city itself - were having a herculean battle to the death with powers so beyond them that it made the two succubi feel like nothing but ants.

“Yes…” Lavini eventually stated, regaining her senses and shaking her head after wrenching her eyes off the awe-inspiring battle above. “Next step, create the illusions. This time, when you cast your Dreamwalker Zone - be sure to imbue the images you project with the same cursed energies you used with the fire. Keep that energy on the outer edge of each illusion like a shell. If you are able to reinforce the illusions like this consistently, you will create semi-solid objects that can manipulate the environment as if they had real physical substance. And if you eventually perfect your craft, somewhere in the E or D grade you may even be able to provide minor amounts of consciousness to each of your images - creating copies of yourself or others, or even creatures, that do your bidding.”

Fay let out a small laugh. “I think I’m quite far from anything like that. Static images, and temporarily moving images are the best that I can put out at this point.”

“And that’s why we’re training you!” Lavini retorted, reaching out and smacking Fay upside the head playfully through the gap between flaming pillars while she rolled her eyes. “Is your grimoire still bound to Dreamwalker Zone?”

Fay nodded, reaching into her satchel and taking out the black book with etched unholy runes and the depiction of a glowing green viper on its cover. It was her most prized possession, and had already been granting her insights that had tweaked her Cursed Traps ability to a minor extent. Now, she’d been putting most of her focus into the illusions. Flipping the book open, she watched as the grimoire wrote and rewrote diagrams, runes, and other magical sigils in different sequences like a computer shifting codes around. Sequences were erased, changed, or reorganized at random and repeated over and over again across all its many pages, while it experimented with her chosen skill and attempted to find ways to better the illusions for her.

What a fabulous item indeed.

[Viper Grimoire of Curses and Schemes (Unholy Specialization Grimoire, Unique): +129% mana regeneration when held. +9% damage to all curses when held. Binding this grimoire and adding a single one of your curses to its pages, you will decrease the cooldown time on your chosen curse by 10% while simultaneously allowing for spontaneous evolution options of that curse with insights drawn from the Unholy Foundational Pillar and its related sub-pillars. Spontaneous evolutions will occur as the grimoire actively writes out different variations of the curse across its pages with random trial and error experiments in an internal, limited plane. Evolution options will occur in the form of insights once a breakthrough is made.]

“I don’t think you realize just how valuable that book really is.” Lavini whispered from across the few feet separating them, looking longingly at the grimoire with a mixed expression - until she rubbed the sides of her temple and sighed. “Anyways, let’s move on. Keep the book in your hands while it regenerates your mana, and we can start with the more energy-intensive portion of your training. Create an image of me, infuse it with the fire’s cursed energy, and try to give the image a solid outer shell. Please begin.”

***

7 weeks since arriving in The Abyssal Descent…

Black waters snaked through a land of flames, each of the volcanic pillars belching infernal plumes that easily dwarfed the young hellscape brutalisk and nearly matched his teacher. Molten rock oozed out from each of the crystals in turn, forming roots that sapped life out of the descent where none should find harbor - and it was here that he’d been training most over the last weeks. The environment was rich with infernal energies, and the opponents were no pushovers - and gave a very good XP boost for leveling whenever Azmoth managed not to die. He’d been killed twice now, but that didn’t phase him in the least - having taken Lillith’s words to heart and having pushed himself to new heights to catch up with his master, Riven.

Azmoth’s obsidian plates shifted and moved with his musculature in perfect alignment, rotating through the motions of a dance being taught to him from a true master of his own race. His warhammer was long gone, and his original shield as well - both destroyed when Deepnest had been obliterated by an act of treachery. But that was fine, for Azmoth had his claws - and he was quite able with just those alone. Not only that, but he’d been provided with a new set of items to acquaint himself with… ones that were traditional weapons of the brutalisk race, and Azmoth was quickly beginning to see why that was.

His mentor: the huge, winged, E-grade brutalisk looking down at Azmoth from a crouching position snorted; turning its eyeless armored head to the left when one of the monsters of the deep began to crawl out of the volcanic entrances into the lower abyss. Made of darkness and lava, the creature was an amalgamation of a centipede and an eagle - with a large, snapping beak and numerous feathered wings that glistened with cinder; each set along sections of shadow-crafted plate armor intrinsic to the beast. It was twice as tall and nearly twenty times longer than Azmoth, but Azmoth’s eel-like snapping jaws grinned as they wrapped around to look at the monster in anticipation.

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“Take up your new weapons, youngling.” The rumbling voice of Azmoth’s tutor rumbled, the massive dark wings of the older brutalisk coming out to the sides while he stepped back while folding his four naturally armored arms. “You may start again. This time, you are restricted to using your upper shengari shields to strike with - while your lower ones may only defend. If you act otherwise, you fail.”

Azmoth didn’t bother replying, but instead walked over to where the dark-gray ‘Shengari Shields’ lay buried halfway into the molten ground near a large black crystal. Ignoring a burst of flames that came out from a hole in the ground underneath his legs, Azmoth took hold of the four items and yanked them from the earth in a spray of debris and lava.

Shengari Shields weren’t just shields though, and that was very apparent when he tore them from the ground. Instead, they were both shields and blades at the same time - simultaneously providing both offensive and defensive options, and meant to be used as a four-piece set as was tradition in brutalisk culture.

The two upper shield-halves were paired just as the lower two shield halves were paired, and had interlocking pieces on their dull inner sides that - when interlocked - created two large tower shields from the four halves. These tower shields in turn had large, curved blades along the outer edge of the interlocked shields that - when unlocked from each other - allowed each upper and lower shield to be split into the equivalent of four, large, machete-like weapons.

Each of the four halves had thick, metal holding rings on the inner side of the weapons facing Azmoth whenever he combined them to form the two tower shields, emphasizing the style of powerful four-pronged attacks and long-reaching swings typical of berserker-style fighting. The metal was very thick, the blades on the outer exterior very sharp, and Azmoth was very quickly becoming a fan of the weapons as he used them with increasing proficiency.

The monster turned its head, leading out an ear-piercing screech when it saw him, and then burst from the magma vein to rush him with a flap of its wings emphasizing its rush.

The tutor watched as Azmoth interlocked the four halves, creating two tower shields with one laid over and above the other. Snapping them together at the interlocking slots right before the monster crashed into the thick metal barriers, the impact caused the ground to shatter underneath the combatants. The beak snapped angrily, and long piercing legs from either side of the shadow-imbued chitin tried to reach around, but the outer blades of the shengari shields rapidly snapped back and forth while maintaining their locked positions - severing the reaching legs one by one with quick jerks in back-and-forth motions and simultaneously keeping the beak at bay.

The monster let out a scream of rage and began to backpedal, withdrawing its beak only to let out a squawk of surprise when the four halves of the tower shields ripped apart and lunged forward - with four machete-like arcs crashing into the monster’s head in a spray of black blood.

Azmoth’s spiked tail whipped around as he spun, slapping the monster’s eagle face to send it sprawling but quickly following up with a whirling four-pronged attack that hit the beast as it fell. Blooming with flame and roaring with a manic grin, Azmoth stomped down to let out a ‘Shockwave’ martial art that smashed his opponent against a nearby boulder - before he activated ‘Propulsion’ and rocketed forward with the cackle of a maddened hunter.

[You have gained 1 level. Congratulations! Be sure to visit your status page to apply points.]

The tutor, for his part, merely grunted in acknowledgement when Azmoth walked back with the severed head of the beaked beast a minute later. Then he gestured at two more of the monsters when they were spotted coming out of another magma vein not far off. “Again. This time, infuse your stamina channels abruptly before each strike. Channel the energies into your arms in quick bursts, to preserve your reserves and make use of quicker hits.”

Grunting back at his larger comrade, Azmoth once again yanked the four halves of his traditional shengari shields out of the ground - and began loping over towards the new targets. Passing by a small hill of the heads he’d collected over the past days since arriving here, he began the dance of killing while he power-leveled under the watchful eye of his comrade in arms.

***

Twelve stone skulls laughed at her while she meditated above a sacrificial altar, with the blood of their most recent sacrifice pooling around the stone steps as a testament to the resolve of the clergy here. She didn’t know who the dead human was or why he’d been selected as the sacrifice, but the potent death energy leaking off his carved-up corpse made for a very good environment to cultivate in.

She’d need to replicate this sometime.

Allie’s black wings shifted their feathers in a wind that did not exist outside the ethereal world of the void, thousands of souls dancing around her happily, while she remained meditating in a temple of death further into the city limits. Fimrindle watched emotionlessly from the sideline, invisible to most but present in her own mind through the connection of master and servant they’d established. He was truly a gifted assassin, and the priests of death that waited on them had not only shown her a deep respect - but also him. Though reapers were more common here in The Abyssal Descent, they were still quite rare and respected by all. As the hands of The Scythe, they were some of the most elite mercenaries of the multiverse - and often provided the temple of death with significant donations to appease their god for the gifts he had provided them.

Much to her surprise though, it appeared that the reapers didn’t always get along. They may be of the same order, but in truth they were usually independent of one another outside the boundaries of worshiping The Scythe. They also remained united in core values that she was still trying to figure out, but those values seemed somewhat vague - and the rules were prone to bending, rather than being firm and steadfast.

“My lady.” A skeletal robed skresh walked in, bowing to her and briefly acknowledging Retesh the lich who was also meditating on the opposite end of the room. “We, the clergy, wish to speak to you - if we may.”

The skresh smiled politely, and awaited her answer while Allie’s aspect of true death caused the room to quake in a shudder of gray energy.

The souls, wraiths, and ghosts around her drank it up greedily - empowering themselves on the passive presence of their master, as Allie opened her deep gray eyes and lowered herself to the ground. Her foot touched down on the bloody body on the altar, and a pulse of power absorbed the sacrifice with the rush of an echoing whisper. Picking up her Blade of Soulcry, the Divine-Ranked claymore moved - causing the world to move with it as she raised it. She then clutched the magnificent weapon to her chest in an embrace.

“And what would the clergy of this temple ask of me?” Allie asked, her gray halo glowing in the dark room alongside the souls that encircled her. “Speak.”

The hooded skresh bowed low, clasping his skeletal hands in front of him in a gesture of respect while maintaining a 90 degree angle at his waist. “My lady, I was hoping I could speak to you about the whispers I have heard in the darker places of this city. Our agents have heard of unease and restlessness from others who take the path of the descent, and I would not see one of your stature fall prey to them.”

Allie raised an eyebrow, and stepped down from the sacrificial altar - glancing up at the laughing stone skulls above her only for a moment. “I was deep in meditation, priest. Please make haste in what you have to tell me, so that I may return to gleaning the insights that have eluded me over past weeks.”

“Apologies, mistress.” The skresh said again, bowing even lower this time before standing straight and huffing slightly. “Whispers have reached me. The Church of Greed likely moves against you.”

Allie raised both eyebrows this time, but eventually let on a slow nod. “I am aware they are not friends of my brother. But they target me now?”

The priest hesitated, looking over to where Retesh had come out of his own meditation to pay attention to their conversation. “Yes, though the time is not yet ripe.”

“And how do you know this, priest?” Allie asked, taking a step forward to be within arm’s reach of the skresh man.

“The reapers.” He replied at once, nodding over to where Fimrindle had come out from the shadows to stand beside his master. “Two of them had come forth with information on contracts that were not specifically naming you, but were rather obvious by the nature of what specifics they did give.”

“What were those specifics?”

The priest hesitated. “They did not say. But when two separate agents come forth with the same suspicions, it is likely they are on to something. They would have nothing to gain from lying, but by declining the contracts they are able to send word without breaking the reaper oath of silence.”

“Oath of silence?”

This time, it was Fimrindle’s turn to speak - and he did so in the same, raspy voice he usually had that sounded like a wind being drawn through a metal pipe. “When we accept a mercenary contract, we sign in the name of The Scythe. Part of our earnings will go to the church, and we gain power from fulfilling the contract, but we are also oath-bound not to speak of the contract during or after its completion. By declining the contracts, they are able to let their thoughts be known - but it is unlikely the client gave much information about their targets away before the reapers accepted their task.”

“And what if they’d not wanted to proceed after taking the contract?” Allie asked curiously.

Fimrindle shrugged. “We may refuse it afterwards, but the oath of silence still stands. Breaking the oath will result in disastrous consequences for our cultivation. It is partly why the reapers are held in such high esteem. But if two agents came to this church to warn the clergy of what they suspected…”

Fimrindle’s metal head abruptly turned to face the skresh in an uncanny, quick motion between blinks.

The skresh priest nodded. “Yes. It is likely that other reapers will accept the contract and proceed with it, if the Church of Greed pays enough to do it. Even if the target were, perhaps, a Hero of Death. The Death God may play favorites, but the contractual rules of the reapers do not penalize them for killing one such as you. Only the priesthoods are protected from such assassinations, and any foul play between contenders in the orders are otherwise allowed to promote growth.”

Allie frowned slightly, but nodded in time and turned to watch Retesh amble over with a creak to his bones - his rotten organs shifting across his skeletal frame.

“Do you have a guess as to when they will strike?” The old lich asked, his eyes burning with neon teal light while clasping his hands behind his back.

The priest hesitantly shook his head. “As stated, we are unaware of the exact details. But we can guess as to when it will be, if they do so at all. These are merely educated guesses though, so please do not think ill of me if I am mistaken.”

“Well go on then.” Retesh replied impatiently, mirroring Allie’s own misgivings on being interrupted while cultivating. “What are your educated guesses, and how did you arrive at them?”

The skresh priest glanced over his shoulder, looking down the long hall through the temple halls where it appeared to be utterly deserted - but they all knew better.

“It may be now, it may be months from now - and it likely revolves around a particular event outside of this realm.” The priest said.

There was a pause.

“Have you heard of the Seventh Wing?” he eventually asked, continuing his thoughts and turning back to the others. “And have you heard, perhaps, of the potential reincarnation arriving in the third universe?”