Lumière reached into his coat, pulling out Cerces before firing it directly at the terrifying figure’s head. However, unexpectedly, the man tilted his head to the side, causing the bullet to whir through the air behind him at high speeds, missing completely.
“Leave now, or I’ll kill you.” Unusually, the Named didn’t attack immediately once more, rather opening a dialogue as Lumière had first hoped. Was this his opportunity to try and deceive the Named? But how would he accomplish such a thing? He needed to create some semblance of belief- something that would give him the initial upper hand. But he couldn’t use his ‘Ophelia’ persona in order to act as a Demon before such a powerful creature! He just didn’t have the adequate status to support that belief! Just as when he had tried it against Asmodeus, his lie would fall flat on its face!
“You would just let us go like that?” Ainsworth furrowed his brow as he faced the man, stepping up beside Lumière with his blade drawn.
The Named lurched forward, swinging his large blade towards them both without hesitation. “I said leave! Not speak! Are bugs born without brains!?”
‘Why does he want us to leave so badly, that he would scare us away instead of let us go!? Is there true importance to what’s inside the carts!? There’s something more going on here that we didn’t anticipate, that Nameless would choose to be born and grow up without human interaction, their sole and strongest natural intuition!’
Without command, the shady figures in the background began to chant in unison, a chorus of disharmony echoing into the halls of the eighteenth floor. They raised their hands up to the ceiling sky where the nineteenth floor sat, grinning madly as if greeting an old friend.
“The lady cloaked in mist; she who is draped in blood and strife. You are the interwoven fate of the world, the judicature of life and death. You are also the master of stories, the weaver of flesh and blood. You are the champion of those without names, and the rival of peace. Your benevolence is what I seek. Please, take upon yourself these humble offerings. Hear my name and repeat it with your lovely voice; invite me to your kingdom and in turn take my place.”
“This flesh is yours, this body is yours; my mind is yours, my love is yours. Descend to our mortal realm and bless your loyal followers with your presence! I name you, and so you shall gain control-“
‘This isn’t a ritual like the one before! Where are the flesh pillars from before!? Why are they chanting if it’s not a ritual!? Was it just a lie before!? Do they not need to set up a physical ritual to cause the descent of the Blasphemer Goddess!? No! This can’t be the case, don’t think rashly! If this were really true, they would have done so from the moment they controlled enough human bodies to chant together! Leiden would have already long-fallen!’ Ainsworth’s mind raced as he raised his palm, granules of starlight appearing within the air before circling around his hand, weaving itself into the shape of intricate, numerous runes. The area around him was immediately basked in reverie, complete silence that drowned out the final ritualistic chant. Unable to speak aloud, Ainsworth had completely foiled their plot! Of course, this silence would only remain as long as retained enough physical and spiritual stamina, or until he was killed. They would have to delay as long as possible, until Selaphiel could arrive!
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The Named, Mammon, suddenly appeared before Ainsworth, staring him down with his monstrous form as he spoke plainly. His deep voice reverberated through the silence that Ainsworth had cast, ignoring it entirely.
“My Mother, Lace of Blood.”
The incantation was finished! A Named could do such a thing!? Of course, it was a being that only an Archangel could kill with ease! If that was the case, then it certainly exceeded Ainsworth’s level of power! He had been foolish to think that the Named would sit by idly!
Ainsworth and the Roses behind him immediately braced himself, Lumière preparing an alternate persona in order to alleviate madness in the meanwhile. Countless illusory voices had already begun murmuring in his head, weaving a false story around Ophelia, something he had hoped he would have time to do. But there was no longer any time! If the incantation was finished, would a Deity truly descend on the Eighteenth floor of Etten-Leur!?
Lumière’s hand had become affixed on the silver flute in his pocket, gifted to him so long ago by Thomas Hawthorne. He had been loathe to summon such an unpredictable figure he couldn’t control, but now there might have been no choice! At the same time, he immediately prepared himself to utter the words ‘Despair’. Even if there was an inextinguishable veil of silence cast over the area, he could still likely use his illusory murmurs to echo the words and summon the persona given to him by Lord Sinner!
However, despite the Roses preparations, nothing outrageous occurred. They looked around cautiously, eyeing the shadows of figures in the distance, but only silence remained. Was it a failure? Did the descension ritual fail because they hadn’t prepared those ‘pillars’ of flesh made out of living human beings? If that was the case, then were they desperately trying to cause the descent of their beloved Deity in order to destroy the Roses? But that could be done by the Named, Mammon, alone. There was no need to try and summon the Blasphemer Goddess to accomplish this. What other purpose were they trying to serve?
Then, in the silence, the Nameless began to twist. Their forms which had already become quite grotesque and horrific became far more illogical. Spindly legs held up monstrous forms, and flesh turned paper-thin and dry. Eyes bulged out of skulls, and flesh that had melted away turned hard and sharp as razors. None of the creatures before them bore the same design or shape, that the children of such a mother might be unique in their disgustingness.
This wasn’t a descension ritual!
This was a transformation ritual!
Suddenly, a spindly hand reached out and grabbed ahold of Lumière’s skull, fitting snugly beneath its paper-dry palm. The creature had one long and thin head, which supported a single, writhing eye atop it. Lumière’s gaze froze as he stared at the creature, its hand slowly curling up its fingers as if to crush his head between them!
Then, the world suddenly shifted, and he saw nothing apart from light. The darkness vanished, and Lumière appeared in a world of splendor.
He glanced around him, a vast sky of oranges and violets hanging over a garden of purple and golden wisps. Blinking lights like neon-green sprites floated around him, fireflies bounced and weaved about. Flashing every so often, the vast garden was periodically illuminated, and Lumière was able to catch glimpses of the figure in the center of the garden. He sat at one end of an ornate black-iron table, a warm smile bathing over Lumière through his hazy expression.
“You’re in quite a situation, aren’t you, little Dreamer?”