Ikrei P.O.V.
Fourth Strata of Outer Darkness. Forty-five years inside the realm.
I was having a crisis of multifarious repercussions. I was going to do my first solo capture. Master wasn’t going to help in the strata, not from this point on. He was only going to be a guide, like a road map to the different targets and an extensive energy pack.
“ANAM KALIM DES GLAOH!” Blessings unification, Ikrei under control.
This is why soul contract pairs Soul Merge and above with deep connections are deadly. Blessing unification.
‘If I could only trust that wonderful ass.’
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
I tried to read my master’s soul several times since we arrived.
'I am full on paranoid about second handed machinations.'
I got bitch slapped by the Will, of course.
This strata is very similar to the fifth in its vastness and the places that are accessible. The difference lies in three things: no fire of any kind but this one is covered in some type of smog, vapor and drizzle, the mass monolithic structure here where the strata’s regent resides is something very strange. A gigantic multicolored floating orb that covers the length of a thousand furlongs from its center.
The home of the Demir, the Seer of Death.
And third, the creatures living here and their behavior. The ataxiars of perpetual wink, the Demir’s underlings. They control the never ending suffering of the spirit bodies through repetitive killing. They die then they are brought back just to die again.
Full body control over the spirits in the strata, unless you are like us, people that shouldn’t be here.
‘Why would anybody come here to train?’
That’s because the ataxiars don’t attack anything that doesn’t produce evil, corrupted feelings or dark energy. The spirits here are punished for their corrupted and evil deeds. And if you managed to get here from Ladnahlayr that has many cycles of reincarnation, that’s saying something.
Long way of saying, if you stay under the sheets and don’t cause trouble you can mine resources like crazy. The problem lies in getting them out of this realm but the true powerhouses have their ways.
Ataxiars are very weird looking creatures. They have dark eyes, muscled and bony at the same time with protruding horns and a tail, grayish in color. Twice the size of the tallest man. Their clawed teeth uninviting.
Ataxiars [https://i.imgur.com/CnuUaSF.png]
“Master, do I really have to do this now? I don’t feel quite ready, yet.”
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
[Keep dashing, we are close, the information given by the goddess is certain, we already missed three targets for taking too long!]
Master wasn’t content during the early hours.
“I’m trying! I’m trying! Training the Byeolfeng while not letting the evil energies control me is hard. I need more love!”
A true answer that also was a harsh critique of the Andurin methods.
[I am here; we can talk later all you want about almost anything. Oblivion seal subjects excluded. Four hundred furlongs, get ready.]
Again we were dashing with my speed since I was in control heading to our destination. No expansion of consciousness, for all the reasons previously stated.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
[You never learn, do you Sachear?] Master was smiling, I felt it.
‘No, I don’t! I don’t trust anything!’
Through the fog and into a small cave system, there was a being mining this realm’s iteration of orgon. Purple, a little flamy, within the crystal.
‘Huh, this the one, master?’
[Yes, one hit capture, only use the Will. Do not let your emotions wander, center yourself. Otherwise, the ataxiars will come if they sense two conglomerating dark energy sources.]
I placed my legs properly on the grainy surface, one-furlong distance. The maximum range before detection, Akathos drilled me to no end on this, perfect calculation of space. One ring in each hand.
‘Inhale, exhale, release.’
The world slows down to almost a standstill.
THUD! THUD! THUD! ZOOOOM!
Star Steps, fourth art of the Andurin.
The extravagant five tentacles being noticed the dive. Three tentacles straight unto my position.
One breath.
Left hand ring activation. The tentacles wanted to strike like a glance, the third wanted a grab.
SHA! SHA! SHA!
I let the first two strike their target with a slight movement to my right and a head weave. My spirit body’s neck and shoulder suffered heavy damage. Third tentacle went for a grab of my shinning ring.
There are not supposed to be any artifacts in the strata brought from the outside. You can procure them here, if you are allowed. Realm restrictions. With his other two tentacles the unique being grabbed a bag, not much different from the one I had used for the metal pieces. He turned around wanting to disappear.
Once the sword morphed from ring form in my left hand, I went in for a reverse grip muto at close range and canceled the grab. Straight crash into the escaping being.
Two breaths. The other two tentacles that originally struck my body came back for round two. Slipping out of my body and attacking again.
‘That hurt like hell, man. I mean, thing!’
[Take the hit, Ikrei. Take it!!!] Master shouted frantically inside our soul fused spirit body.
‘Byeolfeng, first form, Oelouncì. Lonely thrust!’
Two piercing tentacles, one piercing all-out thrust with three quarter reserves of energy from an Ascension Master.
SHA! SHA!
PUUUCHIII!
The encroaching energy from the second blade in my right hand was inescapable. The being fell backwards with a loud thump and began convulsing silently.
It, he, she didn’t have time to expand the consciousness to alert anyone, it/he/she was sure that I was dead on arrival with the tentacle strikes. And in that sense, the thinking isn’t wrong. The problem is the transforming blades, swords. They are too overpowered and I am being balmy here.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Before I began to fade away I trusted the right handed sword inside the dancing tentacle thing with no eyes.
URGHWHOH!
Forty breaths.
Tentacles’ life, an amphibian tri colored beast from another faraway place. The memories entered my soul and then retreated back into the sword. I held on biting the spirit lip, so to speak. I was getting used to the process now, but it didn’t make it any easier.
‘The more spirit bodies or souls a soul eater sword collects, the stronger the resonance becomes with the one holding it.’
The beings captured inside were screaming in resentment, hate and despair. At least, those were the feelings that were easily understood.
This was kill capture number fifty-four.
‘I hate many things too my fellow resenting ones.’
[Great. You are getting better at resisting the urges and being encircled by the dark energies. How was it? Did you feel how the godly weapon healed you with the energy from the sucked soul?]
Master is always in teacher mode.
‘No, not really but I no longer feel any pain.’
[More training then, we will rest for a little and resume hunting. Hunting until it is time to run for our lives!] Master was airy and detached after such a terrible statement.
“Wait master, run? What?!”
I had to voice the question not only think about it, this was way too serious for that.
[We cannot hunt forever without other uninvited taking measures. Either that or we have to slow down the speed. Why do you think a foreign goddess commanded this task?]
Master loves to point out stuff.
The moment of clarity came.
‘Send a fool while you come along and get along!’
[She’ll hunt us if we don’t deliver or she might just leave the stratas. But once outside, she will be watching.]
“So can the Will, right?!”
[We made a deal with a goddess, even if she’s a minor one, there’s much red tape to cut here. Your training comes first, we hunt, we run, we hide when the need arises.]
The rest period for recuperation inside the caves of the fourth strata was unsavory.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
‘Oh, come on! Don’t you have realms to explore or something?!’
----------------------------------------
Mikros P.O.V.
‘Sister is merciless with him, even more so with herself!’
She was punishing mirror world’s Basgram endlessly. One needle went in, one needle came out, rinse and repeat. Seven straight hours of Freslia’s mad retaliation and fury.
The dehumanized theatre prop that Bargsam’s body had become was barely recognizable. The room reeked with the smell of blood, feces and sweat. An unpleasant combination. The nauseous atmosphere didn’t faze her at all.
She was even getting closer to him, stepping over stuff that shouldn’t be narrated.
SQUILCH! SQUILCH!
ZIIING! ZIIING! ZIIING! SPURT! SPURT! SPURT!
‘What could a two-core promising prospect do, against such an infuriated thing?’
And as a true representative of the necromancer class, despite all of the things that had happened until that point, Basgram’s eyes had life in them. Flabbergasted, amazed and excited. The customary reaction from the practitioners of the dark path.
Even without movement, he felt dangerous to me. I wouldn’t want to face one of these man-beasts later on.
“Mikros, it is time, Extract everything you can from this filth!”
Colder than ice, sharper than her blades.
I followed her orders with swiftness. I placed my right hand on his head. His body was sitting half way to disfigurement against the bed amidst the smelly fluid compounds.
“ANAM KALIM DES GLAOH!”
Soul fusion with a weakened andurian target plus my active art, Prisdirum, and my special blessing from the Will by the sages. I entered and dived into the memories of the defenseless deviator.
One hundred breaths.
His life, his training, running away into dark deep caves filled with strange fearbeasts in order to hide from prying eyes. Many more things including all the arts and techniques he had learned but what I was looking for remained elusive.
I couldn’t find the memory of the Ugrah Ladnah, the ritual initiated by the gods. I was going for broke, finding that one memory from a deviator is close to impossible.
One would need to know the exact participating gods and a time frame to have a chance at it.
The images, the sounds, the smells, the feelings, the thoughts taught me how he learned, when he learned but not where, or with whom. Then I felt it, a counter for my intrusion, the strong vibrating energy that was rejecting my advances.
It almost made me lose the connection.
An unmistakable energy vibration for grandmaster healers. A death seal.
Basgram’s active consciousness was sustaining it. He was a monster later in life, he was one when young too. I released the forced communion.
“Can’t get the information on who was behind him teaching him. Death seal, sustained by his consciousness. The bastard is very much alive and kicking. But if we force it, the seal will kill him.”
I reported my findings openly and honestly.
“If we can disrupt his concentration can you get it?” Freslia asked without glancing at me.
She was still fixated on the mushy pulp’s reaction.
“I don’t know how can that be accomplished. He’s barely a human, sister. Perhaps an orgon infused iron maiden formation but we have not the resources nor the time for that.”
She pointed at her still exposed front.
“I see.” I turned to gather a few bed sheets from the other rooms.
‘Freslia, you are either completely heartless or borderline psychotic with yourself. I’ll treat you, I promise, my sister!’
My sister got close really close to the disfigured lump of flesh. I had the sheets ready to deploy from my temporal ring at any second, maybe sooner with what my sister was planning.
Basgram’s eyes were fixated like a fearbeast in heat. He had Freslia’s nipple right before his lips. Dark mages tend to be lustful pieces of shit, for the most part and if they are not, they are obsessed with killing and death and power.
Basgram’s dark fetiche was and is sex with beautiful women, the unsavory kind, domination and other similar tendencies.
I got ready, it was going to be a one chance play.
Basgram went for the bloody bite.
‘I don’t want to believe it but Freslia tends to be right about crazy men, she dances so close to the edge of the dark path it is almost incomprehensible.’
One of the prides of master Burin, a blade birthed from bloodlust, loneliness and despair. Honed to the breaking point and brought back but she didn’t return alone, she brought back death with her. The Deathbringer.
‘None of us want to see you go all out, sister. For the day you do, you will die.’
I held my breath and prepared reading my right hand again, only one shot at breaking his defenses.
One breath. “ANAM KALIM DES GLAOH!”
Freslia ripped her clothes entirely, all in perfect view of Basgram. He bit like a baby would for a milk drop. I placed my hand in his head and soul communed.
Basgram’s consciousness was disrupted forced soul communion through the presence of the Will within him. His own weird desires betraying him.
The Will is not too kind with those who would betray their brethren.
The sheets went flying in the air and on their way to the target, Freslia’s sculptural body.
I entered the traitor’s soul without resistance but the death seal remained.
Ten breaths.
I was gasping, unable to heal myself, on the floor kneeling and smelling the putrefaction.
“Huh, incredible! What a wondrous seal!”
Basgram was dead, he bled out from his nose as Freslia incrusted the cold metal in his heart.
“What did you find, Mikros?”
“Bichmeyrul, it was the empire.”
“I feel a headache coming on.” A sheet wrapped Freslia spoke.
She had readjusted the sheets to fit like a double cut all white tunic with a headscarf.
I stood up and started the clean-up procedures inside the room. We needed to leave expeditiously. Freslia helped as well, with her true affinity’s ability.
We finished in under an hour. We swiftly left to deal with other similar matters, time was of the essence. We walked together matching steps like we always have into the streets.
“You are not going to change, Fres?”
“It’s a mirror world, who cares.”
“We are being tailed, sis.” I admonished my smiling friend.
“Let’s use them too. It’ll be cool. You have them Mikros?”
“Of course. but who knows how long we have.”
I gave my sister the special orgon infused concoction from our insider.
GULP! GULP!
We drank the contents in one go.
“With this at least temporarily our full powers will be available.” I said while we traversed the multitude, Freslia was taking everything very leisurely.
“Our little friend is here.”
“Woo!”
Zaraki glided down and settled on Freslia’s right shoulder.
“Hope you are ready for a rumble death crow!” Freslia caressed his beak and Zaraki placed a wing on her sheet improvised headscarf.
A beautiful picture, sadly I had no flash crystal. A death crowraven from outer darkness, a being that shouldn’t be in Ladnahlayr.
‘The blessing of a chaos child. Great misfortune and great luck. A terrifying thing, a twisted pendulum of fate, the thousand faces roulette.’
“Woo! Woo!”
The crazy bird gave me a high five, feathered wing style. A kind and cute moment.
“Why can’t things go back to how they were?” A question that was more of a sigh.
“They will, sis. I refuse to believe that he chose this outcome. There must be more.”
Freslia strutted confidently. I just followed along. The nagging question remained within me.
‘Is that so, really?’
“We are ready, now that the team is complete. Let’s go pick up our armors. Woo.” She was playing with the bird and I noticed many in the crowd turning to fawn over her but for real.
In reality, our insider had stolen the armor sets from Orgis plus all the other necessities. We weren’t who we are back then. Time reversal type problems.
Even in a mirror world.
“I wanted to carve his heart into a memento, an artifact, but I guess I’ll have to wait for the real thing!”
She laughed darkly, like an incoming tempest, catching the attention of many more in the sea of people. The sadistic smile mesmerizing a few of the men in our immediate surroundings.
‘Damn crazy woman, how can you look so pretty with a patch, even the blood on your hair seem like highlights. Reworked deluxe white bed sheets? You are going to give me an inferiority complex!’
We were headed to the hidden headquarters of the spy network of the empire placed here, Orgis attracts that type of attention.
Two girls and a meddlesome flying beak with green eyes were about to cause a memorable fracas.
And with this one day, I, Mikros Brienus learned the meaning of the ancient phrase.
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned. Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”