CHAPTER 89: CASTLE OF DEVASTATION

Great, at least he’s not some obscene horror beyond human comprehension… I’ve gotten sick of seeing those.

Still, the name the mysterious voice gave Soren sounded somewhat familiar. “Hurion…” Had he heard it somewhere before? Or was it his title that was making him feel this way…

Soren felt like he was on the cusp of knowing, but his memory was failing him. And that wasn’t the only memory that was giving him issues either. His mind felt… hollow. As if there were countless gaps or pieces missing.

He could still partially recall scenes of the harrowing Dark Forest, the grotesque monstrosities he had to hibernate with, and their intense fights for desperate survival, only to succumb to the dark embrace of the tendrils and be instantly turned into piles of ash…

All of it was just a finger’s length away from being fully recalled, and yet he couldn’t. The intense dread and emotions were gone too, as if he was simply scouring through a random album book of pictures that didn’t belong to him.

Of course, the Crimson Eye was also there in all its glory… Or debauchery, depending on the perspective. The silhouette of the castle also… But he could tell there were many sections missing. For example, what happened after his mind was assaulted by the screams of the damned souls? And speaking of the screams, the voices that had crawled their way into his mind forcefully were also gone. He could recall them happening, but not the experience itself.

Did he really find a way to crawl toward the castle? Was that where he was currently? How much time had passed? Time always tends to get twisted whenever the golden strings appear—it happened the last time as well… And of course, there was the question of whether he was even alive at all…

He couldn’t tell… At least not yet. His mind was too hazy and his vision was still fairly encumbered by the maddening pain his mind was drowning in.

Luckily, he did have a solution to the memory problem. Simply put, Soren had made sure to allow [Record] to run indefinitely during his journey, as well as chronicle every experience he had into the book. After experiencing the horror and hopelessness of having your memories being consumed by that rogue spirit oh so long ago, Soren vowed to himself to never let it happen again. Thankfully, his Soul Weapon inherently had defenses against this… It was akin to having an entire backup server in case the original crashes and burns.

Still, he needed to be careful. What if the corrupted screams he had experienced after staring at the crimson eye also returned to him? That would be a problem… He needed to obtain his memories slowly in chunks—absorbing everything at once might overload his brain, anyway.

With a sigh, he gave the command to his Soul Weapon and felt the memories flowing into him. [Record] was working backwards, chronicling things into his mind instead of the book itself. The first set of memories he decided to recover were his experiences in Star Fate Guild, since the knowledge he obtained there through reading as well as his practice sessions with Cassia were important to understanding where he was currently. Other memories also returned to him, such as his journey across the Runic Constellations and Dark Forest.

To his surprise, the screams of the damned didn’t return. The raw emotions of dread and madness itself was there, but he couldn’t recall the cries of a million souls begging for the mercy of death. It was all as if… it never existed in the first place.

How odd… Not that he was complaining. It was in fact better that way… And yet, the madness still persisted. A part of his soul and mind was still broken irreversibly…

Does therapy exist in this world? He had in fact considered going to therapy many times back on Earth for countless reasons, but always dismissed the idea. Why the hell would he trust a stranger with his issues if he couldn’t even trust his own mother?

But after everything he had gone through so far, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore…

He smiled to himself dejectedly as his eyes adjusted to the light. He could finally see again. Soren was lying face flat on what felt like a rough concrete floor. All around him, visages of colossal walls and devastated buildings could be seen. He instantly knew where he was.

The Castle of Devastation.

I made it inside the castle?! He was utterly shocked. Until now, he truly believed that he was either dreaming or already dead. But now that his memories of the harrowing events were back combined with what he was seeing… The picture it painted was beyond miraculous.

Somehow, defying all odds as his mind broke apart from the insanity of a million screaming wails forcing their way into his mind, Soren crawled his way across the Dark Forest, avoiding all other hostile spirits in the process and made his way to the distant silhouette of the castle. And all of this while his very body resisted the call to move. He had simply forced himself, and his very mind which was begging for death, to continue moving.

“You are truly a tenacious creature.” Said the mysterious voice from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Soren was instantly startled from his reverie.

He glanced away from the menagerie of corpses, weapons and death lining the streets of the castle, to the crimson sky above his head. Instantly, the horrors returned to his mind.

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The Eye… The grim reminder of despair was now levitating high above him, covering the heavens with its crimson hue. He shuttered and looked away for a second, afraid that his mind would once again be assaulted by horrific screams of the damned…

And yet… Nothing happened.

Huh?

“Are you surprised you aren’t dead, creature? You better thank me for that.”

Soren slowly turned his somewhat numb body—behind him, stood something truly incredible.

A trunk of a tree so massive, it was hard to even quantify its circumference. It rose to the sky, reaching the crimson abomination above them. The branches of the dead tree slithered their way across its surface, like sinister snakes trying to usurp the very heavens… Across the hundreds of branches, a dark fog could be seen stretching out like a titanic veil of doom.

Luckily, he didn’t need to crane his head too far up, since it was far away enough to bask in its immense glory. The remnants of the castle surrounded the tree akin to lifeless husks of a bygone era. It made Soren wonder what could have happened here for such an immense wonder to be left in this state? Was a war waged here? Or did a god smite it down from the heavens?

And better yet, why does it even exist in the Beyond? Structures like these are said to be somewhat common in this dimension, but they are nothing more than copies of the real thing… If that was the case, where or when did this castle exist in Yarian? What era did it belong to?

As he pondered over these questions, his eyes darted across the devastated land. It was strange—just earlier, it felt like Hurion’s voice came from this direction, and yet… He couldn’t feel the presence of anyone else for miles…

“Look above you, Foolish One.” The voice echoed and Soren obliged. His eyes widened the moment he noticed Him…

Up above, hanging from a distant branch of the dying elden tree, a silhouette could be seen. Like a grape vine, a skeletal body covered in broken armor was lynched from the branch, swaying from an invisible wind. The terrifying skull hid two abyssal eyes with dark embers burning inside—both of them staring directly at the insect crawling on the floor below.

Soren could tell that they hid a sliver of desire, but also an immense amount of curiosity. Even so, he couldn’t help but smile. He stood up and bowed:

“I must say, this was not what I imagined from the famed Hurion, The Sleeping Slayer…”

Indeed, Soren had already recalled who this person was. How could he not know one of the most famed heroes during the War of Swords? A legendary knight that was said to have fought both daemons and fae alike… Some stories even depict him as a demigod of war…

And that was exactly the kind of era the Third Age of Fantasia was. From what he had read, prior to Yasini’s Demise which happened at the end of the Third Age, most of that time period was mired with both war and famine. Back then, only three orthodox gods existed—the Beast of Knowledge, the Flower Maiden, and another deity which in many canons, does not exist any longer… A god usually known as the Slumbering One.

The other three—the Gold-Giver, the Mother of Silver, and the Greenfather were all born after the events of Yasini’s Demise and the start of the Fourth Age of Fantasia which was the current era they were in according to the Vyak calendar.

But aside from the mysteries of that event, what truly matters in this case was the one god that could be considered dead according to most:

The Slumbering One. God of dreams, war, desire, hope, life and material supremacy. He was also known as the Eternal Wolf of no Ends, or the Howler of Unending Dreams.

And now, above him, hanging by a lone thread was the talking corpse of one of the most famed paladins blessed by that god…

The skeletal corpse swung freely as it spoke once again into his mind:

“Oho? What did you imagine me as then?”

Soren shrugged. “I don’t know… Anything but a talking corpse… In fact, a part of me wants to believe this is all a prank and I am lucid dreaming.”

A hoarse laugh echoed across the devastated castle ruins. “Such shameless bravery! What are you but mad? Has the poison of the Beyond corrupted you? Then again, your theory does sound very interesting, indeed… But truly, I am very impressed… The sheer fact that your existence hasn’t crumbled onto itself yet is truly fascinating… What a profane creature you are.”

Ignoring his last words, Soren shrugged. “Even I don’t know how I survived… I am assuming you saved me from the corruption of that… Disgusting thing over your head?” He pointed up at the crimson sky.

“Calling it a disgusting thing… I accept such a description—its truly fitting.” His voice was filled with indignation and hatred—it almost made Soren shiver. He continued:

“As for the other matter… I suppose you can attribute the credit to me. I simply sealed your spirit body from regaining its Astral Anima. The rest was up to fate.”

Hearing this, Soren’s eyes widened in shock. He finally realized why he wasn’t experiencing any of the symptoms he had been suffering from for the past two months. [Eyes of the Fairy], which was by its nature always active in the Beyond, was currently disabled… There wasn’t a constant stream of information flooding his mind and Soul Weapon.

Using [Record] earlier to acquire his memories again must have used up what was left of the Astral Anima in his spirit body… With no way to replenish it, his abilities will stay deactivated.

Things finally make sense… He was wondering why the screams didn’t enter his mind when he glanced up at the crimson eye bloating the heavens.

With a respectful bow, Soren said, “Thank you for the help… I truly appreciate it.”

“Save the praise for someone else. I am nothing but a dead man talking. If not for this vile thing, I would have already shed myself away from this mortal life and followed my master into the darkness.”

Soren slowly digested his words. He decided to ask:

“So what exactly is this place? Does it have to do with Yasini’s Demise?”

The being laughed. “Yasini? What a familiar name… As for your question… It's a bit of an old story by now...”