Shadow of the Abyss

Chapter 372 The Red World [End of Vol 4]

It was dusk when Altair opened his eyes within the atelier, surrounded by bodies, young and old. Blood and ash lay sprawled about without care, consumed by shadow flames dancing over the severed limbs. He blinked, unsure how to process what was going on. He could hear the shouts outside, trying to find him. They were shouting for Nox.

His world spun, and his gaze swayed to the canvas of a red world shrouded by blood, ash, and screams. The canvas was screaming at him. He could hear the voices... the young voices of children, the voices of women, and the voices of men. He could hear it all. They were begging him, begging for him to stop! Begging for mercy that would not come.

"W-W-What?" He tore his gaze away, and the voice faded; only the shouts outside continued. Again, his world spun.

"Master?" Altair turned to the voice, fining Tasha on one knee. "I... I didn't know you had that in you."

Altair was even more confused. "... I did this?" he glanced at a young woman hung by the chandelier by her intestines. The flames had already taken half her face, but he could tell she'd only just died.

"This was your canvas," Tasha said, her gaze finding the work of before her Master. "It's a Spatial Painting, my lord. You took all the souls you butchered and placed them into that canvas to draw the Red World."

"Stop! I—" He shook his head. "What is going on? No. No. No.

I—" He stopped, looking at when omniscience reflected the past before he could blink. He paled, covering his mouth, mumbling, "How could I..."

Tasha hoisted herself up, sending the Red World into Draupnir. "Perhaps we should leave before we are eaten by the flames." she pushed open the doors to the atelier, to the countless bodies held, slain in a crazed fever.

He followed after in silence; his omniscience was oddly silent as to why he'd lost control or how he had. No matter how he tried to find an answer, he couldn't understand what went wrong. Even in his weakened state, he shouldn't have lost control like that.

All through the halls, bodies of the dead lay, the youngest being a babe bearly off its mother's tit. Altair remembered that one. Two Blackcloaks had tried to stop him, but after he bashed the babes head across the stone, he did the same to those who tried to stop him. He did that all with a smile he could hardly recognize.

"No one saw you if you are worried," Tasha said, turning down a flight of stairs. "I instructed those I could away. Those I couldn't you killed."

On her heel, Altair confirmed what she said to be true, but that brought him no solace. He was ashamed. If he had simply killed them, he wouldn't have minded, but he took their souls. He took them to be tortured.

Outside the manor, Altair ignored the faces of Blackcloaks hurrying to see if he was fine. He waved off their concern, sending them away.

"The Transcendent Battle took place within a Spatial Barrier, so it didn't disturb us, but I'm afraid it is taking longer than expected," Tasha said as they moved across the bailey into the forest.

"We had sex over the bodies..." Altair said, breaking his silence.

Tasha licked her lips, and she spun to face him. "That's not all we did. You're remembering, aren't you? Master is quite the monster."

Hearing those words from a devil did not sit well with Altair, but he could not deny the madness.

Tasha did not speak of it anymore. It would be their little secret. A secret between devils.

"It'll be your blade, your master, your lover, and your slave," Iliana told him with a decrepit smile. "You'll hate it, love it, but if there is ever one truth, it's that you'll need it. Get some rest. We'll begin your training next week, Monday. Heaven knows you could use a nap."

Altair touched his face. He hadn't even noticed the bags under his eyes or how exhausted he was.

"Take care, little disciple. Iliana out!' Vanishing in a whisk of light, Altair could only sigh, lost.

He didn't bother to walk anymore, finding a lone stub; he sat down, throwing his head back to look at the moon, bathing the world with light. It almost felt like a dream. Almost.

"I hate sleep,' he said, lifting his palm to grab the moon. 'Mom... I wish you were here. I hate all of this. All of it. I just want to... I just want it all to end." Bowing his head into his knee, he suddenly remembered his shadows and the mission he'd nearly ruined.

"Shit! Tasha!" Altair called, and the Lilm appeared as if she hadn't crossed a hundred miles in a single step. "Let's go."

****

"Help! Help! Help!" Sweetmouth shouted until his throat tore. Blood dripped from his missing leg as he desperately hopped forward, tumbling over in the dark, shadowy dungeons. Arcane torches illuminated the never-ending path ahead.

"Help!" his voice wheezed once more before darkness consumed his mind.

For a long while, he lay there in silence before the shadow of the torches began to stretch, rising into ten amalgamations of individuals. The narrow walls of the corridor expanded to form a dome with Sweetmouth at its center.

Ten men stood there, their bodies obscured by darkness.

"Looks like Ruel failed to kill Nox. Elder Grim will not be pleased."

"What did you expect," A woman's voice stretched out from the shadows. "Nox is a duke's son. Killing him can't be done without a proper plan. What is important is reaching the Fiftieth Floor."

'Shut your cunt, Kana," one of the shadows within the dark snapped. 'The order came directly from Elder Grim to kill Nox De Nier. We cannot disobey."

"Ifar is right. It's why we have all gathered together," One of the Ten figures exclaimed.

A bit of grumbling resounded through the dungeon, with many voicing their opposition to killing Nox De Nier. It seemed almost a silly idea the more they thought about it. Neither of them were Transendents. Even if he had fallen to a Fourth Circle, the news of him awakening his Trandential Intent was enough to deter just about anyone.

"Enough!" Inra shouted, illuminating the dungeon with a luminous spell, revealing all twelve men and women present. "Trandential Intent isn't something we can handle on our own. Let us inform Elder Grim to ask for guidance. We—" He stopped as ten heads turned to find an ashen-haired man and a raven-colored hair woman in their circle, standing there like they belonged.

"Sup?" Altair waved at them. "Don't mind me. I'm just here to kill you all. Nothing big." From Sweetmouth's shadow, his Pale Knights rose one by one, falling to one knee, their faces bright, waiting to be acknowledged for their good work of leading the way to Elder Grim's men.

He smiled, "I don't really need all of you to contact Grim. Just one. So Tasha, if you'd be so kind. I'd like to announce to the Elder of my rebellion against the Crucible."