Trent Boehm
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OLD Chapter 200 (UPDATE AS OF 11/23/23 - These original chapters 195-210 will be pushed out to another future part of the book or recycled. New chapters starting at 195 are being posted after the original 210, and these original chapters will soon be removed. For now, skip ahead to the NEW Chapter 195 past old 210)
🕑 Added 2023-10-31 07:31:13 +0000 UTCChapter 200
“I’m very grateful for my minions… and more is always a good thing.” Riven began hesitantly, glancing over at Athela and putting an arm around her shoulders while smiling at Azmoth. “But I’m not entirely sure my way leads down the path of focusing on Willpower. It is growing exponentially harder to keep my contracts as they are, and holding more than a handful of archdemons alone will cost me a massive amount of stats in the Willpower category. Those are stats I’d rather put towards building up my own body and mind.”
“The power you’d gain by gaining our contracts would far outweigh the power you own yourself.” Rheufa said with a blink. “Just think of the power you’d gain with ten demons on par with Athela. You would be unstoppable.”
Riven stared, then nuzzled Athela with his nose. “Know anything about this?”
Athela was frowning, but she nodded. “Yes. He’s right, you can only get it in the Abyss, and it’s an amazing class. Almost a cheat to power, all your minions get massive permanent buffs. You also can’t exchange minions after that unless they permanently die, but getting the class is almost impossible and is said to be extremely dangerous. The one downside is you’ll have to pull a lot of points into your Willpower, as you said. A LOT of Willpower.”
“Yeah that’s a no from me then. At least for now.” Riven replied with a sideways glance at Azmoth. “That ok with you bud?”
“Do what best for you, not worry about me.” Azmoth stated promptly. “My opinion is we leave Abyss as fast as possible so no one die. Not worth new class if dead.”
“Yes, yes, well said.”
The large floating eyeball tried to convince Riven a couple of times about the prospects of the class, and Riven was honestly tempted a bit. But he’d been growing at high speed by himself despite what the demon said, and considering Fimrindle’s warning - along with this demon having bound itself to the sin of Greed - Riven didn’t necessarily trust Rheufa.
“So what happened to your last master?” Riven eventually asked in a pause during their conversation. “Fimrindle told me something happened to him, and to ask you what that was.”
Rheufa’s large green eye pulsed, almost angrily, and he stared the vampire down. He then grumbled something under his breath, and huffed to turn around. “I suppose there’s nothing more to be said. If you do not wish to pursue the path of the demon lord, then there is nothing more for us to speak on. I will find another.”
Riven blinked, and immediately found himself back in Yattazi’s realm with Rheufa gone. The transition was a bit jarring because it came without warning, but it wasn’t unwelcome. The large coiling snake was still mostly submerged in magma, but the huge frame of the beast that was out of the volcanic slide still dwarfed him a hundred times over.
Curiously enough, Fimrindle was also there - perched on his iron cross near the magma pool and next to the gigantic serpent.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Riven looked around. None of his other companions were present, save for his soul clone who was equally curious about the situation, until the giant snake hissed to get their attention.
“Have you declined the sssssslippery beholder?” Yattazi asked, its huge dark gray scales shifting with its swaying head side to side in anticipation. “We await your decissssion.”
His red eyes shifted to those of the gargantuan beast overhead, and then to the scarecrow. “The beholder will not be joining my team, no. I wasn’t all that interested in the devil. As for who I am going to choose between the two of you… Honestly, I’m torn. I like you a lot Yattazi, but you’re not very sneaky and we need to sneak through the Abyss without getting caught - even despite the knowledge you may have on the trials of Gluttony. Fimrindle may be a lot stealthier than you, and after the things I’ve seen I’m quite certain I’d die if your huge body caught attention. We’d all die.”
The scarecrow remained silent.
“That isss… unfortunate.” Yattazi replied with a huff of flames. “But contracting me does not mean I have to stay outside the nether realm, I can still provide you with the knowledge you seek while not coming out until need demands it while in the Abyssssss…”
Riven scratched his chin. “That is true.”
Fimrindle’s head cocked to one side during one of Riven’s blinks, and a raspy voice echoed from its dark throat. “I do not know the way through the trial as Yattazi does, but I agree with your assessment. But perhaps there is another way… Your sister, she is a necromancer, yes?”
Riven slowly nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“What level is she?”
Riven shrugged. “70 or 80 something. Why?”
“Because minions cannot outlevel their masters.” Fimrindle replied with a thick inhale. “However, I may have a way around it. You see, I can artificially lower my own combat level for months at a time, and as I want you to finish the abyssal quest of yours - perhaps it would be wise to take us both in to further guarantee victory in your goals. I want you to survive the abyss, and Yattazi’s information is valuable. Perhaps you can talk to her for me, and though I would be weaker until she reaches my true level - I could still provide you with much needed support during your trek in the lower realms of existence.”
***
His memories were long gone, lost amidst the tidal wave of time that had eclipsed everything he’d ever known… or perhaps they’d never even been there to begin with. Had he ever been alive beyond the great expanse of nothingness he’d come to know so well? He did not know, could not remember, and simply existed for the sake of existing - but a vague confidence swayed him to believe that this had not always been the way things were. The endless void surrounded him, letting his consciousness fall into oblivion under a veil of serenity. Alas, it was nothing but the precursor to an incoming storm… and after an eternity, contact was finally made.
[Greetings Deathknight… You have finally been allowed access to the Twelve Purgatory Trials, and have been given another chance at life. Congratulations.]
The words appeared within his very consciousness, and radiated throughout his being. Slowly, the pulsing light pushed his consciousness into a higher state of self awareness… and his thoughts began to clear.
[What is your name?]
The initial greeting was a rather abrupt awakening to begin with, but this was far overshadowed by the meaning behind the follow up question. Confusion, then self doubt, and finally curiosity cycled through his mind as he thought it over. What was his name? He had no idea, but he couldn’t forgo an answer. Not when he finally had the opportunity to recognize himself as a creature of sentience in front of this odd entity - an entity that had acknowledged his existence to relieve him of the loneliness he’d experienced for so long. He didn’t even know where he was or what he was… but eventually there was a hint of a word, and it felt right.
“Thale… I think my name is Thale.”
[Thale it is.
New System Quest: Escape the Abyss - You have awoken from a long slumber across the millenia, and finally find yourself in a sound state of mind. But this is not a safe place to be, and you wish to continue your pursuit of power. Find a way out of the Abyss and into the mortal realms, and you will be greatly rewarded for your efforts.]
The message dimmed and vanished, and pieces of his memories began to flash in and out of his mind as his past life slowly came into being, but it was all faded… distant… and it seemed far out of reach. Images of places and people he did not recognize came and went in like electric shocks to his soul, leaving him to ponder the things he’d just seen. An instinctual, base knowledge called to him - giving him some very basic insight into what mortals were. A simple knowledge of morality, or right versus wrong. A knowledge of what the Abyss was, what the Purgatory Trials were, though the answer wasn’t a simple one. Purgatory was the stepping stone between the Abyss and the rest of the universe, a place where one could acquire great power, and a buffer from the monsters that lurked in the deeper rifts in existence. Without Purgatory, there would be no mortal realms - for they would perish almost instantly under the scrutinizing gazes of fallen gods, angels, demons, and alike that lived here in the Abyssal realm.
Thale supposed it was time to get up. He’d been laying on his back way too long, at least that much he knew even if his memories were shattered. There was only one way to progress, and that was to move forward - or at least attempt to do so, even if his past life was fuzzy.
Thale inhaled, breathing in a dark gunk. He was submerged in an ink-black, viscous liquid that embraced his body like the warm hug of a mother.
Despite the prompts he’d gotten, the actual reality of it all set in like a tidal wave. Emotions rocked his consciousness as he focused on the minute details of his surroundings. The way his muscles flexed at his beckoning, the smooth stone along his back, the blanket of fluid wrapped around his skin…
Gently, he raised a hand and shuddered as it broke the surface of the dark pool. Slowly feeling around and grasping at a thick stone edge, he pulled himself up and out of the fluid to let it run down his body as his eyes adjusted to the surroundings.
A dull green light flickered above him from an ancient crystal set into the ceiling, no doubt a mana stone. Due to the large size it should have lasted many millenia if completely filled… but given the state of the room around him, it’d been a very long time that anyone had ever set foot in this place.
He quickly realized… It was a tomb.
Wreckage of overturned coffins, tables and ornate chairs lay covered in dust amidst a scattering of ancient corpses. Many of the bodies still had their clothes on, weapons in hand, and some of them had dark, thick plate armor that seemed oddly familiar - though it was all rusted beyond recognition, likely even to a man who’d retained his memories. Decay and rot had afflicted everything in the large room, and Thale was positioned in the centerpiece of it all. There were even two other stone structures holding the viscous black liquid on either side of him, identical to the one he lay within.
He looked down at his hands, noticing his skin was a silver-gray color, and was surprised to see his own reflection on the shimmering surface of the black waters. He had handsome features, short snow-white hair and pitch-black eyes that had an endless depth to them.
He liked what he saw… and it made him happy to recognize the face looking back. It was truly him, and he’d somehow managed to regain his body. Or… at least that’s what he thought. Truthfully he couldn’t be completely sure… but the idea that he’d been put in another body bothered him to an extreme degree.
Why was that?
He didn’t know. So he discarded that idea with a dismissive grunt.
Gingerly getting up and slinging his legs over the side of his resting place, Thale did a quick glance around at the walls. There were hanging tapestries that’d rotted away with age, though he could still make a couple of them out. They’d once been red and black, but now were a dull brick-color and gray - with many holes or rips along all of them. One clearly had an insignia on it that looked something like a jackal or dog, and another was a map… otherwise it was all just guesswork.
He took another look down at his body as the final droplets of viscous liquid slowly trickled off his teal skin, and he couldn’t help but admire his physique. Was this really what he’d looked like in his past life? He’d been quite the athlete, though certainly wasn’t hulking by any means. A tall, solid frame with defined musculature, but not too big. Chuckling to himself at the sense of elation now that he was finally free of the void, he took in a deep breath - even though he didn’t need to - and reveled in the sensation of his lungs filling with air.
Absolutely incredible. Had undeath always felt this good? Curiously scratching his head and staring at the floor, he hoped that his memories would come back soon… if they ever came back at all. A gnawing curiosity was eating away at his soul… and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to know just who he’d been in his past life.
He let out an exhale, laughing to himself at the feeling and realizing it was completely unnecessary, before stepping over a nearby skeleton on his way to the far wall. His bare feet kicked up layers of dust from the cold stone floor, a testament to the passing of the ages, and he stopped in front of one of three identical mannequins outfitted with a set of armor. Rust, dust and grime coated the thick gray metal… and he raised his hand to wipe off the chest plate to get a better look at it.
Large pauldrons shaped in the visage of a skull on either side stared out at him. The intimidating barbut style helmet had serrated edges along a dorsal spine down the middle, and upon touching it - he found that they were still sharp. His fingers traced down interwoven chainmail made of a charred, hardened bone - and he instinctively knew that this armor had reinforced enchantments built into the materials used.
This armor had been his once… a very long time ago.
As his fingers came down to the center of the breastplate, they touched upon the insignia of the jackal… the same one that’d been hung on the tapestry across the wall - and it flared to life with a shimmering green upon his touch. Some of the dust and grime burst into flame along where the insignia had lit up, and the armor shivered slightly a moment later before settling back down.
“There must be little to no energy left inside…” Thale muttered softly to himself as he walked around the suit to admire its craftsmanship. It truly was a thing of beauty, with runic unholy markings etched into various places along the metal all across its frame.
Turning his head, he slowly smiled as he saw a dark-gray kite shield with another visage of a skull carved along its anterior surface hung across the wall, and beside it… a menacing longsword with battle-worn etches all along the filthy blade gave testament to years of use. The weapon had a serrated edge near the base of the blade, and a single green power stone was built into the metal of the handle - and as he grasped it by the hilt, the weapon hummed while drawing in power to brighten the gem.
Ah. Now this one he certainly remembered.
Comments
James Faulkner
Tftc!
pukeofhurl
Arthas! What have you done!
