by Wolfe Locke
“That’s him,” Seraph admitted “He still lives, suspended between life as both a darkness caller and a wight. A creature of the dungeon, and a creature of this world, though I cannot assume it has remained like that.
The Nether creature held up a claw and stroked its face in consideration. “If there is a chance to prevent this future, it is worth chasing. A world without prey is a slow death.”
The effect of the Lamb’s Breath began to wear off and Seraph knew they were running out of time before they were noticed and with each passing second, more of the Infernal Legion passed through the breach to kill and wreak havoc on the other side.
“How are you going to survive this Lord Seraph? How can you seal the rift without leaving yourself trapped here?” The Nightmare questioned, and truthfully, Seraph had no good answers to it, only conjecture.
The Nightmare looked at Seraph, its eyes narrowed and burning with determination. “I will give you all the time I can provide so that you may escape. If you are successful, it will be as if this future never existed. I do not know what will happen to me, but anything is better than this. What I do know is that your body will not last much longer, you are burning through your lifeforce to wield your old form. It will not last.”
Seraph nodded, he knew it was true, he felt it.
“Take the Dungeon Seed and pass back through the rift before it collapses. Use the power stored within that body as fuel to spread the seed of the dungeon far and wide. Would that not give your humanity a better chance?” The Nightmare King advised, and Seraph considered it before responding.
“I had thought that it would have been simpler. A second chance and a way to gain strength, but that is not the case. The World Dungeon was never meant for second chances. I realize what it was meant for, preparation for the great war with Aeon and the fight against Wormwood. The dungeon is a training tool and a chance at the power necessary to defend ourselves from what’s to come. I think you are correct, if I could spread it across more of the surface of the Earth, this would help humanity. Will you help me?” Seraph asked as he looked at the creature from another world in front of him.
“Absolutely Lord Seraph.” The Nightmare promised.
Chapter 52: A Promise Kept
The Nightmare King looked at Seraph with unblinking eyes as the summoned Nether creature crossed its grotesque and patchwork arms and began to chant in the language of the Netherealm. Seraph kept his eyes peeled and a watchful glance towards the hole in the ceiling as Ars Goethe worked the ritual spell as powerful magic emanated from deep within the complex lines it drew. A power supplemented by the blood Seraph had fed directly to the monster.
“Lord Seraph, I do not know for how long I can hold them at bay. You will have minutes at most before I am banished back to the Netherworld. The Infernal Legion is not so easily waylaid,” the Nightmare King admitted.
Seraph nodded; he was unsurprised. The window the summoning would provide was small at best, neither of them had the power to stand against what lay outside for long. The full might of the Infernal Legion lay just outside the auditorium, the legion was an endless procession of hunger pushing forward towards the rift, driven only by Aeon’s desire to consume.
The Nightmare spread his emaciated looking arms, and a separate black circle appeared beneath him, interweaving itself with the circle that was already there. Grey blight began to spread upwards on the walls as the boards of the auditorium warped with rot as it spread and the walls began to bend.
“It’s time, Lord Seraph.” The Nightmare stated as soon as the preparations finished, and the entire floor was covered in grey blight.
With a quick word, Seraph laid a hand on the Nether creature and cast Heroic Guard over both of them. The ability was the closest to immortal Seraph could make the two of them. While it basically reduced all damage by 99%, it did not render them completely immune to damage. With enough time and consistent attacks, they could still be killed. Seraph was acutely aware of this fact.
“You have served me well these many years,” Seraph said as he looked up at the ceiling towards his escape, seeing that the way back into the school was sealed by fallen rubble, “If you can, dismiss yourself before a final blow is landed, I do not know if even you can survive against them. I will try to summon you when this is over. This dead world is not yours to inherit. You have been instrumental to me, I have not forgotten when I first met the Nightmare Duke, Ars Goethe.”
Without another word, Seraph launched himself up into the air with a powerful thrust from his wings as he passed through the rafters and out through a tear in the roof. Once out of the auditorium, Seraph landed and crouched behind a rusted air conditioning unit and tried to get a visual of what he was up against as he waited for the distraction the Nightmare King would provide.
They truly are legion, Seraph thought as he looked out at an endless sprawl and held his breath in horrible awe. Even with his advanced eyesight, he could not see the end of them. Though he had seen many Infernals, there were many monsters within the green mist he had never seen before that completely eclipsed the power of the Infernals while others he was unable to judge at all as they were completely strange and alien.
Seraph felt his body tip forward and caught himself as the ground began to buckle underneath as Ars Goethe activated the spell that caused the gymnasium to start collapsing and draw the attention of the legion to him. Seraph jumped to the relative safety of the roof of the school and looked out as a blur of power sped by as the Nether creature dove straight into the horde with a speed that cracked the air in a sonic boom as a mass of shadow following in its wake as the battle was met.
Seraph looked away as the first of the Infernals fell to the claws of the Nightmare as it weaved through the mob. With each kill the shadows that followed found a body and joined in as a necrotic minion to aid and to kill. I’ve done all I can here. The rest remained in Ars Goeth's hands. Seraph needed to use the little bit of time the Nightmare King could provide to secure the Dungeon Seed.
After a quick scan around, Seraph found a hole in the ceiling and slipped through it, and found himself at the top of the stairs above the collapsed ruin of the auditorium, looking directly into what had been the safe zone during the tutorial.
The hallway was dim, but not overly dark but even then, Seraph winced each time glass shattered underfoot as he stepped over the broken portraits and shattered glass panes from dilapidated trophy cases.
With the extensive damage to the building, dim grey light from the outside managed to seep into the hallway, casting rays of light that shone on the rolling waves of green fog that filled up the space.
Seraph heard movement from overhead, the subtle scraping of clawed feet against metal and looked up to see three Fetchers heading straight towards him. For a moment Seraph wished he still had Ajana’s Wrath for the distance the weapon provided him, but quickly realized he had other tools at his disposal.
With a quick word and an outstretched hand, Seraph used his “Purge the Weak” ability and the three Fetchers fell to the ground dead. In the presence of the Black Seraph, all were weaker. Within his chest, a pain began to throb where the Black Emblem rested against his heart. Do not waste your power Seraph. What you use will not be restored. Amarath cautioned as the pain waned and Seraph’s head cleared.
Up ahead, Seraph could only see one Infernal, the rest had already moved up ahead, and the rest lingered near the entrance fighting for placement as the excited mass fought each other to get closer to the Nightmare King, their need to consume propelling them forward.
Through the shards of dirty glass, Seraph looked outside and saw a monster larger than any he had ever seen before, wholly alien and terrible wrapped itself around the Ars Goethe and with a scream of rage tore the summoned monster apart, and when the summon did not disperse, Seraph knew for his longest ally there would be no survival.
Ars Goethe writhed on the ground for just a moment until a massive bit of light began to shine from within it a
nd Seraph had to duck to shield his eyes as a a massive explosion of light rocked the building and shook the dust from the rafters. Lumiere, I didn’t know he was able to use that ability, maybe because of my blood? The minor connection he had to the summon had been completely destroyed. The summon had drawing the horde away, and the lingering Infernals near the entrance were drawn to it.
With a quick glance around, hoping to avoid drawing attention from outside, Seraph dived forward with impossible speed. A speed provided by the thousands of souls he had consumed and the lives he had destroyed. His eyes burning with the intent to kill and felt the satisfying tear of the Infernals flesh as the Dragon’s Claw tore into it, cleaving the flesh apart as the monster dropped to the floor dead.
A growl sounded as Seraph towards the side hall and realized a few Infernals and some other monsters he did not recognize had remained behind, still trying to get to the rift. Seraph could have easily killed them all with a bit of his power, but he was not ready to try and take on the whole legion. Their number was as numerous as the stars, and he did not have the time to kill them all, his power would be exhausted long before then.
Dashing forward with his claw in hand, Seraph sliced into the neck of the nearest Infernal while reaching out for the one and grabbing it by its spine before ripping it out. The process repeated over and over as he switched targets, killed, and moved onto the next as green blood and gore dripped onto the floor.
The floor grew thick with dark matter, and Seraph found himself struggling to maneuver through the final stretch of the long corridor after it had become filled with the corpses of the Infernals and other abominations. When Seraph reached the end of the hallway and it opened up into a large room filled with overturned tables and aged cans from broken vending machines.
At the far end of the room, Seraph saw the last of the Infernals. They were circled around the dark entity that was bound to this place and his heart dropped with what he saw.
It was a pitiful sight and one that crushed Seraph to see. He found himself looking straight at the monster that had been Reverend. The wight had been forcibly moved and was no longer rooted into the floor. Instead, his torso had been splayed open to widen the rift and each of its eyes that showed the different aspects of its nature had been torn out.
Seraph went to cast “Purge the Weak” on the two remaining Infernals but found the emblem within his chest pulsed with pain, cautioning him not to. Instead, he sped forward and attacked. Each of the Infernals looked to be a unique variant with one possessing long arms and the other a hardened skin that reminded him a bit of his own.
The two variants noticed Seraph, and the one with the long arms sped towards him with an outstretched arm that Seraph met with the Dragon Claw gauntlet as he sliced upwards, tearing the arm in half and moved closer with his free hand and pushed his fist through the monster’s skull and let it collapse in a heap at his feet.
A wail of anger went up as the other Infernal made a cry to summon the horde to its location. Seraph was quick to react and summoned a wall of stone to separate the hallway from the room and lunged forward at the remaining Infernal and thrust forward with the bladed edge of his black wings and cut through the metalic looking skin of the monster as it glared up in shock as it died. The battle was over in seconds but gauging by the way the building was starting to shake, it would not be over for long.
Seraph ran over to the suffering wight. "I've come to keep my promise brother," He told the dying monster as he undid the bindings that kept him restrained and strung up, being as gentle as he could, knowing that time was short.
"Lord Seraph," The monster replied, both of its eyes having gone dark, neither personality truly in charge. "Lord Seraph, you have come to free us."
"Yes, I have not forgotten you, I had a promise to keep, I need the Dungeon Seed." Seraph replied as he heard the rock wall he had created begin to crumble and movement from overhead as something heavy landed on the ceiling.
“It’s within me. You too can unlock its power. I have secured it to myself, growing and heavy through my body. This is too much power for only one to wield.” The monster explained wearily.
Seraph nodded in agreement and with a trace of mercy put his hand to the wight’s head and summoned a cleansing fire that ended forever the damned half life the Darkling Caller had been doomed to live. But once the monster was gone, the dark shadows that had been around it retreated, and the green mist flushed forward as something tore through the ceiling and began to merge with Reverend’s body, animating it, changing it into something new.
The rest of the rocks began to crumble and push forward as they were starting to be shoved out of place, and Seraph was left looking at the monster that was merging with Reverend and ran forward and grabbed the Dungeon Seed, tearing it out of Reverend’s chest before it could be absorbed by the mist monster.
Once the Dungeon Seed was in his hands, Seraph could see the rift above Reverend’s body started to wobble as it grew unstable. Run Seraph, Amarath commanded, that is the left hand of Aeon, you cannot hope to defeat it.
If the dungeon spirit made the claim, Seraph felt it to be true and made the only choice he felt he had, he dove through the rift before it could close and felt a moment of agony as a powerful hand grabbed ahold of his wing, and Seraph turned his head, Dragon Claw at the ready and saw a being his mind could barely contain as he looked at it. With a growl Seraph brought the Dragon Claw down in a vicious attack to cut off the hand, but the Dragon Claw bounded uselessly off of the monster’s skin. Impossible, Seraph muttered as he realized and understood what the dungeon had said was correct.
With a grunt of determination, Seraph turned the blade of the Dragon Claw away from the monster that tried to pull him back through the rift on himself, and in a flash of pain, severed his wings forever from his body. Without a way to keep him restrained, Seraph fell forward through the rift and landed just outside of Hometown.
Chapter 53: A Torch Passed
Seraph, you need to wake up, your mission is not yet over. The spirit of the dungeon commanded as Seraph writhed on the ground in a state of unconsciousness after having his wings torn away.
With a groan, Seraph stood up, and felt the immense pressure and drain of the energy he had received. Much of your power was used to transport you back to this timeline, the rift has been sealed, and we possess the Dungeon Seed, but there is more you must do.
Seraph sat up as the blood dripped down his back, ready to sleep, and ready for rest. “How much more do you want from me Amarath?” He slurred as he struggled to get up and started to walk through the forest towards Hometown.
You must take my place Seraph, at least for a time. I want you to take my place as the spirit of this dungeon and rule over Hometown as one of the Demon Princes. Rebuild, make it better, you’ve seen what they are to face, find a way. Amarath explained as the Black Emblem burned hotter than Seraph had ever remembered.
In the distance, Seraph could see plumes of smoke and heard cries for help and screams of terror and realized the Infernals from within the lower floors had managed to reach Hometown.
Do you accept Seraph? Will you become a thing of my dungeon? Will you take my place? It will take some time to learn, but all you will need to do is think of something, and it shall be.” Amarath asked and Seraph was sure the dungeon already knew the answer.
“I accept, what do I do Amarath?” Seraph asked, unsure of how to proceed.
Thrust the seed into your chest and if you have unfinished business, do it now. The spirit responded and Seraph did as it instructed, feeling an immense relief as soon as the Dungeon Seed touched the Black Emblem on his chest.
Immediately, Seraph knew whatever time he had left was almost gone and with that certainty came clarity as he started to run towards Hometown towards the sound of the battle. As he came across the front gate rather than struggle with the door, he simply vaulted over it and kept running, and as he could, lashed out at the Infernals who were engaged in mortal com
bat with the elves, but it was not the elves Seraph cared about, at least not all of them, there was one in particular on his mind, that Seraph had been assured was safe. It was his father he was now concerned for.
He kept running towards the sounds of screaming and found bloody chaos near the portals of the square, and within that tumultuous scene, he saw Paul, and for a moment, he saw the man’s eyes flash with anger when he saw him, before another emotion passed through the man’s changed eyes, forgiveness. “Your son is resting. Find him after this,” Seraph called out as he reached into his inventory and pulled out a sword Paul could use.
Seraph looked around and saw that for the most part, the humans and the few elves who had joined them were holding their own. Paul led his guild Prometheus Rising with the knack of a natural born leader. The members he had recruited worked together with ironclad precision to repel the Infernals and push them back. Whenever one member of the guild would start to falter, Paul would pull them back to be replaced by somebody else. In this way, he sought to keep all of his people alive.
The Necrotic Touch ability all guild members possessed helped to stem the tide of the battle as many of the wounds they inflicted would not heal. This allowed them to wear down the force that had come against them little by little, while the other guilds struggled, having been more reliant on raw power than training and expertise. I was much the same though, Seraph admitted critically of himself. This experience has been humbling.
It was still with a measure of satisfaction that Seraph saw the wounded being carried back and forth on stretches towards the Halls of Rot by members of Prometheus Rising. When this battle is over, Paul will be in a position to assume the mantle of leadership here, they will remember what he did. I will make sure of it, Seraph silently promised.