Shadow of the Abyss

[Your Strength has increased by 14]

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[Your Dexterity has increased by 20]

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Name: Altair Blackwood

Mana Circle: [Third Circle 74%]

Class: [Prince of the Vale Lv 51 → 61]

Strength: 69 → 115

Dexterity: 96 → 141

Constitution: 150 → 170

Wisdom: 152 → 212

Charisma: 152 → 172

Mana: 32

Muscles burning with the air of power gnawing at his flesh, Altair became redder than a cooked lobster, drawing in as much blood as he could. Steam billowed from off his weary body, bringing about a strange black ooze that gushed from his pores.

Still, he ignored it, seemingly taken with the blood so sweet it made his head spin. Strength might have been returning, but Altair found himself so enthralled he couldn\'t pull away.

[Your Strength has increased by 12]

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Filling his belly with as much blood as possible, he did not even notice a small star crown his head, shimmering with a profound light as the flicker of a second star hummed with life, flickering back and forth, slowly growing corporal.

He stood up, tumbling downwards, and scrambled forward like a crack fiend, plunging his fangs through the Bapett\'s wrist, instinctually finding the artery. He ate, and ate, and ate, and ate.

[Your Strength has increased by 12]

[Your Dexterity has increased by 16]

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Losing track of how many times his system hounded his ear, Altair gorged himself until his stomach patrolled, and his eyes shone such fever they didn\'t seem to human. By the time he was done some minutes later, the Bapett was nothing more than flabby skin and bone.

Name: Altair Blackwood

Strength: 115 → 201

Dexterity: 141 → 197

Constitution: 150 → 204

Wisdom: 212 → 220

Charisma: 172

Mana: 32

He turned, meeting Reina\'s golden eyes that shone such radiance a sense of shame overcame him as he reflected on how he just behaved. It had been no different than that of a lesser beast. A ghoul. He felt his cheeks burn hotter than the Demon Blood within his veins.

"It\'s alright," Reina said to him. She pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around him. "It\'s alright, Art."

***

Holding himself up with Telekinesis in the skies, Fat Mike bore a grim expression as he stared at the demonic mask of his foe before him. Wrapped in black robes that bore the red Sigil of Asteroth, Eight Circles reined the skies in a haze of black light.

"Can I assume you to be the leader?" Fat Mike barked, glancing down at Cedric wielding his golden silver spear. Amilia, her tech staff, forged from the branch of the World Tree, Hilder her great axe forged of mythril, and Edwin, who wielded a sword of golden radiance he\'d taken from one of the Dawnbreakers.

Verrell was busy protecting the noblemen, trying to herd them away from the battlefield, guarding them against the various Heralds of Asteroth summoning demon after demon at the cost of their lives, with the aid of the Dawnbreakers. He watched as one after the other slit their own necks with pudgy smiles in the sacrifice of their lord.

"For Asteroth!" They\'d howl before turning into hideous, Abhorrent Amalgamations of flesh, bones, and blood. They twisted into monsters that bore no resemblance to humans, but rather a cluster of hundreds of thousands of different types of demons put together; where their eyes ought to have been stood two hideous black horns that carried a great hundred of many mouths, crackling in laughter.

Their skin had turned all but red as they stood on what appeared like legs but seemed more like thick vines reminiscent of tree stubs.

Chaos had taken to the Cathedral of Light, and in its midst, several Iron Maidens were bellowing orders at the top of their lungs, wielding their Morningstar, as they battled against the Heralds.

The one who bore the Mask of the Great Horned Beast crackled in a voice that did not seem to echo from behind his mask, alarming Fat Mike.

He felt the air become like knives against his skin despite being surrounded by his barrier. Fat Mike glared, wielding his staff with black, sullen eyes. Sweat slithered down the folds of fat around his cheek as he gulped.

"It\'s too late." The Eight Circle Herald crackled, looking up at the pentagram that had been forming around the several Heralds in the air. "He is upon us. The Great Devil of the Nine Hells will soon descend to usher us into a new era."

"CAW!" Cried the Raven circling the battlefield.

Fat Mike grimaced. "Demon, Devil, it doesn\'t matter." He pointed his staff towards the Eight Circle. By himself, he was sure he\'d have no chance. He was only at the peak of the sixth circle. However, Cedric was with him, and Edwin a Seventh Circle. He was at least hopeful… but \'this City is lost...

No. This entire planet was lost.\' he thought.

Deciding not to care about collateral, he sighed and said, "Execute Order 47."

The Order seared its way into the minds of Hilda, Amilia, and Cedric, who\'d seen war and conquered many words, stripping any shred of humanity from their eyes until all that was left was the mission.

Within the Myriad Heavens, there had been countless worlds where they\'d face hundreds, if not thousands, of powerful entities that required collateral, whether it was from their forces or the enemies. Order 47 had been one that allowed those of power to leave destruction in their wake without worry of consequences.

"I grant thee flight," Amilia chanted, weaving her staff through the air. Magical symbols gathered beneath Cedrics, Hilda, and Edwin\'s feet, propelling them off the ground. Her eyes glowed with power, revealing the five circles that hung over her head like a crown. And from her staff, sigil after sigiled appeared as she began buffing her crew.

"Blessing of Yggdrasil, Aura of Divine Protection, Enhance, Elemental Charge!" In a single instance, everyone in Amelia\'s party felt as if their bodies had been pushed well past their limits, brimming with such might each of their Circles began to fill the skies.

The Herald of Asteroth bellowed a laugh of disdain. Reaching into his robes, he slid a golden-encrusted sword from its scabbard. Golden sword light pressured the cathedral into a domain of silence, bearing down on a great many humans in a golden reign of might.

"Hells," Edwin muttered, recognizing the sword. "... Your… Your… Your… The Sword of the King, your Varquess, the Blade of Dawn!!"

***

Hurrying towards the Sanctuary, Altair, with a shadow of a smile, found its way to his lips at the sight of Aria resting in Liana\'s arms. He hadn\'t seen her at the party and figured she had been patrolling when the Heralds attacked.

"Altair!" Liana cried, seeing him walk in, drenched in blood. " Are you alright?"

"I am," He answered, glancing around, unable to find the archbishop but rather the scar-faced woman he\'d seen speaking with Vanro. Armed with a golden spear over plastered armor that shone silver. She was staring at Altair and Reina.

"Do you know the situation outside?" The Master of the Iron Mask, Silain Vor, demanded, cold and hard like a man.

"The Leader appears to be the Sword of the King, Varquess," Altair said, listening through the ears of his Raven. He began explaining the situation to Silain, who remained as cold and indifferent as the Sisters of Silence.

"I see,\' Was all she said, returning to her squad of Dawnbreakers and Iron Maidens.

Altair didn\'t hear what was being discussed. Rather, he was looking for a way out. The caravan they\'d been waiting on for nearly eight months was from the enemy camp. And the Cathedral had allowed them into their home.

"What madness," He hissed, passing his hands through his hair matted by blood. "The city is indeed lost." He mused, shaking his head; he sighed before giving a few commands to the Fallen Shadows he\'d left within the Dune Estate, though he had no hope for the survival of those that accompanied him these past eight months.

Still, he had to at least ensure the likes of Nia and Alyssa survived, even if the rest died.

He swallowed another handful of Hearthstones and felt his heart ache within his two-circle. He ignored it and turned to Reina, who seemed to be staring at Aria. "what are you thinking of?"

"It\'s hard to believe she was the one to cause all this."

He nodded, though reluctantly. "Life sure is a bitch."

"Lord Blackwood." The Master of Iron called, gesturing for them to follow. She ushered them towards the altar where countless bodies of Heralds that hadn\'t even had the chance to sacrifice themselves lay.

There, he saw a small outline of a hidden latch.

"This hidden pathway leads to the crypts, but if you can find your way through, you\'ll be able to make it to the Forest of Selune," Silain said, prying open the latch. "I can\'t go, but I\'ll leave you with Seven Dawn Breakers and Iron Maidens. They\'ll know the way. It\'ll be a Four Week Journey. But there ought to be rats you can eat."

\'... I\'ve got food." he said, drawing a loaf of bread from Drupnir.

When it appeared, Silain seemed surprised but nodded nonetheless. She cupped her arm to her chest and saluted. " May the goddess Aidios guide your path."

Altair smiled. "Then I\'ll thank you."

Silain Vol watched them enter one after the other without expression and closed the latch after them. She gestured to two of the Sisters of Silence. "Burry the latch beneath the bodies of these filthy creatures." and she was off.