The Twelve Apocalypses: A Damned Soul's Path to the Abyss

But things didn’t kick off immediately after that first hairline fracture. If anything, it was just the beginning.

I found myself admiring Glaustro’s plan. The attack mages had shifted to a staggered pattern, so spells were booming out continuously. Apparently, the constant bombardment made it easier to detect faults in the barrier. This was what allowed the demons to create that first crack.

Meanwhile, the research-focused team had come together to craft a spell of singular purpose. Myriad lines of power spun over the dome, intersecting to create a pattern greater than a naked eye could track. The magic seeped into the barrier, analyzing its functionality and slowly undermining the entire thing.

Even so, three hours after that first glowing fracture, the barrier was still standing.

Sure, the cracks had multiplied and grown, but that wasn’t victory. It was a pitched battle. The demonic mages raced against the defenders, struggling to identify enough weaknesses to bring down the entire mana structure before the local mages could shore it up.

At one point, the cracks even started to heal, their glow dimming. That was when Glaustro and Graighast summoned the resting mages back to the barrier, and the assault kicked up into ’endgame’ mode

All the demonic mages were more tense and focused than I ever saw an infernal be. Despite their smirks and disparaging comments about mere mortals interspersed between spells, I could tell they were worried. I also thought they were impressed by the work of the human mage who had cooked up the barrier. Not that they would ever admit it, of course.

Still, their demonic might would not be denied. After a few more rounds from the full group of demonic mages, large holes started opening at the top of the dome. Chunks of the mana structure crumbled away, slowly dissipating as they fell.

Not all of them dissipated fast enough, however.

A particularly large chunk failed to disintegrate fully before it reached one of the houses tall enough to peek over the wall. I shuddered at the result. The barrier fragment sheared right through the building like it didn’t even exist, slicing off an entire corner of the house. Masonry, timber, and furniture tumbled to the ground with a resounding crash.

Frankly, it would have been better for the locals to call it quits right there and bring the barrier down themselves. As I watched, the danger of mortals playing with such power became amply apparent.

The fragment was only the first warning shot. The disintegration spread down from the top of the dome and sent a rain of lethal mana fragments upon the helpless buildings. The shards tore through everything in their path.

Local mages appeared on the walls, sending out spells meant to redirect or destroy the barrier fragments. They failed. The shards appeared unaffected by anything other than natural gravity. Each piece was as resilient and unbreakable as the whole dome had been, turning the locals’ pride into their tragic downfall.

Most devastating was the collapse of the barrier sections closest to the walls.

I realized our mages had some control over the way the barrier was crumbling because they sent all the fragments directly into the wall itself. The mana shards shredded the mighty brick structure, along with any humans unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire.

The confusion and panic on the other side must have been significant. No one thought to order a retreat. I didn’t see even a token effort to get most of their defense force away from the barrage of pure spatial mana pieces. Humans died in droves, with about as much ability to put up a fight as wheat under a harvester’s scythe.

The demons looked on, their faces glowing with satisfaction.

I didn’t exactly share in their glee, but I had to admit I didn’t feel as much remorse or disgust as I would have only a week before. Some part of me, a whimpering, battered part, had grown increasingly numb to practically every violent act, short of me taking a life myself. And in that case, an allowance was made for enemy combatants.

I couldn’t even muster up the energy to be mad about this. For someone in my shoes, numbness was a basic coping mechanism. It wasn’t a luxury, but a necessity.

Essential.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention from the grim thoughts inside towards the destruction outside. With a shock, I realized the defenses were far more comprehensive than I initially suspected because the havoc of spatial shards continued under the ground too.

The barrier must have been a perfect sphere, with a half-dome securing the city’s foundations. Now tremors were shaking the entire landscape in front of us as the mana fragments obliterated those foundations. Dust, dirt, and several buildings’ worth of debris rolled out like a tidal wave in every direction. Only the swift action of our mages, who conjured walls of air and force around the army, kept us from being covered in the filth.

I wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but I guessed this wasn’t the typical way these types of barriers crumbled. The malice of the demonic mages had almost certainly contributed to this display of devastation.

It did make for one hell of a message.

"Soldiers, prepare!" Graighast’s voice boomed over us before the dust cloud had fully settled. "The assault team will go first and clear the way. You know the drill! Focus on the combatants, and combatants only. Support troops, be ready to follow and dispatch civilians and stragglers!"

His troops responded immediately. Even the mages, who had been so laser-focused on bringing the barrier down, immediately broke away and took their place in the formation, which then advanced in lockstep. The mortal portion of the troop, or the ’support forces’ as he’d dubbed them, watched the assault team leave. Then they followed at just enough distance to be not entirely useless.

It was a neat yet curious way of handling things. In a way, he was both coddling and stifling the potential of his mortal soldiers, but I couldn’t exactly protest the treatment. The demons were unlikely to spare the mortals any souls in this particular clash anyway. Or perhaps Graighast’s influence was such that his troops would actually obey their orders and avoid obliterating any civilians they encountered.

Then again, I knew my own troop would not be as thoughtful.

"Well?! What are you waiting for? Get in there, you useless whelps!"

As if to prove me right, Glaustro’s voice joined his brother’s, whipping the demons under his command into a frenzy. Their eyes were literally glowing with bloodlust as they surged forward in a wave quite unlike the well-organized advance of our allies.

More importantly, Glaustro gave no order that mortals should hang back or sit the battle out.

Thankful for that, I pumped as much mana through my body as I could and shot off. This time, I was solidly ahead of any other mortal. My feet practically left gouges in the ground when I kicked off, and I felt a thrill of satisfaction at how well my body was responding.

The boost wasn’t just physical either.

I had difficulties with my stolen skills in the past. The absorbed souls had fought to displace my identity. Even my bonded weapon had occasionally felt awkward in my grip. But now?

I was an apprentice mage in possession of a soul blade. Mana vibrated through me as I ran, allowing me to leverage each technique to the fullest. I was powerful, confident, and free of any whispered distractions from some dead person’s memories.

Perhaps it was this newfound state of calm that allowed me to remain clinically detached from everything I saw.

The word ’bloodbath’ didn’t quite encapsulate the scene. Nearly every soul that could wield a weapon had been stationed near the wall, and the barrier collapse had taken its toll on most of them. There were survivors, of course. Survivors with missing limbs, or gaping holes in their bodies where the unstable spatial magic had gouged out chunks of flesh. Only a few were whole, and they were paralyzed with shock.

Demons reaped them all, regardless of their condition.

In the past, I had seen the demonic killing machines demonstrate mild glee and general enjoyment as they went about their bloody work. This time, though? Peals of laughter echoed everywhere, accompanied by jeers and taunts over the effectiveness of the barrier. The whole incident really had gotten under the demons’ skin, and they were going to savor every last drop of their revenge to the fullest.

The whole thing was a tragedy. A personal tragedy at that because there was no way I could hope to get more than one or two souls out of this fiasco. If any.

The thought sent a crushing wave of urgency tingling through my body. If I didn’t get any souls, I wouldn’t be able to finance my stay in the city. I would be left to camp outside, where desperate mortals who already held a grudge against me were likely to stalk the night.

Maybe they would refrain from slitting my throat while I slept. Maybe. I just didn’t like the idea of leaving things up to chance.

It was in this frenzy of panic that I spotted something.

I was running down a street with some kind of canal along its side. A rain channel, if I had to bet, with barely a trickle of water at the bottom. The canal itself wasn’t worth noticing. What really caught my attention were the narrow stairs that led down into the channel, and the bloody handprint on the wall by those stairs.

Not an odd sight in a city getting slaughtered by demons. But then I saw muddy footprints on the stairs, continuing along the channel.

Perhaps whoever had left the blood behind was still alive… and fleeing.

I was struck by indecision. On the one hand, there was a chance I could follow the trail and discover a whole group of retreating soldiers. Normal, human soldiers I could doubtlessly dispatch with only mild risk. On the other, trying to chase them down would definitely put me well behind the advancing tide of demonic death and the scavengers that trailed after it.

Curses slipped from my lips freely as I made my decision and dove for the stairs. In the end, even if I ventured deeper into the city, the only thing I was guaranteed to find were corpses. This way, I at least had the hope of claiming enough souls to secure a comfortable stay at an inn for a couple of days.

My feet made loud splashing noises as I thundered down the channel. It was much tighter down here than it had looked from above. Not enough to make me feel claustrophobic, since I could stretch my arms out fully and just barely brush against the walls, but still.

At least it made it easier to track my quarry.

They were definitely bleeding, and copiously at that. The smears of blood they left behind were impossible to miss. The stains switched from one wall to the other as I ran, making me wonder if this was a group of injured people, or a single person too unsteady to run straight.

I still couldn’t see anyone, and my view ahead was unobstructed until the channel took a sharp right turn far in the distance.

Did I lose them already, somehow? Was I wrong about how fresh the blood is?

The chance that I was wasting my time clawed at my insides. It was a mistake I literally could not afford.

When I finally came upon the small passage carved into the wall to my left, I almost missed it. The opening was too painfully small to be called a proper doorway. Still, the lack of blood stains ahead of me and the clear impression of a bloody palm pressed into the side of the opening told me exactly where my quarry had gone.

Taking a deep breath, I squirmed my annoyingly broad shoulders through the entrance, then pulled the rest of me through.

To my relief, the tunnel was much wider than the doorway. In fact, it was wider than the channel I had just left. This was good news for any combat I might need to engage in down here.

The tunnel was dark, but I could just catch a quivering light far ahead of me. I set off immediately, heedless of whether I could be detected or not. I was fully betting on a scarcity of hiding spots, and on this occasion, I hit the mark.

A man startled at my loud approach and turned towards me. His face was lined with the creases of age, angular features framed by a neatly trimmed beard. His light blue robes, edged in gold, were of superb make. Judging by their subtle glow, they were also enchanted.

The man’s bearing and countenance might once have been stately enough to strike fear into an observer all on their own. Now, however, the effect was rather ruined by the blood streaming out of his ears, nose, mouth, and eyes.

The mage, because he could be nothing else, looked a step away from death.

Unfortunately, if the rapidly expanding glow around his hands was any indication, he did not want to go quietly into the night.