Prince of The Abyss-Chapter 168: Unworthy Hands

He had wanted to go to the palace; that was the decision he had made, but looking at his situation, it wouldn’t be such a good idea. He had to get some things right before that.

Money, he needed money, the battle was bound to take a while, and with it being more about his mind trying to be broken, a place to stay would be quite nice.

He didn’t know what his body needed, if food was still a necessity, but it was good to have the money for it. So he had to find a way to make money.

He had to get a job.

...

"You’re looking for jobs, well, if you really want, you can work for me, I’ve been needing some help lately." The old woman said, cleaning a mug with a cloth.

The Inn had closed, well, the bar, since anyone who needed could still come and ask for a place to sleep in. But of course, this service wasn’t open all night; the women had to get their sleep, too.

Aether rested his head in his hand, tapping the counter with his hands. His eyes were distant, thinking about what to do. He sighed, glancing towards the old woman.

"I’m fine, I can find something else..."

The old woman put the mug down after she finished cleaning it, grabbing another. He didn’t know how she did it, and truly, one of the reasons he hadn’t accepted was because he knew he couldn’t. Serving people with drinks all day with a happy smile on her face. How she was always full of energy...

It was ironic since he was the younger one, and he was supposed to be the one filled with energy.

The way she made friends so easily, how she trusted like she had never it broken. How at night she cleaned her mugs and plates with such grace and... enjoyment, as if... it made her happy.

He couldn’t, he knew he coudnt.

Just thinking of serving a dead human... made his stomach twist, and not because they were undead, after all, he was too, everyone was. But because he was feeding the fantasy they were living in, he was the reason why they could manipulate themselves into thinking they were still alive.

He was fueling their denial.

And so, he couldn’t do it.

Aether stared down, unable to look at the women. After all, he had declined a very generous offer from her, even after she had done so much for him. She had given him a place to stay, information, and now an opportunity.

And yet, the women didn’t seem mad.

Instead, she laughed, sliding Aether a mug filled with water. After all, what was the point of it being filled with anything else?

Aether looked up as the woman rested her arms on the edge of the counter.

"Then if you want a job, you should head into town; there are many people who would pay for service."

On his face appeared a small smile. If this were the case, he could explore the city while also making some money. And after challenging his trial, he could navigate better, since he was used to the place.

Aether stood up.

"Thanks, I’ll do that."

But before he could leave, the women called out to him.

"But I just poured you a drink, are you rejecting it?" Her face seemed serious.

Aether looked down at the mug, watching as the water inside traveled in a spiral motion. As it moved against the wood it was trapped in. The reason why inside was only water and not booze was simple: they had the same effect.

He wanted to drink it, after all, the woman was right, she had cleaned a mug just to pour it for him, was he really going to decline it after all the hard work she put in?

...

Yet at the same time, if he were to accept, would he really be better than the people who drank it to try and act like humans? He wasn’t even sure he needed water; it didn’t seem so, and it made sense. He was dead; his body was dead. Many of his senses were dead, so why would he need to eat and drink?

If he drank it, he would be rejecting that fact, the fact that he was dead. He would be just like them, rejecting reality.

Denying...

...

"Sorry, I can’t."

With that, he rushed out.

...

The woman watched as he left, and after he closed the door, the silence that followed was agonizing. Truly, it was these moments where she realized just how... terrible everything was. Times when she was alone, where she couldn’t blind herself from the truth.

She rested her face inside her palm, chuckling through the cracks.

"That kid... he may actually have the will... it makes me sad that I stopped trying."

...

...

Aether walked without direction.

Not because he lacked one, but because direction itself felt unreliable in the Tides. Streets bent subtly when you weren’t looking at them. Corners repeated themselves. Familiar paths gained extra turns, as if the city reshaped itself to accommodate hesitation.

He stayed near the main road, where the stone was smoother from use, and the buildings stood taller, cleaner, less scarred by time. People passed him in quiet clusters. Some spoke. Most didn’t. Their faces carried the same distant calm he had begun to recognize, not peace, but maintenance. A careful effort to keep themselves intact.

The air was cold, but not sharply so. It pressed rather than cut. Each breath felt slightly delayed, like the city waited a moment before allowing it.

That was when someone stopped him.

"Excuse me..."

The voice was soft, almost apologetic. It came from behind him, hesitant enough that Aether might have missed it if the street hadn’t fallen momentarily quiet.

He turned.

Where he saw a woman.

She stood a few steps away, hands folded tightly at her waist, fingers interlaced as if afraid one might drift off on its own. She was tall, though her posture diminished it; her shoulders curved inward in a way that made her seem smaller than she was. A pale cloak hung from her frame, worn thin along the edges, its fabric patched in careful, deliberate stitches. Someone who repaired rather than replaced.

Her hair was dark and pulled back loosely, strands slipping free and brushing against her cheeks. It looked as though it had once been well-kept, though now it carried the faint dullness of neglect, not messiness, but exhaustion. Her face was narrow, with sharp cheekbones softened by time. There were no visible injuries, no scars, nothing overtly wrong.

And yet something was.

Her eyes were fixed on him with an intensity that didn’t match the quiet of her voice. They were glassy, unfocused at the edges, as though she were looking at Aether and past him at the same time. When she blinked, it was slow, deliberate, like she was reminding herself to do it.

Aether was caugh of guard, he hadnt expected to be approched by someone so quickly, he cleared his throat, staring the women in the eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"Y-yes!" The woman was nervous, that was easy to stop, but a part of his wondered if she was nervous because of him... or something else. After all, if it was him, why... why did she look at him that way.

"You see, my husband is badly injuired from fighting a monster, he really needs help, can you do that."

Aether didn’t respond, staring her right in the eyes... really, he didn’t know if he could; he didn’t think he had the power to do so. This was a Titan book, and so most of the monsters in this place were bound to be a lot stronger than him, so how was he supposed to win?

How was he supposed to beat a Seeker? Or someone of a higher class than him.

... He was... a little scared of trying... he wondered why, since before he would have done it without a thought.

Was it... because of him?

He frowned slightly, but it quickly faltered; he didn’t want to scare the women after all.

Lilith, was it because of him... was he the reason he was scared of fighting someone else?

...

Or was it...

himself.

Or rather, his past actions, his mistakes, and his failures, that in the end led to terrible consequences, were what he was scared of...

...

He smiled, of course, hiding the battle that was happening inside his mind at that moment.

He nooded.

"Sure, I’ll come, but I need payment after all. If I get hurt, I need the money to buy bandages or something to help me recover."

The woman’s face lit up as he agreed; she could almost scream, that was how happy she was.

"O-of course, I wouldn’t ask for a request this big and not pay!"

With that, she turned away, starting to lead him to a place.

"Hurry! We don’t have a lot of time."

...

Aether sighed, the smile that he had put on as an act still on.

He looked at his arm, staring at his marks.

...

And his smile faltered.

They were a reminder that even with his tricks, he wasn’t strong enough to protect them.

So how was he supposed to protect anyone?

How was he supposed to protect himself?