Sign In To The Body Of Chaos At The Start-Chapter 80: Bastion Sanctum!

The journey to the west was a blur of fire, screams, and obliteration. Despite Damon’s clear instructions, the group had barely lasted the first ten minutes without attracting another wave of Abyssal horrors.

No matter what they did, the scent of blood and Abyssal power clung to them like a beacon, drawing monstrosities that tore from the trees, the sky, and even the shattered ground.

Yet none reached them, as Damon had cleaved through them all.

With BloodReaper in hand and his senses heightened by his newly formed Spatial Detection Art, Damon carved a path across the cursed plains with precise lethality.

The Abyssal creatures that had hunted in groups were ambushed mid attack by Damon, crushed by his attacks before they could reacted.

As for the Winged Creatures that flew at him like ferocious hawks, they were sniped out of the air with flicks of spacial blades more accurate than bullets from Simo Häyhä.

One particularly large beast,a centaur-shaped abomination cloaked in green-black fire, managed to unleash a deathwave scream, only to be silenced mid-roar when Damon blinked behind it and carved its skull open with a twist of his scythe.

All the while, the survivors watched.

The boy, Revan, said nothing, his awe steadily replacing his fear, he had certainly seen powerhouses before, but this was the first time he saw up close and personal, someone destroying the Abyssal creatures.

The dagger-wielding woman, Mirra, kept glancing at Damon like he was something out of the forbidden pages of a war chronicle. The older human, Carlen, simply followed orders, his gaze distant, perhaps from shock, perhaps from something else.

And Lira... she was quiet.

But she never looked away from Damon.

When the group finally crested a jagged ridge, the distant walls of Bastion Sanctum came into view, like a divine illusion summoned from heaven itself.

It was enormous, at least a hundred meters tall, surrounded by an aura of stabilizing formation magic that pushed back the corrupted fog. Atop the walls were cannons powered by runic crystal cores, manned by cultivators clad in a mixture of steel, mana robes, and enchanted plate armor. Towers bristled with energy, and along the outer ridge, massive tamed beasts prowled like wardens.

A sanctum built to endure the end of the world. And at that moment, it was the most beautiful thing Damon had ever seen.

"We made it..." Carlen breathed.

"Fucking rest." Damon muttered to himself.

Damon, standing at the forefront of the group, simply nodded. His eyes had already scanned every tower, every runic line, every defensive layer along the wall.

The fortress was solid, reinforced and likely created by multiple races working together. But there was more beneath.

Deep beneath the fortress, Damon could sense the flicker of something far older than the Sanctum itself.

Something sealed. All he knew was that compared to it, his power level was insignificant, once again alarming him to the grave dangers of the current situation he found himself in.

"Let’s go," Damon said, his voice steady.

The group descended toward the main entrance.

As they approached the grand gate, a dozen guards immediately stepped forward, weapons raised. Arcane sensors blinked from hovering crystal orbs above them, and more than one person leveled a formation cannon at Damon’s chest.

"Stop where you are!" a stern elf barked, dressed in polished white-blue armor laced with glowing glyphs.,"Identify yourselves!"

"We’re survivors!" Carlen called out, raising one hand and grimacing as his injured arm twinged. "Courier unit F-109! We were attacked during a supply run to the southern outpost!"

Another guard, a woman with a scanning crystal embedded into her gauntlet, stepped forward and waved her hand. Blue light passed over the four behind Damon, analyzing.

"Confirming biometric data... wounds match Abyssal-grade trauma. Registration signature: verified."

The guard nodded.

Then she turned her scanner to Damon.

Blue light passed over him.

Then flickered.

Flickered again.

And immediately went black.

"What the...?" she frowned and tried again, "Scan failed. Mana spectrum is unreadable, switching to identity spell."

Damon watched what they were doing curiously, interested in all the technology they were using. So many things had been lost to time in the Primordial Era, so he wondered if there was anything new he could find that hadn’t been reinvented in his own era.

She pulled out a glyph-engraved disk and activated it. The glyphs shimmered, then cracked.

The guard staggered back, "H-He’s not coming up on any registry. Is he from the DarkLands?"

The soldiers shifted nervously, as did the others when they heard of the place called the ’DarkLands’, clearly it was a touchy subject.

Damon didn’t flinch, "I arrived here less than a day ago. I’ve been fighting ever since."

The lead elf narrowed his gaze, "You expect us to believe that? That you, alone, managed to survive this long without backup? That’s either a lie or you’re something far worse than the Abyss."

The guards tightened formation.

And then, just as tension was about to snap, a calm, feminine voice cut through the air like moonlight.

"Let him in."

Everyone turned.

From behind the guards, a tall figure approached with regal steps.

It was an elven woman, with silver-gold hair. Her ears were longer than most elves, marking her as highborn, perhaps even royalty. She wore a cloak of soft sapphire lined with crystalline feathers, and her gaze... her gaze held the weight of centuries.

She didn’t look at the guards, she looked straight at Damon, and she smiled, a knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Mother!" Lira shouted, rushing forward, pain forgotten.

The woman opened her arms, catching Lira in a gentle embrace, one hand softly touching her back where blood still trickled.

"You’re safe," the woman whispered, her voice warm and low, "Thank the stars."

"I thought I’d never see you again," Lira cried. "If not for him,"

She turned back, gesturing at Damon. "He saved us. Again and again. Mother, he... he’s not like anyone I’ve ever seen."

The older elf finally turned to the guards.

"You will lower your weapons. This man is not your enemy."

The lead elf hesitated, "Lady Syllana, with all due respect, we, "

"That wasn’t a request." Her voice became iron.

The guards froze and eventually, one by one, they stepped back, lowering their weapons.

Lady Syllana walked toward Damon, stopping a meter before him. Her eyes met his, calm but curious.

"Come with me." She said, walking off, the gates of Bastion Sanctum beginning to open behind her, radiant light spilling out like dawn.

Damon didn’t move at first.

But then, slowly, he stepped forward, following Lady Syllana and the others as they entered the a bastion of civilization in this Abyss-ravaged hell.

Above them, the gates sealed shut once more, locking out the horrors of the wasteland... for now.

***

Damon stepped into a world that, while weathered, still held onto structure and order.

Stone streets etched with glowing runes stretched out before him. Mana-fueled lanterns floated in carefully mapped intervals.

Armored soldiers walked patrol routes, some human, some elf, others of races Damon couldn’t identify at a glance, leading him to believe they had gone extinct in his time, a grave thought.

The people moved like they were used to battle, quick-footed, watchful, worn, but they still lived.

There were children here. Mages constantly weaving barrier spells in public areas to maintain the outer shield strength, as monster attacks would come at night soon enough.

It was, against all odds, a city. A real one. Not a battlefield or a graveyard. And it made something in Damon’s chest twist, relief, maybe, or just a bitter reminder of what civilization looked like in the face of extinction.

"Follow me," Syllana said again, leading him away from the others.

Damon glanced back briefly. Revan, Mirra, Carlen, and Lira were already being ushered into a side courtyard by medical personnel. Lira cast one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the building.

He turned back and followed the highborn elf through winding paths, past sealed barracks, mana-reinforced towers, and healing quarters that looked overburdened. The closer they got to the Sanctum’s inner circle, the fewer people they passed.

Eventually, they reached a quiet hall, high-ceilinged and lined with arcane glass windows that shimmered with spatial distortion fields. It looked like a command center, or perhaps a war room, though no one else was present.

Syllana came to a stop at the end of the corridor, where a silver fountain trickled with enchanted water, clean, pure, impossibly rare.

She turned and finally faced Damon fully.

"For what it’s worth," she began softly, "thank you. You didn’t have to save them. But you did."

Damon remained silent for a moment, then shrugged, "Didn’t feel like watching four more people die."

Syllana smiled faintly,"A noble heart, buried beneath all that darkness and mystery."

Damon gave a dry laugh, "I don’t do noble. I do surviving."

"Then perhaps," Syllana said, voice dipping lower, "you’ll understand what I’m about to tell you."

Her gaze turned serious. The weight behind her eyes settled like pressure in the air.

"We’re dying," she said.

Damon blinked, "You mean this place?"

She nodded. "Bastion Sanctum is the last known stronghold for seven hundred kilometers in every direction. We house over fifty thousand civilians, along with soldiers, healers, artisans, and spiritual cultivators. But despite the formations, despite the supply runs... we’re running low. On everything."

Her voice didn’t tremble. But Damon could hear the strain behind it.

"Every day, the Abyss grows bolder. Stronger. Attacks are no longer monthly or weekly. They happen every day. Sometimes twice. We’ve lost three outer walls in the last six months. Our barrier cores are degrading faster than we can repair them. The Spirit Tree at the center of the city, once a source of spiritual defense, is withering."

She stepped closer to him.

"We’re holding on... but just barely."

Damon narrowed his eyes, "And you’re telling me this because?"

There was a pause.

Syllana’s gaze never wavered.

"Because a woman came to me three days ago," she said.

Damon tensed, sensing where this was going.

"She was strange. Not from here. She appeared within our deepest warded chamber as if the laws of the world bent around her. She wore silver robes with a crescent moon on her back and eyes like molten gold. And she told me..."

Syllana inhaled, then continued, "...that a helper would arrive. One born of flame and shadow. One touched by stars and raised by monsters. A boy who would become a sovereign. And that I was to offer him sanctuary."

Damon scoffed immediately, "Tch. Of course she did."

Syllana arched a brow, "You know her?"

"Unfortunately," Damon muttered, "Sounds like that Witch."

"Then you understand why I didn’t have you killed at the gates." She said.

"Fair enough."

"She told me to give you shelter for two days," Syllana said, turning back toward the fountain, her hands folded in front of her, "No more, no less."

"Two days?" Damon echoed. "That’s all?"

"She was very clear. She said your path lies elsewhere. That staying here too long would disrupt a convergence."

Damon rolled his eyes, "Of course she’d talk in riddles. She always does."

Syllana glanced back. "You must leave the Sanctum after that, but I won’t send you out blindly."

She pulled a folded map from the inner lining of her cloak, etched with ancient coordinates and leyline trails. She handed it to him.

"There’s another city," she said. "One far from here, across the Broken Sky Expanse. It’s known as Elarith Valis, the City of Forgotten Echoes. It’s more advanced than Bastion in some ways... but it’s also more isolated. We’ve lost contact with them for over a year."

She looked at him, something sharper in her voice now.

"If anyone can reach them, it’s you. And perhaps... there’s something there that ties to your fate."

Damon accepted the map and tucked it into his ring.

"Two days, huh," he murmured, "Guess I better make the most of it."

"You’ll be given a private chamber to rest and heal. I’ll arrange for spiritual nourishment, bath, and meditation crystals to be delivered to your quarters. My people owe you that much, at least."

Damon nodded slowly.

"And Damon," Syllana said before he could turn, "That woman... she said something else. Something that keeps ringing in my ears."

She met his eyes again.

"She said, ’He walks with death in his shadow, and yet, he will be the one to secure life in this place."

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