Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 313: The Price of Failure

Back in time to the moment when the oxidized bronze glow from the construct’s jagged back spikes burned into Nalzerak’s body, pulsing and holding it in place. The energy coursed through him, tearing him apart from the inside like roots made of metal. His limbs spasmed, his movements jerking as if his body fought to remain whole.

Even in this desperate moment, Nalzerak’s mind remained sharp, calculating. His glowing emerald eyes darted toward Lassim, the mortal who was to become his undoing.

The halberd coming towards him glinted with violet and azure hues as Lassim raised it high, preparing the final blow. Nalzerak’s twisted grin was still there, though his body sagged helplessly against the construct’s spikes.

Was it fear? No. It wasn’t fear that gripped Nalzerak. Frustration, yes. Fury, certainly. But fear? He had long since traded such mortal weaknesses for the unyielding resolve granted by the Abyss when his planet and race, the Kharthi, were absorbed into the Abyssal universe.

His emerald gaze lingered on Lassim’s weapon, observing the spiraling vortex of mana coalescing around its blade. The embedded lightning fish sprites made of intent darted within the mana freely, their predatory focus and desire for bloodlust practically singing in the assassin’s mind.

"Remarkable," he thought bitterly to himself. The mortal’s fusion of this universe’s answer to the Abyss’ onslaught, the elements, lightning, water, and void mana was new and different from anything he had encountered before from denizens of this universe on previous trips of slaughter. It was remarkable that this mortal had more than a single element, and had even further combined them into this raw, primal, and unpredictable state. He was still clearly a newborn, the demon able to see the age of his soul and that made the situation even more unbelievable.

Nalzerak’s mind raced as memories of the fight played out. The toy they’d made using a weak piece of Auracite, too, had exceeded all expectations. Its oxidized bronze [Devour]ing intent that it created after his target gave it that boost, and its predatory instincts allowed it to adapt to his own [Mirage] camouflage technique. Together, they had cornered him, stripped him of his advantage and impaled him in this humiliating position.

It had been centuries since Nalzerak felt this helpless. Only back in the days as a weakling before the Abyss came did he ever recall feeling this way. The reputation he built slowly as one of the most efficient killers in the General of Rage’s army was shattered in this remote, insignificant battlefield.

"And for what?" he thought, his jagged grin widening despite the agony ripping through him. "For a mortal whose name I never learned… Yet a mortal whose soul burns brighter than any Prince of the Abyss I’ve encountered…"

His mind swirled with contradictions. Part of him despised Lassim, the insect who looked to be on track to defy the Abyss, unlike his own world. Another part respected the sheer audacity of it. This mortal, barely a speck in the grand schemes of the Abyss, had displayed potential so vast, so boundless, it was almost laughable.

"You’ve delayed the inevitable," Nalzerak rasped, forcing his voice to carry over the battlefield. His claws twitched weakly, a futile attempt to move. "The General of Rage that tasked me with your death will send more. You’ve been taken notice of, and my death shall increase your importance further. His wrath will descend upon you, and all who—"

The halberd descended.

Pain erupted, followed by silence. His severed head tumbled to the ground, its emerald glow fading as his body dissolved into a grotesque mixture of abyssal sludge and ash.

His consciousness lingered, suspended in the void, watching the world grow distant as the Abyssal Will from the Abyssal Universe reached out to reclaim its citizen.

The pull was immediate and violent. Nalzerak’s fractured soul tore free from the mortal plane of the Nexarian universe, dragged by unseen hands back toward the Abyss.

The journey was agonizing, the void between worlds lashing at him with primordial fury. Waves of raw energy battered his essence, splintering it further. The howls of other lost souls reached his ears as he moved closer to his homeland, their cries a symphony of despair.

Time warped, stretching endlessly, until all that remained was pain and a flicker of awareness.

When the torment finally ceased, Nalzerak found himself suspended in the River of Souls, an endless current of green and black that twisted and churned through the heart of the Abyss.

Around him, countless other souls drifted, their shapes grotesque and malformed. Their wails rose and fell, merging with the cacophony of the river itself.

Before Nalzerak could gather his thoughts and head towards the river’s destination, a blazing hand appeared out of thin air and pierced the river. Its molten fingers curled around his essence, the heat searing into his very core.

His energy form screamed—a soundless cry that reverberated through the river as the hand yanked him free and slammed him into a new body.

Pain radiated from every inch of his form as he realized where he was. Chains bound his wrists and ankles, anchoring him to an obsidian pillar in a chamber of molten rock and flame. His borrowed body—a twisted, imp-like creature—trembled under the oppressive heat that surrounded him.

The General of Rage stood before him, the familiar towering figure of molten metal and raw power. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he loomed over Nalzerak, his presence suffocating.

"You failed," the General rumbled, his voice echoing like the grinding of tectonic plates.

Nalzerak coughed, his new body weak and unresponsive. "The mortal…" he began, his voice hoarse.

"Silence," the General snapped, a molten hand rising from the ground and striking Nalzerak across the face. The imp’s head snapped to the side, and the chains rattled violently. "You will speak when I command it."

The General stepped closer, radiating an unbearable heat. "Explain yourself," he growled. "How did you, my most capable assassin, fail to kill a single mortal from that weak universe?"

Nalzerak’s emerald eyes glinted with defiance, knowing what was to come of his future. "The mortal is no ordinary being," he said. "His soul… Even the Princes of the Abys—"

The General’s fiery eyes flared as he interrupted, "YOU DARE compare this mortal to the Princes?!" he snarled. His actual molten hand shot forward this time, gripping Nalzerak’s throat. The heat scorched his flesh, and the imp screamed, his body writhing against the chains.

"HAHAHA!!!" Nalzerak rasped, his voice strained. "WITH MY [Soul Vision]! YOU’LL NEVER KNOW HIS POTENTIAL!!!"

The General tightened his grip, the molten heat intensifying. "You speak of blasphemy," he growled. "A mortal surpassing the Princes is impossible."

Nalzerak’s laughter bubbled through the pain. "Believe what you will, my lord, HAHAHA!" he said, coughing and laughing as his parched throat lacked all saliva to really even get the words out.

The General’s fury erupted. Flames engulfed Nalzerak’s imp body, consuming him entirely. His screams echoed through the chamber before falling silent as his form crumbled to ash.

But the torment was not over.

The General’s burning gaze turned to the sickly green pool at the center of the chamber. With a flick of his hand, he sent Nalzerak’s soul hurtling toward it.

The pool’s surface writhed with countless larvae, their malformed bodies snapping and wriggling. Nalzerak’s soul struck the pool, and the transformation was immediate. His essence twisted and contorted, reshaping into a grotesque larva.

The other larvae descended upon him, tearing into his new form with gnashing jaws. Each bite was agony, yet his soul reformed, only to be devoured again. The cycle continued again, an endless torment that left no room for respite.

The General watched with grim satisfaction, his molten form glowing brighter as he observed the pool. The larvae’s feeding frenzy was a fitting punishment and a promise he made for Nalzerak’s failure.

Footsteps approaching from the far end of the chamber drew his attention. A familiar presence, one of his Captains, entered the chamber.

Like the General, the Captain was of the same Rocthrae lineage and a distant cousin several times removed, his molten features similar but less imposing. His armor, carved with jagged runes of flame, radiated a dull heat that rippled the air around him. Streams of molten metal coursed along the cracks in his skin, casting flickering shadows across his sharp, angular face.

The Captain dropped to one knee as he approached, his molten hand thumping against his chest in a salute. "My General," he began, his voice deep and steady, like the rumble of magma shifting beneath the earth. "News from the Sylbani Universe. Our forces have achieved success in the last assault. Their universe’s laws begin to crumble. Only three gods remain, and they are fleeing their thrones to seek safety from our advance."

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The General’s smoldering eyes narrowed slightly, his molten features twisting into a cruel smile. "Excellent," he rumbled, the heat around him intensifying briefly. "The Sylbani Gods were certainly stubborn, but in the end, they fall as all do. Their gods, like their followers, will kneel to the Abyss or be consumed."

The Captain’s head dipped lower, the molten lines on his face glowing faintly brighter as he awaited his superior’s response.

The General of Rage stepped away from the pool of larvae, his heavy footsteps sending ripples through the molten ground. He considered the implications of the Sylbani Universe’s fall. Each victory added strength to the Abyss, and the absorption of a universe’s laws strengthened its generals, captains, and soldiers alike.

"Speak, Captain," the General said, "Where do they flee? Into other universes for us to chase?"

The Captain hesitated for the briefest moment before replying. "Their trajectory suggests they seek to escape to nearby dimensional fractures. They aim to evade us long enough to establish a foothold in a neighboring system. But our forces grow closer to consuming their universe entirely. With it, their efforts will be meaningless, as usual."

The General let out a low, resonating laugh, a sound that shook the chamber. "So predictable. Only those gods from the source universe and their pesky parasite infested mortal weapons were able to escape. It’s always the same. The gods are bound by desperation when their domains crumble beneath their feet. They will scatter like embers on the wind, but the Abyss will extinguish them all the same."

As the Captain rose to his full height, his molten features glinted with faint curiosity. "Shall we dispatch our hunter unit to pursue them now?"

The General waved a dismissive hand, the motion causing waves of heat to ripple through the air. "No. Let them run. The Sylbani Universe is all but broken. We will crush their last vestiges of hope and feed upon their despair when the time is right. For that, I will lead the hunt myself in the coming weeks."

His molten eyes drifted back to the pool, where Nalzerak’s tormented soul continued its endless cycle of consumption and regeneration. The sight brought a dark satisfaction to the General’s thoughts, though the imp’s final words still lingered faintly in the back of his mind.

He turned his attention back to his Captain. "Captain," he said, his voice dipping lower, like the growl of an impending volcanic eruption. "This failure spoke of his potential—You heard, yes? Claimed it to surpass even that of a Prince. What do you make of such nonsense?"

The Captain’s molten features twisted into a faint sneer, his molten eyes flickering with disdain. "The ravings of a broken servant, my General. The Abyss has devoured countless mortals with ’potential.’ The parasite infested mortal will fall too, as they all do."

The General nodded, his expression unreadable. Though he dismissed Nalzerak’s words, a faint ember of curiosity sparked within him. Mortals often grew bold and defiant, but rarely did they rise to the attention of a General. That a mere Spirit Ascension stage cultivator from the Nexarian Universe had struck down one of his favored assassins—was an anomaly.

Still, anomalies were no match for inevitability. The Abyss consumed all.

"The imp’s failure amuses me more than it troubles me," the General said finally, "Let the parasite grow further. Let him think he has defied us. When the Sylbani Universe is absorbed and the laws of their realm empower the Abyss, I will see to his annihilation with my empowered hunters. With the additional strength of yet another universe’s power, we shall claim a base within Nexaria finally."

The Captain inclined his head, his molten features expressionless but his posture taut with respect.

The General’s gaze turned outward, as though peering through the fabric of dimensions to the edges of the Sylbani Universe. He imagined the crumbling domains of its gods, the shattered landscapes of its dying worlds. The Abyss would soon devour it all, and with it, the Dragal’s generals and Abyssal Legion would grow stronger.

A faint smile curled at the edges of his molten visage. "Order our forces to focus on claiming the remaining worlds," he commanded. "Let their universe break beneath our might. Once I take the Sylbani Gods, we will turn our attention to the next conquest. We still have thousands of universes left to claim."

The Captain saluted, the gesture causing a faint hiss as molten lines in his armor clashed with the air. "As you command, my General."

With a final glance at the tormented pool, the General of Rage turned away, his thoughts no longer on the mortal but on the glory awaiting the Abyss.

Another universe consumed.

Another triumph for the Dragal.

And with each victory, the Abyss grew closer to its ultimate purpose—consuming all.

For now, Lassim and his rise were insignificant, a flicker of light swallowed by the ever-encroaching darkness. The Abyss was patient, and its hunger was infinite.