Prince of The Abyss

Was that... right?

The person he hated, was it really himself?

All this time...

Was it not Denial, was it not Anger, was it not the waterfall? Was it not Lilith...

Was it really just... himself?

Kael finished his cup of tea, letting Aether process everything. After all, there was a lot to think about.

After all... it was something to rethink his every decision that was to come.

"Take a walk, then come back to me, well, that is if you still want to continue with your path."

...

...

Aether stepped outside without answering.

The door closed behind him with a soft sound, far quieter than he felt inside.

The evening air was cool, carrying the smell of wet stone and fading sunlight. The sky had turned a deep orange near the horizon, bleeding slowly into violet above. Clouds drifted lazily, unaware of storms, illusions, or gods.

He walked.

At first, without direction.

Each step echoed strangely in his chest, as if his body remembered motion better than his mind did. His hands were still trembling slightly. Not from cold. Not from exhaustion.

From recognition.

Myself...

The word clung to him.

He had blamed Denial for blinding him. Anger for trying to break him. The waterfall for trapping him. Lilith for killing his friends.

But through all of it, there had been one constant.

Him.

He stopped near the edge of the path, where the stone gave way to grass and earth. Below, the sea stretched endlessly, calm now, reflecting the dying light like a mirror that refused to distort anything.

No illusion here.

He clenched his fists.

How many times had he thought he was too weak? Too slow. Too late.

How many times had he replayed moments in his head, imagining what he should have done differently? What he should have been.

Not anger at the world.

Not anger at fate.

Anger at the boy who survived when others did not.

At the one who hesitated.

At the one who kept moving forward anyway. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

His breath hitched.

In the storm, he had stood at the center and commanded it. Not because he trusted the ship. Not because he trusted the sea.

But because Anger had tried to make him relive another moment where he failed to help his people. This time, he had been able to do so.

Yet at the same time, it only made him think if he could have done something differently.

Aether sank down onto the grass, sitting heavily. The ground was cold through his clothes, grounding him in a way the illusion never had.

He pressed a hand to his chest.

It was still beating. Steady. Real.

If his enemy had been external, he could have fought it. Cut it. Outsmarted it.

But how do you escape yourself?

...

...

He was tired.

Everything in Demon of Dread has been attacking his mind.

All of it was targeting one moment.

The fall of the Rebellion.

It was what every last one of his misfortuned orientat around.

But what was he supposed to do?

He accepted that they had died because of...

him.

So why couldn’t he just forget it and move on? Did he really hate himself? He didn’t know. Was his anger really oriented towards him? And not others.

Emotions are so complicated sometimes that you don’t understand what they mean.

He put his hand on his head, and he looked in front of him.

Where a black figure stood in front of him, without a face, but if he had to give it one, it probably would have a giant grin on its face, looking down on him. It wasn’t hiding anymore.

It slowly moved towards him, like the grim reaper himself had come to take his life.

But it did feel like it.

...

...

...

’The day of the Fall.

If I hadn’t gone to the war camp and killed everyone... if I weren’t cocky and thought that I could do anything I wanted. If I had been stronger, if I had been more skilled, faster, smarter.

If I didn’t speed things up and made making the others stronger my priority.

...

If I hadn’t started the rebellion, they would all be alive...

...

I...

If I get strong I can avenge them.

If I get strong, I can finish their goals.

If I get stronger I can finish the rebellion for all of us.

If I get stonger, this wouldn’t have happened.

...

Maybe if I get strong, I can find a way to get them back.

...

So, for what reason do I hate myself? For what reason do I harbor these feelings against myself?"

Aether lifted his head, seeing that he was in a dark room, with many other versions of himself surrounding him.

Their voices all accuse him.

"Its your fault, you brat!

You don’t deserve to live when they didn’t survive.

Maybe if you just let Lilith kill you, he would have spared them.

If you weren’t a cocky bastard who only thought of his own needs, they would still be alive, and here with you."

Their laughter and words hit him, yet.

All the hate that had been bottled up inside his body until now was all drawn upon himself.

...

Yet he stood up.

"I know.

I know better than all of you.

I know it’s only my fault.

I know all the endings that could have happened.

I know I deserve this..."

...

"But I also know this is useless." He raised his head, facing the other versions of him, his eyes glowing from a light that had appeared deep inside of him, as a tear stood trapped, ready to fall on his cheek any moment.

All the others disappeared, leaving only him and a black figure that he had been staring specifically at before.

"I can’t change the past.

I can’t just erase my failures.

I can’t hide my weakness.

...

But what I can do is deal with the consequences and try to do something about the future."

He gripped his chest.

"If I grow stronger, maybe there will be a way to get them back, or if not, then I can avenge them, let them rest."

...

"If I just stand here and constantly relive the same memory over and over again, pointing fingers at myself, it won’t help with anything."

He let go slowly, looking at the ground.

"I’m not saying that I’m not guilty, and neither am I running away from the aftermath I created. It’s just that if I never try to do something about it. I won’t ever be free, and neither will they."

...

"So what’s the point?"

Voidpiercer slipped in his hand, right back in the place it deserved to be.

...

Looking at the blade, the memories from the ship came back to him: the storm, the people.

It had failed him; it had not been able to get him out of that place and made him get out himself, which had been really tiring.

But what fault did it have? After all, it didn’t make him put all his trust in it; it wasn’t the one to make the illusion, and it wasn’t the one to decide that it wouldn’t break the illusion.

So what stupid reason did he have for not using it? If he really wanted something like that to happen, he should get his mind in the right place, not to punish his blade... one of his only companions that has stuck with him.

He chuckled, moving closer to Anger.

His steps were slow and calm, not rushing, after all, what has running ever gotten him?

Stopping right in front of Anger, he looked into its face with a soft smile.

"It’s... funny to think that you aren’t some evil monster... but rather just myself, a part of me. So... what reason do I have to hate you? It was never your choice to do this... I was the one who gave you that role..."

Raising Voidpiercer and pointing the tip towards the figure’s chest.

When thinking of how he had killed Denial... he realized just how ruthless he had been.

And yet now...

He pushed the blade into the being’s chest. Just where the human heart would have been.

...

Denial was something you can’t beat out of the blue; it’s something that follows you until you slowly start running out of excuses, and it slowly blooms into anger.

...

But Anger is the opposite, its not something that can be let out gradually, as much as you try to slowly relieve it... It would just bottle up and continue to do so. Until you can’t anymore, and it bursts out... only then can you beat it, in the moment where the glass spills.

He glanced at the blade, seeing how white blood flowed out, painting the black blade with its color, as it slowly dripped on the floor.

Then he looked back at the figure’s face.

...

And smiled.

...

...

[You have killed a Reader Devil, Anger.]

...

...

...

’And yet there is one more thing to do.’

He said...

Looking at the dojo.