Trent Boehm
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Chapter 250 (marked for editing, going to bed & will do later)(this first bit is recycled, let me know if it doesn’t fit. Also of note, am not entirely sure the ‘temple of time’ arc will ever come back the way it was, but some of that material may be re-used)
🕑 Added 2024-03-05 08:04:17 +0000 UTCChapter 250 (this first bit is recycled, let me know if it doesn’t fit. Also of note, am not entirely sure the ‘temple of time’ arc will ever come back the way it was, but some of that material may be re-used)
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Nearly 300 Years Ago…
Sheline sat meditating upon an ocean of blood, her vampiric heritage roaring about her while her ancient, spunky grandmother - Nephridi - went on and on about how annoying her most recent suitors were.
The beautiful, pale vampire rolled her eyes - but a smirk still played at her lips. “Grandmother, can you just settle down and pick one already? You’re going to give yourself another headache. And that’s on top of the one you’re already giving me!”
Nephridi humphed, scowling down at the woman who would no doubt claim the throne to the Blood Moon Requiem when Nephridi handed the reins to a successor. Her long white robe flowed out around her, a stark contrast to the blood red and black dress her granddaughter had on, but their features and long brown hair that shifted like silk in the wind were one and the same. “Oh let an old woman gossip, will you!?”
The high queen laughed sitting down on their chosen cultivation spot and sending ripples across the otherwise perfectly smooth ocean beneath them. Flipping her hair over one shoulder and snorting at her granddaughter's expression, she raised a hand. “Fine! Fine. Let’s get on with the plan then. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be!” Sheline muttered under her breath, calming her beating heart and clasping her hands tightly around one another before closing her eyes.
She was still young and hadn’t fully grasped the concept of forcing her malignant prophecy to activate, but she could prod and poke at it until it did something. Whether or not it did what she wanted to was something else entirely, but Nephridi had faith in her and Sheline didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother.
Plus if anything happened, Sheline’s grandmother was strong enough that she’d be able to fix whatever it was that went wrong.
Sheline searched, tugging at the little filaments of soul particles that swirled around her constructing sin core - with each piece of sin having cost the royal family sums of money beyond imagination. The Sin of Wrath raged inside her, constantly screaming at her to get up and kill without reason or direction - but she’d already gotten used to the nagging sensation and was well on her way to clamping it down altogether.
That would likely change for the worse when the core finished though, and that was why they were doing it the safe way.
The world began to turn gray around her, and unlike the thin clouds overhead that stopped in their tracks amidst the shifting winds: Sheline found herself staring down at her body from a phantasmal form. She looked right to where her grandmother, also a holder of the gift, stared back at her - waving in the eerie gray.
A black door formed in front of her on the ocean of blood, and despite the time freeze - it slowly began to etch runs of gold into the black backdrop. The symbol of three dragons, each eating the next to form a circle, took form in front of her eyes.
The phantasmal figure of her grandmother came to stand beside her, one of only a handful of people across the cosmos that could enter Sherine’s malignant zone. She turned to look at her concentrating grandaughter, smiling in appreciation and approval while the three dragons began to spin faster, and faster, and faster.
“Have I ever told you the legend of the Temple of Three, dear granddaughter?” Nephridi asked with a slight cock of her head.
Sheline grunted while continuing to channel her sin energy into the door, manipulating it and simultaneously forcing malignant prophecy to activate outside the bounds of normalcy. “You know you haven’t grandmother. You always keep that information close to the chest. Why? Now that we’re finally here, you’re going to spill the secrets? Is that it?”
An amused chuckle followed that, and the high queen sagged her shoulders into a more relaxed posture while the golden circle of devouring dragons began to blur - sending sparks of mana across the black door as the barrier between their world and the abyss began to crack. “Well let me tell it to you now then. Once, in the age before this one, long before the cycle of nirvana had come to fruition to destroy the old and replace it with the new, three dragons were born. One was imbued with the power to manipulate the past, one was imbued with the power to manipulate the present, and one was imbued with the power to manipulate the future.”
There was a long pause as the high queen considered her words, and eventually her granddaughter gave another huff of irritation and glared up at the older woman. “Don’t just stop there! Tell me damn you! You’re doing that on purpose!”
“I would never!” High Queen Nephridi said, aghast at the accusation, but winked with another laugh and clasped her hands behind her back. “So the first of these dragons, that which could control the past, was named Steadfast. For steadfast was the nature of the past, it was set in stone outside the manipulations of this dragon and could not be changed otherwise. The second of these dragons, that which could control the present, was named Balance. For it would balance out the actions between past and present, and manipulations of the past needed to be controlled in order to not let the future run rampant with shifting possibilities. As time spreads out from the past and into the present, the possibilities begin to shift into a spiraling network of more and more futures. Which leads us to the dragon of the future - the last of these dragons. This dragon that could control the future, was named Malignancy… for it is the nature of the future to be malignant - to have an ever spiraling growth of possibilities. Each of the three dragons grew so powerful that they even surpassed the death of the old multiverse, and were birthed here into the new. But they were too weak to continue on their own, and their heritages were split amongst the most powerful of bloodlines that they deemed worthy.”
The golden cracks spreading out from the sigil of the three dragons began to break down, and the door now began to crumble - revealing a never ending sea of black behind its doorways that opened up into the resting place of the elder gods. The resting place of the birth of creation and chaos.
Sheline’s eyes widened at her grandmother’s words, and her gaze shifted through the world of gray to stare at the high queen with mouth ajar. A look of understanding crossed over her, and she slowly nodded. “I think… I think I’m beginning to understand.”
Nephridi chuckled. “Yes. Our bloodline, that of Malignant Prophecy, is that of the dragon of the future. One day, Sheline, your children will embark on a journey into the Abyss. And when that day comes, we need to have prepared keys for them to find. That of Past, and that of Present, and perhaps then - finally - after untold millenia - we will finally be able to claim the ultimate prize.”
Sheline’s eyes were like saucers now, and the rest of the door faded away as dust in the wind. “My… children?”
Her smile softened, and a blush overcame her. “What will I name them? Have you seen it? Who will the father be? To think myself a mother… it is insanity.”
“Telling you such things would only ruin the surprise and potentially change the timeline.” Nephridi replied with a ghostly pat on the shoulder. Then she turned to look at the approaching figure, and gestured for Sheline to get up. “We have a visitor. Come child, stand, and meet the Keeper.”
***
The green of the leaves here were turning into autumn colors, mixed with reds and oranges that crunched underfoot due to their passing. The change had been rather abrupt and had happened over the course of ten minutes, making Riven wonder if weather patterns like this would so sporadically change throughout the entire time living here for the next year.
“Cultivation isn’t something I’ve really understood much of whenever I do it.” Riven replied, walking alongside Athela through the forest while holding hands. The unholy tattoos along his body abruptly shifted when the third eye appeared again, focused on a point further into the woods, and then disappeared with Gluttony’s whisper calling out to him.
Riven chuckled underneath his Chalgathi hood, acknowledging the sin’s words with a nod in his full plate armor. “I’ve received visions of inspiration that I glean meaning from, usually in battle, but otherwise have not sat down to truly comprehend the meaning of what it is I am able to do. Nor have I spent time dwelling on where my path leads. Rather, my path has been one of forced brutality… action and reaction. It is a flaw I must correct, and having tried forging totems recently has shed light on my misgivings.”
Jackal looked up from where it trot behind them when Riven’s left free hand opened palm-up. A flash of light, and his most recent totem-in-the-making appeared to hover there. The Icosahedron had 20 triangular faces on the outer surface, each face holding a black or crimson rune, and was about 1 by 1 by 1 feet in dimensions with the outer skeleton being made of metal.
[Partially Constructed Totem of Bloodforged Rift Sparks: Status page is currently on standby. Soul Acquired, Affinity to Shadow Acquired, Sigils Acquired. Totem soul is currently absorbing the minor sigil of Black Lightning, and will reach comprehension sometime within the next hour. Unable to bind at this time.]
“Having created even this half-baked totem of mine, it made me realize that there’s a lot of the intricacies of my magics that I do by instinct rather than by knowledge.” Riven gave her a sideways smile and shrugged. “But it is good to identify my weaknesses now, rather than never.”
Athela eyed the creation with a raised eyebrow, licking her lips from the rather romantic picnic they’d just been on and still gushing while riding the coattails of the date he’d finally provided her. “I think you’ve come a long way in a short time concerning your totem making skills! But you definitely have a long way to go. I also agree that you could improve your performance with cultivating your power and upgrading the abilities you have by doing so, but so could I. From what mother says, cultivation is more important in the E-grade and beyond than it is in the F-grade. So now that you’re about to transcend into the E-grade, this is the perfect time to start thinking about such things. That’s actually why I brought it up. In order to break into the E-grade, you’re going to have to form a soul core lattice, or just ‘Lattice' is what most people call it. It is the key to transcending into the next state of being, and Gluttony will need to be incorporated into it from what my mother says because you two have a symbiotic relationship. You’re going to be stunted from growing past level 200 until you do so, and when you finally do create your lattice - leveling is going to rely a lot less heavily on just killing things, with a lot more emphasis on actual cultivation.”
She squeezed his hand encouragingly. “Anyways, I’m excited to see what your new totem can do when it finishes! Just an hour or less left!”
Riven glanced into the forest, through the falling leaves and into the shade of shrubbery and trees northwards of here - if north could still be judged by the way the sun was moving in the sky here. “I’m sure I’ll be able to use it by the time our fight rolls around with the monster wave. By the way, you never did show me your last martial art. The one you recently told me about. I’m thinking that maybe now would be a good time, wouldn’t you agree?”
There was a pause, and she began putting on her gear from a small spatial sack she’d been recently gifted. “If we’re going to do that, then I need to get appropriately dressed! Hold one moment!”
First came a pair of red boots, then red pants, a red vest, a black cloak with a red underside, and her black ruby-studded tiara.
[Tiara of Silent Killing (Blood / Shadow Trinket): After successfully killing a target without being noticed by anyone else, gain a charge of critical strike. Your next unseen attack has a 100% chance to be a 2x - 8x critical hit, with multiplied damage coming in the form of kinetic burst energy from the strike site. Requires a 26% or higher Blood or Shadow Pillar Affinity to wield, and the wearer must be female.]
All of them fit her perfectly and emphasized her more feminine qualities, with tiny sleeves in the cloak for her arms to go through and holes in the back that her arachnid limbs could also fit into.
She giggled at Riven’s simultaneously amused yet intrigued expression while she dressed, then held out her hands in front of her and slammed them into her chest. Drawing out two long katanas from her heart, completely made of red metal aside from parts of the redwood handles with intricate carvings of doves decorating the blades - the weapons began to whisper in ominous tones.
Spinning each of them around in a flurry of motion, she gave Riven an evil smile. “I’ve been practicing with these ever since I got them as a dungeon prize! Every time I visit mother!”
[The Twin Red Doves (Awakened Weapons, Dual-Wielding Set. Blood Artifacts. Twin Katanas.): 899 average damage on strike with each physical strike on flesh adding a guaranteed stack of the ‘Bleed’ debuff for damage over time. Hidden strikes that land before an opponent is aware cause additional guaranteed damage of +5%. If the strike is a critical hit, deal an additional x2 critical modifier. These items, when bound to a wielder, may be stored in the heart of the wielder and withdrawn at will. These items are nearly indestructible while the bound wielder is still alive. Requires a Blood Affinity of over 51% to wield.
Whispers of Agony: From time to time, these blades will whisper to you. The stronger your bond, the louder they whisper, and the louder they whisper, the more pain your strikes inflict regardless of damage.
The Red Tide: Unleash stamina, mana, or divinity into these blades via your Blood Sub-Pillar to charge ranged sweeping attacks in the form of a red crescent. Damage and range depends on the amount of energy infused.]
Riven smiled at how excited she was to show it all off, and he gave her a nod of approval and clapped with a laugh. “You look great, as always. Why don’t I see Azmoth wearing his antlers or belt? Does he not like them?”
Athela tossed one of the long red katanas up into the air in a spinning flick of the wrist, then caught the twirling blade effortlessly before giving Riven a side-eye. “Riven, you’re his first and only master. You’re also his friend. Unlike Fay and I, Azmoth also doesn’t have a family to go back to in the nether realms… Hellscape brutalisks are very solitary by nature, or at least they usually are. So your gifts to him have a very deep-set meaning, and he hoards them as sentimental treasures rather than risk breaking them.”
Riven didn’t know what to say to that, so instead he just put on a warm smile. “I’m glad he feels that way. But you should probably use that ability of yours and take him down before he leaves, we don’t know how long he’ll stay and I can only pinpoint the general direction through smell.”
Athela laughed and closed her eyes. Walking over and pushing his helmet back while wickedly grinning - she kissed Riven’s lips with both hands on either cheek. “Blood Art - Mark of the Hunted.”
The world around her abruptly changed to various shades of red, and further into the distance - a single hulking figure lit up along a ledge where it lay hidden and watching.
A naga.
The demoness growled as the mark targeted and highlighted her prey. The whispers of the red katanas in either hand grew into a storming howl. Her eyes grew to twice her normal size and her arachnid limbs tore out of her back as she screamed with a primal and frenzied glee - before tearing through the forest with blinding speed that caused trees she passed by to upend themselves with the current of air that followed her.
***
Grakzee stalked the vampire at a distance under the cover of thick plant life, trying to find an opening for a quick, lethal strike. Two of his skills allowed him to use piercing ranged attacks focused on critical energy if unseen, and he could often strike down enemies at a distance without ever being noticed because of it.
Water based abilities were, in his opinion, very underrated by the land dwellers.
The naga’s gills flared, and his sharp teeth bared themselves into a grin when the sky suddenly went red.
The air around him grew cold.
His heart began to thud in his chest.
And amidst it all, he saw two sets of red eyes turned in his direction, before a feral scream tore out of the demoness Athela - who was famous across Panu in her own right - before she tore through the forest like a tornado of vengeance.
“Oh no…”
Grakzee’s eyes went wide and he let out a shriek, only barely vaulting out of the way before Athela’s red blades tore into the ground with a double-handed slash that sent debris flying into the air.
Grakzee didn’t even have time to think, whirling and deflecting three follow up strikes that lashed out at him so fast he could barely even think. His arms acted in reflex, his water-based stamina surged, and within seconds he found himself in a fight for his life against one of the two world-boss enemies in this trial.
He’d somehow completely lost the element of surprise.
The ground tore apart and energetic exchanges of stamina infused strikes blasted into each other with resounding booms. He activated an agility buff and grew faster, lunging backwards and to the side over and over again while being hard pressed onto a retreat.
“WATER DANCER’S RAGE!” Grakzee screamed, his body blooming with swirling arcs of streaming water that acted as trailing blades behind the two spears he wielded - clashing them against the red katanas of the cackling she-demon.
He dodged, rolled, and exploded into a cloud of mist before rematerializing only to find her upon him in an instant with a flurry of jabs, slashes and cuts that made him curse under his breath. Gragzee was no pushover, he was a paragon rank himself at number 960 on the power ladder, but this demoness was incredibly agile even when compared to him.
With a roar he sent out illusionary bodies made of water to match his own, narrowly dogging a spray of red needles that came by the thousands over the course of a single second - with the cloud of red needles leveling dozens of trees in an instant explosion of shrapnel-like wood while the demoness giggled and lunged for his throat.
“HAVE YOU COME TO PLAY!?” Athela screeched with wide-eyed glee, turning into a puddle of blood to avoid one of Grakzee’s counter swipes only to appear on his other side - crashing the sharm end of one blade through his left elbow.
The limb spun off, and Grakzee screamed in outrage and pain before he exploded yet again in a spray of mist - reforming his arm a second later while heaving and huffing twenty yards away.
His reptilian eyes narrowed when the demoness turned to look at him with a scowl, and his heartbeat thumped in his chest when he heard the sound of leaves cracking underneath feet directly behind him.
He turned to-
*BOOM*
The ground shook, and Grakzee’s dual-spears collided with a black halberd flowing with blood. The naga felt bones in his arms snap under the strain, and he began to panic as he tried to think of a way out.
Grakzee was an assassin, not a duelist. Not a fighter or a tank. With the loss of surprise he was as good as dead if he didn’t make it out of here soon. He needed to get out, he needed to get away, and he needed to do it now.
Comments
A B
runs of gold -> runes
James Faulkner
Tftc!
