Exitus raised the skull high. The black flame flickering within now glimmered faintly, like a candle in the wind. He gathered all the strength he had and slammed the skull down onto the hard stone floor.
"Boom."
The instant the sound of shattering rang out, what Exitus had hoped for became reality. The book responded, a new page was formed.
Skeleton Warrior
Race: Undead Human Skeleton
Characteristics: What remains of human warriors, retaining a portion of the strength and Ability they possessed in life. Black flames flicker within their eye sockets. Their battle instincts remain intact. At first, they were nothing more than cheap magical tools, soulless puppets under control. Madenes granted them a new sense of self, a new form of existence. The souls of living beings they killed became nourishment that sustained them. Once a certain threshold was reached, intelligence would return to them once more.
Now that Madenes is dead, The Abstract One still acknowledges them as a new species, one that can appear naturally.
Weakness: Before absorbing enough souls, they are foolish and attack any living being within sight.
Strength: Excluding special individuals with Ability, their strength is equivalent to a human Warrior.
"The creator of this summoning spell was truly a clown. These skeletons move slowly and serve little purpose beyond cannon fodder. I will inherit it and elevate it to a far higher level, into a new creature, countless times stronger and more terrifying." Madenes.
Ability of the page: Skeleton Guard
Skeleton Guard: Summon your loyal guard. If it is destroyed, The nightmare will restore it after one day.
Skeleton Guard strength equivalent to a Fighter. No special Ability. Collect ten living souls to evolve (0 out of 10)
"Wonderful! It's a combat Ability and it does not even consume energy."
Exitus rejoiced inwardly. At last, he possessed an Ability capable of protecting himself. But his smile quickly faded. Matta, drooling heavily, stared at him with greedy hunger. It lunged at the boy, opening its foul mouth to devour him whole.
“Well! What a perfect time to wake up.” Exitus calmly watched the ferocious beast charging straight at him. His consciousness linked with the book, causing the black vortex upon it to spin violently. Dense black Nightmare energy spread outward, enveloping the young boy like a thick, suffocating mist.
“Now take me away from here.”
Matta refused to give up. It bit and tore at the mist, but it was already too late. Exitus vanished without a trace, as if he had never existed there at all.
“Damn it! I almost died.” Exitus awakened within the familiar scenery of Allblack. The image of Matta’s blood soaked jaws still haunted him. Just a little slower, and his head would have been smashed like a watermelon. He was lucky. He had brushed past death by a hair’s breadth.
“That damned monster. I swear that one day I will return and crush you.”
Exitus swore an oath. He was also curious about the power that could be gained by killing a monster with strength on the level of a Warlord. This time, he had been fortunate, but he blamed himself for the foolish arrogance of entering the Abyss with such weak strength. Next time, at the very least, he would need to reach the level of Fighter. His eyelids grew heavy. After days of struggle within the Abyss, he needed rest.
“There is no mana here to cultivate. I must find a way to leave as soon as possible.”
Another day passed in Allblack. Cold corpses were dragged away, while the surviving prisoners continued their meaningless labor. The boy simply sat in his cell, doing nothing, his eyes half closed as if contemplating something distant. From time to time, his gaze swept over the writhing madmen. Within those eyes lay a cold void, a silent cruelty stripped of all compassion.
Nashor felt perplexed as he observed the boy. When stronger slaves replaced him in the digging, he merely sat there quietly, watching his surroundings.
"What is he plotting." The officer wondered, then clicked his tongue. Whatever the scheme, it would be crushed before absolute strength. Even weakened, he was still a Warlord. An ordinary boy could not stir any real waves. Still, to be safe, he decided to investigate personally.
“Why not honestly share your little secret so neither of us wastes time,” he said, sitting down beside Exitus, snatching the piece of bread from his hand and muttering.
“Hmph. Eating this garbage and you still look so healthy, kid. Enesur must have blessed you. Your resistance is truly monstrous.”
Exitus stared at the officer for a moment, then snatched the bread back.
“That is the result of their day long labor.” he said, pointing toward the emaciated slaves. “It is their hope to keep living.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Labor for what exactly. Every soul in Allblack ends the same way, kid. Have you ever wondered what they are digging for. Just soil. Just dust. No gold, no metal, no mana stones. Nothing at all.” Nashor revealed a dark secret.
“They work until both body and mind fall into despair. When they reach that point, they become food for Cerberus. They turn into fertilizer in the truest sense. From that filth, we extract Black Ash, an indispensable material for crafting the magical explosive Dark Despair, powerful enough to blow even a mighty Warlord to pieces.”
“I see. Then everything is clear.” Exitus showed no surprise.
“You are not shocked, kid. You already guessed it.”
“More or less,” Exitus replied.
“Now it is your turn, kid. As friends, why do we not share secrets with each other.” Nashor sneered. Truthfully, he admired Exitus. At that age, he himself had been a pampered child, crying over scraped knees.
“In truth, there is no escape at all, sir.” Exitus said calmly.
Nashor sighed and sat in silence.
“You do not seem very surprised either, sir.”
“I know. I thought you would tell me later, so I could deceive myself for another seven pleasant days. Now how am I supposed to lie to myself anymore.”
“Sir, words are like a refined meal. No matter how perfect, they always carry a trace of deception, a hidden flavor. We should not place too much trust in words. But there is something I noticed in your eyes the last time we met. They were exactly the same as the eyes of hatred I once had when I looked at the Golden soldier who killed my mother.”
“You say all that, which means you already have an idea, do you not, kid.” Nashor smiled faintly.
“I just thought of it, sir,” Exitus replied.
“Tell me.”
"Some appear normal, yet are utterly hopeless inside. Some look insane, yet burn with the will to survive. For the sake of life, they are willing to do anything. You said Cerberus only eats those who die in despair.”
“That is correct. Despair that radiates from them nourishes Cerberus.”
“What if it eats someone filled with faith and hope, containing pure positive energy.”
“That would be no different from poison to it,” Nashor murmured. It was a clever idea. Perhaps he should try it. After all, there was nothing left to lose. But then he quickly frowned and rubbed his forehead.
“But how the hell do we find such a person in this hell.”
“An ordinary person cannot. But a fanatic can.” Exitus glanced toward a distant cell across the corridor, where a filthy, mad old man clasped his hands into the shape of an eight, the symbol of infinity. A fanatic. Mad, yet devout.
“A madman. That disgusting thing. His cell stinks so badly no one dares approach. Even I pretend he does not exist,” Nashor asked doubtfully.
“Faith can grant people immense hope, especially here. Hope shines brightest in deranged minds,” Exitus said calmly.
“Enesur has abandoned us. Enesur has abandoned us. Does the Lord no longer need me, my God. I, your lowly servant, have never lost my faith. Oh great Enesur, please show me the path out of this prison.”
Madmen trembled in the corner of his cell. His body was covered in sores and filth, his voice muttering deranged prayers. He was already too weak to labor. Before long, his faith would fade and he would die in despair. Only pure will had kept him alive until now. The cellmate who doubted his faith had already died, sent to hell by Madmen’s own hands. But he would never forget him. His friend would live on forever in his stomach.
Nashor entered Madmen’s cell, clad in full armor, his expression solemn, forcing himself to appear respectful despite the overpowering stench. He managed a friendly smile and spoke loudly.
“Madmen! You have passed the trial. I, Nashor, Warden of Allblack, am honored to walk with you through this suffering. Now your moment has come. Enesur is proud of you. It is time to cast off your mortal shell and ascend as a saint, to stand by His side.”
Each word struck the fanatic like thunder. He burst into tears and mad laughter, dropping to his knees on rotting legs, screaming toward the heavens.
“Praise Enesur! I knew it. He would never abandon us. I never lost my faith, never deceived Him, never showed disrespect. It is finally over. I will return to His embrace.”
Madmen believed. Of course he believed. He had to believe. His eyes shone once more, suffering dispersing like a passing breeze.
“Come. Free me from this flesh, and I shall return to Him.”
Even in death, Madmen smiled. His eyes were wide open, as if gazing beyond the prison, toward an endless blue sky.
“This is rather extreme. Deceiving a madman makes me feel uneasy,” Nashor muttered sarcastically.
“This is hell, sir. We are devils crawling out of it. Sometimes extreme choices are necessary,” Exitus replied firmly.
“One who dies in faith and hope,” Nashor whispered.
“This is the power of words. Words can turn a man into a saint, or turn a saint into a monster,” Exitus said.
“You know more than your age suggests, kid,” Nashor said quietly.
“Strange, is it not, sir. There are things I simply know,” Exitus replied.
“Let us hope this plan works, that his faith is strong enough to at least choke that damned dog to death.”
Cerberus lay before the massive gate leading into the great hall. As usual, soldiers carried the food sacks and dumped them nearby. The dog did not eat immediately. It looked at the soldiers like small toys, considering whether to play first.
“Hurry. Close the barrier.” The old guard shouted. He had seen comrades tossed around like balls until their bodies were smashed to pulp. Experience told him the beast was in a playful mood.
The two legged creatures fled in haste. Not fun at all. The three headed dog advanced and devoured all the sacks. Of its three heads, only the central one was permitted to eat. The other two were subordinate. They fed only when allowed, or when the prey was too large to swallow whole.
“Did it eat?” Exitus whispered.
“It did. But nothing has happened yet. Wait and see.”
Suddenly, Cerberus howled in agony. All three heads vomited thick, dark red blood. It wheezed, trying to breathe fire, but only black smoke poured from its mouths.
“I did not expect such a strong reaction,” Nashor said in surprise. For a moment, he thought Madmen was not so bad after all.
“Can you defeat it?” Exitus asked.
“Probably! Right now it cannot use its Ability. Without that, it is just a big dog.” Nashor sneered coldly. The ring on his hand flashed, and a silver sword appeared.
“That blade looks familiar.”
“This is Silver Fang. Long ago, my family hunted a strange monster. It resembled Ratta, but was far stronger. My grandfather was gravely wounded, and half the legion perished before it was slain. From its two fangs, he forged this weapon and named it Silver Fang, which also became the name of our clan.”
“Today, I, Nashor, successor chieftain of SilverFang, will slay this damned dog.”
The iron gate opened once more. Nashor charged bravely toward the beast. While it was distracted, he severed its Achilles tendon with a single strike. The monster stumbled, slipping in its own blood, howling in rage. The three heads tried to breathe fire, but only black smoke emerged. Forced into close combat, it attacked physically. Jaws like blood filled basins snapped forward, but Nashor dodged with fluid grace, cutting through the remaining tendons.
Cerberus collapsed, helpless. Blow after blow rained down upon the three headed dog from the powerful Warlord. One by one, its heads were severed from its body.
“This Cerberus is far more pathetic than what the books describe,” Nashor said, laughing in triumph.
“Partly because it was imprisoned, and partly because you are too strong, sir,” Exitus flattered.
“That is enough. Let us go before the next supply arrives,” Nashor urged, eager to leave this hellish place.
“What about the slaves,” Exitus asked, glancing back.
“Release all of them. Let them scatter on their own,” Nashor replied without hesitation. Of course, it was not pure mercy. Releasing them all served a purpose.
“Ah, sir,” Exitus added, “I think we should not release those awaiting execution. Allow me to deal with that little nuisance for you.”
“Words have power, words are power, words could be your power. Your mouth can spit venom or it can mend a broken soul” MOHAMMED QAHTANI