Chapter 164

The Soulmaker (II)

Limbo was the land of the unknown, a mystique unto itself; beyond the mists lied aplenty yet little, and beyond the spear-tipped mountains and scarlet-blazed lakes awaited many things, yet only few ever dared venture forth. Cain was not among them; an infuse of Mana that burned through him thanks to his new ‘friend’ had given him wings, feathery and golden, and the freedom to use his newly-created Skills with free abandon.

Ripping open the cord of spacetime afforded him a view that very few will ever get to see -- that of the quasi-dimensional space. If Limbo was the in-between ‘plane’, then the harrowing darkness alight with a few, distant specks was the bridge from and to. It was suffocating, trekking through the billowing darkness and cold so frigid it froze the blood in his veins; every few moments, he’d have to dip back out into a full-realized-dimension just to stay alive.

He never bothered understanding it -- as he knew he had no means to. Countless discussions would be had over the changing and shifting nature of the universe that the people would discover through the Towers, but he hardly picked up anything from any of them; to him, this place was a tunnel, Limbo was a rest-stop, and everything else, similarly, had its own, one-dimensional purpose.

Furthermore, he had no mind to pay attention to anything else but the devouring goal in his mind -- arrive to the Underworld in time. The boon that Adeena afforded him would last precisely until he entered the Underworld -- it was on him, however, as to how quickly he would arrive there.

Regret and fear was swelling inside his soul, and the tentative guilt over the repetitive thought that emerged -- As long as Emma is fine...

He bit his lip until it bled, swallowing back the frustration in the shape of the mouthful of bloodied saliva. Digging in and out of the darkness and the misted shores of gray was tiring; he, as he was, should not be doing this. Rather, his body was not made to endure what was essentially dimensional travel. To his knowledge, people only obtain the ability to endure the travel following the Second Awakening. Yet, here he was, with little outside assistance. It was beginning to show, however -- the cracks and chinks not on his armor but on his body, spreading like rapidly-mutating tumors.

“Fly~~hehe~~” a voice he’d almost forgotten suddenly surged as Cain felt something shuffle from within his vest, propping its tiny head out at the top and gleefully looking about. “Uwaaa, Thief!! What hells you wrapped yourself into?! He hehe! You must have been lost without Te’gha! He he~~!”

“Te? What the hell?! You’re alive?” Cain exclaimed in surprise.

“W-what?! Of course Te’gha is alive!! Silly Thief! Dumb Thief! How dare you kill Te’gha off?! Te’gha will scratch you!!” Cain rolled his eyes at the cat’s feeble attempts to wound him. “Uggh!! Where are you going?”

“The Underworld.” Cain replied.

“Oh? Setting aside the question of why, Te’gha must say -- no, no you are not.”

“Huh?”

“Underworld is that way.” Te ripped one of its legs from Cain’s vest and pointed eastward from their current position. However, as they were in the ‘quasi-dimensional’ space of darkness and nothing else... it looked the same as everywhere else.

“No... the Mana string of Death I feel is coming from over there.”

“It’s residual,” Te’gha replied, yawning. “Underworld is a plane on its own -- it wanders. Left and right. Up and down. Forward and backward. To the past and then to the future. I imagine, at some point, Underworld was right where we are now. He he, stupid Thief! Not even knowing this! He he he~~”

“...” Cain sighed and altered his course, speeding up. “How are you?”

“Te’gha is great, as always! Te’gha the Great, that’s why they call me!”

“Nobody calls you that.”

“Stupid Thief! They do! Humph~~”

“Enough with the pouting,” Cain said. “Do you know anything about Moru’gh?”

“Moru’gh?”

“Apparently, while alive, he would have been known as Morudel Kadaal, someone who crafted Soulbound items from actual people and such.”

“Eeh, sounds lame~~,” Te’gha shrugged. “Too much work. Are you going to kill him?”

“... I doubt it,” Cain sighed, frowning. “I’m trying to figure out how to buy my friend’s lives from him.”

“You’re a Thief,” Te’gha said. “If you can’t sell something, there is something else wrong with your head! He he~~ anyway, hold on! I’ll infuse a Trace and help you along!”

Cain suddenly lost control of his Mana for a moment, yet didn’t panic; a storm surged from behind him and ripped a clandestine tunnel in the void, one that tore beyond the veil of infinite darkness and peered into an actual world .

He fell out of the gloomy sky, almost like a shooting star, gusts of dust forming behind him as he continued to fall through the clouds and out into the ‘open’. It was a world of ghastly and harrowing gray, vast and innumerable. Cain’s skin froze for a moment as he suddenly felt tens of thousands of eyes latch onto him, crimson and old, staring at his fall.

Te’gha suddenly re-positioned his fall again, aiming toward a southbound plane where Cain saw mist separate slightly and a castle of obsidian brick arise above a maw. He began to slow down his approach, eventually coming to overlook a wide, roof-ridden hall clad in a sheen of crimson light and silvery mist.

He came to a stop, continuing to levitate above, as a silhouette suddenly emerged from the mist; it was a black-robed figure, tall and imposing, with the most distinctive feature being the wide-gap in its chest where the heart ought to reside. Silence surged between the two as Te’gha climbed onto Cain’s shoulder, curiously staring at the newcomer.

“A new lamb comes -- yet through a Rip,” the figure spoke. “Curious. Very, very curious. How, little Conqueror? Those laws should still elude your kind.”

“... where are others who came here before me?” Cain asked with a weary and tired heart.

“... below,” the figure replied. “Some alive, most dead.”

“...” though he tried to hide it, it was difficult to push down the surge of overwhelming pain that stabbed at him like an army of knives.

“Are you here to challenge me, too?”

“... I’m here to offer a trade.” Cain said quickly. “A secret... for the lives of my friends.”

“A secret? A baby Conqueror wishes to sell me a secret?”

“Uwwaa, you dumb, skull-head!!” Te’gha cried out. “You blind! He a Thief! Dumb, dumb, dumb corpse!”

“... ah,” the figure sighed suddenly, something alighting within the massive hood covering its head. “I truly have fallen, to not even be aware of the Time Shift. Alas, a lesson in humility. So, tell me, Thief -- are you certain you hold the key to the secret I need?”

“Only one way to know,” Cain replied, praying he had an answer. He, naturally, didn’t know everything -- nay, in reality, he likely knew so little it couldn’t even compare to the whole picture. However, he had to take a gamble.

“... very well,” the figure relented with a faint shrug. “I have already completed my heart; lives of those still clinging like scarlet ghosts... matter little. If you can answer my question, I shall free the survivors, and even grant you a gift. If not, I shall simply leave, and have you stay here to wonder and ponder what infinity saves your friends.”

“...” Cain remained silent, trying to appear confident outwardly.

“Do you know what ‘Veil of Corruption’ is?” Moru’gh asked, surprising Cain and causing him to frown.

“A C-tier Warlock Skill? Why are you interested in that?” Cain asked.

“... it is a key,” Moru’gh replied. “As to what... you needn’t know. Tell me, o’ the venerated Time Thief -- how long into this forsaken and pointless trial will we wait for the first Scourgelock to emerge from the talentless and boorish masses?”

“Eighteen years,” Cain replied without a pause, happy that the question was actually relatively easy. ‘Scourgelock’ was a title afforded to a specific sub-class of Warlocks following their Second Awakening, and, to Cain’s knowledge, there actually only has been that one, at least publicly.

“Another wasted world,” Moru’gh sighed. “The Divines have grown even more complacent, to allow a Time Shift to occur here. Very well, Time Thief; you upheld your end of the bargain. Even if you lied, I at least admire your courage to lie to me. I shall free your friends -- or at least whatever remains of them. In your eyes, I can see you will look for me in the future. Don’t bother; I’ll likely be dead by then.” Moru’gh gently lifted his right arm and let out an invisible thread of Mana; a moment later, a bright-shining crystal appeared in front of him, dwarfing his already towering figure, but only for a moment. The crystal shrunk in size rapidly until it was palm-sized, and before Moru’gh shoved it into his open chest cavity.

“...”

“There is no need for Contract, mortal,” Moru’gh said as though having read Cain’s mind. “It matters to me little that you are a Thief. My future... does not exist. Yours, perchance, still does. I suggest you not infuse the fire of your anger on that old boot; wrath of the Coiled is not something that the likes of you can imagine.”

“...” Cain said nothing, though his eyes spoke enough on their own.

“... as a parting gift,” Moru’gh suddenly tossed something at Cain, prompting the latter to awkwardly catch it -- it was a tiny, palm-sized mirror, framed in copper. “You have already touched hands with the Others. Scourge. The Council. All the names they go by. Should you ever wish to share-in your ire with them, use the mirror. They are neither kind nor giving, and nor are they noble -- but... do not toss them aside like common villains, Thief. Cosmic virtues are nonexistent, and alliances rise and crumble like the tiny worlds across the universe. If you ever find yourself in ashes, singing the hymns of frustration, cursing at the laws and in need of an alternative... they’re as good as any choice.”

“Did you party with them?” Cain asked with a faint scoff.

“... there are no eternal allegiances, Thief,” Moru’gh replied as he began to vanish. “As not among the Mortals, and as not among the Divine. Who do you think heralds the Council, to begin with? In the end... it is all... inevitable.”