His eyes rained blood and tears, and then dried up. A whirlwind of agony and pain swirled in his heart. His voice had disappeared, the throbbing and pulsing of his limbs had halted, as though a divine torture had pierced needles of despair and anguish in his heart one by one, each bigger than the last.
He might not have seen it, but his stunned, silent body was all too aware of the dreadfully mystic spectacle, the feeling of an emptiness crawling over him as a soul around him deteriorated into specks of horrific, despairing crimson glow.
That is what had begun to happen to Relecta's lifeless body. Alan turned to find the lower half of his wife parting away, flying out of the chamber, seeping through the closed gates in specks of bloody glow.
Staggering closer to his fading wife, he sat down, placing her head in his lap, gently closing her open eyes with a graze of his fingers. His contorting face looked at her peaceful visage. He hated himself for being unable to cry anymore, for being numb to this wretched transition.
As her upper body began to dissipate, Alan's disbelief made a last effort, guiding his limbs to embrace her surviving chest, neck, and head. His lips resisted the painful realization as he muttered,
"Please… Please… Don't go… Don't leave me alone… Relecta…"
But reality is no one's friend; it reveals what fate has decided for you. It dispelled the last of Alan's disbelief when his shivering gaze saw Relecta's smiling visage fade out of his hands, leaving him empty, broken, and alone in the silenced chamber, filled only with his pain, agony, crushing grief, and tormenting despair.
Immense pain, a crushed heart, and wheezing sobs remained in his soulless vessel. His lifeless eyes looked around the empty chamber; no trace of her remained, not even the blood that had stained his body. This was no nightmare. This place didn't care if he was asleep or awake. It was cruel, ruthless, and unfeeling. It could not sense his pain, his sorrow, or his crushing grief. It only knew its cycle: conflict, dread, despair, chaos, and finally, suffering.
Seeing it, feeling it, and getting crushed by it should have made him numb. But now he knew how Longiseus had felt, how Lyco must have felt—a grief and sadness that tore sanity away, leaving only writhing agony and fury.
This fury began to rise as Alan stood up, his eyes turning toward the tall, quiet statue of Minerva. His pain on edge, his heart believed he was responsible for her death, but his sorrowing mind wanted to hurl the blame, to exert its frustration, to display its suffering and fury, and the ancient God bore his wrath.
"You!!!! You are a God, right?!!
"A savior?!!! A benevolent being?!!!"
Alan's voice, hoarse but loud, echoed through the chamber. He spat his disgust, his fury laced with sadness, as he looked right at the unresponsive stony visage of the Goddess. His words came in intervals of deep, broken breaths, his eyes squinted, his face contorted.
"Then why?!! Why did you let it happen?!! Aren't Gods supposed to protect humans?!!! She might not have been a follower, but SHE BELIEVED IN YOU!!!!"
———swinsh!!!!——DHHDDDHAAAKKKKK!!!!
Finally, his fury seeped not only from his lips but from his limbs, from his actions. His rage boiled inside him, and he clenched his bloody fists. His anger incarnated in his hand as one of the rings on his finger turned into a sword, which he swung with force at one of the stone slabs with inscriptions, slicing and blasting it into debris in an instant. His rage personified, he didn't stop. Alan destroyed another slab, spitting out his grief as venom at the silent God.
"——-Ddhhhdaaaammmmm!!!!!!——— Why?!!! Why?!!! You can keep monsters out of your temple, but your selfishness didn't allow you to save an INNOCENT LIFE!!!!!!!"
As his rage rose more and more, his frustration tightened his limbs. His sorrow and despair seeped into the rings on his fingers, calling forth the weapons of the slain beasts. The sword dissipated, replaced by a gauntlet that projected his anguish. Alan thrashed through the altar, hurling and throwing debris in every direction, giving the ruination to the chamber that it had been preserved from for ages.
"—-Dhdhaaammmm!!!———- A demon!!!! A demon warned me!!!!!!"
"Dhhhdhhaaammm!!!!——Swishhshh——thredhdhhhh——-While a God stayed silent!!!"
"Bhhhddhhhaammmmm!!!!!——-Always taught that God is Good!!!!!! A protector!!!!!!"
"A LIE!!!!!!!! A GODDAMN LIE!!! In a world full of THEM!!! AAAAHH!!!!!! ——-Swishhhh!!!!——Dhhhddhhaaaammmmmm!!!!!!!!!——"
With each yell, each scream, each lash of his fury, the temple trembled and shivered before Alan's agony. He tore through the floor, smashed through the pillars, and hurled boulders at the frescoes and caricatures that his heart condemned as lies and illusions. His pain echoed in the air, mingling with the debris of his destruction and the blood from his breaking body.
Finally, it was the turn of the mocking stony visage of the Goddess herself. She remained stern in his fury, emotionless in his agony, her silence mocking the blood-bathed griever standing before her. His trembling lips moved on his contorted face as he spat the venom of his pain at her.
"I know I am to blame more for her death, but watching her innocent soul leave her pained body, didn't you feel no guilt?!! No pain broke through your sculpted visage?!!! HOW WOULD IT?!!!!"
Alan's anger struck the petrified Goddess. He kicked so hard at the stump on which the statue stood that though the sounds of his cracking bones and tearing flesh came first, they were drowned out by the destruction of the statue and the fall of his faith.
His steps crunched with broken bones as he moved toward the half-shattered head of the Goddess. He felt repulsion and disgust at the deity's inability, which echoed in the fading rumbling of the chamber's destruction. Alan spat on her stony cracked visage and put his foot on the rocky head, hurling his pain out.
"I knew there was no God, I always knew, but she, SHE!!! She made me believe in things I never knew existed. She was my guide in this strange, unforgiving world. She showed me that behind every darkness, there remains a light. She made me believe that no matter the past, the future can be what you want. And I stupidly believed in all this, in you, but no more. No Gods!!! No Demons!!!! Only me and my revenge!!! And it starts with YOU!!!!!"
With a stomp that channeled his strength through his pain, Alan crushed the remains of Minerva's head under his foot.
Anger should have burned in his dried, bloody eyes; his body should have writhed with rage. But his heart remained steeped in sorrow and grief. Alan took a step forward but staggered, stumbling and falling onto his back.
Debris from the destruction of his fury stabbed into his bare skin, intensifying the pain that was already seeping out through the memories of Relecta's smile, her happy face, her emotions. His eyes, devoid of blood and tears, now shed crimson, translucent tears of grief. Maybe in his childhood, or perhaps when he had lost everything, only then had Alan cried like this, wailing, writhing, his anguished sobs escaping from his rasping throat as he lay on the desolated ground.
His heart was already broken, and now his mind began to fracture in sorrow, as he cried out for Relecta like a child longing for his mother's embrace. The chamber relentlessly echoed with his cries. Alan knew what he wanted; he had the will and desperation, but his body lacked strength. Only helplessness filled his limbs, a feeling unlike anything he had ever known. Amidst the cacophony of his pain, Alan heard a voice, a grumble that asked him something. Through his wheezing sobs, his cracking voice he replied,
"R…Reve…Revenge!!"
His words became a cue, and on his first reply, the five rings, each a remnant of the chaos he had faced with his fallen friends, began glowing. Smoke, dark as his despair, seeped from them, slowly enveloping Alan's crying form. He heard the voice again and responded,
"I…I wa…want to end it! I want to end it all!!!"
"Give me! Take this soul! Take everything! But give me one chance, I will end it, end everything! No more suffering, no more chaos, no more fear, no more dread, NO MORE DESPAIR!!!!!!"
His words, replies to the voice of the darkness within him, morphed into a grumbling, shrieking manifestation of something vile and demonic.
The smoky veil of darkness enveloped his entire body, leaving only his contorted head exposed. His gritted teeth, bloodshot, teary eyes, and fury-etched face bore witness to his anguish. Alan did what he had never imagined possible. Always a non-believer, never in his long life had he bowed to the power of the unknown. He was taught about it, forced into rituals and traditions, but never had his heart held any respect for the divine.
Now, in this hellhole, he had begun to believe, to have faith. He had turned a deaf ear to the demon's warnings in his nightmares. In return for his faith, the divine gifted him with unbearable pain, a pain that shattered him into pieces beyond repair.
And now the devil spoke within him, resonating with his sorrow and grief, presenting Alan with an offer—a chance for revenge. Alan didn't care whether he would be deceived or tormented afterward. All he wanted was to lash out, to project his pain and fury onto whatever had caused it. So he sold his soul.
A sinister laughter overshadowed his fleeting cries as the smoke began to dissipate, revealing his healed form, now with skin bathed in darkness, darker than a moonless night.
Patterns and etchings of the language of evil marked his rejuvenated body, which was bulkier and taller than before, emanating the repugnant smell of power originating from the bowels of hell. It was no longer his pain or soul reflecting in his eyes; it was the very thing he had transformed into—a being of revenge, pulsating within his heart and mind.
As the smoke and laughter dissipated, leaving behind an eerie silence, his new form lay motionless on the ground, devoid of emotion. Suddenly, the air stilled, and a shine gleamed in his vacant eyes. In an instant, as though plucked from reality at the speed of a blink, Alan disappeared from the chamber.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!—phthoooopp!—mehhhhhhhaaa!"
With a final, guttural scream, the monstrosity fell. "Ahh! And that makes ninety-nine!" Armis announced, his voice echoing through the dim, ruined chamber. The cry of the fallen creature, a grotesque amalgamation of a sheep's head and a small human's body, faded into silence as its blood and bone fragments scattered into the air.
Armis's golden armor glinted faintly in the muted light, casting a sinister glow on the massacre surrounding him. The rugged floor of the labyrinth was strewn with the maimed bodies of countless creatures, their blood painting the ruined white walls. A sinister smirk played on Armis's lips, a clear testament to the joy he took in the brutality he had unleashed.
Pulling his blood-stained armored leg from the punctured chest of the beast, Armis moved forward with a predatory eagerness. His movements were sharp and impatient, driven by a desire that finally met an unexpected end when his strength exerting hand pressed against an unyielding obstacle.
Confusion clouded Armis's sharp gaze as he pushed harder, yet the obstacle remained unmoved. Realization dawned slowly. He stepped back, his eyes widening as he took in the appearance of the supposed door. What he had mistaken for another wooden barrier was, in fact, the goal he had been slaughtering towards: a giant stone gate adorned with ancient inscriptions, marking the entrance to the chamber of the next Lord of Monsters, the gateway to the next chaos.
Armis's expression shifted from surprise to puzzlement. He glanced back, counting silently on his fingers, his brow furrowed. "Ninety… ninety-five… ninety-seven… ninety-nine. This is the ninety-ninth floor, a whole floor early. Hmmm." His voice, rising above a whisper, echoed his discovery before he turned his attention back to the etched inscriptions on the massive stone gate ahead.
"Hmmmm, well, if that's the case, should I…?" Armis's contemplation gave way to a soft expression as he turned to glance back into the stretch of the labyrinth. His dilemma briefly flickered across his face before his decisiveness took over.
"Well… maybe not. I am sure whatever is there, I can handle it myself. So… don't mind if I do!"
With a confident smile, Armis turned back to face the massive stone gate, his body stretching tall with an air of assurance. His gaze focused on the ancient inscriptions, and his voice began to resonate with the echoes of words from a long-forgotten language:
"Behold! Hearken! The sudden apparition of the Faun King, Who brings the allure of luxury and venereal pleasures. He dwells in the realm of delight and lust, And presents to us base desires and lasciviousness."
As Armis chanted, his voice took on a different quality, more confident and fluid. No longer did he struggle with the pronunciations; he understood the language of the past instinctively. Each word, each sentence, flowed not as a broken translation but as it was meant to be understood—a warning, a reminder of the dangers lurking behind the unyielding stone gate.
The gate responded to his voice, the echoes causing it to crack and crumble. A violet hue began to seep through the fractures, little by little breaking open the path to renewed chaos.
"Beware, lest luxury deceive thee, Lest greed and desires drag the soul. The sweetness of pleasure is offered, But our morals, it leads into THE ABYSS!"
With the final words of the inscription echoing through the chamber, Armis's voice filled the space, soon overshadowed by the crumbling destruction of the gate before him. The shattered stone greeted him with rubble, debris, a basking violet illumination, and a sultry hum emanating from the chamber beyond.
Armis stepped inside with a confident smirk, the violet light bathing him as he took in the opulent surroundings. The chamber was filled with treasure, statues of individuals and monsters in suggestive poses, adorned with precious treasures, relics, and shiny ornaments.
In the center stood a giant bed draped with thin veils and luxurious sheets, its sultry appearance accentuated by the fragrance of desire and the hum of thirst in the air.
"Nice place, not much different from the other chambers, apart from the treasure, I guess," Armis remarked, his feet and eyes strolling nonchalantly through the chamber. His tone carried the same nonchalance as he continued, "See, whatever you are, I advise you to come out. I have friends waiting for me, some dead ones as well. So let's not waste any more time and—"
As Armis picked up a golden grail, his eyes turned toward the shuffle of the veil on the large bed ahead. From it, a set of bare toes peeked out. The hum and fragrance in the air grew stronger. Armis stood up, throwing the grail to the stone floor, his eyes narrowing as his armored hands clenched into fists.
The toes extended into a shiny, beautiful leg, stepping out of the bed, followed by the other. With a curving movement akin to an illustrious dance, the owner of the limbs revealed herself—a woman, taller than Armis, possessing the features and assets of a goddess. Big, curvy bosoms, a lean, long waist, a high, plump butt, all on a spotless, shiny body.
Her head held lips as crimson as blood, formed into an alluring smile, teasing a glimpse of her pearly teeth. Her eyes were as big as rubies and as green as emeralds, with shiny long black locks. She embodied every man's dream.
Armis watched sternly as the woman slowly waltzed towards him, swirling and spinning in dance-like movements, displaying every inch of her body enchantingly. As she approached, she turned, her plump, soft body brushing against his leg and hand while her hands gently grasped his neck. Her head leaned back, deep eyes gazing into Armis's focused gaze, as her smiling lips moved, filling his ears with a melodious tone.
"Why such a rush, warrior? You should rest a bit, just relax and..." She turned her body, her long hand wrapping around Armis's blood-stained gold armor. Her words became more sultry as she leaned down to put the crimson of her lips on his, saying, "Let me take you to heav—"
Thud! Swuchkkk—Ghehethkkkhh!!!
Within the instant her lips were to touch his, Armis's hands moved with lightning speed, putting an iron grip on her head and chin.
In the same swift motion, he twisted her head backward, not even giving her face time to contort into confusion. In his relentless stern tone, Armis began speaking, keeping his hand tight on her twitching, twisted head as her bloodshot eyes widened into a lifeless gaze, her tongue lolling out with seeping blood.
"Yeah… not going to work on me. I had my fair share of illusions on the last floor, and now I'm perfectly aware of your tricks." —thud—! In a fluid motion, Armis released his grip on her twisted neck, and before her lifeless body could touch the ground, he spun and delivered a hard kick to her gut, sending her naked form hurling back into the bed from which she had emerged, accompanied by a loud and devastating clash. Crossing his arms, he continued in a stern tone,
"Lust… was it? Yeah, that won't work on me. I've found a way to counter it."
As he fell silent, Armis's eyes became more focused, sensing the earlier soothing hum and alluring fragrance vanish from the air, just as the woman's body crashed into the giant bed.
Eerie silence filled the chamber, and the air became still as Armis expected something to lunge at him at any moment. His vigilance remained for elongated moments, and as his patience began to wear thin while he looked at the destroyed furniture, his lips formed a calculated remark in the loud voice of his throat,
"Is this it? An alluring woman? No transfor—"
His taunting words suddenly halted as if on cue. The debris of the thrashed furniture began trembling. A repugnant odor filled the absence of the earlier fragrance in the air, rumbling of debris and a distant shriek echoing in place of the hum.
Suddenly, the naked body of the woman with the twisted head tore through the debris, hurling the splinters and broken wood into the air. With a resounding clash, she landed on the floor, sending cracks and tremors beneath her feet, prompting Armis to get into his defense.
His focused eyes squinted in repulsion when he saw her body bulging and contorting bizarrely. Her shiny pale skin began to darken, tearing from the ends of her fingers, and receding into her bloating chest, leaving behind the raw bloody flesh of her limbs. Along with the rest of her body, her limbs began to enlarge.
Her twisted head turned back to glare with bloodshot eyes, which began to get enveloped by ivory. Her silky locks were sucked inside, as a lair of hair began to cover her pulsing bloody flesh on her slowly becoming muscular body. With a transformation as grotesque as her new appearance, she became a bigger version of the creatures Armis had slaughtered until now, but with a more aged and menacing appearance.
Her head was a mix of ravaged lamb and human features, with long, thick, and curly horns bulging out of it. Her eyes were yellow with slits of menacing black.
A roaring mouth full of sharp teeth and protruding molars. Her body was covered in dark fur with patches of human skin on her chest and abdomen, holding her body straight with the muscular furry lower half of a giant lamb. She roared out, her shriek mixed with demonic rumbling and the sound of screaming lambs, forming chilling words,
"YOU!!!!!! You dare defy the offer of the one great FAUN KING!!!!"
"Oh, that's repulsive. Can't believe you were that woman just moments ago. Anyway, let's get this over with," Armis replied nonchalantly. The menacing form of the beast, its horrifying shrieks of rage, had no effect on Armis's stern demeanor.
His casual words only seemed to challenge and enrage the Faun King further. Its fury reverberated through every brick of the chamber as it writhed and thrashed its huge fists on the ground before charging at Armis with a bellowing cry, screaming,
"You foolish human! Witness the rage and destruction born from the castaway lust!"
Armis, already prepared with sharp focus, stood ready for the charging beast. Like an enraged, enlarged animal, it used all its limbs to lunge at Armis, nearly thrusting its giant, curly horns towards him. At the last moment, Armis agilely dodged out of harm's way.
The beast's demonic eyes widened in surprise as it turned to see Armis execute his cunning move. With a taunting grin, Armis leapt onto the creature's head, using its body as a platform to propel himself into another agile vault before landing gracefully on the ground.
The beast abruptly halted, its massive limbs shattering the stone floor as it turned, its grotesque visage contorted in anger and fury. Across from it, Armis stood defiant, gesturing with a dismissive flick of his hand and a smug smirk.
"Pmmmehehhyyyyyaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!" The beast bellowed in rage, its lips flapping with mounting frustration. It began to utter a reply to Armis's taunt,
"I rip your skin off to make a new c——-"
Once again, the Faun King's roaring words were cut short, but this time not by Armis's actions. To his old self, weak and arrogant, what happened within the fraction of a moment would have appeared as nothing but a blur.
But with his evolved widening eyes, Armis witnessed a black shadow wielding a crimson blazing sword slice through the beast's head like butter. The shadow moved with ferocity, blurring as it sliced through the monster's thick legs as though they were paper. With a faint circle of fire, it spun and cleaved through the monster's abdomen before rising its sword from the crotch of the beast up through its head.
The stunned and silent form of the Faun King remained motionless as the shadowy figure landed gracefully before it, transforming into a lean yet muscular man. His skin was adorned with ominous, intricate etchings from a language beyond Armis's comprehension, emanating a repugnant and imposing aura that felt eerily familiar in its raw power.
As if prompted by some unseen cue, splatters and sprays of green blood oozed from the beast's motionless body, its butchered pieces crumbling into flesh and meat like a disintegrating stone sculpture. The air briefly shimmered green from the shower of blood before the maimed body of the beast and its blood turned into the crimson glow and began to drift within the dark stranger's flaming sword.
The brutal spectacle shattered Armis's nonchalance, replacing it with grim and cautious vigilance. He stood silently, still, observing intently as the dark figure advanced amidst the fading carnage of the beast. The stranger leaned down to retrieve something, his visage turning slightly to reveal enough of his face that sent a chill down Armis's spine. In a grim moment of realization, Armis's features contorted as he recognized the darkened individual as none other than his own friend, Alan.