Ch 32: The Streets of a Forgotten Hell

Defeating Giselle with a mighty spell, Mythra has a brief encounter with Alastor. Meanwhile in Underworld, the group begins their exploration, able to sense their foe nearby.

            Strings of arcane magic shot out from Mythra’s wand and wrapped themselves around Giselle, binding her in place. Struggling against the bonds, Giselle exclaimed, “What the…?! DAMN YOU!” Leaping to her feet, Mythra re-summoned her broom and leaped onto it, sailing high into the air and calling out, “I warned you! Time to face the consequences you crazy b***h!” Willing her Elementum Orbis to spread out at a distance around Giselle, Mythra flipped open the Grimoire of the Spellweaver saying, “Let’s try some serious firepower this time! I’ll even read it aloud for you!” The pages of the grimoire turned and her Elementum Orbis began to glow as Mythra raised her wand and read, “Mundum virtute pepererunt stringesque fulmine cessit terra, terra vento, vento ignem, igne glacies, galcies denuo nasci quam aqua aquiescere fulmen, et semper eris lumen tenebrae sunt elementa cursus devolvat!” From each crystal formed three rune circles of the corresponding element’s color, and in the air all around Giselle stars of elemental power formed as well. Snapping the Grimoire of the Spellweaver shut, Mythra smirked and said, “Spellweave! Ultimate Barrage and Magic Mix Barrage, take shape as the Ultimate Finisher, Twenty-One Sparks of the Spellweaver’s Wrath!” The stars rained down and exploded in multiple blasts of elemental power, and then powerful beams shot from the twenty-one rune circles, all exploding in a massive brilliant seven colored blast that shook the earth and shattered windows throughout the entire city. As the unnatural storm quickly subsided and the skies returned to normal, Mythra touched down by the great smoking crater left by her Ultimate Finisher and muttered, “Well, I guess that’s that. Jeez though, could we have made any more of a mess? Alexander will have my head for this! I won’t stop hearing about this one for centuries!”

            Rising out of a pile of debris, to Mythra’s disbelief, Giselle called out, “I… will be… the one to… have your head… Spellweaver…” Covered in bruises and wounds, clutching the gaping wound at her stomach with her normal hand, Giselle struggled towards Mythra. Shaking her head, Mythra said, “Give it up. This is over…” Glaring at Mythra, Giselle said, “Never!” Then Mythra’s blood ran cold as an empty voice called out from behind her, “She’s quite right Giselle.” Slowly Mythra turned her head back to see Alastor standing behind her. Seeing him, she thought, “Oh s**t!” Stopping at the edge of the crater, Giselle also looked at Alastor with a bit of fear in her eyes, quickly stammering, “S-sir?!” Walking past Mythra to Giselle, Alastor stared at her a moment. Then he slapped her across the face and said, “I cannot believe I had to pull myself away from the ritual just to stop you from continuing this foolishness. Did I not order you to refrain from engaging in any unnecessary battles?” Staring at the ground and clutching her cheek, Giselle said, “I… I know, but I…” She found herself unable to come up with an excuse, so Alastor continued, “You will withdraw immediately. Meet up with Dr. Nova, have your wounds healed and tell him I want the sword properly examined. Now that you’ve gone and broken it, there will no doubt be effects on your essence…” Clenching her eyes shut, a downhearted Giselle quietly said, “Yes sir…” As Alastor opened a dark vortex for her, Giselle staggered into it, passing through and disappearing.

            Glancing back at Mythra, Alastor said, “Despite Giselle’s inexperience, her strength and power are something to be feared, aren’t they?” Glaring at him, Mythra said, “Are you the one who tricked that girl into taking hold of powers beyond her control?” Staring at the crater made by Mythra’s Ultimate Finisher, Alastor replied, “I simply gave her what she wanted, the consequences are hers to bear. It was her strong desire for revenge that led her to take up the former Lord’s sword, to merge the arm of the lightning demon with her own body. If the Devia Lotus had possessed the chance to kill you upon use, would you have refused it Spellweaver? Had you not known of the Devia Lotus, can you say for certain you would not have chosen a more reckless method to gain power? The choices you made are different, but the strong desires that led you to make them are quite similar…” Grinning, Mythra said, “That’s exactly the point. After considering the options, after doing the work and gaining the skills I would need, I chose the best path. The choices I made define who I am today! She chose the quick and easy route, taking powers that were handed to her when she was without the skill to control them. We’re anything but similar!” Opening a dark vortex, Alastor stepped inside it and said, “Look at it as you will, but she did give you a rather close fight. Anyways, as much as I’d enjoy catching up with you, I must be getting back. We’ll no doubt be welcoming Mr. Greyson and company shortly…”

            Walking through the secret doorway, Grey and the others who had gone to Underworld found themselves in an unbelievably massive underground chamber housing an ancient city. The passage from the catacombs brought them out on a balcony on top of a tower built against the stone wall of the chamber, giving them a perfect view of the city, lit by the flickering blue light of enchanted torches burning endlessly throughout the city. The buildings were all made of dark colored stone with wooden roofs, and were somewhat twisted looking with spiny decorations of various kinds. In many windows lights flickered eerily, as though the denizens of the city still lived there to this day. There were many towers scattered through the city, but rising from the city’s center an enormous tower of the same twisted looking design stood above all the others, spiraling lines of raging blue fire running up it, compelled by unknown magic to burn eternally. 

Looking like a kid in a candy store, Richter exclaimed, “Unbelievable! It’s so well preserved, and those fires! Just how is it they still burn after all this time?” Staring out at the city as well, Loki said, “They use magic power to perpetuate the flame. Despite their uses, magic spells of such nature are fading away with the rise of modern conveniences. A thousand years ago most non-humans relied on magic to light and warm their homes and cities. Humanity was the only really technologically advanced race those days, and they weren’t all that keen to share either…” His excitement somewhat deflated, Richter said, “Oh, I see…” Chuckling, Loki said, “Forgive me, I was not directing that at any of you. Besides, along with the halmans, we demonfolk are not much better. There are many political matters that restrict what we share or don’t share with the other races. It’s all very complicated.” Walking up beside Grey, who was staring out at the central tower, Alexander said, “So you can sense it too?” Nodding, a somewhat scary look in his eyes as he continued to stare at the tower, Grey replied, “He’s not trying to hide it at all. I can sense something else all over the place, but one thing’s for sure. That b*****d Alastor is in that tower!”

            Descending a staircase on the side of the tower they had come out on top of, Grey and the others reached the street and headed for the central tower. Looking around at what statues and engraved designs there were, at the bones mounted above doorframes and other places that he assumed must be trophies from a hunt, Grey could still feel the sense of honor and pride, but at the same time it seemed more primitive and dark. Looking around as well, Richter said, “For being the civilized ancient demonfolk, some of the décor strikes me as being rather… uncivilized…” With a nervous laugh, Loki said, “Well, you must understand the fact that these were our ancient ancestors. We’ve come a long way, and to be honest it’s quite a miracle our race survived.” Telling his tale as they continued down the street, Loki said, “The war I told you about nearly wiped out our ancestors and scattered many of them to the four corners of the world. Those that remained in Underworld during Dagra’s reign were quite unsatisfied with his deranged rule, and many left to escape him. After Dagra’s rule ended, his surviving subjects felt insecure without the protection and leadership of a Lord, and eventually the city was abandoned. For centuries our race was fragmented across the world. After about five hundred years though, Dagra’s last remaining descendant, an ancient demonfolk named Kazran Zolrus, became a hero by traveling the world and rallying our people together. By then, almost all of the other ancient ones seemed to have vanished from the world, but the demonfolk you know today heeded his call and traveled back to reclaim this mountain. Upon the grounds where our ancestors buried the dead from the war, we built our capital, Daemonholm. We've had several rough times since, especially after the events a thousand years ago, but we get by. The rest as they say, is history.” Suddenly Grey stopped, seeing something moving up the street. Squinting as he tried to discern what it was, he muttered, “What the…” It quickly drew nearer, and Grey saw it was some enormous, moving mass of darkness with red glow within it. Stepping back, Grey exclaimed, “Incoming!”

            Xanth immediately called out, “All units, front and center!” Xanth and the guards rushed past Grey, creating a blockade between the group and the dark mass that was tearing down the street. Their ranged EDE weapon’s drawn, the soldiers muttered nervously amongst themselves, one saying, “What is that thing?!” Quickly Xanth said, “Do not fear it men! You are Daemonholm’s finest! Together we can defeat any foe!” As it was within range, Xanth raised his trident and shouted, “Fire!” Rounds of EDE and Xanth’s Deathbeams shot out at the incoming mass, but with little effect. Reaching them, it reared up and black tentacles with sharp ends shot out and impaled two of the soldiers. Forming his swords again, Grey exclaimed, “D****t, I knew I shouldn’t have left it to them!” Alexander grabbed him by the shoulder and said, “No Grey! Whatever it is, it’s clearly unaffected by energy attacks. Conventional attacks are probably useless as well. We must escape!” 

As two more soldiers were impaled, a somewhat shaken Xanth shouted, “Retreat!” Quickly Grey and the others, along with Xanth and the two remaining soldiers, fled back up the street. They soon came to a screeching halt at an intersection as they saw another dark mass coming down the street from the opposite direction. Forming Fragminis Caelum, Richter said, “It appears we are not leaving the way we came…” Glancing at Alexander, there was concern in his voice as Loki asked, “What do you think Gabriel? Fight or flight?” Looking down the left street in the intersection, Alexander could see yet another mass coming. The street to the right, however, was clear. Alexander thought to himself, “We do not have much choice, but this feels like a trap…” Heading down the street to the right, Alexander said, “This way!” As they rushed down the street, Grey looked back to see the black masses merge and head down the street after them. At last they reached the next intersection, but looking down all the available streets, Alexander saw more masses coming from every direction. Forming his sword, Alexander said, “So much for that…” Thinking quickly, Richter said, “Wait, we can ride on my crystal walls!” The dark masses almost upon them, Grey shouted, “Too late!” Suddenly the masses stopped. Looking at them apprehensively, after a moment Grey said, “Uh… ok…” Then on the ground beneath them, a black rune circle glowed with a dark light. Gritting his teeth, Alexander thought, “We’ve walked right into Alastor’s hands…”

            Grey’s vision was blurred at first as he opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back in a large circular room. The smooth and silver colored walls reached up at least three stories, slanting inward slightly from the top. There was a large circular opening in the ceiling, and Grey could see strange glowing mist wafting up towards it. Sitting up, he saw the room was empty of any furnishings or the like. The only thing he saw was a raised platform in the center of the room with some form of sarcophagus upon it. There were humanoid anomalies bowing down around it as though in respect. However, Grey did not pay much attention to them once he laid eyes on the man standing next to the sarcophagus. Rising, his hatred consuming him, Grey shouted, “Alastor!” Alastor was just finishing an incantation, saying, “…Tenebras Oriri Denuo Servire Magistri.” A cloud of the strange glowing mist spewed from the crack between the lid of the sarcophagus and the sarcophagus itself, and the anomalies around it let out a cry and disintegrated. Looking over at Grey, Alastor said in his empty voice, “Welcome to the Infernal Spire, Mr. Greyson. You have awakened just in time to witness my triumph.” Forming his twin swords, Grey said, “I don’t know or care what’s going on, but today’s the day you’re going down!” Raising a hand in the air, as an aura of powerful darkness surrounded him and seemed to flow into his hand, Alastor said, “Don’t be so hasty Mr. Greyson. I must add the finishing touch.” As he placed his hand on the sarcophagus, the darkness flowed into the crack between the lid, and after a moment he removed his hand and said, “With that, the vessel is complete. Rise, Shadow…”

            The lid of the sarcophagus suddenly popped off, sailed through the air, and landed at the side of the room with a crash. From within the sarcophagus, a humanoid figure with pitch black skin rose up. He had long black hair tied back into a ponytail with a long white string of cloth, and wore black armor with glowing red designs etched upon it. The armor pulsated slightly, and seemed more like a part of his body. As he opened his four glowing red eyes, he said, “We… hunger…” As Shadow extracted himself from his sarcophagus, Alastor said, “Of course, you must feed properly once resurrected. I have already arranged an appropriate ‘snack’ for you. They are being held down in the lower levels of the Spire.” Shadow turned his attention to Grey and said, “A soul…? There is a soul within you…” Slowly walking to stand between them, Alastor said, “I will be dealing with him.” 

With that, Shadow seemed to sink into the floor. As he disappeared, Alastor said, “At long last, I have completed an appropriate vessel. No longer must I struggle to restrain the will of the Nameless One.” Glaring at Alastor, Grey said, “Where are Alexander and the others?! What the hell is that thing planning on doing to them?! Answer me!” Looking at him with no apparent interest, Alastor said, “What else? He will feast upon their essence. Do you remember the mass of darkness that chased you and your friends into my trap? It was his essence, engorged upon the many other essences I have been feeding him. After enough essence was consumed, he had become strong enough to hunt on his own, thus the victims from Daemonholm. And just now I gathered his completed essence within his remains and revived him with the power of the Nameless One. Shadow was quite the soul eater in life. It’s where he got much of his immense power. Once you start eating the essence of others though, it is difficult to stop, and considering his hunger after being resurrected, I have no doubt your dear friends will all be consumed shortly…” Unable to contain his fury any longer, Grey charged at Alastor as he shouted, “DAMN B*****D!”

Author's Note

For anyone who sees a similarity, I did come up with the title after remembering the name of one of the songs from the Touhou Project, Walking the Streets of a Former Hell. There is really not much of a connection, aside from the fitting nature of the setting.