Garden Of The Abyss

Chapter 97 - Pact Of Undying

There wasn't much of a choice but to fight. It clearly knew of his presence, and soon or later--it would find him. Mustering up every facet of courage stored within his body, doing away with his fear, he stepped out of his spot of hiding.

As soon as he met eye to eye with the minotaur, feeling its merciless gaze of bloodlust lock onto him--he regretted stepping out of hiding, his resolve withered just in the presence of the beast. Drawing Belus from its sheath, he gripped the blade between his shaky hands as he looked upon the towering creature, steam blowing from its nostrils as its chest puffed out with a heavy breath.

"Araphel: Void Piercer!"

A higher state of the spell he previously relied on, "Dunkel: Piercer", summoning forth a large, powerful lance formed of darkness into the air. Swiping his sword forward to guide the lance to its target, the spell launched towards the beast as if being propelled by a rocket.

His heart sank into his stomach.

The lance stocked full of magical energy collided with the minotaur's chest, only to dissipate upon impact without so much as causing the beast to flinch.

In terms of offensive magic, it was at the top of his arsenal--a spell he had never had trouble carving through the monsters in Gradeuve during his time in training. Ren had completely froze under the shock and despair he felt, standing in front of the insurmountable opponent before him.

It seemed to understand his departure from his resolve, slowly stepping over as each hoof scorned the stone below before reaching out with its massive hand, picking him up by his shoulder as if lifting a toy into the air.

The beast he thought was just a mindless creature driven by instinct proved to him that wasn't the case.

It laughed at him, releasing a jagged breath from its mouth as it squeezed onto his shoulder with a grip that felt as if two boulders had pinned his shoulder.

"--Gh!"

All it took was a pinch of its index finger and thumb to shatter his shoulder--clavicle, scapula, and humerus. The sword he held slipped from his hands as he succumbed to the pain, screaming out in agony as the minotaur ground its fingers against his shattered shoulder, allowing the fragments of bone tear into his flesh.

He held his breath as sweat evacuated from his pores, focusing his reinforcement into his leg as he kicked the minotaur in its abdomen, pressing his foot as deep as he could against its belly before it finally released its grip.

Dropping back onto the ground as he held onto his shoulder, his arm drooped down as nothing held it within its pocket of flesh anymore--he had no time to react as a strike in the form of a blur crossed against his stomach, sending him flying back against the back wall.

Looking down to check the source of the sudden heat radiating from his abdomen, it turned out that the strike wasn't a punch from the minotaur, but a strike from its axe. Red was all he could make out of his stomach, blood poured from the torn open wound and onto his body, as well as the ground below. It felt like lava pouring out of his gut, producing an endless heat that sent him into a fever.

--It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

His head became light, breathing rapidly as he desperately tried to shove his interior organs that peeked outside back into his body, a futile effort as his entire stomach was left hanging open. It didn't take long for his hands to become dyed in his own crimson, raising his palms in front of his face as his eyes shook at the sight.

That festering heat shifted into a cold, his teeth shattering as he watched the beast slowly approach him, dragging its blood-soaked axe along the ground with it. As his own essence of life left his body, so did his will as his own vision became shaky--his head nodding as he attempted to watch the approaching minotaur.

All he could make out was the faint outline of the creature's body as it raised its axe into the air, swiping it down over his head before--it was over.

It was an inexplicable feeling, each strand of himself, every atom that made up "Nakamura Ren" was placed together like a jigsaw puzzle, only being subject to this otherworldly experience through a consciousness that sat between the bulwark concepts of life and death. A radiating warmth manifested with the section he could only refer to as his "center", anchoring these reformed sections together and melding his stranded essence into completion. All five natural senses were replaced by one sense that acted as the simultaneous occurrence of sensation, feeling this unnatural husk that acclimated itself to him become wrapped in a layer of pale, smooth armor layered with pores.

Each nerve plopped itself within the community of life within his body, stretching along the surface of his flesh before ingraining within it. The emptiness within his center was soon filled as he felt the surrounding liquid pour inside of him, shaping itself into organs that soon started the process of running his bodily functions once again.

This was all forgotten as soon as he woke up from his slumber that sat between two immovable realms.

Surrounded by a body of thick liquid, caressing his body and pushing him upwards as if a million hands were propelling him, his eyes open, immediately met with the sight of a mass of pure crimson.

"--Pah!"

He spit out the crimson substance from his mouth as he held onto the side of the stone fountain, sitting in a bath of scarlet.

It was the room he had first started in, sitting in the fountain of liquid that resembled arterial fluid.

"What happened?"

The memories were foggy as a result of his throbbing headache, feeling as if his brain was battering the interior of his skull. Thinking about it harder, the images of what had happened came back to him--remembering the sight of his own guts strewn out across his lap, the sight of crimson.

Looking down at the pool of mysterious red liquid he sat in, those recent memories were amplified, causing his stomach to wrench before hurling bile onto the floor in front of him. An intense feeling of nausea echoed from his core, trickling down to his hands and feet that tingled with fading strength.

As the memories of what had happened previously became clear to him, he reached down, running his hand over his abdomen.

"It's fine?"

--So, this is what the "Pact of Undying" that voice was talking about is?

He pulled himself out of the fountain of resurrection, wiping the fluid off of his body as his leather armor was now drenched. Rotating his shoulder which had been turned to a sack of skin holding dusted bones, it was back to normal.

"It even healed my clothes? Convenient…"

The leather pouches attached to his belt still held the food and gems he brought with him, which confirmed something very important to him.

--Even if I die, every possession I have on me will carry with me when I'm resurrected. I definitely need to keep my sword in hand, even if I have to die doing it.

Cautious of the merciless minotaur, he slowly made his way out of the room once more, finding his sword still laying at the spot he had dropped it.

--Thank the heavens that minotaur isn't a looter. I just hope it's not anywhere close.

It was still an odd sensation to get over for him. He didn't feel any different from usual, but the concept of being resurrected still conjured an odd feeling in the pits of his stomach.

"--Either way, I don't plan on dying anymore than I can help. Even if I'm resurrected, that pain is real, the fear, the cold…Iris where are you?"

He looked into the reflective steel of his sword as he worried for his lost companion, flipping his blade in his hand, he slid it back into the blue scabbard at his hip.

Turning back to look upon the spot he died--all that remained of was a silhouette of crimson, etched into the stone, slumped over just as he was.

--I underestimated the warnings they gave about this place. I'd say...they undersold it, in fact. There's no point in looming over it now, I have to push forward.

Besides the anxiety that filled the air as a result of losing so handily to the overwhelming beast-man, the dungeon just felt empty. It was devoid of life, falling completely silent except for his own footsteps as he walked down the barren corridor.

As he pushed deeper into the unknown dungeon, more stains of blood in the shape of people became apparent. Chains draped down from the walls, forcing him to push past the hanging ropes of metal--causing an unavoidable ruckus to be made.

The corridor was lined with rusted cells, beds formed of blood-stained wood without a hint of a mattress.

--A prison? In the trial? Just what is this place, really?