abcnovels
Chapter 368:
Chapter 368:
— Confederacy - New York —
Buried beneath the bustling streets of New York City, veiled from inquisitive eyes, the clandestine laboratory of the Alchemont clan hummed with forbidden energy. The air, thick and oppressive, was a noxious cocktail of sulfurous fumes and the earthy fragrance of countless exotic herbs and poisonous blooms.
Their potent essences mingled within bulging arcane vials nestled amongst gleaming alchemical tools. The metallic thrum of unseen machinery intertwined with the faint, lingering scent of alchemical reagents, painting the scene with an unsettling silence.
Walls lined with countless shelves housed a mesmerizing array of glass vials, each containing iridescent liquids that bubbled and simmered with an otherworldly luminescence. Strange symbols and sigils, etched into the very stone, emitted an ethereal glow, casting flickering phantoms that danced across the chamber floor in a macabre ballet.
At the heart of the room, a monolithic stone altar, carved with intricate runes and arcane glyphs, dominated the space. Atop the polished marble slab rested the lifeless form of a demon. Its contorted face, a mask of eternal agony, revealed a gaping chest cavity held open by malignant magical instruments.
Within, a fiery demonic heart pulsed with defiant life, even as the creature unleashed gut-wrenching roars of rage and vengeance, glaring dagger at a smiling figure of a velvet robed mage.
"Remember this, mage!" the demon bellowed, its voice a hollow echo amplified by the cavernous chamber. Its fiery eyes, burning with hatred, found the figure standing beside the altar. "I am Satan, Wrath incarnate! You cannot kill me! Death is but a temporary, after my rebirth my vengeance shall be swift! I'll hunt you down till the end of the earth!"
Weakened by its defeat at the hands of Daniel, and its hellish realm shattered by his potent spell, the demon was now a mere shadow of its former power, serving as a captive fuel source for a dark and forbidden purpose.
Beneath the imposing altar lay the still form of a young man. This was not flesh and blood, but a specially crafted homunculus, forged in the fires of forbidden alchemy. Its physical potential neared ninety percent of its human counterpart, far surpassing the limitations of any mortal shell.
Cloaked figures flitted across the periphery, their movements betraying a practiced efficiency. Their faces remained obscured by the concealing shadows as they diligently tended to their arcane experiments. Bubbling cauldrons erupted in plumes of pungent vapors, assaulting the senses with an intoxicating symphony of noxious aromas.
A low rumble pulsed through the air, a guttural command resonating from beneath the velvet hood of the lead mage. "Begin the ritual," he intoned, his voice a steady current that cut through the oppressive silence of the chamber.
With practiced precision, the other mages whirled into motion, their movements echoing the practiced efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Around the stone altar, they formed a circle, their robes billowing like phantoms in the dim light.
Each mage clutched an arcane tool – an orb shimmering with otherworldly light, or a skull, perhaps human, perhaps of some long-extinct beast, its surface etched with ancient symbols that pulsed with a faint, malevolent glow. Anticipation crackled in the air, thick and tangible, as they commenced the intricate steps of the forbidden ritual.
The velvet-robed mage, his posture radiating authority, positioned himself at the head of the altar. He raised his hands, palms outstretched towards the captive Satan. His lips moved in a silent prayer, then erupted into an incantation.
The words, uttered in a demonic tongue long forgotten by the world above, resonated through the chamber, weaving a chilling symphony with the distant cries of the demon bound upon the altar.
One by one, the other mages joined in, their voices intertwining in a haunting chorus that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality. Their movements became a practiced dance, hands tracing intricate patterns with their arcane tools, each gesture imbued with purpose and resonating power.
As the ritual climbed towards its zenith, the air shimmered and thrummed with an otherworldly energy. The chamber itself trembled, unseen forces casting writhing shadows upon the walls. Satan's roars, laced with a primal fury, intensified, its form twisting and contorting in an agony that mirrored the draining of its essence.
Like a river of darkness, Satan's power flowed out, siphoned away and funneled into the waiting vessel – the homunculus lying inert upon the altar below. The demon's once vibrant form began to shrivel, withering into a desiccated husk, its fiery heart sputtering and fading as its life force ebbed away with its power.
With a final, resounding surge of energy, the ritual culminated. A blinding crimson light bathed the chamber, illuminating the faces of the mages in a ghastly, ethereal glow. Then, with a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the laboratory, the transfer was complete.
The homunculus stirred, a flicker of life returning to its form. Its eyes snapped open, glowing with an emerald fire that mirrored the shattered orb held by the velvet-robed mage. Green energy crackled as it coursed through the homunculus' mouth, infusing it with the stolen power of the demon.
It rose from the altar, its body now pulsating with a newfound vitality, a testament to the dark alchemy practiced in the depths of this clandestine laboratory.
A surge of raw power coursed through the newly formed body. The man, his bare feet cool against the obsidian floor, flexed a hand, marvelling at the play of sculpted muscle beneath sun-kissed skin. Long, brown hair, like a wild stallion's mane, cascaded down his broad shoulders. His gaze, sharp and assessing, swept across the cloaked figures before settling on the one robed in velvet.
This was the one, undoubtedly.
"You represent Lord Hades, then?" His voice rumbled, a low current that demanded attention. It held the undeniable power of a warrior, laced with a hint of amusement.
The velvet-robed mage cleared his throat, taken aback by the unexpected acknowledgment. "Indeed, sir. It is an honor. My name is—"
"Don't bother," the man interrupted with a smirk, "I don't want to remember a man's name anyway." His chuckle resonated deeply, echoing in the chamber.
"Enough pleasantries. What entertainment awaits my arrival? A worthy opponent, perhaps? Or something more… pleasurable?" His voice lowered, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. "It's been a millennium since I graced the mortal realm with my presence, and I intend to savor every moment."
The velvet-robed mage's smile widened slowly, a mix of amusement and wariness. He inclined his head. "Of course. Your preferences will be attended to immediately." Gesturing toward a massive double door etched with arcane symbols and secured by a complex magical lock, he signaled their path.
As the doors swung open, revealing a brightly lit corridor beyond, the powerful figure strode forward confidently, the velvet-robed mage trailing behind with cautious curiosity replacing apprehension.
In the wake of their departure, an unsettling silence enveloped the chamber. The lifeless husk of Satan disintegrated into a fine, dark dust, swirling and carried away by a ventilation shaft. Dancing through the labyrinthine network, the dust eventually found its way to the surface world.
A stray mongrel, napping near the vent's exit, twitches its nose as a speck of the dust enters its nostrils. Its eyes snapped open, glowing an unnatural crimson. The dog convulsed, a guttural yelp escaping its throat. Then, as quickly as it began, the agony subsided. Rising and shaking itself off, the mongrel's gaze held a newfound intelligence.
"Goddamnit!" a voice, tinged with frustration and anger, echoed within the mongrel's mind. Satan, trapped in the body of a filthy cur, cursed his fate. Possessing a human host had been his usual strategy since humans were plentiful, but fortune had dealt him a cruel hand this time.
Shaking off his self-pity, Satan focused on the immediate task: escape. He needed to find a safe haven, a way to regain his power and wreak havoc upon the mages that dared to imprison him.
— Meanwhile - Lombard Street —-
Nestled on the iconic curves of Lombard Street in San Francisco, Greed's luxurious mansion whispered promises of intimate comfort. A haven designed for a select few, it exuded a warmth that transcended mere opulence.
The exterior, a symphony of understated elegance, beckoned with a welcoming air. Ivy, a verdant tapestry, cloaked the facade, while charming bay windows offered glimpses of the bustling city below. A winding pathway, flanked by meticulously manicured hedges and overflowing flower beds bursting with color, snaked its way toward the entrance.
It was a vibrant oasis, a sanctuary of tranquility amidst the urban clamor.
Inside, the living room unfolded like a luxurious embrace. Rich hardwood floors flowed beneath the caress of soft, ambient lighting, while plush furnishings, arranged in intimate conversation nooks, promised relaxation and warm gatherings. The decor, a testament to Greed's discerning eye, struck a masterful balance between elegance and comfort.
Carefully chosen art pieces and tasteful accents hinted at her personality, creating a sense of curated intimacy.
Beside him, Envy carefully shifted the slumbering Sylvana on his back as they crossed the threshold. A sardonic chuckle escaped her lips. "Cozier than I thought," she remarked dryly.
Following closely behind, the archangel Michaela, disguised as a human bodyguard in a crisp white suit, kept a watchful eye. Her hand, a stark contrast against her tailored attire, remained firmly clasped around a cage housing a certain disgruntled yellow iguana.
Greed's smile, genuine and welcoming, radiated warmth. "Aunt Envy, welcome. Please, all of you, make yourselves at home." Meanwhile, Koyuki, her friend, busied herself with a well-stocked pantry, fragrant tendrils of Hawaiian coffee swirling around her as she prepared to receive the guests."