Shadow of the Abyss

Chapter 272: Deadly Trap

As the first light of dawn began to creep across the horizon, a breathtaking display of color illuminated the sky. Bands of pink and orange stretched across the heavens, casting a warm glow that bathed everything it touched in a soft, ethereal light.

In the midst of this stunning display, Altair stood, his eyes fixed on the sky, a grin of pure excitement spreading across his face before it turned feral.

With a sudden burst of energy, he launched himself off a bolt of Infernal lightning, the sheer force of his movement shaking the very ground beneath him. The air around him crackled with energy, a tingling sensation running through his veins as he soared higher and higher, heading straight for the heavens.

As he reached the peak of his ascent, he let out a fierce cry, the sound echoing across the sky. With a sudden burst of light, a bolt of scarlet lightning shot out from his outstretched body, illuminating the sky in a deadly red. It streaked across the sky, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake, tearing through the very fabric of reality itself.

The sight was awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once, a testament to the raw power of the Infernal magic that Altair wielded. For a moment, it seemed as though the very sky itself was on fire as the lightning bolt tore through the heavens with a deafening roar.

Atticus felt it then: He felt an immense power bearing down on him, emanating from a god-like entity that commanded respect and reverence, whose radiance was so strong that it seemed to engulf him, pulling him into a black, bottomless void where no light could escape. His heart raced with a primal fear racing through his body as he looked up at the painted skies.

He gulped, whirling towards the scarlet lightning, shrieking across the skies towards them. When the lightning turned black as the endless night, bleeding the horrid might of the Vale, the color drained from out his face as he snapped his eyes towards Keiran.

They'd predicted that Talia might have warned Altair and had taken precautions to leave their camp before they had enough information about him to decide what to do. But never in their wildest dream could they have ever envisioned such a scene. The Mana was burning, writhing against their skin like a living amalgamation.

"We fight!" Keiran shouted.

But Atticus thought otherwise. There was still much they didn't know. The gap he'd imagined between the Third Circle and Seventh Circle seemed to be nearly bridged.

It was absurd.

"We're retreating," said Atticus, prioritizing caution.

"You can leave, I'm staying!" Kieran barked as if he could bear the shame of retreating before a mere Third Circle. The very idea was so deplorable that if word got out, he'd be laughed out of the House of Shadows.

'So what if Altair had might have been able to bridge the gap between Third and Seventh Circle? In the end, he still had limited Mana.' he thought. Kieran didn't bother mulling the matter over as Shadow Flames danced across his shoulders, spiraling down his arms and torso.

As his fingers slowly opened, dark modes of mana began to gather around them, forming into a shape that took the form of a shamshir - a sword with a blade that curved sharply, like the arc of the crescent moon. The black flames around the blade grew stronger, causing the winds to howl with a newfound intensity.

The force of the winds caused the nearby vegetation to uproot, and large boulders were reduced to nothing but dust. As the chaos continued, the landscape was transformed, with new canals and trenches forming in the earth.

"You fool! He is not—"

Kieran did not wait for Atticus to finish before he pierced the skies, tearing the clouds above asunder in an ocean of Shadow Flames.

"—alone. Shit." Atticus cursed, reaching into Draupnir to the Identification Orb, a violet garnet that bore the sigil of an intricate eye across its smooth surface. The moment it appeared within his hands, Atticus pointed towards Altair before they could clash.

Name: Altair Blackwood

Mana Circle: [Forth Circle 10%]

Physique: Fallen Moon Imperfection

Aura: Sword of the Abyss [Blocked]

Class: [ <Blocked> Lv 150]

Strength: 1240

Dexterity: 1345

Constitution: 1520

Wisdom: 1540

Charisma: 1540

Mana: 295

Skills [Blocked]

Passives: [Blocked]

Atticus's heart froze in his chest. He'd seen monsters. He had been one himself, following the templet of the House Masters gifted him to train. He'd lived up to it. Day in and day out, he'd trained until his bones shattered and his meridians ruptured. It wasn't enough to merely be talented.

He needed resources to aid his path. But even those whom he once considered a genius by his standard couldn't compare to Altair Blackwood.

"What is this monster?" he stammered, looking towards the ashen-haired boy. He hoped—even prayed—that Altair's Swordsmanship wasn't as monstrous as his physical attributes.

Name: Keiran Shadowlance

Age: 29

Mana Circle: [Ninth Circle 0.2%]

Aura: Titan Break

Class: [Shadow Knight Lv 3]

Race: Titan (Half-Blood)

Str: 2471

Dex: 2043

Con: 2984

Wis: 2734

Chr: 2734

Atticus' fingers stabbed against his palm, witnessing the clash that distorted the early morning dawn. Light fragmented across the horizon, shattering into shards of ephemeral grace.

The sound of howling winds filled the air as they uprooted and flung vegetation around like mere playthings. Large boulders were smashed to dust as though they were made of sand. As the winds rage on, creating new canals and trenches, carving their way through the landscape with a fierce and unstoppable force.

Keiran's expression was cold, though his lips were arched. "You're pretty strong. But not enough!" he said, condensing a smidgen bit more strength straight into his arms, launching Altair earthbound with ease—too much ease.

But Keiran did not seem to notice or care. He followed, barreling through the air like a bullet, crossing the distance in half a beat. He swung. Sweeping his Flaming Shamshir down in an arc to match its curve.

Altair merely smiled. He'd never faced such a weapon. But he knew swords. He knew them as though they were an integral part of him. The instant the sword swept towards his neck, it flowed like water weaving towards his groin. A feint as it swept towards his shoulder, back to his neck.

Embers danced as the sword of the Vale clashed against the flaming shamshir at such a precise angle; Keiran, who held a superior strength, felt all the power he held shatter as their blows canceled the other's power out.

Keiran expression was one of astonishment.

"Not bad, but nothing great. Your sword is about a D Rank, eh? No. Mid-D-Rank. I guess that's acceptable."

Keiran tried to push forward using every bit of strength he could muster. Yet Altair, a Third Circle, stood insurmountable.

"A Zero Lock," he said finally, a cold gust of wind filling his lungs. He knew the technique well. It was a Transcendent Skill used only by extremely talented swordsmen. By perfectly timing the moment of impact across your enemies' vulnerable sword stroke, Zero Lock allowed the user to redirect the kinetic force.

However, Keiran had not felt any sort of redirection. The deadly force he'd used seemed to have merely vanished.

Keiran took a step back, realizing the mistake a step too late as Altair leaned forward by passing his sword before Keiran could flick his wrist to defend.

And there he saw it, if only for a brief moment, as the sword vanished from his perception. No, he could still see it. But he sensed no danger, no immediate threat. He had time to defend. Time to react. Time too...

The slash came slicing across his chest up across his collar.

"eh," he said, staggering back. Unsure what had just happened. He touched his chest. Felt the wound. It was shallow. But deep enough, it burned.

Pain. Pain shot across his nerves as body and soul synced with what happened before his very eyes.

He screamed, leaping backward nearly a hundred meters in less than a second flat.

"And Checkmate"

He heard Altair say as a dull pain entered through his lower spine. Dreadful words splintered through his consciousness

"Omnis Mortis," said Syris, jerking her dagger from out of his flesh. There was no blood, the same as with the Cambion. Omnis Mortis saw to besiege life from death.

In but a brief moment, the lower half of Keiran began to become wilted like that of a flower ravaged by time.

"I don't know what's more broken, being able to mask one's intent within their heart or that dreadful technique."

"Father created it to kill devils. Of course, it's broken." Syris said harshly, watching Keiran fall to his knees and then face. "Cambion are immortal or damn near close. Half-bloods like this guy here can't withstand it. At least not without help. And even then.

I cut part of his soul. The injury is damn near permanent. Either way, it looks like it all went according to plan. Shall we begin negotiations?"

"Indeed." Altair nodded. "Mr. Atticus, if you would, I will be more than willing to hear your offer for your friend here. There isn't a need for swords—not anymore, right?" He paused, glancing down at Keiran, whose lower half appeared emaciated beyond reprieve. " Or would you rather I kill your second?"

"That won't be necessary," said Atticus, emerging from the shadows ten meters away. A glaive clenched in the palm of his hand. He glanced at Altair, then Keiran, back to Altair. "Will he live?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to keep him alive. Information is key," Altair said, the implication clear: 'so long as you are willing, he will live.' Now, then, shall we begin? There is so much I want to know about you and the Upper Moons.'