Shadow of the Abyss

Chapter 92: Leveling I

In the following days, Inspector Lue had considerably thinned, finding himself stretched far and wide over the Fortress of Rim. Six warrant officers were not only killed in a veil of secrecy with none the wiser, but their commanding officer, a Junior Lieutenant, had his neck slid in the dead of night.

"Bloody Hells." Lue Mclare felt his blood run cold, standing over the icy body of Junior Lieutenant Jor Silmar in a pool of his own making. His neck slit from one end to the next with cold practiced precision. The cut was made with a single stroke, without an ounce of hesitation.

He sighed. "Where is Altair?"

"Per your order, we have been monitoring him." A young ensign said. "He's not left his living quarters in two days. And none of our sensors picked up any large spacial disturbances."

"..."

Again, Lue sighed. "And Hilda?" he shook his head. "Never mind. You are dismissed."

The soldier saluted, leaving. And from the shadows of the closed cell, a mysterious figure emerged: Its features were masked by shrouded darkness, and through the veil of shadows, two peers of emerald eyes shone with vigor.

"You still think it's Altair?"

The stranger shook its head. "No…" there was a rasp in its voice. "This was a—"

"It was a cover-up," Lue said. "And a clean one. Best I've seen." he scratched his head and turned to his shadow. "What do you think?"

"Hilda… that's the only logical answer."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

Lue looked at the shadow, and his finger reached for his nose. "Not it to tell the Admiral Darkfire."

"..."

***

When the news had finally reached Altair some hours later, through an email to his Neurolink, Altair didn't particularly show much reaction to the news he concluded days ago.

Rather, Altair found himself enamored by the Rune Work. It was something he had always been interested in ever since Tenebrae took him to the capital. And now his fascination had only grown after he learned Enochean and Infernal.

Rune Work had covered many things: Formation, Spells, Warding, and inscriptions. Its applications were practically endless. But what Altair found himself enjoying the most was Inscription.

Simply being able to enhance various clothing, weapons, armor, and even cultivation pills and palms would surely bring a new level of versatility to his life.

And so it became his focus outside, training his blade through the use of a brush or trying to build a more comprehensive version of Martial Arts that would multiply all of his physical attributes rather than some of them.

Unfortunately, as time passed during the later hours of twilight, Altair's focus began to dwindle as the grueling sensation of hunger slowly began to overtake his mind. So much so that he locked himself in the bathroom for an hour with a sheen of sweat sliding down his back.

He was there now, soaked, down to his undergarments, gritting his teeth, rasping for air that tasted of sour milk.

Starved, barely able to conceive of a world outside, Altair forced himself still. The pain was like a mesh of hot needles stabbing at his throat that grew with each day.

"Kill me," He lamented, trying to bear it for the next hour when the hunger would dwindle.

Finally, when the hour of torment had passed, the sounds of running water sounded as he lay beneath the icy waters to cool his body. He cursed, wondering when this hell would end.

'Master… please feed.' Talia said, materializing beside him on one knee.

"Leave me," Altair said in a commanding tone. He wasn't in the mood right now.

"I will not," Talia said, with persistence as she glared at her foolish Master. "If not on us, then Lady Ren."

Altair clenched his eyes shut. "I can't feed on her… "he said, recalling the loss of control that plunged in him pure sanguine lust, permeating his every thought. That wasn't him. It was raw desire.

"Then me…" Talia offered, revealing her slender neck. Her greyish skin glistened a healthy glow as she looked her Master in the eye, unbothered by his naked body. "I am of flesh and blood."

"It won't work… You are dead." Altair muttered. "You are but a shadow forged of… Hells, I don't even know." he looked at her, finding her desperation amusing. "But feeding on you would be like feeding on myself. It won't work… I've tried."

"Then let us hunt, Master."

"Talia," he said, an octave lower. "Don't make me force you. Leave me."

Unsure when she returned to his shadow, Altair turned off the water, clothed himself, and stepped out of the restroom to the spicy scent of herbs being refined before his eyes.

Flames of Mana danced through the still air as Ren stood before her cauldron so focused she didn't even notice Altair. Suddenly, a popping noise sounded, and within a few seconds, Ren opened the lid to her, revealing seven scarlet-colored pills within its depths.

"Hmmm. They can cook a bit longer. But it's good. Really good." She cheerfully mused, tossing them into her Draupnir Ring. She turned, sensing Art staring her way, somewhat in a daze. "What?

Never seen a pretty lady before."

"Nope. Have you?" He teased, watching her cheek plump up like two buns.

"I—"

A knock suddenly came at the door, turning Ren's lips upside down. "Every time."

Empathizing at the constant disturbances that were becoming more and more frequent, Altair sighed and went towards the door while Ren polymorph and hopped onto the bed.

It was midnight, and curfew had longed pass.

'Maybe it's a booty call.' Kirr said, chuckling beneath his Master's shadow. "Your Majesty is getting more handsome with each passing day."

The Prince rolled his eyes, although he didn't deny it. Each day that came and went brought a new physical change with his recent evolution to his physique. But there wasn't much he could do about that.

Opening his door, Altair found the blue-haired Leonie Cross pouting with a dim hue in her dual pupils.

"Evening… or is it morning," Altair said with a charming smile, pushing down the discontent in his heart.

"I've been told to inform you that we'll be entering an underground dungeon in two hours."

'... It's midnight." He pointed out. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Leonie gave an awkward smile. "Ummm. I might have forgotten to tell you. Vincent said to tell you. Last night, but I didn't know where you lived. And forgot about it until now."

Unsure whether to laugh or cry, a great sense of relief coursed through his body at the thought of entering a new dungeon.

Perhaps within there, he would be able to feed without being monitored.

"We are currently checking armor and—" Leonie hadn't even finished when she saw Ren hop onto Altair's shoulder, nudging him out the door.

Altair made for the armory while Leonie was somewhat apologetic, staring at his back. Hopeful he'd keep this between them. It was her first assignment given to her by the Lieutenant. One she failed to perform.

And as if sensing her concern, Altair spoke. "Don't worry about it. It happens."

'That's no excuse,' she responded.

"Maybe. But I doubt you'll do it again.' He said, glancing her way to the dual pupils that shone with a well of power. Leonie beamed, nodding with promising eyes.

When they arrived, Altair noticed Vincent, Laros, Olivia, and Kilvar pressed in a black leather jerkin beneath a fur-lined cloak bearing the imperial forces crest and a shield belt.

"What took you so long?" Vincent growled. " Are you're ribs still bruised? I know you are still on vacation, but that can wait. Captain wants us to help you four level up."

"The captain?" Altair mused.

"Yes. he wants everyone to level up at least ten times." Vincent Wendell said grimly. "We need to hurry. Other teams are already making their way inside. If we don't hurry, we'll miss out on kills. They should have gone over this during orientation.

After a month, recruits will begin raiding dungeons."

Realizing he might have missed more than he originally thought during his time in a coma, Altair didn't waste any more time as he hurried to get dressed.

When he was done, decked in all black, Olivia gave a long whistle. " Lordy!"

"This armor seems a little… counterintuitive." He said. The leather hide made it easy to move, but the cloak seemed unnecessary.

"That hide you're in was forged from the flesh of Tier three python and the mesh of a direwolf and wyvern. It's as powerful as a Great shield. " Kilvar said. "Should block friendly fire, at least the first two shots. Less it's your head."

"It's not inscribed."

"And who'd pay for that?" Kilvar laughed. "If you want to inscribe your armor, you'll have to spend your coin." He glanced at Laros, "Or be a part of a dukedom."

"Is that jealousy?" Laros accused, smirking.

"Far from it. I wouldn't want to fuck my sister. You nobles are quite known for that." Kilvar shamelessly said.

Flushed red with rage, Laros gritted his teeth and pressed his palm on the hawk-shaped pommel of his longsword.

"Draw it, boy, and I'll have your head on a pike in three strokes."

"Enough, both of you," Vincent ordered. "This dungeon has a time limit of four hours. We need to decide on the leader. "He looked down at the four boots, still fresh behind the ears. "I recommend–"

'Sir, Allow me to be the squad leader." Laros said, striding forward. "I've not just the education but the experience leading my knights within my noble factions into dungeons."

"I, too, would like Laros to take Point," Olivia added, sliding her gaze to Altair. She giggled. " Although Altair is the best strategist amongst the recruits based on the simulations. It's his first time leading a squad. And I'd rather have someone with experience than someone whose ability has yet to be tested."

"I couldn't have said it better," Altair agreed, arching his lips at the surprised faces of everyone. He grinned at Laros, his piercing gaze casting a chill down his spine. "Laros of House Aros would make a wonderful leader."

"What game are you playing, "Laros inquired, bemused. Were they not enemies?

"Enough. It's settled then." Vincent said, without room for negotiation. "Laros will take Point. While Kilvar and I will judge your performance."