Chapter 105: The Abyss and I have a Staring Contest (2)
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{Tartarus, Unknown POV}
Narration POV
"Then let's see who blinks first," Odysseus muttered, trying to sound brave as he steeled himself to face one of the five beings birthed by Chaos itself. But even as the words left his lips, he felt a change in the air around him. It was like the universe had suddenly decided to play a cosmic game of "The Floor is Lava," except in this version, the floor was trying to eat you.
The pull of the Abyss, which had been a distant gnawing sensation (kind of like that feeling you get when you've forgotten something important but can't remember what), suddenly intensified. Odysseus felt his feet sliding across the cracked, obsidian ground. It wasn't a gentle slide, mind you. No, this was more like trying to stand still on a treadmill set to "Tartarus Mode."
Inch by excruciating inch, he was being dragged closer to the eternal maw of the abyss. It wasn't just a pull anymore – it was as if the very concept of gravity had turned against him. Odysseus briefly wondered if this was how socks felt in a washing machine.
Beside him, Melinoe let out a strangled gasp. The goddess, already weakened from their earlier confrontation (because apparently, one near-death experience per day just wasn't enough), was struggling to keep her form intact. Her spectral body flickered and wavered like a bad TV signal, fighting against the inexorable pull.
"Your defiance is... amusing," Tartarus's voice rumbled, echoing through the endless abyss. His words were like ancient stones grinding together, the sound alone enough to shake Odysseus to his core. If mountains could talk (aside from Typhon), Odysseus thought, this is what they'd sound like after gargling gravel for a few millennia.
The spiral that served as Tartarus's face seemed to spin faster, creating a dizzying effect that threatened to overwhelm Odysseus's senses.
With each passing second, the oppressive weight of Tartarus's power grew heavier. Odysseus felt as if his very bones were being compressed, threatening to collapse under their own weight. Each breath he took was a monumental effort, like trying to inhale molten lead.
The ground around them cracked and splintered, unable to withstand the intense gravitational forces at play. Fissures opened up, revealing glimpses of even deeper, more terrifying layers of the abyss below. Odysseus had a fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, challenging a primordial being wasn't his brightest idea.
Odysseus struggled to think, to formulate any semblance of a plan, but the overwhelming gravitational pull made it hard to focus. The world was fading into a haze of pain and exhaustion, the force threatening to crush him completely. The only thing he could focus on was his incantation.
He didn't know what would happen if he recited it again, but it was his best – his only – option. The risks were immense, the consequences potentially deadly, but in the face of certain doom, what choice did he have? It was either this or become a permanent decoration in Tartarus's armor, and Odysseus wasn't really feeling joining monsters as a breastplate.
Odysseus gritted his teeth, his mind racing against the encroaching darkness. 'It has to work. It has to.' The words came slowly at first, his voice strained under the immense pressure. But with every syllable, a spark of defiance grew within him, pushing back against Tartarus's gravitational onslaught. It was like trying to light a match in a hurricane, but hey, he'd done crazier things. Probably.
"Οπάλιον σβέσον τὸ φῶς σου (Opal, dim your light)."
The incantation was like poison, bitter on his tongue, but undeniably powerful. He could feel it immediately – a terrible force thrumming inside him, growing with each word.
His heart began to race, thudding violently in his chest as if it were about to explode. His veins bulged grotesquely, as if trying to free themselves from the skin that kept them locked away, eager to spill the blood of Odysseus himself. He briefly wondered if this was what it felt like to be a human stress ball.
"Ἄκουε τὴν ἀπαλλαγὴν ταύτην (Hear this fatal plea)."
The air around him crackled with eldritch energy. He felt the ground beneath him tremble, the very foundations of Tartarus shaking. The primordial god's spiral face seemed to spin even faster, distorting the space around it. Odysseus had the absurd thought that if this kept up, Tartarus might spin himself into another dimension. One could hope, right?
Tartarus's laughter rumbled like an avalanche, growing louder and more terrifying with each passing second. It became an all-consuming force of nature, drowning out all other sounds and threatening to shatter Odysseus's resolve.
The pit behind him, the very essence of the Abyss, began to swell ominously. Dark, shadowy masses rose from it like smoke, coiling and twisting in unnatural patterns. It was like watching the world's most terrifying lava lamp, if lava lamps were made of pure nightmare fuel.
"Οἱ τὴν ἄμμον τοῦ χρόνου ἐπιτείνοντες (Spur the sands of time)."
As Odysseus continued the incantation, he felt a sharp, unbearable pain tear through his left arm. It was as if every nerve ending was on fire, every cell screaming in agony. The pain thrummed through his hand and up his left arm, a tide of agony that threatened to overwhelm him. He'd experienced some pretty intense paper cuts in his time, but this? This was on a whole other level.
In his pain-induced haze, he didn't immediately notice as his missing fingers began to regenerate. But these were not the fingers of flesh and blood he had lost – they reformed in a deep, unnatural shade of purple, pulsing with primordial energy. It was like watching a magic trick gone horribly wrong.
His eyes shot wide open, the sclera filling with an inky blackness in which the middle were his purple irises. The newly regenerated fingers throbbed with raw, untamed power, and Odysseus's breath came in ragged gasps. It felt as though his left arm was being eaten alive from the inside, consumed by the very force he had invoked.
"Καὶ τὸ πνεῦμα ἐλεύθερον ποιοῦντες (And set the spirit free)."
With the final word of the incantation, Odysseus felt the force within him explode outward. Black mass began bubbling underneath him, invading the earth in every direction. His ankles were submerged in the black mass, which then reached Melinoe's flickering body, consuming her.
Tartarus's spiral face seemed to contort, the patterns within it shifting chaotically. "That's interesting..." His voice was like thunder, shaking the very earth beneath them. "Now show me what you can do, little nephew. Show me the power you think can challenge a primordial god!"
Odysseus couldn't help but think, 'Great. Now I've impressed the unkillable force of nature. This day just keeps getting better and better.'
The gravitational pull intensified once more, the very fabric of space bending to Tartarus's will. Odysseus and Melinoe were dragged closer to the edge of the abyss, their feet leaving deep furrows in the ground as they struggled against the inexorable force. It was like trying to run the wrong way on the world's most terrifying conveyor belt.
But even as they were pulled forward, the black mass that had emerged from the pit began to spread with renewed vigor. It clung to Odysseus and Melinoe, not pulling them down, but seeming to anchor them against Tartarus's gravitational assault. The darkness spread further, defying the primordial god's control over gravity, creeping up towards his colossal form.
Odysseus clenched his fists, feeling the raw energy coursing through him. He knew he didn't have time to waste; he didn't need to beat the primordial, he only had to escape. To where, he didn't know, but anywhere had to be better than here.
The black mass continued to spread, growing in intensity, seemingly unstoppable.
Melinoe emerged from the black mass, a whistle appearing in her hand. Odysseus couldn't help but wonder if this was the universe's way of telling him it was time for a timeout. Meanwhile, Odysseus' spear materialized in his own hand, the black mass beginning to crawl onto it.
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