บท 67: Virgil's Victory
But suddenly, the creature's arm, once a conduit of unbridled fury, grew slack. The hand hovering over the city trembled, the talons losing their sharpness as the shadowy substance that composed it began to waver. The crimson liquid that had once been the lifeblood of the moon drained back into the fissure, pulling the arm with it. The head followed suit, the monstrous skull lolling on a neck that looked too thin to support it.
The crimson maw of the moon closed with a sound like the end of the world, the tendrils of shadow retreating into the void from which they had come. The sky around the moon grew brighter, the stars peeking through the dissipating haze, as if the cosmos itself was breathing a sigh of relief. The moon's hue shifted, the deep red receding to reveal the familiar silver glow that had once bathed the city in a gentle, comforting light. The shadows retreated, the malicious whispers that had filled the air grew quiet, and the unearthly cold that had clung to everything dissipated.
The creature's retreat didn't bring peace, however. The city lay in ruins, a silent testament to the horror that had been unleashed.
Aldwyn looked with the last of his strength at Master Sewell, who was lying lifeless on the floor. The moonlight painted him in an eerie glow, a stark contrast to the vibrant life he once embodied. The sight of him, now a broken shell.
„Shit... My whole body hurts... It feels like I've been torn apart from the inside." He thought as he tried with all his strength to get to his feet.
The city lay in ruins, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of death. Fires burned across the horizon, casting a flickering, hellish glow over the devastation. The crimson liquid that had once flowed like rivers of blood through the streets had retreated, leaving a sticky, pulsing residue that seemed to whisper of dark secrets and ancient evil.
Aldwyn managed to sit up, his body feeling as if it had been through a wringer. He looked around, his vision swimming, and noticed a grisly tableau that surrounded him. The bodies of twisted creatures, once the Hollow's soldiers, lay scattered in every direction. They were grotesque and malformed, a testament to the dark powers that had controlled them. Their lifeless forms bore the marks of his blades and bullets, a silent tribute to the battle that had raged here.
Master Sewell's eyes stared vacantly into the night sky, a stark reminder of the cost of this victory. Gustav's sacrifice had not been in vain; the creature was defeated, but at a price none of them had expected.
"What is this feeling? As if I've experienced something like this before..." He mumbled to himself.
Just as Aldwyn was about to stand up, a sharp pain shot through his chest, like an icy dagger plunged into the very core of his being.
He looked down, his silver eyes widening with shock and disbelief. There, embedded in his chest, was a sword.
"What the...?!"
Aldwyn's attempt to grasp the hilt of the sword was met with a sudden, brutal force. He felt the sword plunge deeper into his chest, the cold steel cutting through his flesh with a sickening ease. His eyes snapped up to meet those of a figure emerging from the shadows.
"I'm very sorry... But I can't risk leaving witnesses alive!" Replied a voice that sounded very familiar to Aldwyn's ears. "Your power would have been very useful to me... That's a shame. We may see each other again... Then we can make a new start."
The figure's hand wrapped around the sword's hilt with a disturbing fondness, as if it were a long-lost lover. The blade gleamed in the moonlight, a sickly grin of victory etched upon its gleaming surface.
When the sword was yanked free, Aldwyn felt a cold, empty void open up within him. The world around him grew fuzzy at the edges, the pain a distant throb as the coldness spread through his veins like a frostbite. His body hit the ground with a thud that seemed to resonate through the very bones of the earth, sending a ripple through the crimson residue that coated the cobblestones.
Around Aldwyn's body lay a vast battlefield, the ground slick with blood and littered with the corpses of men and monsters. With one last glance, he saw the monstrous figure of the Baron looming over him.
„Ah... I see... That fee- feeling... The vision... It's exactly... Like in the.... Vision" Aldwyn's thoughts faded as he lay open chested on the cold floor.
The once-bustling streets of Helgarde were eerily silent, the only sound the distant crackling of fires that had been the battle's legacy. The crimson residue of the creature's power had retreated, leaving the city a desolate wasteland of shattered dreams and lifeless bodies. Amongst the ruin, three figures remained standing—Virgil, Vidan and Enigma.
Each of them bore the marks of the battle, their clothes torn and stained with the lifeblood of the city. Their faces were masks of pain, etched with the horrors they had seen and the battles they had fought. Virgil's breaths coming in ragged gasps. The power he had wielded had taken its toll, and his body trembled with the effort of remaining upright.
....
The world went dark around Aldwyn, swallowed by a void so complete it was as if the very concept of light had been banished. He found himself adrift in a sea of nothingness, the cold embrace of the abyss enveloping him in a silence so profound it seemed to crush his very soul.
„Is this the afterlife? What a miserable place..." Aldwyn thought to himself as the coldness grew.
The ground beneath him felt unsteady, as if it were made of shifting shadows that could swallow him whole at any moment. The path ahead was a swirling vortex of inky blackness, stretching on forever with no discernible end in sight. The darkness seemed alive, pulsing with an eerie, malevolent energy that made his skin crawl.
Aldwyn took a step forward, and the world around him grew even more indistinct. The cold seeped into his very bones, a stark contrast to the fiery pain that had consumed him mere moments before. His boots crunched on the brittle, icy ground, sending shivers down his spine with every step. It was a strange sensation, the dichotomy of the fiery agony and the soul-crushing cold.
The path grew steeper, and the shadows thickened, wrapping around him like a cloak of despair. He walked for what felt like an eternity, each step heavier than the last, as if the very fabric of the abyss was trying to keep him from reaching whatever lay ahead. The darkness grew denser, the air thicker with the scent of decay and the whispers of lost souls.
Finally, through the impenetrable gloom, he discerned an "opening"—a break in the blackness that grew larger and more defined with every labored step he took. It was not a doorway or a gate, but rather a tear in the very fabric of the shadow world. The edges of the rift glowed with a sickly, pulsing light, casting a bile-green hue across the ground. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, as if the lost souls were trying to dissuade him from crossing the threshold.
Aldwyn's hand reached out and touched the light—or rather, the absence of darkness—and it felt like a wall of ice. The cold was so intense it burned his fingertips, but the pain was distant, muffled by the overwhelming sense of dread that filled his being. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and stepped through the breach.
On the other side, the brightness was blinding, a stark contrast to the abyss he had just left behind. His eyes adjusted slowly, revealing a space that was not a room, but a realm unto itself. The "floor" and "walls" were made of a substance that was both solid and fluid, a sea of light that stretched to infinity in every direction. It was a prison of pure brightness, a cage of illumination that seemed to pulse with the beating of an unseen heart.
"What the..." Aldwyn was both confused and shocked.
As he looked forward, he saw a distant silhouette sitting on a throne. "Welcome back, Aldwyn," a female voice echoed through the realm.
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