Prince of The Abyss

Hope this helps!

J.

...

"How the heck did he know?"

He gritted his teeth.

Just... how did he know that the sword had this... curse? It didn't make any sense! He had already given him the card a long time ago; he couldn't have opened the door. And even if he did, he would have had to get the sword to see its abilities. It didn't make any sense.

"And just what kind of ability was this?"

He clenched his hand around the lantern's handle, walking back through the mist. Before coming here, he thought that after he would feel invincible. And yet he felt weaker. Which was in no way true.

While it was definitely a terrible flaw to have, the sword was still extremely powerful and useful for Frozen Crown specifically. But what hurt him wasn't that the sword had a curse. Or that he felt tricked.

But because it had taken away the place he felt more comfortable in.

He spent most of his time there, especially outside Frozen Crown. How was he going to make money back in the Withered? How was he going to learn information if he couldn't hide and ask the shadows a question? Can he even get close to them anymore?

Was he supposed to endure the pain when he couldn't even stay on his feet when it happened? Was he going to have to carry a source of light with him all the time?

He didn't want to do that! He didn't want to live in the light; it was the exact opposite of who he was shaped to be. Is he supposed to just go back to who he was when he was a child?

Why did the world have any say in what he should do?

Aether continued to grit his teeth, but stopped when he tasted the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

He took a deep breath, but it was proving to be quite hard to stay calm. After all, his mind was in shambles. He didn't know what he should do.

Maybe he should ask Azel...

...

He scoffed.

"Like hell. I'll just do what I want."

He will learn to endure the pain, and he will remain the same.

But hey, he still hasn't seen the sword itself.

However, when he tried to summon it, like he would have done with any other relic. It had not worked, which was surprising and disappointing since he had been excited due to its ability to be instantly summoned.

He tried the second time, but it had yet to work. How happy he was that the mist covered him, since if someone saw him like this, they would think he was an idiot.

At first, he had thought that he just couldn't summon relics anymore... but that didn't seem to be the case...

"So why?"

His eyes glance at the tattoos on his arm. It made him sick, since it reminded him of the pain he had endured when the chains had marked him. And even more knowing they were the ones who stole the shadows from him.

If he remembered correctly, the chains had gone inside his arm, just where the marks rested now. But when he pressed them, he didn't feel anything beneath them.

While he doubted this would work, he still tried.

Tensing the muscles in his arm, he clenches his fist, trying to see if the chains would come out of the marks. But nothing, and after some time of trying this method, he was left in the silence of his failure.

He blinked twice, not knowing what to do anymore.

Not only did the blade give him a curse, but he couldn't even summon it!

Letting his arm fall, he sighed. Trying to find another way to make it appear. He had to find it if he wanted to fight against the Knights and the Queen. If he wanted to get his revenge and destroy The Abyss.

That was when he heard the rustling of chains.

He turned to his arm, where black chains that seemed to be coming from his arm rested in the air. With a sword attached to the end of them, right in the palm of his hand. He just clenched his fist, and he was now grasping the hilt.

It fell perfectly, right where it needed to be. Not a centimeter off.

It rested in his hand like no other; it wasn't like any relic he had seen. It was as if it were bound to him. Like it was part of him, or had become part of him.

A rapier, long and slender, very different from the wide sword he had used before, which was not great since that meant he would have to learn how to use it from the beginning.

Its blade ran straight and narrow, sharp enough to pierce the Gods, but too fine to waste on crude slashes. This was to be expected when looking at its abilities.

The steel was not the silver he was used to seeing, and neither was it gleaming with hope and pride like any blade did. It was black, a void-forged edge, that swallowed light rather than reflecting it.

If he tried looking at his reflection through it, he would be disappointed, as there was no shine inside of it.

It was a blade that wasn't a blade made to look good for the beginning of a war, but the one who would see the end. As pretty as a blade is, in the end, they all end up being drenched in blood and dirt.

Which was the same for readers.

Both nobles and commeners, one day, had to get their hands dirty. No matter who they were. Even the purest children will have to kill...

It wasn't a sword that was scared to dread the dead. Rather, it welcomed it with open arms.

The guard curled around the hilt like a cage of wrought iron, with many elegant arcs twisting in a tangled lattice to protect his hand.

But as he looked closer, it didn't seem so elegant. Even here, the refinement was broken. Some of the chains attached to the arches felt as if the sword itself was being shackled.

Its grip was wrapped in a dark leather, ribbed and coarse, ending in a heavy black pomme which was shaped like a clenched knot.

But, he felt his skin being bitten back by the leather. Every time his fingers covered the fabric, his skin would be scraped off little by little.

It was like a weapon made for a duel, like those you saw in a noble's hall, but it now rested in his palm, bound by chains. It was anything but noble.

A blade like this is usually built for precision and grace. The heroes in his books would use them, and when they did, it would seem like they were dancing. That was how gracefully they were moving with it.

But Voidpiercer was twisted into something darker. It wasn't the blade of the hero... but the one of his shadow.

But... it suited him quite well in that regard.

...

Now, how did he unsummon it?

"Shit...'

...

...

As Azel saw Aether returning from the fog. She got up from the chair she had gotten because her feet had started to hurt, and ran to him.

"So, can I see it now. Your zone."

Aether tilted his head slightly, only remembering a little later that he was meant to show her his zone. Which, even if he wanted, wasn't possible since it had disappeared.

..."It burned down."

Aether took some time to realize what he had said. In his mind, it was a perfectly fine excuse. After all, if the other Knight wanted him dead, they could have burned his zone.

Just that... time was frozen, and so it couldn't have even burned.

"Oh, damn it!"

Aether squinted his eyes at Azel, his jaw opened slightly.

Did she really believe him? How was that even possible? He had made this mistake because he wasn't from here. And he had gotten used to the Sun giving them time back. But she had lived so much with it frozen, shouldn't she have realized that it was possible?

...

"Where did you get the blade?"

Aether glanced at his sword, which was still hanging in the air. If the sides of the blade were sharp, he would have cut himself so many times now.

"Where did you get the chair?"

Azel glanced at the chair she had been waiting on. Then back at Aether.

"Very well. So what now?"

Her comment made him laugh, that very same chuckle turning into concern as he realized he had laughed at one of her jokes. It was way more worrying than any curse.

He sighed, looking in the mist.

"Well, for me, I'm going to get my revenge."

He turned his head slowly to Azel, pointing his finger at her.

"The world will change, and you will be the one who will help me with it. Who will make the world adjust to these changes? Destroy the perfect world of the Second Ring."