Symbiotic Ascension : A Progression Fantasy Adventure

The throne room was in a surprisingly good condition, despite the divine attacks that fell upon its undead inhabitant, the Katana-wielding Corpse. The red brick walls still stood mightily, while the ceiling struggled to maintain itself because of the large hole in its center. Dust fell upon the group, covering the bloodstained ground and the countless bodies in a fine layer of reddish powder. The throne itself, white wood without imperfection, was also still standing.

"That was terrifying," Milena heaved while leaning on Sahro, who rolled his eyes. Liara winced, holding her waist painfully. A big bruise was appearing on her tanned skin. Glenn walked up to her, concerned.

"I saw you took a big hit earlier. Are you alright?"

She grimaced. "I'd love it if you could work your healing magic on me, Glenn—"

"That's all me, actually. So yeah, thank me!" Diamanes proudly exclaimed, earning a few gazes of displeasure and annoyance. Liara shook her head while Glenn chuckled and pressed his left, purple hand against her side. The Mana shone with a soft, pale hue, turning the bruised skin and broken ribs into pristine conditions. Glenn felt his knees wobble beneath him and crashed to the floor.

"Huh?" He lay on the floor, confused. "I don't have any Mana left. Wow. That feels weird. It's been a while since this last happened."

"Damn you, Glenn! How are we supposed to test out those black flames you took earlier if you have no Mana left? Couldn't you have thought about me? Even if I got an Excelsior meal, I still feel a little hurt—"

"Glenn, you mentioned Onnea." Milena cut the entity off, her biological and robotic arms all crossed. "I couldn't recognize that Divinity, even though it felt familiar. Do you think it could be her who attacked that Corpse?"

Glenn moistened his lips with a complicated expression, thinking back to his Divine meetings and the Heart of Darkness radar in his arm. "I don't think it's her, I know. I've already interacted with something like that. Trust me, this is Onnea through and through."

"I'll trust you on that," grumbled Milena as she brushed her hair back, getting rid of the blood and gore in one movement.

Lucian groaned painfully, wheezing. "Can anyone spare a helping hand? I blocked that hit for Sahro, and now I feel like every bone in my body has been turned into twigs. Broken twigs."

"Stop messing around," Sahro said as he slapped the Prince on the back. Lucian yelped and held his waist in pain, cursing the Black Heir under his breath.

Liara, feeling much better now that Glenn had magically healed her, approached the pile of dust that was once the apparently God-defying Corpse. "He said he was our ancestor," she said while glancing at Sahro. The latter sneered and grabbed whatever was left of his prosthesis from the ground.

"He was a corpse. A powerful corpse, sure, but a corpse nonetheless. And look at this!" He waved at the castle, a little irritated. "Does that look like the Black Heirs' style?"

Liara shook her head. "He wasn't a Black Heir. I..." She frowned. "I think he was a dark elf."

Sahro paused, his eyes widening. Before he could say a thing, Glenn sat up brusquely with a gasp.

"I remember! Shit, I remember!" He scrambled on his feet and ran at the black and white Katana, seizing the weapon to give it a closer look. "That... that thing!" His eyes were bloodshot as he held the blade excitedly. "Guys, I think that's the Katana of the Dark Elf King of ages past! The Dark Elf King of the First King of Munirp's era! I... In a vision, when I almost died. I think I saw him! With the First King, the Demon King, and Sevirox!"

Lucian chuckled nervously and pointed at the pile of dust with a trembling finger. "You mean to say that the Corpse was once...?"

Glenn nodded gravely. "Yes. That was the King of the Dark Elves." He paused, his eyebrows creased. "I think. Or someone who used his Katana."

Milena paced the room with a strained expression, thinking. "If that's the King of the Dark Elves, that means he knew the First King? How is he even alive?"

"He wasn't exactly alive," Diamanes remarked. "He was a zombie. An unusually powerful one, sure, but a zombie nonetheless."

"And immortality isn't a problem when you're incredibly powerful," added Lucian. "My royal father should be able to live for a thousand years at the very least, if he doesn't kill himself on someone's blade before that."

Sahro took the Katana from Glenn, his eyes gleaming with interest. "My ancestor could be the King of the Dark Elves... And he was strong enough to defy the Gods themselves." He frowned, turning toward Glenn. "Why would he defy the Gods? No, what did they want with him to begin with?"

Glenn sat back on the ground, exhausted. "I have so many questions right now, you can't even imagine."

He raised a finger, counting. "First, we're not sure he's the King of the Dark Elves, alright? That's just a supposition."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Milena pinched her chin, pondering. "He said he forgot his name... You think that's something the gods did?"

Glenn looked at her for an instant, thought about Doyle Malory's rambles about the gods, and shrugged. "Maybe." He raised a second finger.

Liara sat next to Glenn, resting her head against his shoulder. The young man gulped as his heart skipped a beat, but he ignored the amused gazes of the others and kept his thoughts going. "We don't know how far the gods' power can reach. Are gods even almighty?"

Sahro scoffed. "They're not, or the Corpse wouldn't have been able to chase them away."

Lucian whistled, a bead of sweat pearling down his forehead. "I know a few priests who would crucify us just for watching this happen." He laughed nervously. "Just so you know, direct Divine interventions are incredibly rare. They usually always use a medium to act their will—a prophet, a priest, or even an Apostle. You know about Apostles, right?"

The team glared at him, shutting him up. He raised his hands in a placating manner. "I-I'm just saying. Not everyone knows about the ones who personally receive a share of their God's powers." He shook his head with an air of disbelief. "It's strange how many secrets to the common men we already know."

"Yes, yes, very enlightening, you pampered ass," Diamanes sighed. "Now, what I think is truly important to know is whether the Gods are our enemies or not. Aside from Epinos, of course." He paused and hurriedly added. "And the Fallen Mother, of course. And whatever creates Corruption."

"That void spell tried to kill us," reminded Glenn. "To me, that's pretty much an admission of guilt. Maybe the Gods tried making it appear like an accident, but I'm sure they'd be better off with us not learning any more secrets."

"What secrets?" Sahro questioned, puzzled. "That the Dark Elf King of three thousand years ago was still alive, undead, and held a truth that the Gods wanted sealed?"

Lucian nodded slowly, restraining a laugh. "That secret, yes."

"Why would they want him silenced?" Milena questioned. "What secret did he hold that Onnea found the need to intervene herself?"

"It wasn't just Onnea," interrupted Glenn. "I'm not certain of what I'm saying, so take it with a grain of salt, but..." He scratched his cheek, grimacing. "The golden chains were probably from Plutus. The blade of blood—the Bloodblade, logically. We already established that the pillar of light was from Onnea, so..." He bobbed his head from side to side.

Lucian snapped his fingers. "The Divine Sage. That must have been the Divine Sage who cast the spell that almost killed us! That terrifying void thing!"

Milena nodded. "Makes sense. Then... who saved us from it? That black satin, and that voice..."

"This is not destined death," imitated Diamanes with a gravelly voice. "If we follow your totally-not-flawed logic, there are only a few gods left to choose from. Epinos—" he sneered, "—The Dead God, and Nergal."

"The God of Death," Glenn whispered. His mind froze for a second as he realized what it meant.

The black satin powers were Nergal's, the God of Death. "Only a God can block another God's attack, after all. Or someone like me. Or the Corpse." Diamanes added with a mocking tone.

Who else used black satin as a weapon? Using attacks fueled with a strange Divinity he never exactly figured out?

"Holy shit," he blurted out. He stood up, forgetting about Liara resting on him, and suddenly grabbed Sahro by the collar. "Holy shit, Sahro! The Cleaner's Workshop!"

Glenn turned to the others in disbelief. "They're the fucking Cult of Nergal!"

***

Veil looked through the documents, his bandages coming off looser and looser. He didn't have the time to tighten them again and again: these documents were paramount to the Cleaner's Workshop's operations, and he couldn't afford to waste time. And yet, he still adjusted their position once again, sighing as he did so.

Suddenly, Veil looked down at the ground, confused.

"What did you say, my Lord?"

***

"That... no, actually it doesn't make any sense," Lucian frowned. "The Cleaner's Workshop is a mercenary organization. They gather information, hunt monsters and criminals, and keep the peace in exchange for coins and glory."

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "Do they? Do you know why I wasn't put to the chains right away after I executed Baron Howard?"

Lucian paused, searching through his memories. "Baron Howards, Baron Howards... the first vampire incident. I remember, yeah. That's when you first made your mark in the Bourgeoisie, didn't you?"

"That's not the point!" Glenn grabbed the Prince's shoulders with a serious look. "The Workshop explicitly told me that I had their support to clean up King's Rise! Nergal is known as the God of Death, a mysterious cult that has never shown itself."

He turned to the others with a large smile, exalted. "But that's not because they're inactive. They're hiding right beneath everyone's noses. The Cleaners are more than just extremely skilled fighters—they are priests of Nergal, using their God's powers to destroy monsters."

Milena lifted a finger, interrupting him. "But why? Why would Nergal want the vampires dead?" Her eyes widened, and she scoffed. "By Onnea, that's the logical course of action for him. The vampires are death-defying beings, dead yet alive, feeding on the life force of the living. Vampires are not natural; they're created artificially, through blood!"

"And because their immortality doesn't come from their own efforts, and rather from the power of the blood used to transform them, Nergal fights them as the Keeper of Death," Lucian muttered, rubbing his chin. "This is very interesting. I wonder if my father is aware of this. I doubt he wouldn't be."

"The King has always thought it better for me to learn of things such as these by myself." Lucian rolled his eyes. "Supposedly, it'd make me a better king. Besides becoming impatient and curious, I don't see how it helps."

"He's the King," snapped Milena. "I'll take his word for it." She clapped her hands together and sighed heavily. "So. The Cleaner's Workshop is most probably the hidden Cult of Nergal. Nergal, who, for some reason, saved us from that divine spell, which the Divine Sage had probably cast. Be they Plutus, the Bloodblade, or even Onnea, none lifted a finger to help us. Only Nergal. So Nergal doesn't want us to die." She forced a smile and shot four thumbs-up at them. "Isn't that a good piece of news?"

"He said it wasn't our destined death," reminded Liara. "Maybe he doesn't want us to die here, but somewhere else. Keep us alive a little longer for some hidden agenda."

Glenn sneered. "That wouldn't surprise me."

"You are just like we were..."

The group snapped to turn toward the throne, where the voice had come from. Dust—no, sand, black sand, rose through the ground's interstices, gathering into a human shape. Rotten flesh and hanging limbs, revealed bones and decay itself, the Corpse sat.

Regal, like a king.