Aiden raised the long, silver staff high, and the golden gem at its apex pulsed with a brilliant, silver-white light.
Then, with a sharp, decisive movement, he slammed the butt of the staff into the gray, cratered ground. A crisp, ringing sound echoed across the desolate landscape.
"Circle of Banishment!"
A silvery-white halo of pure energy erupted outwards from the point of impact. All the shadow creatures that came into contact with the expanding ring of light slowly, silently dissolved, melting away like smoke in the wind.
With the immediate threat cleared, Aiden spread his wings and lunged towards the corrupted Clint Graves. In mid-air, his staff morphed under the effect of Transfiguration, its form shifting from a blunt instrument to a sharp, shimmering longsword.
A silver light flashed through the alien twilight.
One of Clint's monstrously transformed arms flew high into the air, severed cleanly at the shoulder.
Clint, however, seemed to feel no pain. He reached out with his remaining hand, caught the severed limb, and placed it back at the break. A black, viscous liquid surged from the wound, and in an instant, the arm was perfectly reattached, as if it had never been cut.
"Aiden Prewett," Clint's distorted voice rasped, a sound like grinding stone. "Here, with the blessing of my Lord's power, I can glimpse into the fragments of your past. But unfortunately for me, and perhaps fortunately for you, I cannot see your soul."
Clint waved his newly restored hand, and a fresh wave of thick, black tentacles extended from the shadows around him, lashing out towards Aiden.
Aiden changed the sword back into a long staff and, with a flick of his wrist, cast a powerful Fire Spell, igniting the grasping tentacles in a burst of brilliant flame.
"Oh, my past is quite ordinary, Mr. Graves," Aiden replied, his voice deceptively calm as he dodged and weaved. "Is there truly anything there worth you making such a fuss to pry into?"
Clint ignored the taunt and summoned yet more tentacles to assail Aiden from all angles.
"We sought help from the gods, Prewett, but they stood by and did nothing!" Clint roared, his voice laced with an eternity of pain. "We have all lost those we loved most, and those who loved us most. On that singular point, we are of the same kind!"
A huge, amorphous shadow surged towards Aiden. He beat his wings powerfully, ascending high into the gray, featureless sky, and began to rain down spells on Clint from above.
"I beg to differ," Aiden called down, his voice cutting through the unnatural silence. "At least I wouldn't turn myself into… whatever this black, gooey monstrosity is. And another thing, do you villains all have a particular fondness for the bald look? It's a bit cliché."
The protruding tentacles quickly weaved themselves into a vast, dark net in the air. As Aiden looked up, he saw the immense web rushing towards him, threatening to ensnare him.
"So what if it's all black and gooey?" Clint screamed, his fanaticism reaching a fever pitch. "I am creating true peace, a world where everyone can find true, lasting happiness, with the help of my Lord!"
"All that is needed now, Aiden Prewett, is a soul with sufficient Magic power to complete the ritual. Once it is done, my Lord's glorious presence will spread across the land, and then everyone—everyone—will attain true, unending happiness in His divine embrace!"
Aiden cast a sharp Severing Charm, cutting the extending tentacles into pieces, which quickly dissolved.
"Why?" Aiden shot back, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why should I, or anyone, sacrifice themselves for a false, insane promise from a madman's mouth?"
"The gods disappointed you too, didn't they?" Clint pressed, his voice suddenly dropping, becoming almost intimate. "Did you pray to the gods, Aiden? When someone you loved was dying before your very eyes, when your family was brutally, senselessly murdered… did you beg for their help?"
Tears, black and viscous, shimmered in Clint's monstrous eyes. Aiden secretly tried to use hypnosis on the other party, to calm his frenzied state, but it was completely ineffective, blocked by the abyssal power now infusing him.
"I prayed," Clint whispered, his voice cracking. "I was so devout, so faithful… but no one answered me. I watched the person I loved most in all the worlds fall into my arms, life fading from her eyes. I could do nothing. I prayed from the very bottom of my heart to God, to any god who could save my love."
"My love's humble wish was just to watch her child grow up. Could it be that even such a small, simple wish is not allowed by God? So, since God does not allow it, then I sought the power of the Deep Realm. Surely, you of all people can empathize with me!"
Clint laughed maniacally, a broken, horrifying sound, and summoned a storm of tentacles to stab at Aiden.
'This guy… he was already plotting this from the very moment he had his son invite classmates over. He was searching for a sacrifice,' Aiden realized with a jolt of cold clarity.
Aiden waved his staff, transfiguring the very ground beneath him, summoning giant stones and launching them with telekinetic force, using raw physical means to drive back the relentless tentacles.
The tentacles shattered the giant stones, but from the flying debris, a figure flew out—the Death Eater whom Aiden had just knocked unconscious. Clint directed his tentacles to catch the man, who was still lost in his magically induced nightmare.
Clint looked at Aiden, tilting his grotesque head and showing a twisted, triumphant smile.
Aiden immediately rushed forward, preparing to stop him, but Clint simply extended his hand and made a grasping motion. A wall of writhing tentacles erupted from the ground, blocking Aiden's path.
Clint held the unconscious Death Eater as more tentacles rose from the shadows, rapidly constructing a new, crude altar.
He raised the obsidian ritual knife high and plunged it directly into the Death Eater's heart. The man, who first appeared in the very first chapter of this tale but had remained nameless until his pathetic end, passed away without a sound.
The Death Eater's consciousness, twisted and trapped by Aiden's spell, was unable to pass through the Distorted Illusion to start a new adventure. It was now permanently stranded on this first layer of the Deep Realm, forced to continue his inescapable, eternal nightmare.
The altar, the ritual… it was complete. A blinding light erupted from the altar, rushing downwards, penetrating the entire first layer of the Deep Realm and reaching down into the true, lightless abyss below.
Then, a massive, indescribable creature began to slowly float up from the depths. The surrounding space-time froze, and absolute shadows enveloped everything…
"Ah, great Lord!" Clint cried, falling to his knees. "Please bestow upon me your great power! Resurrect my wife!"
He prayed devoutly as huge, cosmic tentacles descended from the sky. A continuous, roaring stream of pure shadow poured into Clint's body.
The black storm of energy dissipated, leaving Clint standing blankly in place. His appearance seemed to have not changed much more, but his eyes… his eyes had turned a pure, bottomless black.
He raised a hand, stared at his palm, and slowly clenched his fist, as if sensing a new, unimaginable power coursing through him.
After a moment, he turned his head and stared directly at Aiden.
Aiden's spiritual sense screamed a frantic, primal warning. He felt an invisible, overwhelming force surge like a cold, cosmic tide, instantly threatening to drown his consciousness. It was a profound and irresistible gaze, as if it could penetrate his very being, revealing every secret, every detail, without a shadow of a doubt.
Aiden's heart rate involuntarily accelerated, each beat like a heavy, leaden hammer striking his chest, sending waves of dull, sickening echoes through his body.
'This feeling… this power has already far surpassed that of a Saint. It has reached the level of an Angel,' Aiden thought, swallowing hard against the immense, crushing pressure.
And then Clint, or the entity now wearing his form, opened his mouth and spoke a passage of utterly incomprehensible, maddening words. An alien, non-Euclidean language that scraped against the very fabric of reality.
Massive, incomprehensible information flooded into Aiden's brain, and an intense, burning pain threatened to shatter his mind.
***
On the other side of reality, deep within the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries…
"Director, an incarnation of a Deep Realm King has been detected." A witch in black and gold robes reported urgently to another wizard wearing robes of white and gold.
"What is the Silentium Tablet's response? Which one is it?" said the man referred to as the Director, his voice calm and authoritative.
"According to the information feedback from the Silentium Tablet, the entity is codenamed 'Hell'," the witch continued her report.
"Truly persistent spirits, these ones," the Director murmured. "Tell the Unspeakables in the Orrery Chamber to initiate countermeasures, according to established regulations."
As the order was conveyed, within the Department of Mysteries' Orrery Chamber, countless Unspeakables put down their arcane work and moved silently to their respective positions.
If someone could look down from the sky and magically penetrate the ground, they would see that the entire Department of Mysteries was built upon a single, massive, and incredibly complex Magic array.
The Unspeakables in the Orrery Chamber arranged themselves into precise positions within the array. A vast, almost unimaginable amount of Magic power was guided from the heart of the Ministry, flowing through the intricate magical matrix of the chamber.
The hexagonal Magic array at the center of the room shimmered with a brilliant golden light, and that power dyed everything it passed over in a radiant, golden hue.
***
The view returned to the first layer of the Deep Realm—the Desolate Courtyard.
Aiden, unable to bear the unknown, maddening words, clutched his head tightly and knelt on the gray, dusty ground, his body trembling.
Clint—no, perhaps he could now only be called Hell—slowly, inexorably, walked towards Aiden.
Just then, the stars surrounding the Desolate Courtyard began to change color, emitting a brilliant, golden light.
They absorbed and converted the power of the distant cosmos, transforming it into beams of pure, destructive energy. And all the stars, in perfect unison, collectively locked onto the figure of Hell.
High-temperature beams carrying immense magical power shot towards Hell, streaking across the alien night sky like a beautiful, yet utterly deadly, meteor shower.
Hell spread its newly formed wings, attempting to evade the beams through high-speed flight.
However, the beams possessed a tracking capability, curving sharply and rushing towards their target in the sky.
The shadows around Hell coalesced, forming a dense, protective shield. The first few beams struck the shield, causing violent, silent explosions.
But as more and more beams gathered, concentrating their fire, the shield was blasted to pieces, revealing the figure of Hell within.
The sheer energy carried by the beams dispersed the surrounding shadows, preventing Hell from organizing a second defense. The beams continued to explode around Clint's form, while the black colloid that composed his new body constantly flowed back into him, repairing the damage.
For a moment, both sides were locked in a stalemate.
"Ding. Wake up, Host! If you continue to succumb, your very soul is at risk of being extinguished!"
"Ah!" Aiden sat up abruptly, jolted from his dying state by the System's urgent cry.
"Ding. Detecting that the Deep Realm King is under sustained attack. Its weakness is about to be exposed. There is only one chance. Please act quickly, Host!"
Aiden endured the searing, burning sensation in his brain and forced himself to his feet.
He took out his long staff and began to rapidly construct runes around it, pouring all his remaining focus into the task.
"Thurisaz," he chanted, carving the rune of thunder and lightning into the air with his magic. "The power of creation and destruction… condense… condense further!"
After Aiden finished carving the final rune, he poured the power of his mind, his very consciousness, into the intricate magical construct. The runes began to release a dazzling, almost blinding, electric light.
The lightning did not spread out. Instead, it condensed at the very center of his long staff, forming a point of unimaginable energy.
In the distance, the Deep Realm King, Hell, endured the relentless bombardment of the celestial beams and took a single, difficult step forward.
Gradually, the explosions of the beams could no longer keep up with the monstrous regeneration of the King of the Deep.
And at that precise moment, the largest light source surrounding the Desolate Courtyard, the distant, luminous celestial body, began to shine with an unbearable intensity. All the disparate beams of light gathered into a single, massive lance of pure, golden energy, and with one final, devastating shot, it pierced directly through the upper body of the Deep Realm King.
After the beam dissipated, a single, pulsating purple core floated in the air where Hell's chest had been, and black, viscous blood vessels were already, impossibly, beginning to grow from it, trying to reform.
"Ding. Now is the time."
Aiden, with a final, desperate roar, threw out the bolt of lightning that he had compressed to its absolute extreme.
"Lightning of Ruin!"
A spear of pure purple lightning, carrying the full, focused power of Aiden's mind, shot across the desolate landscape and pierced directly through the floating purple core.
"Crack."
With only a single, crisp sound, the core shattered, turning into fine, inert dust that scattered in the non-existent wind.
Aiden, his energy completely spent, was blown away by the concussive force of the magical explosion.
***
(End of Chapter)
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