Chapter 119: Another Eye - XIV

Right after Aventine used <Warp> to flee with his companions, the space they were standing in was filled with rock and debris. Gron’s shop was completely crushed and ground to dust.

The Cyclops Cel’s enchantments returned to nonexistence, just as its creator did.

Nothing and no one survived. The Living City of Hispe was no more.

For a few hours, there was silence as the world recoiled in shock.

A Dragon had just died. A being so great, they were dubbed gods who’d denied immortality, had perished, not by old age, but by humiliation via combat.

The chaos was just beginning.

—Crack.

—Crack! Crack. Crack!

Suddenly, tiny cracks appeared all around the Dragon’s grave. It started from deep underground, as bony limbs tore through solid stone.

A swarm of Undead clawed through the shattered debris, crushing anything in their way and calling more beings to their side.

Those who’d died and were still somewhat intact now became soldiers for the Prince of the Underworld.

They joined the endless legion.

Digging.

Clawing.

Grasping at every fading soul on their way.

Eventually...

—Crakkle! Boom!

A hundred thousand limbs broke the surface of the earth, climbing out of the ground in a gruesome rebirth from beyond the grave.

A million more followed after.

Hundreds of millions of skeletal limbs converged towards the Dragon corpse, using their Malevolent Miasma to pollute the air.

Whatever remaining aura the Dragon wielded continued to dissolve anything that dared defile its surroundings. However, as the Malevolent Miasma thickened with every dissolved skeleton, this domain of absolute annihilation shrank.

The skeleton army swarmed, using themselves as stepping stones for those that would emerge after them.

"What a dreadful sight."

Suddenly, a voice boomed from high above.

—BOOM!

Hundreds of millions of skeletons dissolved, reduced to something less than the ashes of the world. An aura even more overbearing than the dead Dragon flattened everything as it descended.

—WHOOOSH!

Cyclones seemed to swirl with every flap of a true Dragon’s leather wings. The <Law of Pride> demanded all to submit.

Therefore, no one was allowed to raise their heads.

Nothing foul could exist.

"...Death is not so easily triumphed over, Dragon."

—CRAAAAACK!

A huge, skeletal arm rose from the underground, rising two hundred and fifty meters into the sky before slamming down.

The arm wasn’t in any way structured the way smaller beings were built. Its bones were dense and thick—Aventine would have likened them to Dinosaur bones—and further reinforced by the thick Malevolent Miasma in the surroundings.

Its structural pattern was oddly geometric, looking akin to the pillars and arches of ancient cathedrals. Its interlocked vertebrae and incorrigibly dense skeletal lattice, like woven blankets, ensured that the once-living titanic being never buckled under its own weight.

—BOOM!

The arm exerted strength with three claw-like fingers spread wide, spanning more than fifty meters each.

—BOOM. BOOM. BOOM!

A colossal skull broke the earthen surface. It bore nine gaping eye sockets, messily scattered all over its head. A chaotic array of eyes dictated this Nine-Eye Behemoth’s foul nature.

It was evil in life, and was now enslaved as an eternal Undead.

"Would you be so kind as to let this corpse fall into the Underworld?"

The Prince of the Underworld spoke, his voice reverberating into the world through the Nine-Eyed Behemoth as it rose into the sky, dwarfing even the hundred-meter-long dead Dragon.

As for the Dragon in the sky...

"Hmph,"

He harrumphed, amplifying its aura as the Nine-Eyed Behemoth skeleton stood at the altitude at which it flew.

"A subordinate of the God of the Underworld? You have no capacity to speak with me on equal grounds."

—BOOM!

The Dragon merelfy flapped his wings, and his amplified aura surged, forcing the Nine-Eyed Behemoth, humongous and sky-reaching as it was, to kneel on one knee.

By the <Law of Pride>, all beings must bow in subservience to its enforcers.

That was, until—

"Let us not be so hasty, Ballenvauch,"

Another aura drowned out the world’s breadth. However, unlike the overbearing oppression of the Dragon, Ballenvauch, this one was almost mellow.

Yet it was regal in the grandest sense, like a benevolent monarch guiding their subjects to cultivate the earth and bring forth life.

Six pairs of feathered wings embraced the skies, spreading out from the proud body of a High Winged Lion King.

All twelve wings shone with a subtle light, spreading outwards like a veil and intercepting the advance of the Malevolent Miasma while also dulling the Dragon’s aura emanation via the <Law of Pride>.

"There is no need to fight and reap more lives at will, no? What will Her Majesty think if your fight with the Prince destroys even more of her precious Walvaskaz?"

The High Winged Lion King’s voice originated not from his mouth, but resounded from the surrounding atmosphere itself.

Though the smallest of the bunch, the High Winged Lion King’s existence seemed to overshadow both the Nine-Eyed Behemoth skeleton and the Dragon exerting his influence.

It seemed like this monarch among the High Winged Lion race was truly deserving of his title, having gone farther than the other two along the path towards Godhood.

Perhaps the only thing stopping him was the threat of <Fate’s> enslavement, but he had no knowledge of such. Only a subtle terror in the depths of his being burned within him, dreading the possibility of being shackled for the rest of eternity.

The greatest scheme of this world was Apotheosis.

All beings sought it, but the closer one got, the greater one’s dread.

Other than Aventine, only the gods themselves knew their status as <Fate’s> slaves. The Primordial Dragon Empress was also aware of the nature of <Fate>, and so were a few other Dragons.

Other than these beings were those who’d committed various acts and rituals of <Blasphemy>.

No one else knew, and thus the myriad races continued to waltz upon the world’s deterministic grasp.

"Arvishue’rre...!" The Dragon, Ballenvauch, thundered from a higher altitude, seething in rage. "You speak to me of haste, yet you, along with Vandeath’s underling, have rushed here to meddle with the internal affairs of the Dragon race. You stand on no moral high ground. Her Majesty will surely understand my reasons."

The Nine-Eyed Behemoth shifted, booming with the Prince’s dry tone. "All of us are merely picking up scraps from Her Majesty’s table. Why is there a need to fight over a dead Dragon? Let me have it, and I can compensate you both with something more useful to you both."

Arvishue’rre sighed. "Prince of the Underworld, you cannot defile a Dragon’s corpse no matter how much you pay. It is a sin too great for you to bear."

The High Winged Lion paused.

"Of course, I am willing to part with it if you can supply me with a Celestial Fawn."

As for Ballenvauch...

"Scavenger, I can part only with this failure’s skull! The rest of its skeleton, blood, flesh, and organs must be processed and returned to me! Of course, its soul will be returned to our Dragon Palace. I assume you all understand our race’s need for our souls, yes?"

Sitting deep beneath the Walvaskaz Empire, the Prince of the Underworld smiled. He commanded his Nine-Eyed Behemoth to speak.

"Ah, my friends... unfortunately your prices are too disproportionate... A Celestial Fawn, alive, is worth more than any Dragon’s corpse. Furthermore, what can I do with just its skull for myself?"

It was time to haggle.

** *

While these three players of the Game of Walvaskaz haggled out in the open, Aventine, Kuvie, Reazue, and the unconscious Gron reappeared in another part of the Layers Beneath.

They weren’t too far away from the ruins of the Living City of Hispe. The immense presence of three SSS-Rank beings was still vaguely palpable, even for Kuvie and Reazue.

Why? Well.

This was Aventine’s first time making use of Spatial Magic. His only other experience with traversing through space and dimensions had been when he’d crossed over to Fleim through a primal <Gate>.

Furthermore...

The 6th Circle Spatial Magic Spell, <Warp>, was directly tied to the caster’s detection range and clairvoyance spells.

Only with direct knowledge of the desired destination’s exact coordinates and present state could a 6th-Circle Mage avoid any magical backlash from the spell itself or from the environment one travels to.

Usually, a mage would first surveil their destination, and, while maintaining their scrying, they would then cast <Warp> to ensure no accidents would occur.

It was a test of multitasking—but for Aventine, it was an incredibly simple and instantaneous process.

[Absolute Awareness] provided him with all the necessary information even without him sending his senses outward.

Had he not been capable of such instantaneity, Aventine and his companions would have been crushed.

"Hah..."

Breathing heavily, Aventine staggered forward. He was lightheaded from his forceful casting of <Warp> and even more disoriented by his sudden rise in strength.

His mind was too clear; it was somehow muddled.

His body was brimming with so much power that he felt weak.

And his mana...

Ah, his mana was overflowing.

Barely contained by his body, and seemingly influenced by something that the Gaea System wanted him to do now.

[You have reached Level 10! You may attempt an Awakening to gain a new Trait!]

[You have reached Level 20! You may attempt an Awakening to gain a new Trait!]

[You have reached Level 30! You may attempt an Awakening to gain a new Trait!]

...

...

...

[You have reached Level 130! You may attempt an Awakening to gain a new Trait!]

Aventine felt an ache in his heart.