Eternal Undying Chronicles

Alicarde arrived at the Aquifer Chamber, his violet eyes scanning the vast space. The chamber was massive, with high, vaulted ceilings supported by old stone pillars.

The walls were slick with moisture, and the air was thick with the stench of decay and blood. Scattered around the chamber were several Strigoi, their grotesque forms slinking in and out of the shadows, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

In the corners of the chamber, crude cages held human prisoners—mostly pregnant women, small children, a few men, and another group who appeared to be in the midst of a horrific transformation into Strigoi.

At the center of the chamber was a large, ominous ritual site. A blood-red magic circle was etched into the stone floor, pulsating with dark energy.

The circle was adorned with arcane symbols that glowed faintly, their meaning unknown to Alicarde. On the altar within the circle lay the mutilated carcass of a woman, her lifeless body serving as the focal point for the ritual.

Several Strigoi hovered over her, their clawed hands stained with her blood, their twisted faces contorted in a grotesque semblance of satisfaction.

'This place reeks of death,' he thought, the sight before him only intensifying his resolve.

"What type of magic circle is that?" Alicarde asked Malefica, his voice low as he observed the blood-red symbols that formed the circle.

"It's dark magic. It looks like a summoning circle, but it's also a mix of unsealing magic, plundering magic, and contract magic."

"Plundering magic?" Alicarde questioned, his curiosity piqued.

"It's a type of magic that allows you to plunder the magic energy or power of someone for a short duration. It requires a lot of sacrifices and isn't worth the cost. And contract magic is essentially a pact—kind of like what we have."

"If it's not permanent and not worth the risk, then why are they doing it? And worst of all, out of all these ugly sons of bitches, I don't see Zagarath."

"Language. As for why you don't see Zagarath, I suspect he's not here. This magic is most likely only a part of one large ritual."

Alicarde narrowed his eyes as he considered the situation.

"I see a lot of people. If I charge in to kill the Strigoi, those people would most likely become collateral damage."

"No... no collateral damage," Malefica's voice echoed in his head, her tone firm.

"Then I suppose I should just wait for the Strigoi to kill them all before making my move," Alicarde said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"No, that won't do either. You need to keep all the humans in one place and make sure the Strigoi do not go after them," Malefica instructed.

"How many Strigoi do you think are here? I'm not a miracle worker; many of these people will die here too."

"No, they won't. Do you see the cages? All you need to do is instruct the humans to stay in the cages. If they're locked, then they'll be safe," Malefica said, her voice calm and calculating.

"Not like they can go anywhere trapped in those cages, but I see your point. Just need to keep the Strigoi out."

He hung from the pillar, his sharp gauntlets digging into the stone as he used [Flux Field] to silently glide from one shadow to another.

The chamber was vast, but the pillars provided enough cover for him to move undetected. He could hear the low growls and hisses of the Strigoi as they prowled the area, their grotesque forms darting through the darkness.

Alicarde moved with practiced precision, his eyes locked on the human cages at the far end of the chamber.

As he got closer, he could see the state of the prisoners more clearly.

The cages were crude, made of rusted iron bars, and barely large enough to contain the terrified people inside.

Most of them were women and children, their clothes tattered and faces gaunt from malnutrition. Their eyes were hollow, reflecting the hopelessness of their situation.

The men, on the other hand, were separated into two different cages—one for those who were already in the process of turning into Strigoi, their bodies contorting and writhing as the magic took hold, and another for those who had been reserved as food.

The floor of the cages was filthy, covered in a mixture of dirt and dried blood. In each cage, a large bowl filled with dirty water sat untouched, and a tray of rotten flesh lay nearby, the stench of decay overwhelming.

The humans huddled together, their eyes darting around in fear and confusion, some of them too weak to even cry. Alicarde's expression darkened as he took in the sight.

"These creatures are disgusting. Do they expect humans to eat raw and rotten flesh?"

"They will if they are hungry enough. Never underestimate the human desire to survive. When push comes to shove, they will eat anything... hunger is a terrible thing."

Alicarde clenched his fists, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Use telepathic magic to communicate with them," Malefica instructed.

"Already on it," he replied. 'Alright, here goes nothing,' he thought, focusing on the mark on his body. He poured mana into it, feeling the familiar warmth spread through him as he activated the telepathic connection.

His mind reached out to the humans, and he could sense their fear and confusion like a tidal wave.

"Do not fear. I am not your enemy, and do not alert the creatures," Alicarde spoke into their minds, his telepathic voice firm yet unintentionally sinister. He paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction.

"Be quiet and listen. I am here to slay these monsters. If you want to live, then you will do as I say. Do not speak out loud. If you have any questions, then think them with the intent for me to hear them, and I will be able to hear you."

There was a moment of silence as the prisoners processed what was happening. Then, their thoughts began to flood Alicarde's mind, a chaotic mixture of fear, desperation, and disbelief.

'Who are you? Are you really here to help us?'

'Please, save my child! I don't care what happens to me, just save my child!'

'Is this some kind of trick? How do we know you're not one of them?'

'Are you a demon? You sound like a demon...'

'They're going to eat us... they're going to eat us all...'

Alicarde could feel the weight of their fear pressing down on him, their thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. He took a deep breath, trying to focus despite the overwhelming wave of anxiety.

"I am not a demon, and I am not one of them. I am here to help. If you want to survive, you must do exactly as I say. Stay calm, do not make a sound, and follow my instructions. I will get you out of here."

'What do you want us to do?'

"Stay put," he replied.

'Please, just save us! We don't care who you are!'

'What if you can't kill them all? What will happen to us?' a woman's anxious thoughts echoed.

Alicarde ignored the barrage of thoughts, his focus unwavering. He took a deep breath, calming himself as he mentally prepared for the battle ahead. He began recalling every weapon in his arsenal, every technique and strategy he had learned over the months. This was not the time to lose his cool, not with so many lives at stake.

He could feel the second part of his truename and the pull of the night, driving him to slaughter, to give in to the madness lurking within him. But Alicarde was determined not to be controlled by an unknown force, not by his truename and certainly not by his own growing insanity.

His eyes glowed with a violet hue, streaks of light dancing in his irises as he suppressed his rage.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to remember the humiliation of his defeat at Zagarath's hands. The sting of that loss fueled his resolve.

'This time, I will win,' he vowed. When he opened his eyes again, the violet glow was replaced by a cold, calm killing intent.

'Do not toy with them, just kill them—make it quick and swift.' He stepped out of the shadows, approaching the cages where two Strigoi were lounging, unaware of the impending doom.

His footsteps were silent, but the ominous glow in his eyes and the dark, grim reaper-like vestments he wore made the humans in the cages recoil in fear.

A pregnant woman held her child closer, her eyes widening in terror as Alicarde's dark figure loomed closer.

The others huddled together, their breath caught in their throats as they watched him, half-expecting him to turn on them at any moment. But among them, some recognized him.

'That's him... the Reaper!' a man thought, his terror mixed with awe.

'The Reaper... it has to be. We're saved!' a woman's thoughts rang out, the realization bringing her a glimmer of hope.

'The Reaper? Here?' someone else thought, a mix of fear and relief flooding their mind.

"It's him... the Reaper," one woman whispered, her voice trembling.

"I don't know if we're saved or doomed... but he's our only chance," a man replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The Reaper... is he really here to save us?" a young girl asked, clutching her mother's hand.

Alicarde ignored the murmurs surrounding him, his focus entirely on the two Strigoi lurking ahead. Without hesitation, he raised his hand, releasing a wave of fear that thickened the air, transforming it into a suffocating mist of terror.

The darkness crept forward, swallowing the creatures whole.

Their movements ceased, bodies stiffening as the overwhelming dread rooted them in place. They trembled, paralyzed by the cold certainty of their impending demise.

Before they could even comprehend what was happening, Alicarde struck.