Prospect For Reincarnation: From Common Fodder To Calamity

A great fissure stood before the Incarnate. It limned the ground in a stunningly smooth fashion with minor chips visible on the edge before the Incarnate. However, rather than looking as though it was caused by a natural phenomenon, it gave off an ominous feel.

It was deep – very deep. The Incarnate didn’t even dare to get too lost in its depth.

The chips at the fissure’s edge which looked as though they were carved by a chisel after it had formed, made his skin crawl. After taking another step forward and feeling chunks of dirt falling into the fissure, the Incarnate was befuddled to see that he couldn’t identify its width.

The allowance of the Valiant Subject’s Ward’s Enchantment couldn’t mark just how wide this gap in the ground was.

‘Goodness…’

The Incarnate backed away and moved to the left along the fissure.

However, his hearts nearly stopped when he saw another fissure cutting across the first one and moving towards the way he had come. To make matters worse, as he followed the length of the second fissure…

“What is this?” the Incarnate unintentionally voiced again.

A great… creature, could be seen. It looked like the amalgamation of several hundred human corpses or perhaps bones, linked together like some sort of twisted, heretical sculpture. The bones were dirty and dark, so much so that the Incarnate imagined that they had all been stained by a lot of blood before.

This creature, as the Demonling soon discovered, was laid in two.

Its upper half was slumped on one end of the fissure – where the Incarnate had stood previously – while the lower half was located on the other end, where he had moved to just now, driven by curiosity.

Immediately, the Demonling thought:

‘Sorcery.’

It had to be.

Perhaps this was what was left of Marar’bel’s battle against Alabas before she fled – the one the councilman referenced.

‘The fissures… They must have been Alabas’ doing then,’ the Incarnate thought with dread.

Once again, the name Flying Reaper Sword resounded in his head. It brought him no joy to piece together that the fissures on the ground were indeed a product of someone’s power. Someone that he might be meeting in an hour or two.

The Incarnate trembled wordlessly.

He hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

Even against Tenyen and Kadyas who were immensely stronger than him, he had powered through his apprehensions and fears but right now…

‘I have no choice,’ the Incarnate told himself.

He looked at the foul amalgamation split in two and frowned. Live humans must have been used to craft it by Marar’bel.

Collateral. Casualties.

Again, a bitter taste made its way into the Incarnate’s mouth.

‘If I am to die another worthless death when I reach that light… then I should just consider that my penance,’ the Incarnate thought. If he died by Alabas’ hands or whatever was awaiting him up the rise, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

…As much as his very soul would have loved to believe that, the Incarnate shuddered.

He soon moved on, navigating his way around the fissures.

There were more than two.

A staggering number of them crisscrossed for the next forty meters, and as much as the Incarnate wandered and meandered, he couldn’t find a spot where they didn’t punish the ground.

Likewise, tens of hideous compilations of human remains could also be seen, split, and dissected in many different ways and without fail. None of them remained whole.

With time, the Incarnate managed to find the average length and width of one of the fissures: they were roughly eight meters long and two meters wide.

Such a discovery made the Demonling hesitate once more about his destination, but he found his resolve again. Barely.

Thirty minutes later, a large stone staircase appeared before the Incarnate.

It too was marred by abominations and fissures, but he managed to scale it. It twisted and turned a lot, confirming to the Incarnate that the orange light he saw was set on a hill.

In his experience, more than a few nations had castles or mansions for esteemed individuals built on elevated positions. This somehow improved their ego. It meant so much for them to live above everyone else figuratively and also literally.

In other words, where Incarnate ^8001 was headed, was probably…

‘A royal residence…’

Taking more deep breaths, the Incarnate moved on, slower than before. Soon, he saw the light that had been teasing him the entire way here more clearly. It wasn’t large, as he had thought, but it certainly was rather vibrant.

It beat out the thick darkness casually and established an absolute, perfectly circular perimeter where it did not waver or give in to the overwhelming power of Marar’bel’s Sorcery.

Something sat in its center, but the Incarnate couldn’t be sure what it was for he was still quite far. Excess light spilling from the origin of the radiance allowed the Incarnate to define the structure within which it was laid, though just barely.

It indeed was some kind of castle. Or at least it had been.

A grand entrance that no longer featured the elegant double doors it had held in its prime welcomed the Demonling, many fallen blocks and pillars visible past it. The vibrant light was positioned nearly two hundred meters on this first level of the castle, which apparently also lacked walls now.

The Incarnate took a step forward. The fact that he was yet to confirm what conjured the orange light unnerved him.

“Who goes there?” a commanding voice suddenly resounded, its rough, cracking tone causing the Incarnate’s bones to quiver. He froze.

What?

“Who goes there, I say! Why do you wield Maestus’ brand of armament? Who are you? Show yourself!”

The voice came again and this time, the Demonling’s skin warned by acting as though it would leap off him if he resisted the voice another time.

“I…I am a… traveller,” the Incarnate said without thinking. He didn’t know what else would be an appropriate response here.

“A traveller or a lurker? Why do you shy away from me? Did you not follow the light to this place? Come and see it,” the voice came again. It was a lot sharper this time around.

The Incarnate gathered his courage. He strode forth and didn’t stop.

His steps rang crisply on the floor, as did his fear.

He avoided the rubble in his way rather easily because of the newfound instinctual awareness he gained in the last batch of hours; the light also helped.

As he approached, the Incarnate finally got a clear view of the source of the light and what was nestled at the centre of its glowing parameter.

The light poured from a tall candlestand onto which a thick, white candle marked with ominous writing was placed. A spindly yet radiant flame burning bright and high from the candle, scarcely blinking.

Next to the stand was a large stone throne. A man, a large, broad man sat on this throne. He wore a crown that looked as though it was made from black jade and a maroon suit of scale armor that looked as worn as every other thing in the kingdom.

A heavy, grey beard that matched his cascading hair fell from his face, shivering because of his hoarse breathing.

A shadow was cast over his eyes because of the way he hung his head, making him seem a lot more menacing of an entity.

The way his great hand extended to cradle the hilt of a large, rusted bastard sword planted into the floor to the right of his throne would have been even more terrifying for the Incarnate… if the view of the festering maggots and rotten skin on the man hadn’t shoved him with haunting terror first.

Just like Tenyen and Kadyas… This man was…

“Closer.”

The man commanded after sensing the Incarnate’s sudden halt.

The Demonling hesitated only for a second before forging ahead again. When much of the orange light bathed him, such that the Valiant Subject’s Ward’s effect no longer mattered…

[You are within range of a Rare Far Ji (Unique Quality)]

[Find its source and pay a fitting price to claim it for yourself]

The Incarnate nearly choked on his saliva when the message appeared before his eyes, but he couldn’t consider it for a second more, because a crushing pressure poured from the man atop the throne.

Even though he was twenty meters away, the potency of his presence still overwhelmed the Incarnate.

“Where is your courtesy, traveller? Do I no longer carry the mark of royalty? The mark of a King?” the man barked.

At once, the Incarnate stowed his shield in his Vault, bowed and dropped his head onto the floor.

“Forgive me!” he cried. “My ignorance is inexcusable, Your Majesty! But I ask that you forgive it this once!”

The pressure pouring from the broad man waned.

He was…stunned, yet pleased.

It had been so long.

He cleared his throat and shifted slightly.

“Tell me. Who are you?” he asked.