Shadow of the Abyss

"The boy is good," The one who personified Death spoke. Bathe in a river of long black hair that stretched to his broad shoulders. His deep, ancient red eyes shone over his pale face, which some would dare to call handsome. Tall with a lean build, he stood in a black fur coat that masked the tailcoat and suit.

"He's gotten a lot better," Blood Rider Zagreus laughed upon his grey stallion. Of similar height and build, he passed his hands through his ashen black hair. "His swordsmanship reminds me of Megaera. Fiercely cruel." He glimpsed the young girl. "But that girl… Are you sure we can trust a Nephilim?"

Thanatos stared. "If she is to be the Prince's Wife, who are we to question his decision?" He turned, mounting his black stallion, and looked south to where the comet vanished. "Let's head back to Lady Iliana. I'm sure she's bored."

"Already!" Zag moaned. "It'll be boring merely to watch." he glanced at the siege underway. "How can we just—

"We're leaving," Thanatos told his half-brother, trotting off.

***

Altair had been drenched. He had lost count of the number of lesser demons he had killed. Lost count of how many times his sword whirled through the hide of the imps. Cutting them up like a butcher on his block. Limbs, wings, tails, and eyes seemed to dance around him. He was like a whirlwind upon the frontline.

Attended by Reina, who wielded an obsidian blade that bore the lotus of Satori Works over its edge. The blade sizzled with a throbbing pulse of mana, allowing her sword to cut through the monster well within the ranks of tier four.

They were back to back nearly twenty meters ahead of the line, surrounded by hordes of lesser demons, slashing their claws and tails in hopes of catching the two Lords. They caught air and steel.

"So this is a Hell Tide," Reina said, somewhat short of breath. It had been twelve hours since she last sipped water or filled her belly with a hot meal.

Altair laughed, cutting apart a bolt of flame barreled at his head with Shadowclaw. Embers flared, shooting a tremor up his arm. "It's a lot tougher than I thought. But… The Leveling is crazy."

"Would be faster if we weren't restricted," Reina mentioned, cursing the fact she couldn't use her blood flames. It had annoyed her she had to spend the past month focusing mainly on the sword and her footwork rather than her alchemy.

Altair had felt her pain. "Luna ought to have taught you spells." he eyed his surroundings of scarlet eyes and licked his lips. Savoring demon blood with a peculiar glow.

Unlike human blood, which was sweet and rich, the blood of the imps was bold, thick, and savory, with a node of sweet tannins one might find in wine.

"I know a few. I'm just not well practiced," Reina admitted. "I—"

"Kyaaaaa!"

Swarmed once more on all sides, Shadowclaw cried in an arc of profane light. Cruel and deadly, it roared louder than the shrieking demons. The curving arc of Altair's blade ran across an Imp, spilling its guts as his other hand tore through the throat of a nearby Imp. Viciously, he tore out the demon's windpipe, kicking it away as his sword and feet danced.

[Lesser Demon, Imp Felled. Exp Gained]

[Lesser Demon, Imp Felled. Exp Gained]

[Lesser Demon, Imp Felled. Exp Gained]

Scratches and bruises were plentiful, but that was all they were. Flesh wounds he cared little for. Altair had grown accustomed to pain. And, in a way, he had grown to appreciate it. It was pain that made the man, and it was pain that would forge the king.

He hadn't spoken to Ren after that. For seven days and seven nights, they slaughtered until they were drowning in blood.

Hilda had been watching it all. Guarding him in secret. The Hell Tide would go on for Months. The longest ever recorded lasted seven years. The Imps were merely the opening Vanguard. There would be more.

Of that, she was sure.

When Altair had returned carrying Riena on his back, he was drenched from head to toe. Guarded by his shadows. She had welcomed him.

"Come," Hilda said. "I've set up camp a little ways from the encampment."

Coldly, with eyes of blood red, Altair nodded.

The soldiers that had been watching backed away. There had been no hero's welcome. Hero was Gallant. What they saw him do on the battlefield was the furthest thing from gallant or just. The mere sight of him made some spit and others growl.

"Monster," they'd say. "Devil Born" "Butcher."

Others, however, felt differently towards Reina. The way she had fought was valiant, capturing their eyes and hearts. Her blade was just and fair, embodying the will of men and women.

Altair paid them no mind. He was too tired. More so than he realized, as for the first time in his life, he looked forward to the prospect of sleep.

"Altair, I–" Hilda turned and sighed as he fell right over and into the arms of Kirr.

"I don't think I've ever seen Master faint from exhaustion." Kirr had said.

Jorm had gently pulled Riena from off his back and into his arms and spoke: " Lead the way, miss." He said, though unhappily. He didn't trust Hilda, especially one who could easily kill his master.

Beside the Wall, some leagues away from the front lines, they laid camp beneath a Pavillion. Surrounded by patrolling guardsmen.

Altair and Raina had slept for nearly twenty hours before they awoke. Covered in gauze, in a Pavillion that smelt of herbs and spices. The Kitsune had been at the foot of the bed snoring away. And oddly enough, Altair felt a bit jealous. His sleep had been so nice he wondered if he had snored.

His arms, where an Imp had slashed, had been sore, as were his throat and legs that, all faced minor cuts. He couldn't stop smiling. War had been a terrible thing. He had seen things he'd never thought possible for a boy his age. Yet, as he lay with Ren, it all felt sweeter.

"There is nothing better than a bottle of beer and a woman on your cock after killing a man." He recalled one of the Old Knights in House Aros remarked.

The words had been lost on him then. But not now.

Blackwood. The name had made him smile as he looked down at Reina looking up at him. A faint gleam of appraisal in her golden-flecked eyes.

"When will we return to battle, my Lord Blackwood." Reina intuitively asked, a faint mischievous grin on her lips beneath the furs that covered them; her arms ran up onto his warm chest. She felt his heartbeat.

*Badum *Badum *Badum

'It beats like a rabbit,' Ren thought, curious as to why it was thumping so fast.

"Seven Days and Seven Nights, we laid siege on the battlefield." The Prince said, enjoying her warmth. "Are you looking forward to making it fourteen?"

"The maximum level for a second class is fifty." Reina brushed the hair from his face. "we made it to twenty-nine." And circled her fingers over his chest. "The faster we peak. The faster we can focus on cultivation."

"We've got months. Maybe years." He shook his head and sighed. "And truly, I feel so good right now. I could die a happy man. Tomorrow. Perhaps.

"

Reina couldn't believe what she was hearing. Altair had been the most hard-working person she knew. He hated being lazy. Hated not being of use.

She pulled herself up and placed the back of her palm against his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

Altair smirked and took her by the hand. "It will seem those golden eyes of yours have made you into a blood Fiend. Tell me what it feels like when you kill demons?"

"Like a storm of fire that'll never be quelled." She admitted, cold and hard. There had been no joy when she killed. Rather, she felt obliged as if guided by a sense of duty. Demons, by their birthright, were meant to die by her hands. They were meant to bow, to burn, to die in the foulest pit of hell. And even then, that wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

For all three years they had spent together, Altair had never seen raw hatred mar her face before.

"You look sexy when you're angry." He lifted her chin boldly, admiring his woman. Reina shied away from his touch, completely red-faced, and dared not look up at him.

Altair had found this side of her to be bashful despite her fierce nature on the battlefield. She was docile with her golden eyes. Burden by innocents that made her all the more delectable in his eyes.

He gave her cheek a poke, enjoying the springiness of her youth. " Ren… i—"

Pausing, he snatched her into his arms and rolled, snatching Kuu off the bed as a demon came hurdling through his pavilion. It struck his bedding, staining it red.

Three arrows protruded from the imp's head and eyes, dead.

Altair moved, covering Ren in a cloak from Draupnir. Just as seven watchmen came rushing in, spears ready. Their eyes never made it to the Imp's corpses. They were staring. Staring at the young flower wrapped in a black cloak.

She hadn't been naked, not truly, as gauze was used to bandage her wounded areas like her breast. Aside from that, she wore only undergarments.

Altair wasn't fooled. The barrier that protected Farwin had reached where he stood. Ensuring that if a demon were to be struck dead, its corpse would slide down outside the barrier.

"Excuse us, m'lord," A crooked nose watchman said. "We were just looking for the Imp." He laughed.

"We told you he was fucken her." One of the Watchmen murmured. Glimpsing Altair's half-naked body. "Look at 'em. He's a lord."

"I'll take care of this, master," Kirr said, dropping the firewood he was using to warm his Master's Pavillion. He had been told the claws of imps had been poisonous like many demons. And that it would take a day for his Master to wake. Jorm had left him in command as he continued to hunt for Demonic Hearthstones.

But it never occurred to him that when he went to gather firewood, something like this would occur.

Altair had said nothing, but Reina could feel his anger. His fury.

"Don't blame him, okay?" She kissed his cheek and cupped his clenched fist. "We all make mistakes. Kirr has protected me for an entire month.

When he looked at her hopeful eyes, Altair sighed, unsure why he felt deflated before her soft expression. He had half a mine to destroy Kirr completely, to permanently remove him from his summons. Such a mistake was unacceptable.

"Please~" She childishly cried, nudging his shoulders.

"Fine." He relented and turned, catching sight of the bloodstained shadow on one knee surrounded by the butchered remains of the watchmen. He looked at him sternly. "Kirr… Ren wants me to forgive you. Truthfully, I would have you dead for this failure. What would have happened if we were still unconscious?" Altair allowed his words to sink in before he spoke again.

"I'll heed her words, but… there needs to be a punishment. Where is Jorm?"

"Collecting Hearthstones," answered Kirr, trembling, with tears in his eyes. He knew he fucked up.

"You are still young. Your memories have been destroyed… so mistakes are understandable." He said grimly. "When Jorm returns, you'll face ten lashes of the whip. Now get the hell out of my sight."

When Kirr had left sullen and teary-eyed, Reina turned to her Prince. "I like kirr."

"So do I."

"But Isn't ten too much?"

"It's not the pain he'll be concerned with." Altair cupped her cheeks. "It'll be the shame he brought upon himself. That will sting far more than any pain I could inflict."