I stand before a set of imposing double doors, uncertainty knotting my gut as I contemplate the impending decision. The office beyond houses an old man of unimaginable power, capable of ending my existence with minimal effort. For now, at least, I hope to reach his level as quickly as possible. My eyes flip to each side, finding what I see to prove his strength even further. No guards stand watch, and the castle-like structure exudes an eerie quiet, disrupted only by the sporadic movements of couriers.
I separated from the others to come here. I need to do this. Even if it is risky.
Taking a deep breath, I finalize my decision, recognizing the magnitude of what awaits—the reward I've earned hinges on this encounter. I don't know what it will be, but no Supreme would give an unfitting boon. With hesitant determination, I rap my knuckles against the cold surface of the door, steeling myself for the unknown that lies beyond. There is always a chance, no matter how slim, that he is not as kind as he would appear.
A second passes before the doors pull themselves inwardly, opening for me to enter. Inside, I find a single man, the middle-aged Undead with a lonesome burning eye. He glances up at me from the paper on his desk before nodding and standing. Isaac trudges around his desk toward me.
"Good. I've been waiting. If you had taken any longer, I would have left."
The Demigod's hand brushes my shoulder as he practically pulls me to follow him. I don't resist, knowing that it'd be futile. I do, however, ask a question that I can't help myself from doing so. The nervousness is already gone, forgotten and washed away by that pale light in his socket.
"Why would you have left? It's only been a few hours?"
The One Eyed sighs, his great chest heaving up and down in fatigue as I follow him through the grand halls of his abode. There are tapestries upon the walls of magnificent battles, incredible conquests, and heart-wrenching defeats, too. Everything is ornately designed despite resting within the land of the dead.
"She is waking up. You know that. With that... comes... more demons. In the past millennia, many of the demons that invaded have been under her control, but the majority of demons were of their own mind, attempting to escape Hell. That is no longer the case. Her Darklight is most... influential near her body, which Louis Fern, many, many centuries ago, deducted to be somewhere within or below Hell. So..."
I nod along with his words, understanding what he's saying.
"The demons are losing their own fights within Hell? Which spread to us?"
Isaac's head bows deeply. We continue walking as multiple couriers with letters and maps at their sides salute the Supreme. And me. The latter throws me off slightly, but I ignore it for now.
"Exactly. When you were here before, it wasn't so bad. There were more demons, sure, but that was because the wars within Hell were pushing more to expand out of Hell. Now that the majority of demons are... Motherbound, things have become far more desperate."
The old man's feet fall with more significant might as he finishes his words. I stop for a moment, feeling the gravity of his words. My mind flashes back to the warning I received about my father from Gorgeous—how he was in threat of dying. I didn't take it to heart then because of my father's renowned might, but now?
"How desperate?"
Isaac shakes his head and continues, motioning me to follow him down a set of stairs. Before he explains himself to me, he calls out to his assistant, simply speaking to the empty air.
"Stanley. Could you go get the 'twins' for me?"
I don't hear a reply, but Isaac nods, shifting his lone eye onto me.
"Depravity, you may know it as Depths, has fallen. Iva fell with her city, probably the only respectable thing she's ever done. The only survivor was an illusionist with the Devil's luck, not that anyone has seen them lately, though. Apathy is under siege now. Soon, so shall Heights be under the brutal scalpel. Worst of all, Warren is nowhere to be seen as of now. That leaves just me. The only Demigod to protect it all from falling apart.."
My pupils stare profoundly at Isaac's form as his fetters tighten with his very words. The expectations, responsibilities, and centuries of war have placed a visible, to me at least, weight upon his frame. I bite my lip as we pass under an open gate, deeper than the Underworld's surface.
"What will you do?"
Isaac doesn't give me an immediate answer. Instead, we walk a bit further, letting our footfalls be the only noise. Still, I don't let my eyes leave him even as I begin to see empty jail cells. Then... occupied ones appear.
Inside the cells are not humans, but instead beings of other races, Nahullo, Pygmies, Bado, and even demons. All of them hold at least five Sigils, considerable fighters on their own, an army in their entirety. Yet, none of them speak. They only watch. Gradually, an idea of what is coming appears to me. This is quite familiar.
Then, we step down another set of stairs, as if in an open cavern, the rocky ceiling high above. And the moment we do, I feel a film pass around me, striking me with a peculiar yet familiar sensation. Stock still, I halt my pace as Isaac answers me.
"I will do what I have always done. Place seeds in case I fail. I learned from Birdie and Otto that you have a... rare Sigil, to say the least. I managed to capture one for you. Well, that's disingenuous. I capture all those with rare Sigils in case they could be useful. And this one is."
My heart accelerates as I can physically feel the resonance appear with the steel door sliding open before us. My feet move independently, desiring freedom from even my own form. Rapidly, I sprint and walk interchangeably as I try to regain control down the steps. Isaac is right behind me, laughing all the way with some joy.
"Quite the resonance you have there for it to pull you like that. Never seen that before."
I don't—I can't—pay attention to him. My mind is clouded, no... broadened by the connection, and I rapidly end up breathing heavily before a barred door. Inside, I discover a woman in a meditating pose, her skin a charcoal black yet her eyelids a luminescent blue. A demon with magenta chains. An Angelic demon.
From here, I can sense it. She has two. Two! Not that I can take both at once, but... this is the first time I've ever found something with more than one of my Sigil, right? I wrack my mind and memory, but it's hard to focus on anything besides her.
A hand falls upon my shoulder as I reach for the steel wheel that keeps the barred door closed. Flicking my eye to the left, Isaac's flaming gaze exists with a lucidity that brings me back.
"Grab a hold of yourself, Graves. You have... risen so quickly that it threatens your own independence. Sigils can distort the minds and souls of those who possess them. Hold fast. Hold strong. Hold yourself. Do not lose that which makes you human. You are not a Sigil. You are a man, birthed by a mother, with the purpose of living, of growing, of ascending, not merely existing. Stay Unnatural. Do not fall to nature. Even if it is the heaven's themselves that threaten our minds, we must remember who we are."
The words stabilize me as I regain my bearings, no longer wobbling on my own toes like a drug-addled maniac.
Isaac then places his hand upon the wheel, turning the heavy metal with little force, the weight apparently nothing to his Undead frame. As the door gradually opens, the demon inside recoils, leaping to the back of the cell.
"Leave me be, Eye-Freak! I will never serve humanity! I will never sign a Contract with your Devil!"
The words confuse me for a second, and then I remember that Aniwye was allowed into Heights. Captured demons are likely either killed, recruited via forced Contracts, or saved for future Sigils. Like this one... I stay silent, still partially enraptured by the demon, as she, too, turns her gaze to me. She falls utterly silent as we share a subtle silence. Then Isaac breaks it by striding into the cell.
"You shall be serving us nonetheless, Shweil."
And with that, I witness the Dominion of a Demigod once more. The soul of Isaac, his chains, and the aura around them contort, distort, and meld together with the atmosphere. They expand, reaching out and becoming vast waves that control the fabric of space. The eyepatch on his face wobbles as if a dense wind buffets him, but none of his waves come near.
Shweil cries out in horror as she is pressed to the ground, her face exuding blood from every poor. The Supreme of Heights only has a single raised hand, his palm marginally closed. Then, the man nods to me.
"Go ahead. Finish her. Take your next step."
I let my eyes linger on the demon for several seconds before I heed his command. I don't feel sympathy for this woman, only pity. Reaching forward, I let one of the four blades in my right arm extend, sliding it deep into her paralyzed heart. And I don't even have to reach for anything. In an instant, I am pulled to where I should be. Once again, for the third time in a single week, I am back inside The Cabin during its final days.
The light is weaker than before, and the void is much darker. The hints are apparent. I'm only safe here because of my soul's strength. Anyone else would see this to be just as risky as getting an Absolution.
Plus, with killing a demon from Hell, shouldn't I arrive at the Fiery Pits? Not doing so... means things are messed up and not working as intended. Sighing, I begin the traversal of the long bridge to the tome.
The journey is silent and uneventful. It is as if none of the Mother Below's children have the time to waste on me. Soon, I arrive at the tome, granted by Gluskab, for what must be the final time.
I can feel it in my core as I extend my focus onto the indecipherable pages. I will never see this book again, at least not in such a literal way. Soon, the Mother Below will wholly close the doors to the Lighthouses. After all, obfuscating the way forward and blocking the only way to learn how to advance will do much more for her than possibly converting those who attempt.
Soon, all Sigileds will be blind on their own paths besides those under the old God.
Your eighth Sigil toward Limitlessness. With every footfall, the climb narrows.
The Martyr, the Intrepid Strife
The sacrificer, the oblater, the cursed without any other option. Able to bear the hurt, the fatigue, and the ill of others. Bearing the burden of another is a relieving task, one that strengthens the body, mind, and soul at once and forevermore. To remove limits, you must experience limitless toil, but it is not without boon. You shall create these own boons more than any other. Nevertheless, the only gain you receive is those you are willing to endure.
An absolute boon stands, my dear Martyr. You are worthy, and you are virtuous, far more than you are simply meritorious. The two combine, bolstering the soul as the Sigil melds even deeper. Your chains have become even more robust, akin to the most rigid, most unbreakable steel, just as your soul shall yield to none. Gradually, the flesh turns to the soul.
May your journey, filled with tyranny, be glorious, long, and worthy of my aid.
I pause in my reading for a moment, taking note that this one is much shorter than the last. Though, I suppose it makes sense. The jump to Angelhood is far more important than from Power to Virtue. Nonetheless, the abilities granted are starting to make sense with what is asked of me.
I was asked to aid others in their ascension, effectively bearing their pain and struggle for them. It makes sense, like a trial run for this. Yet, I don't know the full details of what Martyr will entail. Regardless, the enhancement of my Virtue will likely be vital in the future. I've been using Living Manacles continuously due to their strengths. It seems that usage will only grow.
Turning back to the tome, I continue.
A Martyr bears the weight of others in order to improve themselves. A single being's trauma and might are not enough in the face of Limitlessness. Only your eyes hold yourself aloft, but there are things you cannot see without others.
You must understand what lies at the very end, not just for you, but for all. Only then can you set yourself upon an impossible task. You must experience death in another's stead, or else, this is where you shall end.
But that is not all. Authority. You must find yours if you wish to grasp the hem of a Divinhood.
To continue, my Intrepid Strife, place your mind within the Sigil and return to whence you came.
I pull back from the tome, lowering my hand as I settle in the thoughts in my head, but as I do, I hear a distant caw, like that of a... bird? Twisting to my heels, I search the void, discovering nothing.
Shrugging, I return my hand to the tome, but again, an instant before I leave, I hear another thing. This time, it is a warbled voice.
"Wt!"
I open my eyes as widely as I can, scouring every which way for the voice, but then, it appears in my head. Not just that, but the image of a fiery hellscape with magma all over and a winged creature burst into my skull.
Squinting, I peer through the foggy heat and see a disheveled and malnourished Abraham as his words slowly gain substance.
"Wt! Ahdnsdaghg! Wyt! Wyatt! Wyatt! Help! Please! I can sense you here! Please! Take my hand!"
The burst of noise into the otherwise stark silence throws me off, not to mention his sudden appearance. I recognize the danger Abraham is in by the panic in his voice and the desperation in his face. For a second, though, I hesitate.
Can I really leave like this and go to where he is? I don't want to, but I can't just watch my friend die before my very eyes.
I call out to him, wanting to know more.
"Can you wait just a second?"
Abraham, as if unable to hear me, simply calls for me again.
"Help! Wyatt! Please!"
This is far too urgent. I cannot just leave him on his own like this. I have to answer that call. Sighing at the fact I may not be able to return, I extend my hand, leveraging my mind to follow the same motion, and the next thing I know, I'm in an entirely different reality.