1 year later..
In the distended shadows of a year scarred by unearthly horrors, a clandestine sanctum sprawled beneath the weight of gray skies, veiled in the forgotten outskirts of civilization. This sanctuary, festooned in darkness, served as a fortress to a sinister sect of cultists devoted to the veneration of an abominable demon: an entity both bear and serpent, encased in ostentatious gold armor that glinted with a perverse opulence.
The creature's visage was a ghastly tapestry of terror—a human torso melded grotesquely with the elongated body of a snake. Its head bore the semblance of a bear, monstrous and broad, with deep-set eyes that burned with an unholy fire. Twisted horns, like the branches of a dead tree, curled skyward from its temples, casting eerie shadows that danced across its gnarled face.
This hellish abode was structured like a macabre prison, its high, dark stone walls dripping with dampness, encircled by towering black iron gates that shrieked on the rare occasions they were forced open. Within its confines, corridors branched out like the veins of a wicked heart, each leading to rows upon rows of cramped, dimly lit cells. The air was thick with the stench of decay, punctuated by the faint, desperate sobs of those who awaited their cruel fate.
"Please let us go!"
"I have children!"
"Think about this!"
The people cried these things and way more; At the heart of this labyrinth of despair, the main chamber unfurled, vast and oppressive. At its center, an altar of obsidian stood, surrounded by a sea of dark gray-robed figures. Their skin, as pale as death, was marked by glowing orange runes that pulsed rhythmically, illuminating their chant-filled procession with a sinister light.
The cultists moved with eerie synchronicity, their voices melding into a chilling recitation of their dark scripture—an ode to their malevolent deity. "In the shadows of our Lord's embrace, we find the true meaning of existence. Blessed be the lost, for they shall feed the eternal hunger," they intoned, their voices a haunting echo against the stone walls.
Each offering—a frightened, screaming soul—was dragged forward by chains, their pleas drowned out in the relentless chanting. As the demon opened its maw wide, revealing rows of jagged, blackened teeth, a fresh scream pierced the air—a sound of pure, unadulterated terror. The cultists' chant grew louder, more fervent, as if to match the crescendo of despair from their sacrifices.
"Stop this!"
"Make it stop!"
"Help!"
One by one, the victims were devoured, their cries silenced in a gruesome spectacle of loyalty to the grotesque entity that loomed over all. The air vibrated with the raw energy of life force consumed, the demon's power swelling with each soul it claimed.
Within this dire procession, the observer's gaze might catch the flicker of defiance in one particular cell—a small, dimly lit enclosure where a young lady, Elara was kept. 13 years old now, Her features were innocent, yet etched with the resolve of one who had not yet surrendered her spirit to the looming dread of her fate. She also had a scar on her left eye, but her left eye was still in good condition.
Elara's hair cascaded wildly down her shoulders, framing a face marked by grim determination. Her eyes held a fire that not even her grim circumstances could extinguish. Shackled and bruised right in front of the cultists, she whispered fervent prayers under her breath, not to the demon that demanded her life, but to whatever faint glimmer of hope might still exist in this darkened realm.
As her cell door creaked open, two robed figures entered, their faces hidden beneath their hoods. "The hour draws near, child of light. Your spirit shall soon dance in the eternal abyss," one murmured, his voice a sinister hiss as he unlocked her shackles. They dragged her from the cell, her resistance met with the cold certainty of their grip.
Through the twisted corridors they led her, past cells filled with others who turned their eyes upon her—some with pity, others with despair. Her resolve did not waver; she walked with her head held high, the echoes of her footsteps a stark melody against the drone of chants.
People looked at her, saying, "Help me..please!"
Elara just looked at them, not saying a word.
As they approached the central chamber, the cultists' voices coalesced into a crescendo of zealotry, the ground itself seeming to tremble with the weight of their dark devotion. The demon awaited, its presence a suffocating force that sought to crush all hope from her heart.
Yet, as Elara was thrust before the beast, amidst the twisted ritual and the fervent cries of the cultists, her voice rose in a clear, defiant chant of her own—a counterpoint to the darkness: "By light yet unseen, from this darkness I plead, let my soul be not food for the demon's greed!"
Her words rippled across the chamber, a palpable wave of resistance that briefly faltered the drone of the cultists. A tense silence followed, the air thick with the mingling of fears and fervor.
In that moment, under the oppressive gaze of her monstrous captor, Elara's fate hung suspended, her defiance a fragile beacon in the engulfing dark. The sect murmured among themselves, a fervent whispering that filled the chamber like the rustling of dead leaves.
The demon leaned forward, its eyes narrowing as it regarded Elara. It spoke not a word but its intent was clear as the chilling promise of despair.
Elara's heart pounded as the cultists guided her through the immense sanctuary, a gothic cathedral of despair and darkness. The air was stagnant and cold, carrying the weight of countless untold horrors. Torches cast sickly orange glows against the walls, the flickering light creating grotesque dances of shadows that seemed to reach and claw at her as she passed.
The construction of the sanctuary was a horrifying feast for the eyes: archways carved with depictions of despair and degradation, columns wrapped in thorn-like motifs, and floors made of cold, black marble that mirrored the swirling chaos overhead. Sounds of distant wails and the clanking of chains performed a sinister symphony that echoed in the oppressive atmosphere of the doomed hall.
As they neared the central altar, the colossal figure of the demon lord, whom the cultists revered as Baelfire the Annihilator, loomed menacingly. Baelfire's armored form was grotesquely majestic, a terror wrought in gold and shadows, sitting upon a throne of bones and ruin.
The space around was cleared, and the high stone ceilings stretched upward into darkness, giving the beast an even more monumental presence. Arrayed around the altar were the highest members of the cult, their robes darker than the others, signifying their vile hierarchy. Each wore a mask of bone, featuring twisted, tormented expressions that mirrored the very souls they had surrendered.
As Elara was thrust before Baelfire, his voice boomed throughout the cavernous hall, chilling despite the inherent warmth in his tone. "You, child of light, do not comprehend the balance of existence. Darkness must exist. It provides refuge for those shunned by the blinding hypocrisy of so-called 'good.' We consume to rebuild, to fortify. Your sacrifice is a cornerstone for the impending eternity ruled by the High One."
Baelfire opened his ghastly maw to consume her, fully chomping down on Elara.
"She has much power, but her consumption was for the best—."
The beast's eyes widened in shock as the power within him erupted outwards. The force of the explosion caused Baelfire's massive form to burst, sending, blood, gore and shrapnel of demonic armor flying in an arc of destruction.
With a deafening "THOOM," the entire sanctuary shook violently, the force of the explosion shattering nearby columns and rupturing the ground. Dust and debris clouded the air as an eerie silence momentarily fell over the chamber.
As the dust settled, Elara stood amidst the chaos, her form radiant and defiant. The ruins of Baelfire scattered around her formed a grotesque tapestry of death. Despite the devastation, the remaining cultists, driven by blind fanaticism, began to encircle her, chanting dark incantations. Her skin was covered in icy blue glowing frost runes.
"How—?!"
"She's just a child!"
"She bears the runes on her skin like us…that means.."
Drawing deep from the wellspring of her power, Elara danced gracefully amidst them, her movements flowing like the chilling wind of the most fierce arctic storm. Dozens of ice crests spiraled into being around her, each sharp and deadly, ready to defend their bearer with lethal precision. And she gained frost armor.
As she prepared to confront her adversaries, blades of frost in hand, her eyes blazed not just with power, but with a fierce determination to survive and turn the tide of night into day. The scene froze in that moment of anticipation, a silent promise of a battle that would decide the fate of light over darkness.
…
Elara, bloody and battered, yet imbued with a grim resolution, limped away from the chaotic remnants of her explosive liberation. The sanctuary was now a macabre scene of destruction, with bodies of cultists and fragments of the demon Baelfire strewn grotesquely across the cold, stone floor. Their dark robes soaked in blood, limbs torn asunder, the chamber echoed with the silence of the dead.
'Ah. There I went again. Going overboard. The Head forced our group—well now Caelan's group-- to embed qi-runes into our bodies. He also said some nerd shit, like: The primary purpose of engraving Qi runes onto the body is the monumental enhancement of the cultivator's elemental abilities. The embedding process deepens our resonance with specific natural energies, be it fire, water, earth, wind, or more arcane elements like void, celestial, darkness, or a hundred other affinities. Qi runes act as catalysts, accelerating a cultivator's journey towards higher states of being. The runes refine the cultivator's internal energy system, creating new pathways for Qi to flow more freely and potently. Unlike using Qi-imbued weapons or artifacts, having a Qi rune on the body permanently bonds the cultivator to their chosen affinity. This bond grants them an unceasing source of elemental energy, allowing them to perform feats that echo the mythic deeds of ancient heroes. The inception of Qi runes on the body traces back to the Age of Ascendants, a mythical epoch where beings straddled the line between mortality and godhood. It was during this time that the deity Kyung-Hu observed the uncontrolled ravages of primal Qi energies among the mortal cultivators. With insight gleaned from the cosmos, Kyung-Hu devised a method to harness this chaotic force – through the creation of Qi runes, originally intended for artifacts and weaponry. However, it was the Ascendants, who are now dead, transcendent beings on the cusp of divinity, who pioneered the method of embedding these runes into their own flesh. This esoteric art allowed them to embody the elements they mastered, seeking not just to use Qi but to become one with it. It was painful to get through, as it involved a ritual.'
Elara kept limping, but she applied qi to her wounds and they were slowly healing.
'The process of embedding a Qi rune into the body is neither simple nor safe. It necessitates a rare alignment of celestial events and the guidance of a high ranking qi cultivator The ritual involves deep meditation, the channeling of massive amounts of Qi, and the physical act of inscription, which is often performed with enchanted tools or even the cultivator's own concentrated energy, and one has to stab themself with the qi weapon itself and hold it there all at the same time. It's crazy, yes, but it worked. But the downside of this is that it drains your qi at a fast rate. If only Joon was here..'
Elara stopped, and she shook her head.
'Forget about him. It won't do you any good. Stay focused, Elara.'
Ignoring her other wounds, Elara made her way to the rows of cages where other intended victims were imprisoned, their eyes wide with a mix of terror and bewilderment. With her hands still radiating the frost that had vanquished their captor, she tore the locks from the cages effortlessly. The metallic clang of falling locks punctuated the somber atmosphere as she spoke to the freed prisoners with authoritative calm, "Do not run."
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Shhh." Elara gestured.
'They captured so many people here to sacrifice to the demon, in which the cult gave them up. For what exactly? What's the point? Over the past year, we've taken down 4 cult sanctuaries of the demon sect, and lost over 80 assassins in the process. And each time we clear one, we have to rescue the hostages but are forced to recruit them into the Blood Sect. It's cruel as hell, and I don't like it. Why save them so they can just get ready to die again?'
Just as the last of the captives staggered out of their confinement, the sounds of brisk footsteps announced new arrivals. Jiho of the Blood Sect stormed into the room, flanked by Caelan, Zephyr, and Kai. Their faces were hard with determination, and their weapons dripped with the evidence of their deadly proficiency. They moved with lethal precision, scanning the room for any threats that might lurk in the shadows.
Jiho, a seasoned fighter known for his ruthless efficiency, immediately started directing the others. "Caelan, Zephyr, check the eastern corridor. Kai, with me. We clear every corner," he commanded, his voice a sharp whisper in the eerie silence.
Caelan said, "Tch."
Zephyr nodded, "Affirmative."
Kai nervously stuttered, "Y-Yeah! I'll stick with you!"
'This is my second mission with Caelan's group. I'm here to replace Joon and Torin, but every time I step out with them, I feel like I'm gonna mess up in front of them. That would be embarrassing.'
Jiho began walking towards Elara, thinking, 'The Head wanted Elara to bloom, as she was the one who performed the ritual with ease and without hesitation, this was him putting her to the test. She managed to kill a strong demon and everyone else here as well. But it seems she waited until she was eaten to easily kill the demon as it would've been tougher on the outside. She's become more ruthless, cunning, and unpredictable.'
As they executed their orders, they found a few wounded demons writhing in agony, remnants of Elara's devastating counterattack. Without hesitation, and with a clinical detachment, they dispatched these remnants, ensuring no resurgence of the dark threat. The same merciless fate was meted out to any surviving cult members, their pleas for mercy drowned beneath the swift justice of the assassins' blades.
Caelan said to himself as he dispatched a few wounded demons, "Fuck this. I'm supposed to be the leader of this group now since Joon has been dead for a year, and I'm being ordered around."
'I don't want the attention, right? Not to be taken advantage of because I'm getting too involved with them with my power and arrogance. I guess I can put up with this for now. If I'm being taken advantage of like Joon was, I'd end up like him. If I'm being taken advantage of like Shen Wei was, I'd have the same fate. And I want to avoid that fate, and see my parents. This sucks. I also really hate being told what to do at the same time. Guess I have to bear with it.'
Meanwhile, Elara, leaning heavily against a blood-smeared wall, watched her comrades work with a somber expression. Despite the carnage surrounding her, there was a spark of satisfaction in her emerald eyes. She had been an assassin sent on the deadliest of missions: to infiltrate and destroy the cult from within. The horrific tableau around her marked her mission a success, though at great personal cost.
Zephyr saw her, thinking, 'Ever since Joon was taken from us, Elara was never the same. She hasn't spoken more than one word to anyone since it happened. She even gave herself that scar on her left eye that night after Joon was brought back dead. She needed something to remind her of him. I tried my best to talk to her, to try and help her, but she refuses. She's been keeping to herself. I notice she tries to forget Joon a lot, that scar on her eye was probably her biggest regret because of it, she's always looking into reflections, touching it. I feel bad for her. I don't blame how she feels for him, he saved her life, and all of ours.'
The other survivors, shaken yet alive, clustered around Elara, their expression a tapestry of gratitude and shock. It was Jiho who finally approached her, his face lined with concern as he examined her injuries.
"I see you used qi to mend your wounds a little. Was that all you can do?"
"And? What about it?"
"I'm saying it's a start. A year of learning how to mend your own wounds with qi is definitely development."
"…"
Jiho cleared his throat, "Anyway, it seems from each cultist demon sect sanctuary we've been too, they offer these people up to empower the demon itself. That way they'll have stronger demons on their side that they tamed."
"Okay."
Caelan came in, "Bastards. I thought they only needed demonic qi to make themselves stronger? Bathing themselves in it and whatnot?"
"That is also the case. The demons can cultivate their strength within their own demonic qi, and it seems also from the devouring of humans. They can devour the power within the human's qi also and convert it to demonic qi."
"What the hell…"
"I've never heard of it before, but it's what The Head informed me. Since the demons adapt the longer they stay in this world."
'Now that I think about it, me and Kiera noticed it's been strange how the Head has had all of this new knowledge of demons that he didn't have before, and he's been coming out a lot less in front of us, and leaving a lot as well. This isn't normal.'
Zephyr said, "Someone's coming."
Jiho thought, 'Zephyr. He's been trying to use his qi to increase his senses, and it's working.'
KATHOOM!
At that moment, the Head's son, Siren, landed feet first between everyone. Kai screeched like a girl and hid behind Jiho.
'Not this guy again!' Kai thought.
Caelan gave Siren a disgusted malicious look, saying, "Here we go again with this guy."
Zephyr said nothing, and Elara had her arms folded while looking away.
Siren waved, "Hiya!"
Jiho asked him, "What are you doing here?"
"What? A buddy can't come watch you guys do a mission?" Siren put his hand on Jiho's shoulder, but Jiho grabbed his wrist.
"Me and you aren't buddies."
Siren smiled, "Temper temper. You need therapy."
Siren looked at Kai, and grabbed him by the hair, chuckling, "Still pissing your pants around me like you did the first day we met?"
"Agh!" Kai squirmed.
"I heard about you. Kin to some members of the Vanguard. Your name was in some of the scrolls they have, and some of the high leaders mentioned you. They want to know where you are. I hear that you have a secret motive or pursue violence as much as possible—."
FWOOSH!
Kai twisted and tried to kick Siren, but Siren dodged it, and Kai formed a sword made of pure white light energy and qi, and slashed it at Siren's face.
But Caelan grabbed Kai's arm, saying, "Not here. He's here for a reason."
Siren grinned, "See? No wonder he's the leader." He then turned around to Elara, and smiled, "Aw. Still quiet? Still hate the world?"
Jiho asked, "What did you come all the way out here for?"
Siren responded, "Hmm. If you must know, my annoying father and I took a quick stroll through this entire area. We are within the Jeontu Sect, one of the largest sects in the Cheongmeong-gu district, in the Noklim Sup woodlands area, highly known for when the sect used to train their martial artists here, but since the blight, it's all overrun by demons and vines—."
Just as Sire. was going to continue explaining, Descending from the sky were light figures of grandeur mounted on bright white majestic horses with wings, their coats a brilliant blend of white and gold, shimmering against the darkness like stars fallen to the earth. These were the members of the Luminous Vanguard, feared warriors with a fierce affinity for light, known not only for their mercy but also for their relentless pursuit of those they deemed tainted.
"Hm. Seems someone has gotten here before us."
"Those outfits. Blood sect members."
"You know the rules."
Jiho's keen eyes narrowed at the sight, and his voice cut through the silence with the urgency of a war drum. "Run! Now!" he barked, and without hesitation, Elara and the others turned, darting towards the vast, dark woods that bordered the sanctuary.
The Vanguard gave chase, their winged mounts pounding through the air with thunderous beats, creating gusts that tore at the trees and sent leaves swirling like a storm. Their speed was immense, each beat of their wings an orchestrated pulse of power that further displayed the gap between the earthly-bound assassins and these celestial warriors.
Elara, despite her injuries, moved with a grace honed by her training. She leapt over fallen logs and ducked under low-hanging branches, her movements a blur. Caelan and Zephyr matched her pace, their expressions set in determined lines, understanding the catastrophic consequences should the Vanguard reach them.
Kai joined in, saying. "Oh shit! Those are our enemies right?"
Siren said, "Yes they are."