Trihexa. 666. Beast of the Apocalypse. It had many names. It was responsible for weakening the Biblical God enough for Him to be killed in the Great War. And I was near that thing?!
"Seems like you've heard of it." Azazel's voice was flat, but his eyes were sharp. "Makes it easier to explain what this all means for you and for every dimension."
I grabbed the wine and took a long drink as Azazel continued. "The Old Man died during the Great War." He paused, gathering himself before going on. "I always thought it was strange. I thought it was part of some grand plan He had in place, He always had one. But a century passed, and there was nothing. No sign of any plan, no whispers of His return."
He sighed, his tone heavy. "So, I started investigating personally. One day, by accident, I wandered into Heaven. I figured, why not? Maybe He left something behind. I went to my old research station, and there I found some of His notes in a spot only I knew of." A brief chuckle escaped him before his expression grew somber again. "The notes were about seals, Sacred Gears… and Trihexa. I'd known about it before, but seeing the words 'end of the world' in His handwriting? That was different. But I still had blind faith. I believed the seals would hold."
Silence fell between us. Both of us were processing the enormity of what he had just said. After a moment, I broke the quiet.
"What does this mean for me, then? I was told Muramasa is connected to the Blood River, and every time someone is killed by the sword, the river expands. And that by fighting, I could resist the curse's effects."
Azazel sighed heavily, as though the weight of what he had to say next was almost too much. "I need you to tell me what happened after you drank from the Blood River." His voice was low but firm.
So, I did. I told him everything. From the moment I entered the Blood River, to cupping my hands and scooping up its blood, plunging my head beneath the surface, drinking from it, the voices, and how my blood was altered how my ancestor's blood had purified and merged with mine. I left nothing out, except about my reincarnation.
"Then, the next day, I woke up refreshed," I concluded, waiting for his response.
Azazel stayed silent for a while, as if contemplating everything I had said.
"Would I be like Siegfried, then?"
"Yes and no," he replied thoughtfully. "You said you submerged your head in the blood, right?" I nodded. "You've bathed your head in the blood of those fallen. Whether human, dragon, or even god."
He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Tell me, have you noticed any changes in your thinking? Any memory lapses, or moments where you forget things?"
I frowned. I had noticed. The first thing that came to mind was my hate for Redhead. I hated most women in general. They lie, they cheat, and it doesn't matter who gets hurt as long as they get what they want. The other that came to mind was my past. I didn't remember how I died, nor did I recall my name or even what I looked like, other than having a shorter, more feminine build. What I did remember was that I had fans, people who admired me for some reason, though I had no idea who they were or why they did.
"Seems like you've forgotten some things. But don't worry, I have a plan!" Judging by his expression, it wasn't a plan I was going to like.
"You're incomplete," Azazel continued, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Your brain, eyes, ears they're probably being overwhelmed, forcing certain memories away. And the rest of your body? It's likely struggling to keep up."
The more he talked, the more excited he became, as though we weren't discussing world-ending problems at all.
"And what exactly will this plan do, Azazel?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. He was wearing a Cheshire grin as he stood and spread his arms wide.
"You just need to complete the rest of the ritual!"
I frowned. "Azazel, my goal is to become the strongest human. I don't want to become any less human than I already am."
His grin only widened. He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and effortlessly tossed me into the center of the warehouse. "Don't worry about that! You're still completely human. You said your blood was purified and replaced by your ancestor's but you're wrong. You absorbed the mana in the blood."
I stood there, trying to process what he'd just said as Azazel began to walk toward me.
"And don't worry about Trihexa either," he added, as if it was an afterthought. "We've probably got another two hundred years before it's released. I'll be watching you, and if something happens, I'll stop it."
Two hundred years? I didn't have that long. But there was no time to argue.
I had to trust him.
I closed my eyes and focused on the call of the Blood River.
When I opened them, I was greeted by the familiar sight this time, no voices. Not yet, at least.
As always, I began to walk toward the spot where Muramasa used to be. But for the first time, I stopped to take a proper look around.
Swords lay scattered across the surface of the blood, just as they always had, with more submerged beneath. The sky above was a light red, streaked with veins of purple, and there was no land in sight, only an endless horizon of blood and steel.
I had no idea how I could walk on the surface of this blood, nor how I had once submerged myself in it. But that didn't matter now.
I closed my eyes again and began to lean back.' If I don't make it out of this, I'm haunting you, Azazel.'
There was no splash when I fell in, no sound, no resistance, and this time, no swords waiting beneath.
It was quiet. So, so quiet.
I couldn't even hear my heartbeat.
'Azazel might've been wrong about this.'
I tried to find my way back to the surface, but something was wrong.
I wasn't in the Blood River anymore.