In the deepest recesses of an expanse deep underground, a large Citadel sprawled out in the distance, framed by a grotesque tableau of death. An illusory storm-filled sky unfolded on the ceiling of this underground world, with its deep red hues casting a blood-red luminescence upon the twisted landscape below.
The fourth layer of hell, Satan's Citadel, lay engulfed in eternal tempests and unending chaos. Cliffs and ravines slashed through the battlefield, presenting treacherous paths amidst the ceaseless warfare that echoed throughout the underground world.
At the centre of the marred battlefield, humanoid and monstrous forms lay strewn across the landscape, their twisted frames and lifeless eyes reflecting the battle's carnage.
Tattered remnants of once-proud banners fluttered like spectres in the illusory tempest; their colours drowned in the desolate battlefield's crimson hues.
The stench of blood and decay saturated the air, even as the false winds whipped through the underground domain. The tumultuous storm rendered the atmosphere heavy with the essence of death, yet no rain fell, leaving the grotesque tableau perpetually in a state of eerie chaos.
In the heart of this desolation, time felt suspended, as if this false world itself had paused to witness the relentless horrors.
However, the eerie stillness of the battlefield was shattered as, within the charred crater that had served as the starting bell for the unforgiving battle, the scorched, blackened earth at the epicentre gave way. A writhing, white mass began to squirm from beneath the ground. Slowly, the mass shifted, morphing into the outline of white bones that quickly formed into a skeleton with thick, broad limbs.
Layer by layer, the grotesque transformation continued. A deep crimson hue spread over the bones, shaping into ligaments, followed by the dense formation of muscles and flesh. Organs materialised within the ribcage and skull and quickly grew in size and mass, filing the empty voids. Despite the grotesque nature of the scene, it possessed a strange allure. Piece by piece, a body was rebuilt before finally being encased in a layer of thick, black skin. With a heavy thud, a two-meter-long figure collapsed onto the ground with a groan.
"Ahh... I feel like shit!" Elijah hissed, his voice low and pained, and his body squirmed as he made contact with the ground. Each movement and breath felt like needles were piercing through all the pores in his skin.
However, Elijah had long become accustomed to pain, and after a few minutes, as the searing agony began to fade, he managed to regain his composure.
Taking slow, deliberate breaths, Elijah steadied himself before pushing upright. As he glanced around, he was momentarily disoriented, finding himself at the bottom of a crater, surrounded by nothing but scorched, desolate earth. As he looked up, he saw the crater's rim, towering five meters above him and blocking any view of the battlefield beyond.
As Elijah's senses returned, he realised another discomfort. He was completely naked. Elijah could feel the warmth of the ground pressing against his skin and the dry dust clinging to him. A quick check confirmed his suspicions.
Looking down, he saw that all his equipment, everything he had gathered over the years, was gone. His 'spatial ring', usually resting on his left index finger, had vanished, taking with it the meticulously earned and hoarded treasures of countless battles.
With a frustrated groan, Elijah lamented the loss of his hard-earned wealth. But the memories of the battle that had transpired moments before he lost consciousness flooded back into his mind, causing a dull ache to throb behind his eyes. Elijah gritted his teeth with a groan as he began working through the haze of memories.
"We were talking… and then? … and then…we were ambushed!" The realisation hit Elijah like a hammer. Despite the lingering aches, Elijah scrambled to his feet, desperately pulling on the 'true bond' between him and his mythical ranked shield, 'Hallowed Embrace,' enforced through his legendary ranked 'Shield Grandmaster' skill.
However, in a poor turn of events, the moment he reached out to connect with his shield, a sharp, searing pain struck his mind like a hammer, and he collapsed face-first into the dirt, clutching his head in agony.
Through gritted teeth, Elijah remembered what had truly happened. His current state was the result of using his shields, 'Guardian Angel' enchantment, to protect his comrades. The attack that Eljah had taken in place of his comrades should have killed him. By all rights, he should be dead. But he was not, and he knew why.
Only a few weeks ago, Elijah had ascended to the ninth tier of power, reaching the ninetieth level. With this new precipice of power came a Mythical ranked class advancement that also gave him a mythical ranked skill, and it was because of this new skill that he was still alive. Or, more accurately, came back to life!
"Second Life…" Elijah muttered, the name of the skill slipping from his lips. The skill did exactly as its name suggested. It gave him a second chance at life. No matter how he died, as long as his soul was not destroyed, his body would reassemble itself, even piecing itself back together from nothing.
It sounded like an overpowered ability, and that was because it was. But the skill did not come without its limitations. Mythic-ranked skills had high requirements and costs for usage. They placed immense pressure on the user's body and required a huge amount of resources, both stamina and mana, to be used.
After using 'Second Life,' Elijah would be unable to use any skills and would only be able to use the smallest slivers of mana. Also, his stats would be reduced to that of a mere human for several days. It was the price he had to pay for such a skill, but one he accepted willingly.
Elijah's thoughts then turned to the unnerving silence of the battlefield.
"Kenji…" Elijah spoke with a shaky, pained breath, fear creeping into his voice.
With a grunt of effort, Elijah forced his aching muscles to carry him toward the crater's edge. His body was weak and burning with fatigue, but he needed to know if his comrades had survived. After all, that was the type of person he was. That was the reason he was a tank, all to make sure his comrades lived. That was the power of friendship! The power of family!
As for whether his comrades knew he was still alive and, as a result, could have already left the battle, well, Elijah had not exactly shared his new skill with them.
This wasn't because Elijah didn't trust them. They were his closest friends, comrades with whom he had survived the harshest battles with. They had shared countless life-and-death moments, secrets, and victories. But Elijah knew exactly how they would react to this skill, especially Kenji.
The bond between Kenji and Elijah was forged in blood and steel. They bled for one another, saved each other time and time again, and were as close as brothers. But Kenji had always been vocal about one thing. Kenji did not like how Elijah tanked.
That was not because Kenji doubted Elijah's abilities. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He admired Elijah as one of the finest tanks he had ever known. What Kenji hated was the lengths Elijah went to. The way he absorbed life-threatening injuries, shielding his comrades by taking the full brunt of the damage onto himself.
Elijah's stats were focused almost entirely on endurance and vitality, making him incredibly difficult to kill, a human cockroach, as some jokingly called him, and his original title had been 'Human shield' because, like a shield, he always endured.
Elijah's title only changed to 'Humanities Shield' when he joined Kenji's group and fought side by side with the 'Humanities sword'. But no matter how durable he was, Elijah still felt pain. And Kenji, as his friend, could not stand to see him hurt like that.
If Kenji knew about 'Second Life,' the first thought that would cross his mind was that Elijah would sacrifice himself even more recklessly, relying on the skill to pull him back from death. Kenji would never agree to that. So, Elijah kept it under wraps, figuring it was better for everyone and would save him from an annoying lecture.
Because, no matter how much Kenji would demand him not to use it, and even if Elijah agreed and promised not to, deep down, he knew the truth. He would still use it without hesitation if it meant saving his comrades, so it was better to avoid that type of conversation altogether.
The eerie stillness of the desolate battlefield was abruptly broken by the sudden emergence of a hand clawing its way out of a deep, scorched crater. Soon after, an arm followed, trembling with effort, as its owner struggled to pull themself up from the crater depths.
Elijah's body quaked with exhaustion, but sheer determination forced him onward. Gritting his teeth, inch by agonising inch, he heaved himself up until, at long last, he reached the crater's edge. Breathing heavily, Elijah looked across the battlefield.
The sight that greeted him was a grim tableau of death and destruction. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, lifeless and broken. There were the forms of humanoid warriors, his collegues, and men at arms, and then the grotesque abominations representing the demons of this dark, forsaken world.
Elijah's eyes scanned the wasteland, taking in the devastation, but his heart was heavy as he looked at the dead humans that had been part of their army. It wasn't long before his gaze fixed on a grotesque mound of flesh in the distance.
The creature was massive, with its body a twisted amalgamation of creatures fused into a single grotesque form. The beast lay still, covered in a fountain of blood, chunks of flesh torn from its massive frame. It was tens of meters long, standing out against the smaller corpses surrounding it. Deep lacerations crisscrossed its body, showing signs of a vicious battle. But what drew Elijah's eyes was the severed dragon head nearby and the realisation of what, or who, this monster had been.
"An Apostle... 'The Gourmet'?" Elijah muttered under his breath. Next, his eyes scanned the deep laceration that had killed this apostle, and he already knew there were not many players who could deliver such precise and devastatingly clean sword strikes. These were sword strikes that Elijah recognised all too well. As he pieced it together, a sudden chill ran down his spine.
'Did Kenji kill an Apostle?' Elijah thought.
Elijah's eyes continued to roam the battlefield once more, and then he saw it. His breath froze in his throat.
Amidst the chaos and ruin of the blood-soaked battlefield, a lone figure sat slumped against a jagged obsidian rock as a pool of blood surrounded him. The figure's once-glorious armour was now in tatters and bloodied beyond recognition, but Elijah knew who it was the moment he saw him.
"Kenji..." Elijah whispered, his heart sinking like a stone.
Kenji sat there, his body propped up and his expression a mix of agony and determination. His once-imposing frame had been ravaged by battle with his left arm, and the entire left side of his chest was... gone. It looked as though something had bitten clean through him, leaving behind a gaping, mortal wound.
Despite the catastrophic injury, Kenji sat upright, his posture defiant. His gauntleted hand still gripped the hilt of his sword while a strange egg-shaped object rested in his lap. Kenji's eyes, once filled with life and fire, now flickered faintly beneath the weight of death's shadow.
"Kenji!" Elijah's voice cracked as he shouted, his body filled with a powerful surge of emotion. His brother-in-arms, his friend and, in some sense, his mentor, was on the brink of death. Every part of Elijah screamed at him to move, to reach his friend, to help him.
But when Elijah tried to stand, his legs gave out beneath him. His muscles, still recovering from his resurrection, refused to obey and instead sent him collapsing to the ground once more. Gritting his teeth, Elijah pounded his fists into the dirt as frustration and helplessness boiled inside him.
However, Elijah would not be stopped. If he could not walk, he would crawl.
Elijah dragged himself over the broken bodies, over the jagged debris, the remnants of the battle, inching closer to Kenji with each agonising pull of his arms. His breath came in ragged gasps as his vision began swimming with exhaustion, but finally, finally, he reached Kenji's side.
Kenji stirred at his presence as a groan of pain escaped his cracked lips. Kenji's grip on his sword tightened; no doubt the results of his battle instincts were still pushing forward even in his current state.
"Argh", Kenji groaned as he moved his sword.
"It's me! Elijah!" Elijah quickly said, moving slightly back.
The first thing Elijah noticed was the potion bottles around Kenji, and all of them were empty, their contents already used. The injury taking the left side of Kenji's body had stopped bleeding, but the wound showed no sign of healing.
"Elijah… How? You should be… 'Cough', 'Wheeze', I thought you died!". Kenji rasped, his voice weak and filled with disbelief. Yet, even in his fragile state, his hand never left his weapon.
"I'm alive, Kenji. I'm here," Elijah whispered urgently. "It's me."
"Stand still," Kenji ordered hoarsely.
Kenji's silver eyes glowed as he used the remnants of his mana to use his legendary ranked 'spirit eyes' skill. Then his face gave way to a smile, a true deep and broad smile.
"You piece of... 'cough wheeze'. You damned cockroach!" Kenji's eyes softened as he managed to get out a few words between pained breaths in a joking manner.
Elijah forced a weak laugh in response, though it was hollow. "Yeah, you know me. Hard to kill," he said, tapping his chest in a show of bravado, though the effort sent fresh waves of pain coursing through his body.
Elijah's hand instinctively went to his left index finger, where his spatial ring had always been. Feeling nothing, he was once again reminded that he had lost his 'spatial ring' and all the contest inside. All the potions or other items that could have helped his dying friend were gone.
Instead, Elijah again tried to call upon his 'true bond' and connection with 'Hallowed embrace', but like before, he once again fell face first into the ground.
"Argh!' Elijah groaned
"Are you okay?" Kenji managed to get out through pained breaths.
"Damn it!" Elijah cursed, slamming his fist into the ground. "I can't summon my shield... I can't..."
Kenji's breathing grew heavier, each breath a battle in itself. "My wounds... they won't heal," he said quietly, his voice shaking. "I already tried everything… It's alright, Elijah!"
"What about the others?" Elijah asked, trying to change the subject and deny the reality that his friend, his brother, was dying.
Kenji nodded weakly. "I... I made a path. They should've escaped," he wheezed, each word taking more from him. "You were right, 'Couph' 'Blood lord' betrayed humanity!"
Elijah's heart twisted in anguish. "Damn it...!" he spat through gritted teeth; his voice filled with bitter frustration. "Those traitors! if only… I would have... I would have…!"
Elijah's words resonated with an undercurrent of fury. Their meticulously crafted plan to eliminate the supreme of this level of hell had been thwarted. 'Blood lord' had betrayed not only them but also humanity!
Kenji's head turned slightly; his once-vibrant eyes clouded by the toll of his injuries. "It's... so dark," he murmured, his voice fading.
With trembling hands, Kenji lifted the egg-shaped object from his lap. Its weight seemed to drain the last of his strength, but he extended it toward Elijah as if offering him something of immense importance.
"If it's you... if it's you! Maybe we have another ch… 'couph', chance." Kenji rasped each word a struggle.
"Kenji..." Elijah reached out, his heart breaking as he took the strange object from Kenji's weakening grasp. But even as he did, Kenji's strength faltered. His hand fell limp to his side, the life in his eyes dimming.
Wheezing through his final breaths, Kenji strained to speak. "Remember... never... never submit to them... never trust their patronage. Be... be aware of Ol—" Kenji's voice broke off, his final warnings lost.
Elijah, hearing his brother's dying words, desperately tried to move closer, to offer aid or comfort, but it was too late. Kenji's head slumped forward, his once-bright eyes staring blankly into nothingness. The flicker of life that had clung so fiercely had now been extinguished.
"Kenji…" Elijah muttered weakly, his voice cracking with the weight of his sorrow. He reached out a trembling hand and gently closed Kenji's lifeless eyes. His hand lingered for a moment, the gesture both final and tender. "My brother," Elijah whispered softly, his voice heavy with grief. "Your trial has ended. May you find peace."
For a moment, Elijah simply knelt beside his fallen comrade, the stillness of death hanging thick in the air around them. The blood-soaked ground beneath them seemed to hum with a morbid silence, broken only by the faint, ghostly winds that carried the stench of the battlefield.
But somewhere, far off in the distance, perched atop the jagged peaks of an obsidian outcropping, a pair of deep, blood-red eyes watched the scene unfold without a shred of emotion. From the shadows, the figure of Damian, also known as 'Blood Lord,' observed Elijah and Kenji with an eagle-like intensity. His gaze was cold, piercing, and uncaring.
The air around Damian was eerily still until his low, heavy voice shattered the silence.
"Master," he intoned, his tone carrying a deep, ominous resonance. "It seems we have a problem".