Lilith
Middle floor
Dungeon, Thornhill
Vankar Island,
Northern Isles Region
Kingdom of Ashtarium
November 16th 2019
You still haven't answered my question regarding Ella, I said to Aeternum through our mind link.
We moved swiftly beneath the dense canopy of ancient trees, their twisted branches clawing at the dusky sky like skeletal fingers. The forest around us pulsed with an eerie stillness, the kind that settles over forgotten places steeped in old magic. We had been cast out of Aeternum's pocket space and thrown once more into the heart of the Dungeon's ever-shifting labyrinth. As before, we found ourselves in what resembled an abandoned ghost town, the derelict buildings silent witnesses to whatever tragedy had claimed this place.
For a fleeting moment, I believed we had returned to the same forsaken settlement from our last expedition—the structures bore the same architecture: narrow windows like hollow eyes, warped doors hanging ajar, rooftops sagging under the weight of decay. But as we pressed on, the truth revealed itself. The forest that encircled this town was different—older, denser, darker. Even Aeternum quelled my doubts, his voice in my mind a steady beacon. This is not the same place. The Dungeon's will has led us elsewhere.
And so we ran—shadows darting through the undergrowth—as hunters pursuing the Cambion that had slipped through our fingers. A raiding team driven not just by duty, but by the unspoken dread of what might happen should it complete its dark work.
"Your question regarding how Ella could see me," Aeternum spoke at last, his voice threaded with a strange, wistful tone.
"Yes," I urged, my curiosity burning.
"It is rather simple, actually," he replied. "You were correct in suspecting her Ability Factor is beginning to stir. But more than that, her soul carries a resonance—a compatibility that allows her to perceive me, even in my concealed state."
"How does that make sense?" I shot back. "How does a stirring Ability Factor let her see you?"
"It means her soul bears a harmonized potential, one that aligns with the Codex's frequency. Just like you, she would have made for a superb partner—perhaps even better than you."
The words struck deeper than I expected. "Better than me?"
"Yes," Aeternum said without hesitation. "Her soul core, though already active, has yet to unlock its true Factor. If I had been bound to her, I could have shaped that nascent power, guided its growth. Where you brought me awakening, she would have offered me refinement—a synergy that could have led us both to even greater heights."
"But I thought your purpose was to awaken soul cores—to help those who are dormant. Why seek partnership with someone whose core is already lit?"
Aeternum's voice darkened with gravity, as if peeling back the veil on a truth seldom spoken. "Helping to awaken soul cores, guiding cultivation, supporting fledgling practitioners—these are but functions I perform, roles woven into my existence. My true purpose… is to serve and groom an Ascendant. The Codex is not merely a tool of awakening. It is a forge, meant to temper and shape the one who will rise above all else. A living key to the path of transcendence, designed to mold an individual into something capable of reshaping destiny itself."
His words echoed in my mind, their weight pressing down like an ancient chain, binding my thoughts in reflection. The Codex was not just an artifact. I saw it clearly now—a silent architect, patient and unyielding, not content merely to awaken power, but intent on sculpting perfection. A forge for destiny, seeking the one who could shatter the limits of existence itself.
"Well," Aeternum's voice slid through my mind like silk wrapped around steel, laced with amusement, "it doesn't matter now. All that should concern you is this—had you refused me, I would have moved on to her." He chuckled, the sound a low ripple in my skull that left behind a strange chill. "And I assure you, our union would have been extraordinary."
I clenched my fists, a flicker of unease mingling with something I hated to admit—jealousy.
Before I could respond, Jen's voice shattered the tension. "Guys—look ahead."
We broke from the cover of the trees and arrived at the clearing's edge. There, blocking our path, was a pack of magic beasts—fox-like creatures, sleek and spectral beneath the moon's pale gaze. Flames licked their fur, leaving behind blazing trails that smoldered on the grass. The air around them rippled with storm-born gusts, their movements stirring miniature cyclones of ash and ember. Their eyes burned like molten gold, watching us with predatory focus. Each one radiated the power of the Warrior realm, their auras pulsing in tandem like a living tempest.
"Crimson Zephyr Vulpes," Aeternum murmured into my mind. "A rare breed—fire and wind entwined. The Dungeon is testing you."
A grin tugged at my lips despite the danger. The tension in my chest melted into exhilaration, the familiar rush of battle igniting within me. "This should be good," I said, my voice low with anticipation, feeling the thrill of the storm that was about to break.
[Frost Calamity: First Wave — Gale Ripple]
A pillar of blinding white light erupted around the pack of magic beasts, the air crackling with arcane frost. In the next breath, the light coalesced into a storm of jagged ice, encasing the fox-like creatures in a towering spire of frozen death. The howling wind fell silent, muffled by the solid, glistening prison. I cast a glance at Jen. She met my gaze with a smirk, the frostbite glow of her magic still dancing in her eyes.
"We don't have time for this," she said, her voice edged with urgency. "That thing—whatever plan it has—is already in motion. It's gained enough distance while we've been distracted."
"Fine," I muttered, frustration biting at my tone. The Cambion was slipping further ahead with every wasted moment.
But the Dungeon, in its cruel, unrelenting design, wasn't about to let us pass so easily. More magic beasts emerged from the shadows—silent, swift, their pelts shimmering with embers and wind-swept ash. Their numbers multiplied, surrounding us like a living tide. Even Jen, for all her power, couldn't clear a path fast enough. The burden fell to all of us.
I felt my grin return, that familiar rush of battle washing over me like an old friend. My hand tightened around the hilt of my katana, feeling the perfect balance of the blade. Normally, I fought in a dual-wielding style—swift, fluid, unpredictable—but tonight was different. I had chosen this weapon for a reason.
This katana wasn't ordinary; it was a Sacred-grade blade, of a higher tier than the ones I had wielded before. Forged not just for cutting, but for devastation. Etched along its length were runes that shimmered faintly, resonating with my mana. Its core feature was what made it priceless in this moment—it could absorb the force of my strikes, storing impact as raw kinetic charge. When released, that energy would surge forth as a devastating slash, an arc of power that could cleave through flesh, stone, and spirit alike. And now, with the spell that I could infuse within its core, the blade thrummed with potential. The next clash wouldn't just be a fight—it would be a storm unleashed.
"Come on then," I whispered to the beasts, stepping forward into the fray. "Let's make this interesting."
Raiding through the middle floor of the Dungeon proved far more grueling than I'd anticipated. This was no longer the chaotic scramble of lower levels. Here, the air felt denser, charged with the menace of stronger foes. Higher-tier magic beasts emerged from the shadows—many of them Warrior realm, their presence unmistakable as they prowled with practiced lethality. Each encounter became a brutal dance of survival, where one mistake could mean death.
Ella and Neil, the two of our group who remained at the Adept level, held their own despite the overwhelming danger. Their growth was palpable, shaped by necessity and the weapons I'd entrusted to them. Ella, in particular, stood out. The bow I had given her—sleek, elegant, deceptively unassuming at first glance—proved its worth. Black-gold in hue, it bore deep crimson veins that shimmered like sealed rivers of light, pulsing faintly whenever the Dungeon's darkness thickened. Under her grip, its magic sharpened her every shot. Not with brute force, but with surgical precision—each arrow a whisper of death that pierced clean through vital points, ending beasts swiftly and cleanly.
Neil, too, had adapted. The wand he wielded no longer looked out of place in his hand. Where before he had been limited to casting tier one through tier three spells, he unleashed tier four incantations with the wand's amplification. His spells tore through enemies with newfound authority, the runes along the wand's shaft glowing brighter with every successful cast.
Ben was as savage as ever. His claws, enchanted and honed through countless battles, ripped through fur, scale, and hide with brutal efficiency. He moved like a storm of steel, leaving a trail of blood and shattered bones wherever he passed.
And Jen… Jen remained untouchable. The magic beasts that dared approach her fell in moments, consumed by her unrelenting frost and razor-sharp precision. She moved through the battles like a reaper cloaked in winter's breath.
After nearly an hour of relentless hunting, slaying, and harvesting cores, exhaustion began to gnaw at us. Even the fiercest needed to breathe. We found a temporary refuge—a hollowed glade that had once been the territory of the Crimson Zephyr Vulpine. With those beasts gone, the place lay eerily still, the scorch marks of their passing etched into the earth like faded scars.
We made camp there, settling into a fragile calm. I sat at the edge of our perimeter, the enchanted blade resting across my lap. My senses reached inward, probing its intricate magic, feeling the hum of stored kinetic charge and the layered runes that made it more than just steel. Aeternum was within me, also assisting in my examination, its senses also spread out within the region to keep an eye out for any foe.
I sensed Jen's approach before I heard her steps. She sat down beside me on the fallen tree where I brooded, her presence quiet but weighted with thoughts she had yet to voice. My gaze drifted to Ella, who stood a short distance away, practicing with the bow. Each shot she loosed hummed with quiet promise—a girl becoming something more with every breath.
Jen broke the silence, her voice low. "My crew and I… we'd barely reached the Middle Floor before this."
I turned, meeting her eyes. I knew where this was going, and I saw the shadow behind her gaze—the memory of those she'd led. The ones she hadn't been there to save. She had been the only Grandmaster among them, a pillar meant to guide and protect. The rest, all Master realm experts, should have stood strong under her command. And yet they'd fallen—all of them—cut down by the Cambion's wrath while she was elsewhere, fighting to catch up to the nightmare that had claimed them. Her words hung between us like a silent requiem, the weight of loss shared in that stillness.
"You know," Jen said quietly, settling beside me, "it's been ten years since I came to Thornhill. I had nothing back then—just a Master realm stray trying to earn enough as a Raider to keep cultivating. Took a while to find my footing. Being strong helped."
Her words faded, but the heaviness lingered. She wasn't looking at Ella practicing in the distance. She was seeing ghosts.
"They trusted me," she went on, voice low, brittle at the edges. "Every one of them. We fought, bled, and dreamed of conquering this Dungeon together. And when it mattered most… I wasn't there."
I stayed silent. There was nothing I could say that wouldn't ring hollow.
Her hands clenched, knuckles white, the faintest tremor betraying the storm beneath her calm. "I should've been there. I should've stopped it."
"You couldn't have known," I said, though it felt like dust in my mouth. "The Cambion wasn't something anyone could predict."
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "I tell myself that, too. Every night. But they died scared… waiting for me." Her voice cracked, raw as an open wound. The wind whispered through scorched grass, carrying the stink of ash and old blood. The Dungeon felt like it was listening, savoring her sorrow.
"And now?" I asked softly.
Her eyes hardened, grief burning beneath the resolve. "Now I see them every time I close my eyes. I'll finish this. Or die trying."
"You won't be alone," I said. "Not this time."
A flicker of something—gratitude, maybe—touched her expression before she buried it in iron purpose. "No… not this time."
I hesitated, then asked, "Why Thornhill? You could've gone anywhere. Why here?"
Jen stared ahead, voice distant. "I was searching for someone. Or waiting. She promised to meet me here."
"And did she?"
Jen's gaze shifted to me, a look of quiet restraint and buried longing that stirred something deep, something old. A sudden sharp ache flared behind my eyes—a headache I hadn't felt since becoming an Ascendant.
"I think I've been forgotten," she said, turning away.
"Interesting," Aeternum murmured within me.
"What now?" I asked, recognizing that tone—the one it used when it saw patterns I did not.
"Ariella... this girl... You weren't the only candidate who entered my pocket space back then."
"You're saying Jen is a candidate too?"
"Hmm... That shadow entity spoke of fragments gathering... seeds taking root...equation. Listen, Lilith, I'm going dormant for now. I'll be back soon. Be careful." And just like that, Aeternum's presence faded, the bond still there but quiet, dormant. I could feel its vessel, access its space and power—but its voice was gone.
"Are you okay?" Jen's voice broke through, soft but edged with concern.
I blinked, trying to force the ache in my head to retreat. She was closer now—close enough that I could see the worry in her eyes. Instinctively, my gaze flicked toward where Ella had been—but she wasn't there.
I shot to my feet, tension surging through me, only to spot her across the camp, deep in conversation with Neil. Relief was fleeting. I almost reached for my Internal Sense, eager to catch their words, when Jen's hand closed gently over mine.
"You shouldn't," she said quietly. "Using Internal Sense around Ascendants—especially allies—comes off as... rude. And Ella's stronger than you give her credit for. Smothering her won't help her grow."
I opened my mouth to argue—to remind her that she, of all people, should understand why I felt torn about putting Ella at risk. But the look in her eyes stopped me cold. She did understand. Because she was me, once.
For years, Jen had been the shield for her team—the Grandmaster who bore the weight, who fought the worst of the Dungeon's horrors so they wouldn't have to. And in the end? They'd still been slaughtered when she wasn't there. If she'd given them room to stand on their own… maybe, just maybe, they'd have survived.
I glanced down at her hand—warm against mine, so at odds with the immense power she wielded. Her fingers slid down, closing over my palm. We were so close now I could see the fine freckles on her smooth skin, the depth of her green eyes.
Then it came—the headache, sharper than before. A blade slicing through the fog that had sealed off my forgotten past. A flash: a white room, toys scattered across the floor, children of every race... and one of them, unmistakably, bore Jen's likeness. The image burned vivid, then vanished as I pulled my hand free, heart pounding.
I stood there, rattled. My first glimpse of a memory long buried. And the truth it hinted at—I wasn't ready to face it.
I cleared my throat, breaking the thickening tension. "I'm going to keep watch. Ben's probably running low by now."
Jen studied me, her expression shifting—something unspoken passing between us—before she nodded and turned, heading back to Ella and Neil.
"Shit," I breathed, the word slipping out as I tried to steady myself.
-
District Fractisus
Pandemonium City,
Yorkside Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 29th 6410
Blood was everywhere.
The building where Ariella was held had become a blazing inferno, consumed by dark purple flames that licked greedily at walls and ceilings, reducing wood, metal, and flesh alike to ash. The bodies of the fallen lay scattered, some charred beyond recognition, others still smoldering as the eerie fire devoured what little remained of them. The stench of burning flesh, blood, and ruin filled the air—a choking, suffocating miasma of death.
Lilith walked through the chaos with terrifying calm, her steps unhurried, her eyes cold and unblinking. From behind her, Manaborn reinforcements flooded into the ruined structure, desperate to halt her advance. But their efforts were in vain.
Six orbs of dark purple energy circled Lilith like silent sentinels, their glow casting ghastly shadows on the scorched walls. With a flick of her fingers, the orbs launched forward in coordinated bursts—streaks of concentrated annihilation that pierced the mercenaries where they stood. Each orb struck with pinpoint precision, the searing beams cutting through flesh, armor, and mana shields alike. In mere moments, the attackers were reduced to little more than drifting ash and burnt bone fragments, scattered in the violet haze.
Lilith's mastery over the orbs required almost no effort. The orbs weren't just fire or light—they were raw, synthesized energy, refined by Lilith's Primal Harmonics and designed to disrupt and unravel any energy they touched. When they collided with the Manaborns' mana barriers, they did not simply clash—they destabilized the mana at its core, causing it to implode violently within their bodies. Blocking was meaningless. Resistance, futile.
Advancing deeper into the structure, Lilith reached the inner sanctum—the place where Ariella was being kept. As she stepped through the shattered doorway into the main room, she stopped.
Waiting for her were five figures—five enemies who, at a glance, were nothing like the cannon fodder she had dispatched so easily moments before. They stood in a loose formation, confident and radiating a potent, oppressive strength. The air around them crackled with raw power, and Lilith recognized immediately what they were: Ascendant Manaborns.
Three of them bore the telltale aura of Vampires—dark, hungry, and ancient. The other two exuded a different kind of menace: Wytches, their presence marked by a sickly, twisting energy that distorted the space around them, as if reality itself recoiled from their existence.
The moment Lilith crossed the threshold into the chamber, the atmosphere changed. A crushing pressure slammed down on her, as though invisible chains had coiled around her body, anchoring her in place. The force was unlike anything she'd felt before—ancient, heavy, and laced with intent and malice. It wasn't just raw strength pressing down on her. It was a calculated, focused suppression, designed to subdue, to dominate.
Lilith's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. Finally—this was a fight worthy of her attention.
As she stood motionless beneath the crushing weight of the oppressive force, her keen eyes scanned the space around her, taking in the details hidden beneath the chaos. She could see it now—fine tendrils of energy weaving through the air and etched into the floor beneath her feet, mirrored by similar threads suspended above. It formed a complex lattice, a medium for channeling and amplifying the suppressive power bearing down on her. An intricate magic array—one designed not just to restrain the body, but to sap will, dampen abilities, and smother resistance.
Lilith recognized it for what it was: Magic. And not some crude, hastily scribbled warding. This was refined arcane craftsmanship—an advanced construct capable of challenging beings far stronger than the average Manaborn.
Lilith wasn't a mage. She'd never studied the tomes or rites of the arcane arts. But what she lacked in scholarly knowledge, she made up for with instinct honed in the crucible of survival. Over the years, she'd learned to see energy—the way it coiled, pulsed, and bled into the world around it. And at its core, wasn't magic just another means of manipulating energy to bend reality?
And what was Lilith, if not the predator of energy itself?
Her smile deepened, predatory and knowing.
With slow, deliberate purpose, Lilith raised her arm. Dark markings, like living veins of shadow, pulsed beneath her skin, racing down her arm and illuminating the diamond-shaped rune embedded in her palm. The air thickened, the atmosphere tightening in anticipation of release.
[Primal Harmonics: Maximum Umbral Synthesis]
From the rune on her palm, a veil of dark purple mist erupted—thick, hungry, and alive with purpose. The mist flowed outward like a living tide, spreading in all directions. It moved with eerie grace, seeking out the tendrils of magical energy woven into the array. Where the mist touched the latticework of arcane power, it clung to it, feeding upon it.
The array's glow flickered, dimmed, and then began to unravel. The suppressive force weakened as the carefully constructed magic circle failed, its lines and runes breaking apart under the relentless consumption of Lilith's ability. The mist devoured the magic at its source—stripping it, digesting it, leaving the array powerless.
The mist coiled back toward Lilith's palm, drawn inward as though inhaled by an unseen breath. She absorbed it greedily, pulling not just the mist, but the very spell it had consumed into herself. The energy of the array, its structure, its intent—all of it would be stored within Lilith, digested over time, its secrets and strength made hers.
The room seemed to exhale in that moment—the weight lifted, the crushing suppression gone. Lilith's eyes burned like coals in the gloom.
Now, she thought, let's see what you Ascendants can really do. Lilith's body underwent a violent, almost primal transformation. A shadowy radiance erupted around her form—a roiling aura of blackness, streaked with glimmers of deep violet and shimmering silver. The air itself seemed to fracture and warp around her, as if reality struggled to contain the force now gathered in her frame. Each step she took sent a tremor through the room, distorting space and making the very walls shudder. A low, guttural sound echoed in the air—a predator's purr, not heard with the ears but felt deep within the bones, a resonance of pure, lethal intent.
The Vampires tensed, instinct taking over even before thought. As body cultivators, they recognized the combat aura flooding from Lilith—a killing presence so dense, so overwhelming, it pressed down on them like a tidal wave. The energy she exuded didn't just rival theirs; it eclipsed it, swallowing their own auras whole.
"Get rid of her—!" the tallest Vampire barked, but the command was his last.
Lilith was upon him before the final word left his lips. In a flash of motion too fast for their eyes to follow, she appeared above him, her shadow cloaking his world. Her fist came down like the judgment of a god, crushing through his skull with a sickening crack. Bone shattered, brain matter burst outward, and gore splattered in a fountain of red and grey. The thick, metallic stench of blood filled the room—a scent that fed the hunger roaring within Lilith. Her bloodlust surged as she drew in the Vampire's vitality, siphoning his life force through her arm like a leech on a ruptured vein. His body shriveled and collapsed, dead before it hit the floor.
Lilith knew she had precious little time. This transformation—this overwhelming state of predatory power—could only be sustained for ten seconds. Every heartbeat mattered. The consumption of the Vampire's life force was more than carnage; it was fuel. Fuel to extend her time, even if by a fleeting second, to push this deadly form beyond its limits.
But the cost was steep. Sharp flashes of pain lanced through her skull, as if fire had been poured directly into her brain. The agony was blinding, but Lilith forced it aside, her focus unbroken as she zeroed in on her next target.
The others tried to react, but it was hopeless.
The Wytches raised their hands, weaving intricate sigils, their lips chanting spells meant to bind and burn. But in Lilith's presence, their magic faltered. The energies that formed their spells frayed and unraveled, their arrays breaking apart as if reality itself refused to answer them. Their power became dust in the wind as Lilith closed the distance.
She didn't need weapons. Her fists were blades, her feet were hammers, her body was destruction incarnate. She tore through them with brutal efficiency, her strikes shattering bones, rupturing organs, and ending lives with savage, merciless precision. There was no elegance, no measured art to her violence—only raw, unbridled force, honed in the crucible of survival.
This was not the Lilith molded by the Ashtarium forces, nor the protector who walked the halls of the palace. This was the Lilith of the Black Forest—the feral predator, the untamed storm, the reaper who answered to no master but the hunger in her soul. And tonight, that hunger would not be denied.
After the last of the Ascendants fell, Lilith stood amidst the wreckage of what had once been a stronghold. Silence reigned where moments ago there had been chaos—no voices, no footsteps, only the crackle of smoldering ruin and the dripping of blood pooling beneath broken bodies. Death and destruction were all that remained, a testament to the storm that was Lilith.
Without pause, she made her way toward the room where Ariella was kept. Her breath came slow, controlled, as the shadowed radiance of her transformation receded. The black and violet glow faded from her skin, leaving behind only the faint shimmer of sweat and the iron scent of blood. Her steps were steady, but beneath that calm was a seething rage—a fury that only grew as she neared the door. The thought of what these bastards might have planned for Ariella clawed at her mind, and it took all her will to keep it from consuming her.
She pushed open the door.
Inside, Ariella lay on a narrow bed, her wrists and ankles bound tightly, a blindfold covering her eyes. She looked small, vulnerable—so unlike the vibrant girl Lilith had sworn to protect. The sight ignited something primal in Lilith, her rage burning hotter than any flame she had conjured in battle.
"Lil… is that you?" Ariella's voice trembled, but there was hope in it. Though she couldn't see, she could feel it—the familiar presence that always brought her comfort, the oppressive force within her system loosening under Lilith's proximity. Her mana flow, so long suppressed by the poison and spells, began to stir again, as if drawn to Lilith's strength.
"I'm here," Lilith said, her voice softer now, though still thick with the weight of fury. She moved to Ariella's side, swiftly removing the blindfold and cutting through the binds that held her. The moment the cloth fell away, Ariella's violet eyes met hers, wide with relief—but also sorrow. The stench of blood on Lilith, the lingering echoes of the carnage outside—it told Ella everything she needed to know. She had heard the sounds of violence, the brutal symphony Lilith had unleashed, and guilt gnawed at her. This is my fault… she thought. I made her become this.
Lilith saw it all in that gaze—the self-loathing, the regret. She shook her head gently, trying to offer solace. "Everything's gonna be—"
But the words froze on her lips.
Pain. Blinding, cold pain erupted through her chest as an arm tore through her body, bursting out the other side in a spray of blood. Warm crimson splattered across Ariella's face, and her eyes widened in horror.
Lilith's mouth opened, blood trickling from the corner as she gasped for air. Slowly, with grim effort, she turned her head to look over her shoulder.
Behind her stood the poison user—his face twisted in a cruel grin, his arm buried to the elbow in her chest. His fist pulsed with a sickly green glow, poison energy crackling around it like venomous lightning.
The predator had become the prey.