Chapter 2: Prince Aza’zel.
The aide's outstretched leg paused, a sense of alarm washing over his taut body. Then, he whirled around and shot in the opposite direction at a speed transcending sound on multiple layers.
A faint membrane of blood energy enveloped his body, hints of feeble darkness flickered in the sanguine edge, and in no time, he crossed the far horizons despite the draft of vitality throughout his body.
As he ran and ran, his skin dried out and his black hair bled out its luster and faded into oblivious gray. Even as he ran, despair colored his face as the sky above cracked open on multiple fronts.
Long fissures not unlike the gaping maws of ferocious beasts stretched from one horizon to the next, and from within descended the tone of a heavenly aria, so sweet the melody was, it chilled the aide's heart and bones.
Golden specks of light shed down from the sky, each pillar unbelievably wide in diameter, forming seven poles connecting the sky and earth. Looking closely, the distance and proportions between each of the seven pillars perfectly split the continent into seven regions.
A boisterous laughter traversed from the void beyond, followed by a clear yet strong voice, "Vermin who scrambled at the bottom of the abyss! Surrender… or DIE!"
There was a dramatic pause before he shouted the word 'die', and the word echoed with such targeted ferocity at every supernatural of the totemic bloodlines to a point where even the imperial aide, who was half-dead at this point, experienced a backlash from his totemic seal.
His bones cracked as blood splattered from his skin, eyes, and mouth. With a cry of despair, he crumpled to the ground with an outstretched hand, his lips silently moving to utter a few words, but no one knew what he said.
It was buried in the river of history.
The voice and the accompanying supreme might faded into the sky. As it seems, that venerated character wanted to clear all potential threats in the lowest realm of the abyss as a matter of convenience.
The retreat of the overwhelming might ushered in the descent of orderly soldiers in neat metal plates and varying insignias. Obviously, each pillar of light was controlled by a different family or a different organization.
At the helm of each pillar stood a conspicuous character with the airs of a supreme commander.
They stood silently in the air as though invisible steps rested beneath their feet.
It was the commander overseeing the pillar from which came the voice who said, "Sweep this continent clean from all totemic warriors! Leave none alive! Keep the young, be it women or men, kill everyone else!"
Each commander was shrouded in a veil of light and their voices seemed encrypted by some mysterious power. Thus, no one would be able to differentiate between who spoke, even when another commander replied.
"Heh! Continent? Don't make me laugh! This rotten sinkhole is a realm at best… As for a continent? Heh!"
"Less talking, more working! The faster we sweep this place clean, the faster your families can transfer their vassal forces and young lords respectively. Make sure to deal with all hidden threats while you still can!"
"What hidden threats are there? The disgraced race was left here to rot for ten thousand years, their constant decline would have brought them to extermination sooner or later, we simply lent the Gods Above a helping hand…"
"INSOLENT! Are the matters of the Gods Above something you're qualified to talk about, much less get involved with?! If you want to court death, don't drag our families down with you!"
It was only one voice that berated the ignorant, flippant commander, but the oppressive silence from the other five seemed to portray the same meaning.
The commander didn't dare retort recklessly, only a faint, unreconciled hum echoed from the screen of light.
The very first commander continued, "Let me remind you that despite the ten thousand years of regression, this continent has many regions that even I don't dare tread brazenly, let alone our young progeny. Make sure to impart the necessary information to your heirs as they compete with one another, as supernaturals on our level can't stay here for too long."
"We know that much," remarked a commander. "It's our duty to get rid of all potential troublemakers. What a pity, though. The totemic warriors of the disgraced race and their innate totemic seals used to stand at the peak of this world, sigh…"
No one responded to this statement, as they found such discussions pointless. Thus, the conversation ended here, and the seven commanders silently supervised the descent of their supernatural troops to the continent below.
Far away near the end of the realm, in the swirling darkness that threatened to consume all light, a woman and a young girl advanced fearlessly without a second spared to rest.
Both of them heard the overbearing voice, but, a mysterious force in the swirling darkness seemed to obstruct the force accompanying that voice, rendering it no different than soft whispers to their ears.
The two seemed to catch sense of the flowing vitality and resentment, relying on the call urging their bloodlines to chase in the direction of this cryptic summoning.
"How are you feeling, dear Caidie?" said the Disgraced Queen, though her eyes were focused into the depthless darkness ahead.
"I'm fine, Your Highness," replied Caidie. "The flow of vitality is paving a path for us to traverse the forbidden ground, I don't feel the repulsive force of legends."
The Disgraced Queen nodded her head approvingly.
Her daughter was as sharp as always, not to mention composed in the throes of peril. Although they couldn't see or hear, let alone perceive the environment, they could follow yonder in the wake of the remnant vitality.
Their bloodline totems afforded them this bit of ability.
The mother-daughter pair dashed forward for days—as perceived by their internal clocks, in pursuit of the ever-weakening pulse of vitality.
Eventually, they crept closer to a swaying fence dotted with rustic spikes, a curtain of steel per se, behind which lay a small city of ruins and desolation.
Their footfalls slowly crawled to a stop before the waning gates of this dilapidated city, their eyes trained on the bloody characters that read in ancient calligraphy— Immemorial Citadel.
The mother-daughter pair exchanged silent glances and rushed into the city, ignoring anything and everything all the while, pursuing the remnant vitality into the heart of an old mansion teetering on the verge of collapse.
The mansion was in no better state than the host of ancient architecture throughout the city. If anything, the only prevalent feature was afforded to the mansion through the dim stream of vitality creeping inside.
The moment they entered the most conspicuous of the great halls within, their eyes landed on an erected altar hosting an infant—a baby boy resting peacefully.
Princess Caidie didn't move forward, but the Disgraced Queen slowly inched toward the baby, her eyes resting on the ancient cloth wrapped around his body.
Then, she swept the hall with her serene eyes in search of answers, but she found none to speak of. Resigned to her fate, the Disgraced Queen gently cradled the baby in her arms, her movements revealing the calligraphy stitched on the crumbling fabric.
"Prince Aza'zel…"
Muttered the Disgraced Queen.
As though in response to the calls, the baby's body twitched faintly and his eyelids slowly reeled open, eliciting a crisp gasp from the queen while her body trembled uncontrollably as she met a pair of pitch-black, hollow eye sockets.