Chapter 2 - Me, Myself and I

After performing his gesture, the lingering guilt did not abandon him. Still, Deimos had no time to worry about it — he was surrounded by the spawn of the Pit. With the battle over, the creatures were ready to pick at the remains: Zephyr and him.Without hesitation, the boy threw his own blood onto the body. Upon contact with the liquid, flames began to consume everything almost instantly. The fire started in yellow hues, then turned red, and finally became pale blue, as if the tears and sorrows Deimos could not express were the fuel. Those flames were, in themselves, the boy's cry.Then, Deimos cast one last glance at his cross-sword. Before sheathing it, he thought:

"Father, you were too strong for me."

The memory weighed on him, but he had no time to linger. With a decisive motion, he struck his chest, as if urging his heart to pump more blood.

"Come on! I've still got plenty of fuel left!" he shouted, activating the power of Atramentum again, a burden and strength only he could bear.

However, the effort had a cost. He felt an intense burning in his neck and throat, as if daggers were piercing his heart. Ignoring the pain, he continued down a vast corridor.Statues of giants adorned the corners, seemingly watching his passage.

"Are these the heroes of this people? Or their leaders? Doesn't matter. If I don't remember, it's not important," he murmured.

The place was grand, perhaps a reflection of the vastness of that world. Despite the time and the traces of battles, the environment remained incredibly well-preserved. But Deimos knew that, no matter his actions, nothing could cause more damage to that place than time itself.He stopped and, with a slight expression of frustration, said:

"You love rushing me in this search, but when I fight, it's always me against the world. So, I'll enjoy the view, and I don't want any more talk!"

While exploring the area, he found a room that seemed to be a bedroom. The bed was absurdly large, the pillows bigger than him. The ceiling had openings that allowed light to filter in, but they were shielded to keep out rain and debris. Platinum and silver structures adorned the room, some clearly used for hanging garments. In awe of the grandeur and exhausted from the battle, Deimos lay on the bed and, unknowingly, fell asleep.In his dream, two figures scolded him: a woman with long hair and a blindfold over her eyes, and a tall man with red hair. They both said he would have all the time in the world — or at least enough to rest — once his goals were completed. But the boy simply shrugged and covered his ears.Soon after, he woke up. He was healed, ready to continue his search. He looked up at the ceiling, observing the faint light filtering through the openings.

"It's still night... How much time passes when I close my eyes? Does the world still exist when I close my eyes?" he silently wondered.

Without wasting any more time, he began running, focusing his senses to track the Pit spawn. If they were after the key, the most sensible thing would be to follow them.Soon, he reached a dead end, where dozens of those creatures waited. They were grotesque: they had horse hooves, human torsos, giant and misshapen hands like twisted claws. But the worst part was the head — similar to a pig's, but without the typical snout, and with more teeth than a shark.They were scratching a wall, revealing something behind it. That's when Deimos realized: the key was there.The grotesque and massive creatures surrounded him, making bizarre snorts and growls, as macabre as their forms.

"One... two... three... four... five... six," Deimos counted the creatures softly, stumbling over the words as he jumped from side to side, displaying impressive agility.

Each movement was calculated, his breathing steady, but he knew time was against him. He couldn't rely on Atramentum for everything. It was too costly. His body was already overloaded, and he had no idea of the total price he would pay if he used it recklessly.Still, something burned in his neck. A familiar sensation, almost like a whisper — or a warning. He ignored it. There were limits he wasn't ready to cross... at least not yet.Though he could influence, he had no power over his own fate. A seventh creature, moving with stealth, caught him off guard, delivering a blow that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious. As his body fell limp, something peculiar happened. A mark in the shape of an eye, located on the right side of his neck, glowed intensely. For a moment, the eye on the mark blinked, and when it opened again, a red pupil gleamed with dark intensity.Deimos' eyes, once a contrast between purple and black, turned inward, revealing only the whiteness of his eyeballs. When they looked outward again, both had turned a vivid red, almost intoxicating. His black hair began to fade, taking on the hue of aged blood, and his body underwent a grotesque transformation, swelling until part of his clothes ripped.The figure, which was and wasn't Deimos, rose, placing his left hand on his mouth and slowly pulling a curved, single-edged sword — a mundane weapon in shape, but unmistakably alien in essence, with dark inscriptions pulsing with unnatural energy. Part of Deimos' essence was still there, but it was as if he were watching a movie. His body moved, he felt his body move, but he wasn't the one giving the commands. He moved his mouth, but it wasn't his voice that came out."Now, don't complain for a while," the being murmured disdainfully, in a voice that echoed like a sound from another dimension. "And more: if the situation were different, I wouldn't return this body so easily to you. But coming into contact with that key... that, I hate."Before returning control to Deimos, it cast an indifferent glance at the wall ahead. With a single strike, it shattered the structure, revealing something hidden in the shadows.A scroll, then an eye, followed by a gemstone — and now, a ring. The key had no fixed shape, constantly changing, as if waiting to take on a new form, something suited for its next master. Deimos approached, determined to consume the arcane object. The taste was repulsive, and as the object slid down his throat, he kept transforming. The change was happening faster, becoming increasingly unbearable, as if the artifact were trying to escape its fate, fighting against its ingestion.Though it was an unpleasant experience, a physical discomfort, Deimos knew he couldn't leave such a dangerous object unchecked. Something capable of violating natural laws couldn't be ignored. If he didn't do it, who would? Even with the feeling of weight and anguish, he forced himself to swallow, thinking with a sigh:

"See you in a hundred years..."