The Genesis Game: Volume III: A LitRPG Adventure, page 12
Seraph reviewed his old status sheet, feeling more than satisfied with the power he possessed.
Yet, he couldn't shake the regret about the debuff.
30% of his absolute power remained near absolute. It would have to be enough.
"Do not fail, Seraph," the monster advised gravely.
"None of us will have a second chance."
The creature turned away from Seraph, focusing on Luca's body.
It began to cast healing magic, weaving its many hands in intricate sigils that glowed with power.
"Luca will be fine, but you will not be. This body is unstable. It will fail."
Seraph tested his newfound strength and could feel a subtle sensation of instability the ancient monster had warned him of.
"You must become more than you were," it said.
The ancient being stepped back, its hands still glowing faintly from the magic it had woven.
"The true battle lies ahead," it warned him.
With a nod to the ancient entity, Seraph leaped back through the portal.
Seraph arrived on the battlefield just in time to witness Adramelech collapse under the sheer weight of the mob of mist monsters. The demon prince's fire breath melted the stone around him as he struggled against the relentless onslaught of Infernals and other abominations.
They crowded around him, attacking without mercy.
The ground beneath the Prince of Fire had largely turned to molten slag from the constant spewing of flames from its mouth. Blood, hotter than hellfire, dripped from its wounds, falling in huge droplets that hissed upon hitting the stones.
The searing blood melted the surface, charring it black as the Prince of Fire roared in agony, struggling to rise.
More monsters piled on, and Seraph felt a surge of determination.
I have to help him, he thought, spreading his wings. He flew across the battlefield, his black steel skin glistening and thrumming with power.
But Adramelech was not Seraph. Unlike Seraph, the demon was bound by the rules of the dungeon and had a far more limited health. With enough damage, he would be undone.
The demon prince hit his limit. His body shuddered under the relentless assault, flames sputtering from his jaws. Seraph dove towards the fray, Ethereal Arms materializing around him.
He tore into the horde with a furious roar, obsidian claws rending flesh and bone.
Adramelech's eyes met Seraph's, a flicker of recognition passing between them before the light faded from the demon's eyes. His massive form went limp, crashing to the ground.
Seraph stood alone amidst the swarm, his Ethereal Arms thrashing and tearing as he tried to reach the Demon Prince. But for every monster he struck down, two more seemed to take its place.
They pressed in from all sides, a tide of writhing flesh and gnashing teeth.
Adramelech stirred, slowly rising to his feet. The Demon Prince's movements were shaky, his once powerful form now battered and broken. Seraph could see an exhausted fury burning in Adramelech's eyes, but it was a pale fire.
The Prince of Fire had reached his limit.
Despite dire injuries, Adramelech refused to yield. He stood and tried once more to join the battle against the horde, his flames sputtering weakly from his jaws. Seraph knew that the demon prince's pride would never allow him to retreat.
Seraph redoubled his efforts, his Ethereal Arms lashing out. He carved a path through the monsters, desperate to reach Adramelech's side. The demon prince's bloodied form loomed ahead.
As Seraph fought his way closer, he could see the extent of Adramelech's injuries. Deep gashes marred the prince's furred hide, leaking molten blood that hissed and sizzled on the ground.
An arm hung at an awkward angle, clearly broken.
Yet still, the Prince of Fire stood.
Seraph raced forward.
He knew that every second counted. If he could just reach Adramelech, perhaps together they could turn the tide of battle.
But the monsters seemed endless, their numbers swelling with each passing moment. Seraph struck out again and again.
The horde pressed in.
Looking his way just once, Adramelech let out a primal roar, the ground trembled beneath his feet as he summoned the last dregs of his strength, his body engulfed in a blinding inferno.
Seraph shielded his eyes against the searing light, feeling the heat wash over him in waves. When it lessened, he could only watch as Adramelech charged forward, a living comet of fire leaving a trail of charred monsters in his wake before finally being brought low.
A horde of nightmares surged forward, unlike anything Seraph had laid eyes on before. Their bodies were gaunt and predatory, resembling skinless giant wolves with sinewy limbs and muscle stretched tight over bone armor and two appendages like arms that moved back and forth.
From those arms, hooked claws shot forward and dug deep into the flesh of the Ram-like Demon Prince of Fire, tearing into him with ruthless precision. The Prince's mighty legs buckled, brought low by the relentless grip of the fiends.
His flaming horns flickered, powerless against their numbers. Then came a towering Infernal, larger than the others, its armor forged from blackened iron, etched with ancient symbols animated in green light.
Spiked pauldrons jutted out from its broad shoulders, and its chest was encased in a twisted, rib-like cage of metal that clung to its flesh as if grown from it. In one massive hand, the Infernal gripped a blade far too large and then heaved it up.
With a single, brutal swing, the sword came down in a cleaving arc, severing the Demon Prince's head from his body. The monster horde let out a screech as blood pooled around their feet.
The Demon Prince collapsed, lifeless.
Adramelech disappeared in a blaze of light, reabsorbed by the dungeon. He would be forced to wait for respawn after the death of his body.
Seraph didn't have time.
The moment Adramelech's body disappeared, the horde turned its attention toward him. He felt their collective gaze, and they stood between him and the rift to the ruined future where most of these monsters had come from.
From out of the rift poured endless hordes from the blighted world.
Seraph surveyed the horde of nightmarish creatures that stood between him and the rift to the ruined future. He knew he had to get through, no matter the cost.
Seraph focused on the rift ahead, the portal to the ruined future where most of these monstrous creatures had emerged from. The horde of nightmarish beasts stood between him and his destination, a seething mass of twisted flesh.
I need to go there, Seraph told himself, steeling his resolve. He began to channel his power, preparing to unleash one of his most devastating abilities. The ground beneath the monsters started to emit a pulsing light, a combination of arcane energy and deep crimson hues.
Seraph activated the Tri-Elemental ability, feeling the surge of power within him. All around him electricity crackled as frigid winds whipped at his hair and armor.
Heat radiated from his body as Hellfire swirled.
With a roar of exertion, Seraph released the Tri-Elemental blast, directing it towards the horde. A massive wave of freezing ice crystals erupted from his outstretched hand, rapidly encasing dozens of monsters in its path.
Their movements slowed to a crawl as the ice consumed and froze them.
Following closely behind the ice came Hellfire. The flames washed over the frozen creatures, causing them to shatter and explode in steam and charred remains.
Finally, arcs of lightning darted among the flames, zapping from one to the next, chaining from one monster to another in a dazzling display of raw power. The creatures convulsed and twitched as the lightning coursed through their bodies and cooked them from the inside out.
Seraph poured more of his mana energy into the Tri-Elemental attack. The combined might of the three elements tore through the horde, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
Monsters were frozen solid, incinerated to ash, or blasted apart by the relentless fury of the elements.
The Infernals collapsed as another wall of Hellfire spawned into existence around them.
Ropes of flame lashed out, binding and burning the monsters.
Seizing the opportunity, Seraph flew straight toward the rift, leaving the burning mass of monsters behind him.
But just in case, I need to do something, to keep those who have already come from following me until I'm finished.
With sudden inspiration, he punched downward straight into the floor.
The sheer power of the blow caused the stone to break and fracture. In spots, jagged rocks erupted out of the ground, and part of the ceiling caved in, sealing Seraph and the rift within.
It would not last forever, but it would have to last long enough to stall the Wormwood invasion.
It was the only option Seraph really had.
Without waiting to see if it had worked, he flew through the portal.
The Otherside
Seraph fell out of the rift, barreling through the air before correcting his course. Guiding himself to the ground, his feet landed heavily on the wooden planks of the auditorium floor.
His wings disappeared, hidden by the green mist that his body was immune to.
He looked at his newly acquired wings with fondness. Though they didn't work quite as well as they had before, the ability to fly had returned to him.
Some things never change, he thought to himself as he walked around the once familiar auditorium.
A sense of unease settled over him as he scanned the empty building, a familiar yet unsettling feeling creeping into his chest. His eyes were drawn upward to a gaping hole in the ceiling, through which the night sky loomed, an oppressive expanse of endless, lightless dark.
Not a single star could be seen. A world without life beyond.
From deep within, Seraph heard the faint whispers of Amarath stirring within him through the Black Emblem. Wormwood is only the beginning. Aeon will consume all things if we fail here. The chance to prevent this has cost everything. We cannot fall. We must close the rift and return, lest we become trapped. Should we fail, he will consume all, as he has done the very stars here.
Seraph nodded, glancing up at the dark sky. What bothered him most was the complete lack of monsters near the entry point.
There is more than one rift, Seraph, explained the dungeon spirit. They do not all end in the same location. I have done what I can to ensure your survival. Had we arrived within the millions, you, even as you are, would have been killed as soon as you arrived. You are not the most powerful being here.
As the dungeon spirit explained, a buzzing began in Seraph's ears. Vibrations from moving, shuffling feet caused the building to creak and groan before stopping.
They are passing through the rift, Seraph, but they cannot all go at the same time. They will not stop until every creature that belongs to Aeon has passed through the rift, until Aeon himself comes.
Seraph nodded, understanding Amarath's message. This was to be the final battle. He reached into his pocket and checked his inventory, hoping that along with the body, he had inherited all of the items he previously owned.
The items he had worn in his previous life had been destroyed in battle, but they were not his only possessions. As the leader of Carrion Crow, he had an arsenal at his disposal.
The first artifact he reached for was the Ancient Armor of the Glacial Fish. It wasn't as impressive as some of the other armors, but it had two characteristics he needed.
The first was a thorns-type magical enchantment that returned damage to his attackers. The second was an activated effect that cleansed him of any status effects, particularly stuns, immobilizes, and holds.
Anything that would help keep him alive a few moments longer once the next fight started.
The next artifact he reached for was called the Knight's Collar. This protective armament wrapped securely around his neck, crafted from an indestructible material. Though it lacked any magical enhancements or additional effects, its primary function was the main draw, it prevented him from being decapitated.
As he fastened it, he felt a reassuring weight settle on his shoulders, a small but vital piece in ensuring his survival.
The last artifact he reached for was his personal favorite, and one he had not taken with him into the last battle. The Tyrant's Crown, and as he put it on, the sharp barbs bit down into his skull, granting him an aura that gave a portion of his power to those who obeyed him.
This he would need for after.
Next, he needed a weapon, and though the Spear had long been his favorite, he did not have access to the quality he required. Instead, he opted for a more recent weapon that had become a quick favorite of his, a clawed gauntlet.
Seraph reached into his inventory and pulled out the Dragon's Claw, and as he set it on his wrist, he saw the edges of the bladed fingers glow red with the inner fire of dragon's breath.
"Amarath," Seraph asked quietly, hoping the dungeon spirit would hear him. "Has Sadie been revived yet?"
Seraph tightened his grip around the Dragon's Claw.
"Amarath?" he called out again.
The spirit's voice responded. Even with Garen's involvement, all matters concerning death and those who renounced their immortality are bound to Zekant's will. When the World Dungeon was invaded, when I was damaged, the connection to that part of Pandemonium severed.
Seraph frowned, confusion clouding his thoughts. "You mean Sadie…she won't return?"
Not in her current state, Amarath replied solemnly. Zekant controls that realm of existence. He presides over death and renewal, but when my essence was fractured by the incursion, I lost access to that power.
Seraph grimaced.
"Then we must find another way," he replied.
It is not so simple, Amarath cautioned. The boundaries have shifted; Zekant holds dominion over those who have given up their immortality. The spirit paused as if gathering strength before continuing. When Aeon's forces attacked the World Dungeon, they didn't just breach the defenses, it damaged my ties to other realms of Pandemonium.
"What do you suggest?" Seraph asked.
Amarath's voice resonated within Seraph, almost like a scoff. "My suggestion? Survive the next hour, then the next day. When this battle is over, it is an easy enough thing to revive her."
Seraph clenched his fists.
Survive. It was always about survival. He took a deep breath, pushing down all other thoughts.
Survival was something he excelled at.
The auditorium started to shake and dust fell from the rafters overhead.
From outside the building came the sound of a million voices screaming as one, and the vibrations intensified, sending tremors through the very foundation of the structure. Dust and debris cascaded from the ceiling, adding to the chaos.
Even you as you are now, even if you were still at your peak, you would be unable to face that whole horde, commented the dungeon spirit, its voice echoing within Seraph's mind with an unsettling calmness.
Their number is endless. To face them is surely death, as you had learned within the deepest floor of my dungeon.
Seraph's hands clenched involuntarily, his knuckles turning white. He took a deep breath, focusing on the here and now, pushing aside the overwhelming urge to charge into the fray and battle.
Ignoring the spirit's warning, Seraph sliced his hand open and prepared. He uttered, "Summon Legendary Monster."
In response to his command, an arcane circle of red appeared beneath him where the blood dropped. From within the circle, a dark void appeared that rapidly spread to cover most of the auditorium.
A dark portal connected this world to another, the Nether Realm. From within that realm, Seraph called forth his oldest vassal, the King of Nightmares.
As more blood poured from the wound on his hand, the portal began to shimmer and pulse. A symbol, intricate and ancient, materialized within its depths. The symbol of the school of conjuration flashed with purple light, bathing the room in a red glow.
It formed an inscribed pentagon, the lines etched with the blood that Seraph had fed into the spell. He could feel the power surging through the connection, a familiar yet overwhelming force that promised devastation.
From within the circle, a cloud of grey poisonous smoke rose up. Seraph knew this smoke killed all life that touched it, except for him, the essence of the Nether Realm. A dense aura of malevolent darkness began to descend as he quickly reached into his inventory, pulling out a vial of Lamb's Breath to shield their presence for a time.
He hoped the Legion waiting nearby had not yet noticed him.
An emaciated arm reached out, long clawed fingers ending in talons of obsidian glass. The Nightmare King pulled itself up from the Nether Realm, revealing a body matted with purple and red scar tissue. It was as Seraph remembered, though it wore more armor than before, trading shredded black leather for a rusted suit covered in barbs.
Only its hands remained bound by rusted chains. The features of the Nightmare King were obscured by an unnatural darkness. Beneath the triangular hat it wore, three yellow orbs glimmered where eyes should be.
"Lord Seraph," the Nightmare called out, its voice strange and alien. "The one you called Rosebud has told me of your rebirth."
The Nightmare stepped forward and knelt in front of Seraph as the grey rot spread, displacing the lingering green miasma.
"Ars Goethe, the one who was once only a Nightmare Duke. I have long depended on you. This will be my final hour. What do you know of this place?" Seraph asked, feeling the passing of time intensely. He knew his body would fail shortly, and he still needed to return to the present.
"I know very little, Lord Seraph. This realm has gone silent. There have been no forays for decades into the mortal world. We of the Nether have turned our sights towards oblivion for an ending. The vast infinity is lifeless, consumed by Aeon and his legion," the Nightmare King explained.
Seraph nodded and stepped closer to the monster, curling his fist. He let more blood pour out of him into the summons' mouth. "It won't come to oblivion. I can change this future, but I need your help. For as long as you can, I need you to face the Legion. A distraction that only you can provide. There is an artifact here that keeps this future anchored to the past. If I can seize this item, we still have a chance to prevent this from ever happening."
