Chapter Twenty Six.

Once again, my adventure was interrupted by something familiar. A thing I thought I’d escaped for the thousandth time since being transported to a fantasy world— sheer boredom. You don’t really anticipate how much downtime is involved with traveling long distances on foot, just… walking. Yeah I could totally fly straight to Nar’Ichoul, but Murgui’s nervous and overly cheerful, “Oh yes, you’ll be fine! Mm Hm. No danger. Have looong time until you burn out soul and vanish,” coupled with him twitching every time I tried to activate my aura, convinced me that a brisk walk was in order. But as I crested the latest in a depressingly long line of ash dunes, the city barely looked any closer.

That must be even bigger than I thought.

There was nothing to do but trudge on, and unfortunately, think. Murgui had explained the concept behind what I needed to do in the city. The Leviathan’s flesh wasn’t purely a physical substance; it was partially infinite, semi-conceptual, and other— existing on multiple planes and possibly even multiple times at once. Going full quantum physics and simultaneously existing while not. However that worked. Even now, Murgui wasn’t sure if it was actually dead or in another state of being entirely. Eating it wouldn’t just be me physically taking a bite— I’d be incorporating its substance into my being in the hope that the brain-hurting, nigh-infinite flesh would act as a permanent buffer to the devouring fires of Anathema. The fire meanwhile, should prevent any undue effects from overtaking me and ending another civilization. Yay? I was a little dubious about all of this; but at this point, the clock was ticking, and other than going out in a blaze of glory, what else was I gonna do.

Anyway, my mission to take a bite out of Schrodinger’s eldritch steak couldn’t progress until I actually arrived at the city, and since I wanted to put as little stress on my soul as possible— walking it was.

I drew steadily closer to the city over the next few hours. Periodic blasts of light would shoot up from the towers scattered around the heart-ward and sear the growing corruption from the core, though none were so close as my first experience. The view was… haunting.

Nar’Ichoul’s architecture was an odd mix of Cambodian and almost Greco-Roman, all stretched impossibly tall. Smooth archways and massive columns supported towers topped in a lotus pattern that reminded me of Angkor Wat. The city was dense with structures but none of it seemed disorderly, the inverse curvature of the heart-ward giving me an incredible view of a city planned by masters to be a work of art. Each structure seemed unique but not overshadowing their neighbors, all pointing as a collective towards the center in a complex pattern that resonated approvingly with [Cosmos]. All except for the central tower, which stuck out like a charred burn on an otherwise beautiful canvas.

Space warped around it, growing worse the closer I came. The beautiful architecture was distorted and shattered, pieces melted like wax and flowing off randomly in defiance of gravity. Its marred and broken state was only highlighted by the rest of the city drawing attention to it, existing in a cruel mockery of the designer’s original plans.

From a distance the city had seemed ethereal and beautiful, the pale-blue wardstone shimmering lightly. But with every step I took closer that beauty seemed more like a hollow facade— a corpse mask covering up the rot below. What next caught my attention were the people, or more accurately the complete lack of people.

Everything I could see was perfectly maintained. No aspect of the city screamed ‘ruin’ to me, and yet it was totally empty. Not a soul in sight. No sign of struggle or that anything had gone wrong except for the closed gates as I drew closer.

My view was eventually occluded by the walls and a quiet unease had replaced my earlier boredom. The gate was made of the same pale stone as seemingly everything else but ornately carved with depictions of what I assumed were the Achorai in triumph over a horde of monsters. It stretched dozens of meters above me, looming forebodingly and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the right decision. Hesitating, I slowly pushed forward until I came to the base of the gate.

Several odd lumps of ash were scattered around the entryway. I risked stretching out my aura to see what they were, and immediately regretted it.

Bodies. Mummified corpses knelt scattered around the gate, each posed as if they had collapsed in abject despair and just… died. While morbid, it gave me my first look at the Achorai— or close enough anyway. They were roughly humanoid, although much taller than a human. I didn’t know if these specimens were exceptional or not but they averaged just shy of three meters from head to toe. Their frames were slight and slender, with slightly elongated and almost elfin features. I couldn’t help but think even in death they’d be beautiful if looks of pain and horror weren’t frozen on their mummified faces.

My aura reached the edge of the gate and I found an impression left in the magic, similar to the message left all the way back in the Sanctuary above. Its purpose had likely been similar— a welcome to travelers— but the words had been defaced to read:

Nar’Illien Ichoul, the Great City of our return end.

May it reign forever as a monument to our Glory Folly.

Here we stand lie, defiant of fate, to hold back the dark.

Eternal.

-Forgive us-

The last words had been tacked on almost crudely, the complexity of the magic involved notwithstanding. I paused, creeping unease making it difficult to take the next step. In front of me, the air distorted in the faint shimmer of a ward— the same repellent force Lady Haethram had used on me what felt like years ago.

Is this right? I didn’t know, but a quick look at my burning soul reminded me I didn’t have a choice. Slowly, I raised up my hand against the ward and pushed. It resisted, the city’s strength coming to bear against my intrusion. The focused will of its creators fought me with everything they had to keep their city safe. Against anyone else, it would have been enough.

The faintest spark of Anathema left my core and floated gently through my body, drifting almost casually until I released it into the air at my palm. Then it burned.

Like a lit match pushing through layers of paper, the ward was peeled back from my touch. The edges glowed harshly and crackled like a sparking wire, in stark contrast to the light-drinking fire I’d spread on it. The two forces battled each other until the fire formed a breach just large enough for me to step through. I hurried through the gap, reaching behind me to draw the Anathema back to my soul before it destroyed anything permanently. With the fire gone, the ward snapped back into place instantly as though I’d never been there. I could still feel the ward pressing down on me, almost like water at the bottom of a pool but it lacked… authority.

My domain failed to penetrate the gate itself but revealed a simple mechanism within it. Nothing compared to the lock that had been placed on the Sanctuary, this was almost an architectural afterthought. Like the builders couldn’t conceive a reason security would be needed but tacked something on last minute to fill some unknown criteria.

A quick flex of [Law] was all that I needed to twist the lock open, and with a booming rumble, the gates swung ponderously out towards me.

I shot backward and slammed into the ward, barely holding back from incinerating everything in front of me.

Faces.

Pressed tightly against where the gates had been was a solid mass of people, mouths gaping open in silent screams. Their expressions were locked in desperation and terror, hands clawing at each other and the empty air. Every single one of them utterly still.

I waited with my hands raised in claws for minutes, ready to blast the open corridor with everything I had at the slightest twitch from the frozen mob. Nothing. They stood in place, features distorted by a gate that was no longer even there. Warily, I inched closer to get a better look.

Unlike the mummies outside, these were all in perfect condition. Each one looked like they could spring to life at any moment, except as I drew nearer I realized they were all… grey. Washed out like old black-and-white film but rendered into real life. Shadows were exaggerated, with wispy tendrils of darkness stretching out behind them in barely visible tethers to an unknown destination. My aura eventually washed over the front row and I could feel them— like a faint echo of the past imprinted in the moment of their death. It reminded me of the Hiroshima shadows, with death coming in such power that it left a formerly intangible piece of its victims behind.

Cautiously creeping forward, I brushed my hand against one of the shadowy apparitions —locked the gate! Please, let us out! Oh gods, it’s right— A wave of panic and despair assaulted my senses and I jerked my hand back. Where I had touched the remnant it dissipated like smoke before quickly reforming. I repressed a shudder at the intense emotions trapped in the figure, then looked at the completely packed passage stretching dozens of meters behind it.

Screw. That.

There was no way in hell I was going to walk through that and live through the last moments of all these people as they died in fear and horror. With an effort of will I lifted myself into the air and pulled myself forward into the entryway above the crowd of remnants. Moving quickly to put less strain on my soul, I passed over the ghostly mob until I reached the other side.

The tunnel opened up into a wide avenue that was still jammed with people. I rushed forward until I finally found a spot where it had begun to thin out and I set down, checking worriedly at my soul for damage. It felt… ok? For now, but honestly it was difficult to measure the effect of using my powers. My earliest memories were already significantly faded, and trying to estimate how much more was being lost drove me crazy with the frustrating paradox of trying to remember what I literally couldn’t remember.

Shaking my head to dispel my frustration, I started carefully walking forward down the avenue by picking my way between the frozen remnants. Sometimes I was left with no option but to push through a couple on my way with how chaotic the crowds were. The experience was… harrowing.

“—can make it, the gate’s just ahead n—”

“—m so sorry, my love.—”

“—mama, what’s happening—”

“—se bastards! They said it would be—”

“—Just close your eyes, ok? I’m right—”

I felt myself choking, drowning in a deluge of foreign emotions. Even the slightest touch brought an assault of conflicting feelings that clawed at my mind. It was so invasive to me, and I couldn’t help but feel like a sick voyeur intruding on these people’s private last moments. A thousand tiny tragedies played out around me, from lovers embracing desperately with tears in their eyes to children cowering as their parents hunched over to try and protect them.

Several times I came across remnants who faced the other way. Shield walls of men and women with determined defiance stamped hard on their features. Barricades where some had stayed behind trying to pull others to supposed safety. A little piece of me broke when I was forced to touch them, feeling their desperation— their hope that by their sacrifice they were buying time for their families. I could sense it in them, that feeling despite their terror that if they could hold even a moment, lives would be saved. Knowing as I did, coming from the other way, that their sacrifice was meaningless felt like a knife in the gut.

Countless magnificent pagodas and beautiful plazas all passed in a blur. My earlier determination vanished in the face of this stifling front row seat to the death of a city. Time flew by without meaning as I struggled to keep myself from collapsing under the weight of this parade of horrors.

They never said what actually killed them. The moment of actual death stolen along with whatever flesh they had. Each specter ratcheted up my anxiety until I could barely stand, and then— finally— I was free.

The tower loomed before me, although I could understand now why Murgui said going “up” it would be a misnomer. In front of me the road stretched to the horizon, narrowing to the seemingly infinite point that gave the optical illusion of looking at a triangle. There was no gradient to it, no incline or steps that I could tell, and yet it somehow went up the tower all the same. Looking behind me I realized I was already on the side of the tower somehow and I hadn’t even noticed. Small paths branched off from the side to more buildings that despite being at a right-angle to the ground looked completely natural.

I would have taken more time to observe this phenomenon, but I just felt… hollow. More than anything right now I just wanted to curl up on the street and give up. Just break down, even for a little bit. This corpse of a city had completely surpassed my worst expectations in a way that I would never have anticipated. I’d come in ready to fight, and instead I’d endured a city-wide snuff film.

The Anathema flickered on the crack in my soul.

I took a step. Then another.

No.

Forcing myself to keep moving, I marched towards the heart of this dead city.

One way or another, I would end this.