Name: Nil

Race: Demon

Type: Transformed Deviant Soul

Age: Immortal – 7years, 4months.

Crystal Essence: [Crimson]- Lvl.6— 197esq

[Available Essence Points— 0]

Strength: 24

Agility: 56

Wisdom: 23

Abilities: [Faithless Absorption], [Faithless Mimicry], [Faithless Essence Amplification]

[Available Trait Points— 0]

Traits: [Armoured Form]- Lvl.2, [Greater Cognizance]- Lvl.1, [Psychic Resistance]- Lvl.3, [Quick Mould]- Lvl.3

Ascension Perks: [Reais Fiend]

Spells: [Invisibility]- Lvl.1

Patron: Nil

There isn’t a direction without flames or lava. Shadows of large dragons dotted in the vermillion sky fit in with little doubt, but I know from the head of the one roaring pillars of flame into the sky that they’re just another part of my waking nightmares.

I’m not fazed by them anymore, I rarely am. The past year has more or less numbed me to the paralyzing dread that comes with the visions, I don’t know for sure that there aren’t any dragons in the fire divide, but the distinct fear that racks through me every time of their shadows fly overhead isn’t because I’m afraid they’ll swoop down and swallow me whole.

It’s because I know they won’t, I know they can’t. They’re nothing more than a premonition, a cautionary tale of something far terrifying, of beings that will petrify me and have petrified me with a fear, a weakness and hopelessness I’ve yet to re-encounter.

All I have are enemies, and I’m beginning to wonder if my enemies are already aware of my existence down here. These visions, the torment, despite my insistence I know Reais isn’t responsible, it can’t be. The only other time and place I experienced such torture was at the Wall of Deaders.

The fact that all my abilities are prefixed with the word ‘Faithless’ doesn’t often fill me with hope. I wonder if I ever left the wall at all, if I’m not still there and this fantasy is just another version of torture. That the gods hear my curses loud and clear and figure they’d give me a chance to find the power, if it exists, to bring them to justice.

And all the while they tease me with signs like this, temples of Dragons over on the mountain tops, priests and warrior dragoons in service to the draconic beings of power, offering prayer and sacrifice all while delivering the flames of their masters to the mortal worlds.

It’s all so familiar and strange. I figure that’s the true dread, the fact that the gods may be right, the fact that at the end of these visions I will find myself at their mercies and their judgement will find me a Faithless Deader as they did in the first place. And this…this is all my folly.

The dragon screeches and racks my head with a splitting headache, spinning the contorted world back into the demonic horror of fire it is.

The divide is angry, burning with a rage exemplified in the demons rampaging through it. Lakes of lava, geysers, and burning mountain ranges— a lot of mountains.

The heat generated from each is enough to have most Crimson tier demons exhausted. Like with the scalding sands and harsh winds of the Desert, the Fire divide is trying to kill us.

Already, even without encountering demons, the Crimson tiers have lost limbs, eyes, and wings to the blasts of fire and abrupt waves from the lava lakes and seas. There’s very little land to thread a path on, the most fortunate of us have wings and fly, taking their chances with unpredictable geysers.

The narrow path the rest of us thread is wide enough from four demons to walk ahead of the rest, theses four are the unfortunate squad taking on any of the incoming attacks from demons. Be it the jaws of demons leaping out of the lake around us or a charging rock fiend.

A recurring pattern it seems. I figure this divide is full of demons living within the lava or simple-minded, wild igneous demons charging into their deaths.

I’d say their attacks are something we shrug off without care but the truth is, we’re already handicapped as is. With all the injuries the Crimson tiers have sustained I can’t help wondering if we’ll even make it to our destination.

No one has died yet, of course not, but still, it worries me.

‘Maybe the Leptir was right. We’re not coming out of this alive and Gerim…’

The face he made at me doesn’t fill me with a lot of confidence in this mission. Gulping down another choke-full of sulphur and volcanic ash I spare a glance back at the Blood Orange tiers.

None of the aches and losses affect Gerim or any of the Blood Orange tiers, and understandably so— they’ve gotten skills required to survive the divide. If Gerim is as old as I think he is, then this isn’t his first time here, he ought to have picked up a trait or two.

I’m a bit resentful at how cushy they are, and I’m sure they can feel the waves of envy the Crimson tiers exude. Unfortunately, there’s little time to be hateful when at any moment a demon could leap out of the lava and end this little adventure.

Looking back, it’s a blur how I ended up here. Am I meant to be here? Calridian didn’t say anything about sending me on another suicide mission. Isn’t one enough?

I know I asked Gerim to be less of a coward, but I didn’t mean we should start at the extreme ends of bravery. Venturing into the Desert, cold and harmless as it is now would’ve been a terrific start to hard levelling my [Traits] and practicing moves with the Seeker Blade. With the additional limb I feel like I’ve got to learn a whole new style from what I built over the year.

‘Could the cold over the Desert come here? Doubt it’d do much good if it did. Wait...why is the Desert cold now anyway?’

The temperature only ever went from complete dehydration to dehydration and the winds picked up the hottest sands. But it’s all gone cold…normal rather.

Why?

“Gerim.” Speaking out telepathically for anyone to hear I reach out to the quilled demon. Without him, in my sights, I can’t focus telepathy on him alone. Once he responds— if he responds, I’ll be able to secure the private connection.

“What do you want now?”

I roll my eyes at his accusatory response, “I rarely ever bother you with questions, or anything other than training, do I?”

There’s a long pause at this, I have to follow up or get to the point of my disturbance or he won’t answer, “Uh, was wondering why the Desert is…normal now.”

“This divide could swallow you whole and yet you’re thinking of home?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling it home but yes, I was thinking about something and then another thing and now I’m thinking about how the last time I was there it was...different. Milder and far tolerable than usual.”

He pauses again, I feel him there, in the back of my head connected to our shared telepathic net. But he doesn’t say anything— so I don’t say anything either. I know well enough when to push and prod Gerim, I know even more when we’re connected like this.

He’s musing.

Debating whether or not I’m worth knowing the answers I’m asking for. I hate that judgment, the pause of indecision. It irritates and has me gritting my teeth. But I restrain myself— the image of a broken and beaten Hargoil is still fresh in my head, mostly because I like to fantasize that’s what I’ll do to him when we meet again.

“It’s the same reason we’re here.” He breaks the silence at last, just as the frontline buckles, a wild demon’s up ahead. An odd and inconvenient time to finally speak as I have to struggle between the demons in front and behind me for space.

“The Desert’s cold because we’re leaving to fight these guys?”

“What? No, how’d you get that? Just listen.”

Although he can’t see me I nod and keep shut, threading my arms with Essence and mana to keep from getting tossed into the boiling lakes beside us. It seems we’ve come across a horde of demons— or we’re getting close and the Maroon tier demon we’re here to kill sent out his minions.

Either way, the demons aren’t letting up and the lines ahead are beginning to break and buckle as our Crimson tiers leap out for more space to combat the foes. I’ve got a good glimpse of the demon raging against one of the Crimson tiers.

A rather small thing, like the others, it's more or less a rock-shaped creature. Blazing with a fire stemming from the bright Crimson gem embedded in its chest the demon spits out globs of fire and boosts itself, naturally faster than most of us thanks to its affinity to fire.

“This battle right here, right now. This is the beginning of another round of wars for this slice of Reais. Our attack on Varks is a pre-emptive strike. Give him something to worry about while the Demon Lord gathers power from the divide, for a great army, and musters the forces of his Noble Generals.

“Calridian, The Queen, all the Maroon tiers, the entire divide. It’s war— an offensive war and the divide is reacting as any would when drained.”

And that confirms it— the correlation between places and the demons in charge of them.

‘I want my own.’ I mutter to myself.

The ability to draw on the vast oceans of Essence each divide holds. The divides passively create demons, chuck them up and fill the layer with wild demons born of Reais.

Imagine what having the entire layer could do…the possibilities. ‘I’d be strong, strong enough to get answers from anyone.’

I can see why the Demon Lords are still fighting and why they’d want to keep fighting. I’d want to keep fighting too with the kind of power at stake.

A bright growing light snaps out of my power lust. Blazing towards me, coated in flames is a rather round demon with frightening teeth. Shoving the demon next to me in the way, I escape as the demon bowls through everyone left standing, setting them alight.

The Crimson tiers aren’t slouches either— before I set myself right they’ve descended upon the wild demon, their claws and spines and acids tearing it apart before it can launch another attack.

The Seeker Blade spins beside my open palm as I search for victims, there’s plenty to be found too. With a single command, it shoots out of my hand like a dart, embedding itself deep into the throat of one of the less igneous demons.

[Vatreni]

It reaches to pull out the blade but I’m already pulling on the Blade’s end, activating the Essence within its crystal to sharpen the edges and directing a diagonal slice with mana.

The demon spurts enough blood to douse its own flames as it staggers, rattled— but still alive.

I can’t focus long on it as a blast of fire races at me. Weaving to the side and nearly tumbling into the lava lake with an ally. The demon sets me aside, disgruntled by my lack of grace but furious at the attack.

Launching out on its numerous legs the insect demon races towards the fight, I follow behind it, leaving the Seeker Blade to do what it's best at. Calridian must have anticipated I’d be in more full-on battles when he made it.

The [Vatreni] continues to struggle with the Seeker Blade as it continues to poke, stab and slash at any exposed wound, utilizing its Essence to keep afloat without my commands. It costs a bit of mana to control it from afar, but it's most effective once I’ve already made a wound on the victim. The first cut is a homing beacon, drawing the Seeker Blade to it— the larger the wound, the more it attacks.

‘It’s a dependable blade, one guards my back.’

Leaping over a swipe from a pulsating fireworm I have the Seeker Blade end the [Vatreni]. Dancing above the ugly beast the Blade comes to a halt and glows a deeper shade of Crimson before jutting out of the air and drilling through its skull.

‘Complex attacks cost a lot more mana.’ I note, shrinking at the drain.

As the Seeker weaves and cuts through waves of brawling demons the worm alight with green flame makes another wide swipe at me. I leap out of the way but bump right into another opponent.

Looming over me is a bipedal demon, wielding a large curved axe. It glowers down at me, canine mouth and dripping with identifiable insect parts— allies.

Obviously a cut above the rest of the fodder that’s been charging into us I know to be more concerned about it than the lurching worm still hunting after me.

But before either of us can attack or retreat a long green chain wraps around its neck, pulling it forward like a mutt whilst the metal eats away at its flesh like acid. It yelps and Seeker snaps into my palm in time for me to hack away at the worms descending tail.

The attack knocks my arm a little, but with Seeker tearing through it I’m fine calling it a win.

A heavy clang calls my attention back to the canine demon. It dropped the axe as none other than the [Leptir] strangles and decapitates in the air. Flapping its wide colourful wings, the [Leptir] yanks and shakes the chain for better traction in the demon’s inescapable execution.

The head hits the ground first, bouncing once before the rest of it plummets to the ground. The [Leptir] doesn’t lower its descent as it speaks, “You’re not awful, you might survive what’s coming too.”

“What’s coming?” I ask, snatching the Seeker Blade out of the air. It drips with a thick red goo and a lot of blood so I wipe it off on the Desert Cloak I still have on.

“That…they’re here already.” He says motioning beyond my line of sight of the barely widened space we’ve delved into battle on.

But with a little boost from Essence, I make it out. Blended into the haze and mirage of the boiling hellscape there’s a cluster of demons— marching.

“The Maroon tier’s militia…not bad for a new Maroon.”

It’s an intimidating sight. Organized, the numbers and the collective Essence booming off of them— they’re going to be trouble.

“We can’t have been fighting the wilds since, have we?”

He shakes his head and flutters down a bit as the wild demons disperse with the encroaching small platoon of demons. “No, we’ve fought some potential Blood Orange demons, like the one I took care of. Look out for the ones with weapons and we’ll likely keep breathing long enough to be murdered when the Blood Orange tiers show up.”

‘I don’t like this guy.’ I groan inwardly. Seeing things as bleak as he does is the last thing I need right now, but at the same time.

“Hey, are you sure you don’t want to team up?”