Shadow of the Abyss

Feverish, Reina screamed a moan, sinking fingers into her bedding as her insides reeled out of her control. She sang like a bard, jerking her hips off the bed, her enammering golden eyes rolling to the back of her head. And for a moment, her mind blanked of all thoughts but the sweet writhing pleasure vigorously hounding her loins.

"Again," She wishfully demanded, clutching the boy's Raven-colored hair drowning between her legs. She moaned and mewled, reeling and lurching, gasping for air that never seemed enough.

Altair peeped up, staring at Reina's breathless expression flushed red. His tongue suddenly flicked, snapping against her slit, sending her world aflame. Reina jerked up even higher, her back arching in such a way Altair wondered if her spine broke. Yet her sweet moans seemed to soothe his worries. Though not for long as once again, he was drowned in a sweet waterfall.

'I wonder if this is how it feels to be waterboarded.' He wondered. 'Not a bad feeling.'

"I~can't~stop~cumming~ahhhhh!" Ren screamed. Engulfed by a seething heat, Reina tumbled back down, shuddering at the throbbing ache eating away at her sanity. She felt his lips upon hers.

"What a lovely expression," Altair said, taken by her lewd expression, wet by saliva dripping from her lips. Her misty gold eyes were filled with a breathtaking gleam. He stole another kiss, allowing her to taste herself. And her eyes rolled back yet again, unsure when her three-minute-long orgasm would end.

Sprawled out and naked, her breast bare and her cunt dripping. Altair steered the image into his mind and vowed he'd recreate it.

"I feel like a whore," was the first thing Ren said when she came too, garnering her a peculiar stare from Altair.

He nearly laughed. "You've never even seen a whore."

"Have to! I saw videos."

Again, Altair shot her a peculiar stare. "And what were you doing watching those types of videos?"

Ren had the grace to blush, pulling the blanket over her naked body. She dared not peep at her prince.

It had only been once or twice… maybe seven or eight times… nine or ten…

"Well, you're not," he told her, poking her cheek. Ren had always liked it when he did that. It made her feel special, especially when he offered her head pats. "Come… it's time to return to the frontlines."

Reluctantly, the two pulled themselves from the bed into the showers and into their surcoats for the days, if not months, ahead.

"We might need some heavier armor. I've read up on hellions in the library." Reina began trying on her boots. "The weaker ones are animal-shaped, but the humanoid variants are absolute menaces."

"... this Realm is quite restrictive. So a lot of skills are sealed." He said, helping her tie her boots before they were out the door. "We're lucky in a sense. God knows how powerful these Hellions would be if they could use fire Manipulation or any of the other elements."

"It's almost like this Realm was specifically chosen to restrict higher-level beings, To give these humans a chance," Ren added, and Altair couldn't have said it better.

For it was indeed true: Hellions especially were known for their unnatural Manipulation of Fire said to rival those born of the Elements themselves.

Through the hall and down the serpentine staircase, Nia stood armed in an obsidian ringmail breastplate, bracers, and greaves. On her back stood her spear, which he had paid a pretty penny for.

Much like his Shadowclaw, Nia's spear was forged of mythril. Though, the blade had not been forged for her. But rather a lordling who had fled days before the arrival of the Hell Tide, the spear had been longer than she liked, and the shaft too thick for her small hands, but it could cut and would not break, and that was enough.

Beside her stood Olivia, Alyssa, Laros, Hilda, and his Fallen Shadows.

The Hell Tide beyond the wall had greatly slowed thanks to the Ballad Of Thor that had shifted the structure of the earth. And Lord Verrell did not waste any time fortifying his lost land.

Commanding his first, second, and third infantry out, Verrell led them into battle over the regiments of demons.

Fat Mike, Cedric, and Amilia had already graced the battlefield once or twice, but they weren't here today. Rather, it was Hilda who stood silently behind Altair, studying the boy.

He had grown much these past few months, reaching well over six feet, and not even his surcoat could hide his physique. Hilda and Amelia had many times compared him to an Olympian god from the Old Scripts when he trained, bare-chested.

"Holy Water! Get your Holy Water!" Came the loud booming shout of men across the wall. "Bane of Evil! Get it now! Fresh from the Church of the Sepith."

"Holy water," Said Nia, ogling the translucent flask of azure light that almost seemed like caged flames crashing against each other like waves.

"Get some. Reina and I don't need it. But it'll do you well." Altair said and pressed forward to his pavilion, untouched by the raging war. Holy Water had its use of suspending a demon's regeneration, and depending on the purity, it could purify any lesser demon to ash, much like what the Light of Reina's Sacred Flame did.

Its secondary purpose was to allow normal humans to injure demons despite the towering level of attributes. Holy Water was able to cut through the flesh of any demon with mild resistance.

"Is this where we'll be staying?" Laros boldly asked, eyeing the single bed large enough for two.

"No. It's where I'll be staying." Altair boasted. "You can set up a tent nearby or bunk with the members of the first infantry. It's of no consequence to me."

Laros made a fist. "Am I also supposed to fight with them?"

"No. But if you slow me down. I'll ship you off to them. You can't use your Phoenix Flames, so it makes your usefulness to me all the more insignificant." Altair fastened Shadowclaw to his belt, unbothered by the ugly grimace Laros was showing him. "We'll be on the front line for twelve hours. I figured that's how long you guys can last.

And I've much to do."

"What of Kirr and Jorm?" Talia asked.

"They'll be harvesting those we kill. I need as many Hearthstones as possible. Reina, too." He answered.

When Nia returned, offering everyone Holy Water, Altair gave everyone a nod before they moved out onto the high road or what was left of it after the Ballad of Thor had carved out a large valley off into the distance.

Embered flames of Hellions illuminated through the black rain in the distance, marking hundreds of thousands, bringing about a fear that turned Nia's and Laros's bones to water. They gulped, sensing the presence stifling the air.

Altair saw this all but said nothing of it. The Hell Tide was sure to last a few more months, maybe even a year. Of that, he was sure. The Heralds of Astaroth had prepared. And while the Tide might slow. There was sure to be more coming.

"Are we going there?" Laros breathed in a wisp of despair.

"Hilda, protect those that need it," Altair commanded before barrelling ahead. He charged, dodging or cutting through Firebolts invoked by the airborne imps. Sending frights through the noobie's hearts.

Arrows rained, like the hammering of rain over the skies, drowned by the shrieking of demons and the screams of humans. And everything smelt of piss and shit rather than blood. But the further they charged, all that came was the grueling scent of brimstone. It made their eyes wet and their hearts cold.

"Here they come!" Lord Blackwood shouted, meeting the gaze of two Gnolls.

His aura erupted as the Will of the Abyss cast a shadow of despair over the demons, stealing their mobility alongside their sense of will. Imps and banshees alike tumbled from the air, starstruck by the horrid presence.

"Attack!" Altair commanded, aiming for the Gnolls. "Kill the Banshees."

The song of a Banshee was like a nightmare to those who had heard it long enough. It rotted the mind, along with the soul, until most found themselves eating their swords.

Nia was the first to strike, wielding her spear tainted by the tongues of holy flames. Her blade pierced through the throat of one, exploding out the back. Ashes fluttered out like trickles of blood before the half-naked demon fluttered its blackened feathers, opening its elongated mouth that bore rows of jagged teeth.

Azure flames caught the beast, bubbling the flesh of the demon until it stilled, erupting into a mist of ash.

Nia had experienced three levels from that alone. When the claw of an imp caught her across the cheek, tearing out the flesh and bone. She screeched, wanting to retreat. But a coldness penetrated her bones, and before she realized it, her body stilled.

[You have Been Paralyzed]

The Imp lunged at her, seeking to tear her throat out. Its head flew high into the air, dropping over the earth as Reina emerged with her greatsword, pouring holy water over Nia's wounds before she was off again. Flickering through the battlefield, reaping whatever caught her eye.

Fear came with the return of her mobility, as did the cruel sting of her wound. And yet Nia had no time to despair as hundreds of demons began to swarm them. Her spear whirled into spirographic patterns, cutting and piercing until she was drenched and her armor shredded.

Cuts lined her body in a bloody fray of madness. And try as she could, the demons continued.

So this was war…' she thought, swallowed by the darkness that had taken her. She dropped to her knees, clutching her spear, still and unmoving. Kirr carted her off while Hilda held onto Laros, whose arm dangled, held on by flesh rather than bone.

"Not even an hour," Altair told himself, scratching his head. He glanced at his shadows, perfectly content in their slaughter. Altair felt he was looking at lesser versions of himself. His eyes moved to Alyssa, barely holding onto her sword. And he knew… he had transcended the level of those his age.

He stifled a rueful smile, unsure why he felt so disappointed, and commanded Jorm to take Alyssa in; seeing her in a similar state to Nia, he pushed ahead without much regard. Cutting through demons with the grace of a dancer, Altair, Reina, and his shadows stood side by side, drowned on all sides. And laughed within the center of the blood-red storm.