Legend of the Empyrean Blacksmith 468 Breaking the Chains I

BREAKING THE CHAINS (I)

A faint sound of footsteps echoed throughout the otherwise silent forest, seemingly barren of life. In-between the dead and the dying trees, some grayed and some already blackened, Lino walked casually, his pace brisk, expression placid. He had donned his Heavenly Armor which shimmered in a beautiful combination of golden and azure, two swords stored in simple-looking scabbards hanging by his sides.

Indeed, he didn't wish to leave anything to chance; he didn't know what awaited him on the other side of the Gorge as Devils and Demons had fermented in these parts for decades now. Devil Qi was terribly thick and ever-present, making it difficult to breathe without purifying it first. All around, he couldn't see or sense anything. Even gazing into the horizon was futile as it was masked in gray smoke and black soot and ashen clouds.

One of his hands hung still on the handle of the sword while he used the other to occasionally take a sip of wine. To a naked eye, he was invisible; to the perception of Higher Senses, he was not there – but, all the same, he was certain the Devils knew exactly where he was, as the connection between Ataxia and Ashtar remained steadfast.

The journey was long-winded, empty, silent. The rivers had dried, the forests had died, the mountains had turned limp and empty, the great lakes which once upon a time hosted a variety of lifeforms had been vaporized – all life seemed to have ceased, and he was walking among the land of the dead. In effect, it could be considered that; lands infested with Devil Qi were uninhabitable by everyone except the Devils and the Demons. All other life, be it humans, beasts, animals or plants could not survive.

Most of the scenery was unfamiliar, despite having crossed these parts once before. It had changed too much, aside from the fact that Lino, back then, had mostly sped through these parts in the bid of running away.

He would occasionally glance around, though his sight mostly remained upfront. At all times he kept his Divine Sense with a tinge of Primal Chaos spread about, covering every nook and cranny, expecting an ambush.

Ambush did not come, though something else did that caused him to halt; he came upon ruins of a city he couldn't recognize. Beyond the rubble and the debris, all was leveled with earth, a central path cutting straight through everything like the main street. On both ends, strung on the gallows, were hundreds of people; by now, most had turned into dried corpses or skeletons, though a few appeared to have died only just recently, perhaps as far back as a few months ago.

Lino quickly counted up to almost two thousand souls, a faint sigh escaping his lips. It appears that people 'lived' here until just recently, most-likely until the start of the War. He shook his head, resuming his walk, taking the street rather than going around. He'd already seen too many dead in too many ways and forms to be bent and broken by a sight like this.

He didn't know whether this scene was intentional or pure accident as Lino simply happened to have taken a path through this city, but he hardly cared to begin with. He returned here to do what he failed to do the first time around – expel all Devils and Demons back to Hell. The first time around, he was so weak he had to flee – no more, however.

A few minutes later, he exited the ruins of the city, emerging on the other end and resuming down a road that suddenly took to a sharp, upward curve as it bounded an empty mountain in front of him.

He climbed over it slowly, coming to a halt at its topmost point; there, he overlooked a vast valley, as dead as all land behind him, yet brimming with life – from its beginnings to its ends, Devils and Demons occupied every inch of the space. Shrouded in thick shadows, their crimson eyes looked like flares of light bounding from the infinite darkness. There were hundreds of thousands, Lino realized, standing there in silence, all staring at him emptily.

Lino wasn't surprised, merely staring back, his eyes void of emotion. A hazy wind blew lightly, fluttering his cloak and hair, carrying with it dry, ashen dust.

An apparition suddenly appeared in front of Lino, hovering in the mid-sky; a clump of smoke was featureless, bound in edgeless shadows, seemingly dancing independently of the reality. Lino couldn't see past it, yet could recognize it, almost intuitively – it was the Origin Father of all Devils, or at the very least his projection. A pair of crimson spheres appeared within the dancing shadows, staring directly into his eyes.

"—you've come a long way," a hoarse, cracking voice spoke out in a whisper. "A friend or a foe?"

"… cheeky," Lino smiled faintly. "I could go for a bout or two against you. How about it?"

"… you have already lost," the apparition said. "Yet still remain blind with confidence. Humans… truly never cease to amaze me. The evolved creatures of intellect… blasted with minds of idiocy."

"I'm too tired and old for riddles," Lino sighed. "Keep your throne warm. I'm coming for it."

"…" the apparition spoke no more, merely staring at Lino for a little while longer before vanishing.

As it did, the Devils and Demons below seemed to have awoken, spirits in their souls sparked into life. Killing intent soon permeated every inch of Lino's surroundings, though it hardly impacted him; this was merely a collective sacrifice if anything. As to why, he couldn't say. Perhaps there were too many Devils and he wanted to let go of a few? Perhaps he was merely insane? Or, perhaps, he truly believed these children would be enough to stop Lino. The latter couldn't say.

Rather than delaying it any longer, Lino suddenly withdrew the Slayer from its scabbard, throwing himself off the top of the mountain, entering a freefall. The sharp-looking blade cried out lowly, vibrating in his hand as though thirsting for blood.

The army below roared in unity, each soul taking out their own weapons, crouching slightly and aiming them at Lino who was slowly falling toward them.

He was unperturbed, be it by numbers, by the setting, by the reality of it all. Just as he reached roughly fifty meters from the army, his eyes glimmered in strange light; the Slayer cried out once more, suddenly kindling itself into a holistic, white fire that lit up the world, blinding both the living and the dead.

Lino sped up, bolting through space and time, ripping a tunnel through its vestiges and arriving at the dead-center of the Hell's Army. He crashed unnoticed, bringing with him a torrential storm of ripping spatial vortices numbering in hundreds that began swallowing the Devils and the Demons in thousands.

He himself spun, drawing a full circle with the Slayer as white fire collapsed into veil-thin blade lights, cutting through the surrounding souls like a scythe through the grass. There was hardly a need to expend more than necessary, or to be flashy; quick and direct was all that was needed.

Following a moment of stillness, a river of ghastly blood erupted as top halves of tens of thousands of Demons and Devils cleaved, raptured upward into a rotating spiral, geysers of blood exploding out into the surrounding world. It was more akin to a performance, so much so that were someone to be standing nearby and observing, they'd be certain it was just a play put on by a wicked mind, as it was difficult to etch it all as a reality.
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Lino straightened himself, putting the Slayer back into the scabbard at the same moment cleaved bodies fell onto the ground, splashing about in their own blood. Glancing around once and sighing, he departed, leaving behind the ghastly sight for the dunes and spirits of time to find them.

On his way over to where his story began, similar scenes transpired often. So often, as the matter of fact, that Lino saw his Vitality stat spiking after stagnating for years now. After all, for someone at his level, increasing stats exponentially was extremely difficult. Yet, today, the tale had shifted. Was that the purpose of all this? To sharpen him like a blade? Perhaps, Lino mused. Devils, after all, were Children of Chaos. Their intentions were as clear as the bottom of a muddy lake at night.

After cutting down another army of tens of thousands, Lino stopped for a moment, taking in the sight. He was close, close to that small village, close to where his story began. A nostalgic feeling washed over him, so much so that he felt his heart stir for a moment. Despite having reached the heights he did, and despite living a beyond joyful life, a part of him, in the deep reaches of his heart, still yearned to return to the past. To when he was a bumbling country bumpkin, shamelessly bragging about his non-existent talents, hoping simply to find a piece of bread to carry him over into the next dawn.

Walking away, his shoulders suddenly felt heavier.

"Haii," he sighed audibly, shaking his head. "I've really turned pathetic. I guess it's true what they say… man's balls vanish when he gets a kid. Puii, no, no! They're still lodged where the heavens put them! Shake it off, shake it off…" motivating himself by uttering stupidities for a little while, he went along the trail, just mere minutes away from the place his life had begun in.

Chapter end