2 Chapter 2: The Dungeon of Orario (edited)

After getting rid of the evidence of the massacre, Salem began to head in the direction of Orario.

During this time, Salem was undoubtedly the happiest time of his life. Being free and able to go wherever he wanted was a new experience for him. He experienced so much in his short one week walk to Orario. The trees, the bushes, the wind, the water was all so beautiful, allowing Salem to smile, not a smile tinged with evil and madness, but one that was just so... pure.

It was like all the hatred in him vanished at the sight of such a beautiful world.

But then he had to see it. Orario. It stuck out like a blotch of ink on a pure canvas. This beautiful world, his beautiful world, was tainted with this city. So full of everything he hated. Gods laughed joyously with mortals, humans chatting harmoniously with elves, demi-humans, and amazonesses adventuring together. Disgusting. So disgusting it made Salem want to kill them. Their smiles were hideous. Their laughs were nauseating. Their happiness... was something he was jealous of... and he hated it.

Why can't he be happy? Why can't he be loved?

After the power high was over, after the joy he had of taking his revenge, he realized something.

They were right.

He became an abomination. He became a False God of Evil. He became a Spirit of Destruction and All the World's Evil.

Exactly what they told him he was.

And he was angry.

Sure, he had accepted what he is now and now thrives off it, but they took everything from him.

His love, his happiness, his mind, his time as a child and teenager, his emotions, ḩ̷̛͚͙̰̗͇̹̗̬̱͑̎͛̋̎͒̃͒̈́̿̿͘͘̕i̷̛̼̗͙̭̼͉͔̼͔͎̙̔̔̔̇͘ͅs̴̡̨̖̭̝̙̬͚͖̰͈̳͍̬̭͋͌̏̋ ̸̣͂̽̏̏͂̓́͘͝͝h̴̨͇̤͋́̈́͋̒̍̈́͌̌̅͋́͆̚ù̸̮̜̯͔͔̳̜͚̤̤̝m̷̼̙̰̋͆͛̉̔̾̇̕a̸̬̣͓̲̙̖̠̜͔̹̲͛̈́́ṋ̶̪͉̫̯̳͈̯͑̂ḯ̴̢̮͚̭̪̥̯͚̺̥̱͚̺͉̐́̈ţ̵̨̞̙̣̺̤͓̯̩̤̿̑y̴̢̧̳̭̰̣̥̫͈̽̎̇̈́͛̌̐͋͂̋ͅ.

'If they took everything from me... why not take everything from them...' Salem smiled psychotically as he thought about all the chaos and destruction we would cause to the beings he hated with a passion.

Suddenly, as if sensing is hate and feelings, a sensation of someone or something washed over him, analyzing him.

As if satisfied with what it was feeling, the presence presented something like a link, asking to connect his Arcanum with it.

Sensing no animosity, Salem connected his false Arcanum with the presence.

Almost immediately, emotions and feelings so similar yet are at the same time not flowed through him. Immense, bone chilling hatred towards the gods and an intense dislike for almost everything living, except for its own creations. But now he was receiving feelings of joy and happiness coming from the feeling of finding someone so similar to itself. There were even hints of fondness and love.

It almost overwhelmed Salem, disbelief of finding something like him, but at the same time... hopeful. Maybe this thing will accept him, unlike everything else.

Quickly following where the link originated, the thing severed the connection, but not before giving him the feeling of caressing his cheek, like a lover or mother to someone they deemed special.

Looking intensely at Orario, Salem broke into a laugh, "To think the being who understands me the most is the dungeon..."

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It was a typical day in Orario. Everything happens as usual. Nothing interesting happened.

Freya, a goddess who represented love, beauty, sex, fertility, gold, war, and death, from the Freya Familia, was busy observing the city while sitting on her luxurious throne-chair with a glass full of high-class red wine in her hand.

The goddess possessed a beauty that few could hope to pass, not even some of her fellow goddesses. She had long silver hair, purple eyes, and white skin like that of fresh snow. Her clothes were in large part black and red, exposing most of her stomach and breasts. She also wore two flower-like ornaments in her hair.

As a goddess of death and an arbiter of souls in heaven, Freya had an incredibly unique ability that she could even use on Earth, Discerning Eye. Freya had the innate ability to see the color and brilliance of souls. She often used this ability while in heaven to claim those she took a liking to before anyone else. And now she used it for her Familia. Souls of mortals have different forms and colors. The souls of the children from Earth are formed and colored both by their past lives and their current lives, also through their actions and surroundings.

After countless years of seeing souls in heaven, it became a boring task. Many different colors and forms were repeated, and it was hard to see a unique soul nowadays.

Maybe that's why she got so obsessive when she gazed upon a unique soul for the first time.

Like her new object of affection, Bell Cranel.

He had the most beautiful, pure soul. An enchanting transparent soul, unmarred by the past lives and innocence in his present one. A unique soul she had never seen in a long time.

She had to have it.

It was a normal day for her, observing the souls of mortals while hoping to catch a glimpse of Bell's when she saw him. Or rather, when she was IT.

A putrid, vile black and red soul. She could barely call it a soul. It felt like everything evil in the world was given shape.

It was so broken, scarred, and fractured that it could barely hold its shape, constantly leaking black mud between its ruptures. Freya couldn't even call it a soul of a human anymore; it was too mutilated. What terrified her so much was the feeling of divinity but at the same time not. It was more like a mutilated god that fused with a spirit than anything else.

She tried to read the soul, its feelings, and its past and present life to see what made it so... corrupted.

P̷̹̼̻̩̈̆̿̅̅̏̐̽̓̅̒Ä̷̧̺͉̻̤̘̭͈̟̯̳̗̠́̚ͅ!̷̰̟̗̻͌̌̈̈̍̇͆̌̉̀͊͋͘N̸̡̘̫͓̠̗̺̞̳̭̜̪̫͙͇̄̈̓̑͋̄̈́̾̃̈́̈́��̚͘͝!̸̧̡̉̉̓̓̄͂̃̋̀̓̎̍̿͠

Ą̷̶̶̶̵̸̵̬̝̙̠͖̤͚̟͕͚̊͂̎̀̑̇̀͛́͝n̵̵̶̸̸̷̶̵̸̛̦͓̦̖̻̮̘͚͕̟̦̘̼̗̠̾̋͌́̽̒̀͆̽̈̂̅̌͘̕ͅg̷̶̵̴̷̴̷̴̷̢̥͈̝̰̠̬͕͇̠̻̪̳̮͇̭̲̰̍͆̏͂͆͂̈̉͂̂͛͠Ë̶̳̰̆R̴̢̼̓̆

A̶̭̣̿̇͘̚̚ǵ̶͍o̴̮̥̩̣͌n̴̢̬̼͖̈̃y̴̥̾

Her mind erupted in sharp pain, overwhelmed by the amount of hate, pain, sorrow, and blood lust that scarred the soul so deeply it would never recover, not even after uncountable reincarnations. She received glimpses and flashes of what she wanted, and what she saw amazed her.

He was once like Bell, a beautiful pure transparent soul, a blank slate with no past life, but for some reason was captured, tortured, experimented, and mutilated for an unknown amount of time.

She saw his hatred for everything living and his love for the world.

But underneath all of the vile, corrupted black and red layers was a small white piece of soul, still pure despite the hell he experienced. Like a star being lost in a black hole, it was trying to escape, but it was too lost in the anger and pain. It was being affected by the pain and anger and began to wilt.

She felt the emotions of the white fractured soul.

Wanting to be accepted.

Wanting to be loved.

Fear of becoming something everyone told him he would, but at the same time acceptance.

Freya took a shuttering breath as she stood up, not realizing she dropped her favorite glass of wine.

Although this soul was scarred, even fractured. Even though it was corrupted beyond repair, coated in thick, mud like evil. In a sense, it was still beautiful.

Although she was a Goddess of Love and Beauty, she was still a Goddess of Death and War, and this soul spoke to her no other had done before. Even his pure love for the world enraptured her as a love goddess.

As Freya tried to process her newfound feelings, she felt how hot her body was and was literally drenched in sweat. A wet feeling came from her divine loins, and her eyes widened.

The sight of a soul caused her to climax.

Not even Bell's interesting soul could compare to this.

She wanted it

She Wanted it.

ShE WANteD IT!

This soul will be hers for eternity, and no one, no one will claim it before her! It only belonged to her!

This soul will be her greatest feat, the Holy Grail, the crown jewel of her Familia, and a sign of her love and power!

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Walking through the road of Orario garnered Salem a lot of weird looks.

Some people were interested since he had darker skin than an amazoness, which was weird since there was no such thing as a male amazon.

Other people laughed. Although there were some languages they couldn't read, there were some of the words tattooed on this boy's body they could. Who would want the word 'bastard' and 'abomination' tattooed on their skin? Or the scene of a woman being r*ped and murdered?

Some people, however, were wary. These people were veteran adventurers or people with sharp senses. Their instincts were going haywire, telling them this person was dangerous. It was like they were in the presence of a black Monster Rex about to devour them whole.

Regardless, everyone made way for this weird and possibly dangerous boy.

None of this mattered to Salem. The only thing that mattered was adventuring into the dungeon. Why was the dungeon an conscious being? Why did the dungeon communicate with him? Why did he feel such a strong connection with the being housed in the dungeon?

Salem's heart burned with curiosity.