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Shadow of the Abyss

The Old Gods are gone. Lost and Forgotten, their honor shattered and their kingdoms broken by treachery. The Peace of the Myriad Heavens has been severed. And from the ashes of war and chaos, the Twin Towers of Babel have been created as a beacon of hope. Can Altair, a child born of the Old Gods whose name has long since been forgotten, survive, or will he be cast into the Nine Hells? *** "So..." Arsene continued, enjoying his child's flush expression. "I've got a few things to teach you. What I'm about to give you is some peak wisdom. Think of it as my Ten Commandments: One, never trust a bitch with red hair. Trust me on this. Two, the pull-out game is not a real thing. She will get pregnant. Three—" "F-Father…" " —Never get yourself more than one wife. It sounds fun. It is fun. But it's truly a nightmare. You better be writing this stuff down. This is some grade-A wisdom right here. Four. "...Please stop talking…" The Prince pleaded. "Shhhhh. Just let this happen. Four…Bro's before hoes isn't a thing. The hoes come first. Remember, Booty is more important than Wa— " "STOP!!!!!"

Lord_Damocles · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
450 Chs

The Saintess of the Vale III

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Altair felt himself pour into Syris's very being. The Vale shuddered, and his heart pulsed, beating a song so old it seemed to echo distant past and present future. 

Ba-Dumb! Ba-Dumb! Ba-Dumb!

As if a whirlwind had woven itself through his chambers, ancient tapestries that were once dedicated to Tenebrae were violently ripped from their mounts. The exquisite carpets, which had been carefully woven since the Fall of Angels, were also not spared from the chaos that ensued. The entire room was in a state of disarray, and the aftermath of the tumultuous event left a lasting impression on all who witnessed it.

Altair noticed none of it. His gaze pressed against Syris as he felt a powerful surge emanating from the Vale. The Black Lake, which was suspended within his Astral Sea, began to ripple as wispy tendrils of essence flowed out of its depths and into the material realm, enveloping Syris in an obsidian veil.