The fake version of him was still in front of him, but this time he was no longer dressed in uniform.
Pitch-colored armor covered his body as if it were a second skin.
It was a masterpiece, a perfect combination of functionality and beauty. Its sinister details glowed, reflecting myriad chiaroscuro hues. The dark metal was adorned with purple veins and inlaid with microscopic symbols of ghostly green. The greaves and bracers were equally elaborate, with thin purple spines running along the edges, giving the armor a look that was as deadly as it was elegant. The joints were covered by flexible plates, aimed at allowing freedom of movement without compromising the protection of the individual. As Shirei stared at his replica, he noticed something extraordinary: under close observation, the armor seemed to move slightly, as if it was made of living matter. The veins pulsed, following a rhythm similar to that of a calm, deep breath. The carvings seemed to animate and glow as if they were coming to life.
He was tempted to get closer and try to figure out if his eyes were deceiving him. He paused for a moment, considering the possibility that this armor was more than just battle clothing.
It seems as if he has turned into a tenebrae...
After he stopped looking at his alternate self, Shirei focused on the new setting created by his subconscious.
Only then did he realize he knew this place.
The demigod was near the bank of the Uchia river, the affluent of memory. The landscape around him was shrouded in impenetrable darkness, a shadow that seemed to come from deep within the heart of the Underworld. The heat of the sun, which had caressed his skin shortly before, had disappeared, replaced by a sinister chill that penetrated his bones and heart. The air was thick and heavy, every breath seemed to hold a fragment of desperation.
The waters of the tributary flowed clear and calm before him, a striking contrast to his surroundings. The incessant flow was as transparent as liquid crystal, and its movement was gentle and hypnotic, bringing with it a sense of unnatural serenity. On the surface of the river, some luminous reflections danced, casting pale glows that illuminated the area with a ghostly halo.
The light seemed to come from another dimension, fragments of pure white that told forgotten stories and lost memories. Each ray reflected moments from the past, faces and scenes that seemed to float just beneath the surface of the water, like shadows of memories ready to resurface. It was as if the river itself was a silent guardian of all the lives it had touched.
That tributary of the hellish lake was the cause of most of his problems. He had returned to the place where the old Shirei had died, the same place where he had opened his eyes for the first time.
The Uchia's luminous surface illuminated its interlocutor's face and his dark armor, revealing how both were stained with blood. Young Shirei's gaze was blank, as if distant. His eyelids were almost half closed, revealing the excruciating, murderous calm that he had known for in the past.
Behind the replica, an ethereal and majestic figure appeared out of nowhere, immediately catching Shirei's attention. It was an angelic-looking tenebrae, suspended in the air thanks to white wings that fluttered delicately, supporting it as if it were weightless. The armor he wore was of celestial workmanship and, at the same time, dark in texture, composed of plates as black as shadow.
Every detail was perfect, as if the armor had been created not by human hands, but by those of a deity.
Probably not even Corgi could forge something so flawless, the demigod noted.
The pauldrons were sculpted in the shape of stylized wings, which extended slightly beyond the shoulders, adding a further aura of magnificence.
The helmet, smooth and flawless, almost completely covered the angel's face, hiding his identity and giving him a mysterious appearance. The absence of visible features added an aura of inviolability to his presence, making him an enigmatic guardian. The angel's wings, wide and majestic, were immaculate white, every single feather seemed to emanate a soft light. They moved gracefully, each beat silent and almost hypnotic, as if the angel was floating through the air effortlessly. The light they radiated illuminated the surrounding area, creating a surreal contrast to the darkness of the Underworld.
Shirei understood that the presence of that angelic figure was not accidental. The angel was there for a reason, more precisely he had been summoned to remind him of something in particular.
The scene remained suspended in an instant of silence, the Uchia river flowed quietly behind his double, and the angel remained in mid-air in a state of simple waiting.
He is the tenebrae that Marina told me about...
"Stop looking at Venorias. I wanted to show you my 'Aterdux', but I'm not bragging about it."
Aterdux? Shirei repeated in his head, though the same words echoed everywhere.
That was the confirmation of his assumption: he was in his own head.
"Translates as 'dark general', it is the title given to your most powerful darkness, the one who is inextricably linked to your soul and can lead your army."
Cragar's son could only partially follow, nevertheless his counterpart continued the speech.
"You should know at least this much, but the real problem is that you know absolutely nothing and that makes you weak."
"I'm not weak."
"Yes, instead," the young Shirei replied, wiping the blood from his face with one hand, "You cannot hope to face what comes without knowing your powers. You worry too much about what's going on around you instead of recognizing what's really important."
"Is Rakion that powerful?"
The young Shirei grimaced, "Rakion... in your current state, he would destroy you, however he is not the problem."
The purple-eyed demigod's body froze. He wasn't so arrogant as to believe himself more powerful than a third generation god, but he wasn't falsely humble either.
Shirei knew he was powerful, more than other demigods.
Why does everyone treat me like I'm an idiot?