Chains (3)

[Intervenarius]

[Type: Chain]

[Description: Four chains crafted from the pure essence of Castria, the Goddess of Purity. Controls space in a designated area, causing enemies within to lose spatial awareness, granting the user control over the dimension.]

[User Set Restriction: Only effective against demons, enhancing power when a demon is captured.]

Shit…

Mya teleported before Ayla, causing her senses to flare as she threw a slow but dangerous punch. Ayla tilted her head and kicked her abdomen, hitting nothing but air, the clear and musical rattling of the distorted chain's chime coming from above.

Mya fell fast, punching towards Ayla's head, her fist flaring with divine energy. Ayla jumped back, and Mya's heated fist grazed her cheek.

With a chime of chains, Mya followed close, the speed in which she gained from the fall surpassing Ayla's. Mya's punch came again. Mya punched again. Ayla, as quick as she was, couldn't evade the fist heading for her abdomen. She twisted, the fist striking her side instead, and she flung into the ground some twenty feet away.

A searing pain, akin to thousands of flames hotter than campfires, scorched her back. The pain was good—it meant she wasn't dead yet, and another sensation followed suit—a familiar sensation. A hotness and wet tickling in her abdomen stretched to the pain. It stole the pain, bottling it away.

Masochism. Why is it so helpful yet unhelpful? Ayla pushed herself up, the floor's barrier burning her hand, which she then severed and replaced. She glanced around. Mya was absent.

Mya's voice echoed from various directions, accompanied by distorted chimes. "Surrender. There is no escape here, as you know. No shadows to hide in. To meld to your liking, or use as a shield. You'll die either way." Her voice drew near, fading into a whisper. "More pain or less." Mya grabbed Ayla's chin, but it didn't burn.

Ayla relaxed her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. At this, the chains rattled once, and Mya released her stealth. Her left glove covered her eye in its veil form.

"Good."

On the surface, Mya told the truth, but Ayla doubted her sincerity. From her past experience, Kalia's memories, and Cynthia, Ayla knew the Light Pantheon had no mercy towards the Dark Pantheon.

The Dark Pantheon was no exception. In the cities and worlds they conquered, they rarely took captives. If they did, captives were tortured for information, used to kill more, or forced into slave labor. Mya had stated it herself. She would use Ayla against Asteria. And if she knew Ayla didn't have the information she needed, would she still take her as a prisoner?

No.

The response brought a new sense of reality to Ayla, one that was foreign and surreal compared to her past. Kill or be killed—a law that this war had set upon this universe, with her world and a few others as exceptions. If she didn't follow the law and kill, she would end up as one of the billions of corpses on a battlefield, mangled or burned.

Ayla used compliance as a facade. Her determination to survive and succeed remained strong as she concentrated on her demonic energy. She managed most of it but kept some for contingencies and released it all at once. A black mist oozed from Ayla's pores.

Mya's eyes widened, and she crossed her arms as the chains moved to teleport her away, within the instant before she was flung back with devastating force into a wall at the end of the hall. She crumbled to the floor, her head hanging limp against her chest, motionless.

Ayla stood up; the urge to kill stronger than ever, but she pushed it aside for another time.

She rushed forward.

The barrier to the Cathedral shattered, causing the walls behind it to crack and collapse, breaking into large boulders. Before taking a second step, her legs buckled, and she fell. Adrenaline had helped her ignore the toll on her body and mind from the uncontrolled release of demonic energy before, but now it didn't. She attempted to stand, but her arms and legs could only raise her a few inches.

After numerous attempts, she ended up on her hands and knees when a boulder smashed into her thigh, crushing and pinning half of her body. The pain intensified and transformed into pleasure. She maintained composure and channeled energy into teleporting away, aided by the black mist created by her demonic energy.

Ayla's final sight was a giant boulder hurtling towards her before she was whisked away, sleep welcoming her after using all her energy to teleport, the toll taking its full effect.

****

Across the vastness of space, in a corner of the universe where the void existed, with no sun, worlds, or other galaxies to lighten the dark, a small world floated. The world blended in with its surroundings as a black barrier, like a cloud of shadows, blocking all perception.

Inside the world, deep beneath the ground, where a cave system was sculpted into the interior of a medieval castle, Cynthia sat on her bed with her back against the headrest, arms half-wrapped around her knees. She rocked back and forth for hours, hands shaking, biting her nails as she stared at two screens, her jaw clenched and brows furrowed.

The screens should have displayed Ayla and her activities, but they were blank. In the past, to pass the time, she turned it on, either as background noise, focusing on it on occasion as she worked through plans for future missions, or as a means to spend her free time. But today was different; she suspected it the moment Ayla entered the castle and confirmed it when the green-haired priest appeared, and even more when Ayla passed through the gate.

The Cathedral Ayla entered was a Carcux Realm—a creation of the Light Pantheon for torture. The Carcux Realm was a pocket dimension anchored to a specific world where shadows, darkness, and demonic energy could not form naturally, forcing demons to rely on their own demonic reserves for survival. Not many demons who entered returned, and if they did, they were forever crippled, with a few—no more than a dozen—escaping. The worst lost their ability to recover demonic energy and damaged their soul and essence, while the best lost limbs, organs, and half of their essence, cursed with divine energy, never to recover.

Furthermore, each Realm was set where the world's Saint controlled it. The Saints at or above Demi-God controlled it through their energy and skills alone. While those below controlled it through divine artifacts, which eased the expenditure and came with specific faculties set in place. The chains and veil Mya had were as such, though Mya struggled to use them.

She failed to block Cynthia's perception and apprehend Ayla, but eventually succeeded. Ayla was at her mercy. Cynthia played the recording of Mya finding Ayla unconscious and dragging her across the rubble, as she lacked the strength to carry her and held no desire to.

The sight made her hopeless, worsening with each replay, but she did her best considering the time it took Mya to sever their connection. Cynthia replenished Ayla's demonic energy, enough to last a few days if she used it with care, and left a message to ensure it.

It gave her hope for what little she had. She clung onto hope with all her might, grasping at every inch, afraid of what would happen if she let go. The certainty was too low, and to increase it, she would do everything she could.

Cynthia swiped the screens away and leapt off the bed, space distorting around her as her pajamas shifted to a black formal corset, suitable for her plans. She teleported into a black stone hall. In the hall, twelve stone chairs surrounded an oval stone table. She sat on the chair at the end, resembling a throne adorned with purple jewels.

"Erebella."

The shadow maid, who had helped Ayla in her assimilation, materialized from the shadows and bowed. "Yes, my lady."

"Inform the rest."

"And what if they refuse? They are currently following your lead due to your strength and leadership, but some consider you unfit. With your—"

"I'll leave that to your judgment."

"Yes, my lady." Erebella melted into the shadows, bringing back the silence the hall once had.

Alone, Cynthia tapped her foot, starting slow and quiet, then growing faster and louder as time passed. They took their time, not teleporting in, which Cynthia had little of.