Chapter 19)Movements

Midgard

The location of Augustus' demise had transformed into an entirely desolate cemetery over the course of a few months, rendering it unrecognizable. Sorcerers and wizards flocked to this place, seeking to uncover the cause behind the disturbances that had shaken the world.

Not only were there traces of death energy lingering in the area, but a faint hint of divinity as well, attracting inquisitive researchers to the site. However, despite continuous investigations, they came up empty-handed. All they could confirm was that a battle had taken place between a godlike being and a creature of death, but the outcome remained unknown. This place had become eternally desolate, preventing even a single weed from sprouting.

As news of their fruitless searches spread, fewer and fewer people ventured to this forsaken place. Ordinary folk grew too fearful to approach, while those who dared to enter found nothing of significance, leaving the cemetery abandoned.

And so, the place would have languished in obscurity, forgotten by all, until one fateful day when a barefoot and nearly naked child stumbled upon it. His body bore countless scars and wounds, his emaciated form revealing nothing but skin and bones.

Whether he was a former slave or a mere vagrant, only he knew. It remained unclear why this destitute child had found himself in this place. Perhaps he was simply unlucky, or maybe he was a specially bred assassin who derived pleasure from his acts of violence, having already claimed numerous lives and now being hunted.

Aarron, in the first person, narrates his thoughts, standing amidst the desolation:

"Those damned bastards sent me to this accursed place, expecting me to find something for them. What can I possibly discover here that hasn't already been ransacked by a bunch of weirdos? There might have even been a wizard among them, ensuring I won't find a thing."

It wasn't the first time Aarron cursed his fate and regretted his very existence, yet here he remained, struggling to survive.

"No matter, maybe this time I'll meet my end and finally be able to... meet someone. I hope, at the very least, the God of Death will welcome me."

Surveying his surroundings and realizing he was alone, Aarron cautiously stepped through the cemetery's entrance, instantly recoiling. Aware of the curse that plagued this place, he hurriedly maneuvered through the sparsely scattered tombstones and pits.

A swift inspection confirmed that, apart from himself and the lifeless bodies, there was nothing of value in this damned cemetery. Although, perhaps these gravestones would be more valuable than his wretched existence.

Traversing the rows of graves, he stumbled upon a deep pit. With daylight still shining, Aarron spotted something dark and glimmering at the bottom. Intrigued, he examined the pit and reassured himself that he could climb back up if necessary. Slowly, he began his descent. As his feet touched the ground, he sensed an intense warmth, but upon taking a step back and feeling the soil once more, he realized it remained bitterly cold.

"This cursed place," he muttered.

Returning to the pit's edge, he cautiously lowered himself down, determined not to inflict any further injuries. "And I thought I might have missed out on a slow and agonizing death from illness."

Reaching the bottom, he seized the nearest stone and started to dig into the earth. Initially, he entertained the idea of using his bare hands, but at this depth, he knew it would only result in more wounds.

Digging into the ground with the stone, Aarron's hands moved with a mix of desperation and determination. Each strike sent vibrations through his weary body, but he pushed through the pain, his focus unwavering. As the dirt gave way beneath his relentless assault, a glimmer of excitement flickered within him. Perhaps there was something hidden here, something that would change his fate or provide a glimmer of hope in this desolate place.

Minutes turned into hours as Aarron toiled, sweat mixing with the dirt on his brow. The hole deepened, revealing layers of soil that had not seen the light of day for years. Doubts began to creep into his mind. Was this all in vain? Was there truly anything of value to be found, or was he just another fool delving into an empty abyss?

But just as doubt threatened to consume him, his stone struck something solid—a metallic clang that echoed through the pit. Aarron's heart skipped a beat, hope rekindling within him. Ignoring his fatigue, he frantically cleared away the remaining soil, unearthing an old, rusted sword.

After clearing it of the earth and various dirt, he raised it to the sky and carefully examined it. The sword was covered with rust in many places, and the blade was blunted. The hilt was extremely uncomfortable and the guard was not visible, although as far as he knew a sword of this size should have a guard.

"Great old useless sword that won't even fit for scrap metal. The weight is too much, even if I get out of the pit with it, I won't be able to carry it to the city. "

Leaving the sword on the ground and looking at the pit again and realizing that there was nothing else, he fell powerlessly to the ground and began to look at the darkening eyes full of hopelessness, he began to think that maybe dying in this pit was not so bad. The depth is sufficient, it's warm here and no one will eat his bones as long as this place is cursed.

After looking at the sword again and realizing that nothing had changed in it, he began to wait for the night and decided to wait in this place and if nothing kills him during the night, then tomorrow morning he will think about how to deliver this sword to the city.

Closing his eyes and preparing to wallow in the per-crossing world of dreams, he suddenly felt a pain in his wrist. Opening his eyes and examining his hand, he noticed how a black worm was curling into his hand and quickly crawled into it. Touching his wrist, he saw the worm quickly crawling through his veins and arteries, crawling into his chest. A second later, he feels like his heart is breaking something, and from the pain, he falls on his back and screams. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

Losing consciousness from the pain, he finds himself in a strange black place. Terrified, he began to look around to understand where he was, until he noticed in the distance the pale figure of an adult who was sitting by the fire, only instead of a scarlet flame, the fire was grayish black.

Cautiously approaching the man, he noticed that there was no one else except the two of them. Coming closer, he noticed that the man was covered with some scars and cracks. Not possible to occur in a person.

"Are you going to look at me for a long time? You can sit down, we're going to have quite a long conversation."

"I have nothing to talk about with you. Just tell me where we are and how I can get out of here."

"With character, I see? Well, anyway, you can call me August, the first death knight of the Goddess Hela, keeper of the key to Helheim and perhaps everything."

"So this is the realm of death and I'm dead after all."

Falling to his knees, tears poured from his eyes. It is not clear whether, from relief or chagrin, he is still too young to die.

"No, you can get to Helheim only after death, we are now, so to speak, in the mental space of the Necrosword and the key to the world of death Helheim. "

"Then what am I doing here and what is a Necrosword ?"

"This is the sword that you dug up, my sword that was left after my death."

"Wait, you said the first ones should be in Helheim, since you 're dead, what are you doing here ?"

"Don't overdo it, boy, I'll explain everything slowly."