Chapter 59 - The Mausoleum of Moonshadow (1)

The First Zone of the Abyss was also known as the Mausoleum of Moonshadow. A graveyard of a forgotten ancient race. Beings cursed by the moon and fallen into corruption lay buried here.

Every month, as the full moon approached, their fits began. Gazing at the moon they so resented, they clawed madly at their coffins. The dreadful noise echoed throughout the gorge.

SCRAAAPE, SCRITCH, SCRAAATCH.

Beneath the full moon, the crimson-stained gorge overflowed with spectral aura. The wailing of restless spirits rang endlessly, and eerie cries lingered in every ravine.

The fog blanketing the gorge was demonic energy. Baleful energy, thick with resentment and jealousy, rose everywhere. A wellspring of hatred and malice. The Gorge of Death filled their view.

Maphel’tan folded his wings and landed on a great rock face. A pitch-black, bottomless pit yawned below his feet. Screams rose ceaselessly from the deep ravine.

Raguel backed away, trembling. The hideous cries and malice all around were driving the blind boy into terror. Maphel’tan spoke matter-of-factly.

"One more step back and you'll be over the edge. Unless you want to throw yourself into the Abyss, stay where you are."

Raguel froze stiff. He would rather die than fall down there. He murmured tensely,

"... So this is the Abyss."

Blind as he was, he could see nothing, but every other sense trembled with fear. Had he come here alone, the terror truly would have driven him mad.

Zal’karin's face, on the other hand, brimmed with ecstasy.

"I sense malice beyond all reckoning! Where could such profound hatred and resentment have come from? O great End! The essence of the Abyss seeps into this wicked one's flesh!"

To a Demon, the Abyss was nothing short of paradise. A mere imp could grow stronger simply by breathing here.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"What are you two talking about? We haven't even crossed the threshold of the Abyss yet."

At last, Zal’karin and Raguel wore matching expressions. Both looked puzzled.

"O End, then what is this place of such wickedness?"

"The Gorge of Death. A passage leading to the Abyss."

Commonly known as the Gorge of Death, this was where Gaf had nearly abandoned Yohan shortly after he began possessing his body.

Raguel shuddered.

"... It's this bad, and we're not even in the Abyss yet?"

Even the approach to the Abyss was an inhospitable place for humans. Maphel’tan spoke calmly.

"This is your last chance to turn back. Once we enter the Abyss, we won't be able to leave for two weeks. If you want to give up, say so here."

Raguel bit his lip and clenched both fists tight. His fear of spending the rest of his life as he was far outweighed his dread of the Abyss. He couldn't live out his days a cripple, not merely blind but lame as well. He wanted a new, healthy body. He didn't want to let Maphel’tan down, either.

His voice trembled, but it was firm.

"I'm not giving up. I've already made up my mind."

Zal’karin exclaimed in admiration.

"Quite a spirited answer for a human brat! No wonder the End chose you!"

Raguel sounded incredulous.

"Brat? You're much younger than me."

Zal’karin was still an imp. The remark seemed to have hit a nerve, for he flew into a rage.

"W-what bullshit! I'm a Demon born well over fifteen years ago! I remain an imp only because I've had no chance to grow, but soon I shall be reborn as the Hellfire of the Abyss!"

Demons did not grow in proportion to their age. They needed a special catalyst to evolve.

Raguel shook his head.

"Forget hellfire. You're smaller than a campfire."

"You fool! Even a mighty blaze begins with a tiny spark!"

"Yes, yes. Lord Tiny Spark."

"You limping blind brat!"

"That doesn't bother me at all. I'm saying goodbye to that life today, idiot."

Zal’karin's red face flushed an even deeper scarlet. The two kept bickering for quite some time. Maphel’tan left them to it for a while.

'He's a lot less anxious now.'

That was a good effect. Too much fear was bound to ruin things. All Raguel needed was enough tension to keep him alert.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"That's enough."

The instant Zal’karin heard his voice, he hiccupped.

"I-I'm sorry. I've made a disgraceful spectacle of myself."

Raguel scratched his head, looking sheepish himself.

"... I forgot where we were for a moment. Sorry."

Maphel’tan chuckled.

"Then why don't you start getting ready? I believe Ilea gave you something."

Raguel rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a mask made of snow-white leather.

A Demon-and-Spirit-Warding Mask. It was an artifact that blocked demonic and spiritual energies, called a warding mask for short. Without one, an ordinary human would struggle even to breathe in the Abyss. Long ago, the Watchers of the Abyss had worn warding masks on their journeys in and out.

Raguel put on the warding mask as they once had. It concealed more than half his small face. He also wrapped himself in a snow-white cloak. The warding cloak would protect his skin from demonic energy. That took care of the basic preparations.

"I'm ready."

Resolve filled Raguel's voice.

"Then let's go."

Holding Raguel in his arms, Maphel’tan leaped into the ravine. The pitch-black Demon glided through the gorge, the red glow of his eyes leaving a shimmering trail behind him. Every manner of scream and shriek greeted him. Countless malevolent presences raged at the visitors.

* * *

At the deepest point of the gorge, underground where not even moonlight reached, two red lights flickered. They were Maphel’tan's eyes. Their scarlet glow flashed in the darkness as he searched for the entrance to the Abyss.

His surroundings were pitch-black, but that posed no problem. A Demon's eyesight was at its best at night.

Maphel’tan's lips curved upward.

"Found it. Zal’karin, come here."

They had split up to search for the entrance. Zal’karin merely kept looking around in the distance rather than coming back. Raguel spoke in a shaky voice.

"I-I don't think he can hear you. It's too loud down here."

The ghostly wailing had grown much louder after their descent into the gorge. Now even the earth shook as though it were about to collapse.

Maphel’tan clicked his tongue.

"They're really throwing a fit."

"... Who?"

"The evil spirits buried beneath your feet."

All this shaking came from their scratching and pounding on the mausoleum ceiling. Goose bumps prickled across Raguel's skin. He leaped into the air in fright. Not a bad jump for someone with a limp.

"W-why on earth are they doing that?"

"They hate the moon. That's why they look up at the sky and go mad whenever it's full."

The moon symbolized the Great Saint Marziel.

"... Did the Great Saint punish them or something?"

"Something like that. To be precise, the Great Saint cursed them."

Raguel swallowed hard.

"They must be the worst of sinners to have incurred the moon's wrath. And we're about to meet them."

Maphel’tan shrugged.

"You'll see when we get there. Who knows? You might find them more pitiful than you expect."

"What? Pitiful? What do you..."

"Experience it for yourself and decide."

Maphel’tan turned his head. A grotesquely shaped old tree stood before him. Its massive trunk was twisted like a body frozen in the throes of torture, its bark covered with marks resembling bruises. It had neither branches nor leaves. Only the base of the great tree remained.

It was the World Tree. And it was the gate to the First Zone of the Abyss.

Maphel’tan gazed silently at the enormous tree. Even reduced to its stump, the World Tree was overwhelmingly vast. It stood well over twenty meters tall, its width filling an entire section of the ravine.

'Five hundred years ago, it really must have reached the clouds.'

That was how the original novel had described it, and Maphel’tan wholeheartedly agreed. As he stood briefly lost in admiration, Zal’karin approached and spoke.

"O great End, you've found the entrance!"

"Just bring me the key."

The imp took something from a backpack larger than his own body.

"Here it is."

What he handed Maphel’tan was a wooden tablet. Commonly known as a Heartcore Fragment, it was an artifact made from heartwood torn out of the World Tree.

The World Tree still remembered the pain of that day. The moment the Heartcore Fragment appeared, green sap began oozing down its bark. It looked as though it were weeping tears of blood.

Unheeding, Maphel’tan pressed the Heartcore Fragment against the World Tree. At once, the old tree's surface began to split. Its bark crumpled and twisted into a strange shape. A howling face was embedded in the center of the World Tree. Its two drooping eyelids poured out sap in sorrow, and a piercing scream erupted from the mouth gaping below.

SKREEEEEEEEE!

Raguel immediately clapped his hands over his ears. It was useless. The dreadful scream pierced his eardrums and reverberated inside his skull. He sank to the ground, overcome with panic.

"S-stop. Please stop. Make it stop, please!"

The fragile boy was becoming engulfed in the World Tree's sorrow and suffering. Never in his life had he heard such an agonized scream. He couldn't possibly endure it and stay sane.

"No, please stop. Stop crying. Please, please."

Zal’karin, by contrast, could scarcely contain his joy. His eyes shone as rapture filled him.

"Weep more! Suffer until you vomit blood! The great End is watching! Kneel before him and beg for mercy!"

Maphel’tan felt pleasure too. He was a Demon himself, and found ecstasy in the suffering of others.

'... Fuck.'

But he resisted. He bit down on his tongue and raked his nails across his own chest. He felt that the moment he surrendered to this exhilaration, there would truly be no turning back.

'I can't stay here.'

Maphel’tan hastily lifted Raguel, intent on getting away from this place. He jumped straight into the World Tree's mouth, entering the First Zone of the Abyss: the Mausoleum of Moonshadow.

* * *

A mournful melody drifted into his ears.

『 Children roaming through the forest, when the pale moon rises, hide beneath your mother's shade. 』

Raguel turned his head toward the sound.

『 For hunters lurk in moonshadow, lying in wait for you. 』

The uncanny voice drew closer, little by little.

『 They will catch you in snares woven from your mother's torn flesh. 』

The blind boy could see nothing.

『 And wring tears from you with skewers carved from your mother. 』

In the utter darkness, fear slowly consumed Raguel.

『 Please be careful, for they are beasts that hunger even with full bellies. 』

The singing closed in from every direction. There was nowhere to run.

『 Robbers blinded by greed, who steal our forest and our breath. 』

No matter how often he turned his head, only impenetrable darkness greeted the blind boy.

『 Before they grow stronger still, let us starve their bellies. 』

Just as Raguel was about to scream, the singing abruptly stopped. Something cold seized his cheek hard. He froze in shock. A shout, almost a scream, erupted right in front of his face.

"Watcher of the Abyss! The stench of those hateful things!"