Shadow of the Abyss

"What the hell!" Shouted Ren, pointing at the sudden reinforcements. "What the hell is all this!"

Jorm and Kirr stepped to their King like two sentries, one wielding a longsword, the other an otherworldly Glaive draped in obsidian flames.

"We live to serve, Master." They boomed with a mighty roar that stirred the battlefield.

"Hand Reina a Shield Belt," The Prince ordered, activating his without hesitation at the sight of the archers ahead nocking their bows.

Kirr all but lunged towards the startled Nephilim like a joyful cat, grinning. " Hello, Princess! I'm Kirr, Master's most Loyal Fallen Shadow. It's an honor." He reached into his robes, pulling out a belt with a hexagonal shape buckle. "Please wear this per Master's request. It's called a shield belt, and it should help block some pesky arrows.

Awesome right? Me and Jorm got one to see?!"

"Altair?" Reina said hesitantly, glancing at him for direction. Confused as to who or what this thing was, bearing grey skin and yellow eyes that sent shivers through her spine. Kirr felt warm, but there was a familiar coldness that followed him. One that reminded her of the icy gleam of a dagger to her neck.

Altair shot her a grin. "It's alright. Just put it on and hit the buckle. You better hurry. The archers are about to fire."

Before he finished, a black shadow loomed over Altair and his Army of Fallen Shadows. Suddenly, a scarlet ark of lightning, the size of a mountain, washed the Heavens in a vibrant storm of lightning, decimating all the arrows in the blink of the eye as the Former Tania stepped forward, her arm crackling with a newly founded control her Master granted her.

She fell to a knee before him. "I beschee thee, grant this lowly Shadow a name, Master."

The Prince gave her a side glance. "Is Tania not enough?" He knowingly asked.

"If it's your wish, My Lord." She responded with a deadpan expression betrayed by the urgency of her tone.

He closed his eyes, opening them filled with thought. "Talia… It means…"

"Dew of God." She finished with a sweet smile. "Thank you, my Master." When she stood up, Talia arcs of Infernal Lightning danced around her pale flesh, challenging the very Heavens with their nature.

"Lay waste to my enemies." The Prince commanded.

Bearing the Howls of War, the Fallen Shadow charged, carving through the Undead Army like hot butter. Bodies littered the earth in an endless purgatory of death and decay, leaving nothing behind but the decimated moans of the dead and the Awe of the Gods watching, too shocked to comment.

At the front, the leading Army Jorm's glaive danced, carrying the night. He felled three undead Lamia's in a single stroke. His movements were practiced and precise, with a familiarity Reina had seen before. One she fought against countless times.

'Grave of Night,' she whispered, glancing at Kirr, wielding his master swordsmanship with the same level of familiarity she once saw in their Master. "Altair… just how strong are you?"

Without words, Altair kicked off his feet, dashing toward the army of the Dead being slaughtered by his Shadows. When moonlight flashed over the battlefield, grinding the dead into a thick gooey paste. Sword light danced in a paradoxical stream of ethereal light, slashing and piercing through bodies without regard.

Arrows aimed at the Prince were either repelled by his Shield Belt or severed by his Dark Moon Blades, leaving him free to approach and roam the battlefield to how he saw fit.

Reina watched it all unfold before her eyes, and in less than half an hour, Altair and his shadows had slaughtered everything on the battlefield. Most of the monsters hadn't gotten that much stronger, with their resurrection merely serving to drain stamina. Reina had felt it wouldn't have mattered if their stats had increased by two factors rather than the thirty percent she felt.

Despite most of Altair's Shadows possessing monstrous bodies, most had a far higher battle prowess than their undead counterparts.

The Prince's Shadows were vastly superior, whether it was battle prowess, speed, intelligence, or strength. Those of the same race stood no chance, falling in two or three fierce strikes.

When all was dead once more, Altair approached the Chimera with a hint of fever in his eyes. "I've yet to receive any experience from killing anything here," he said. "I hope at least I'll be able to take your soul."

The Undead Chimera, festered by rot and decay, rose at the sight of the boy. Its unfeely eyes glittered a scarlet rot. Viens of muscle branded themselves against the chimera scales following the mighty roar that splintered the ground, sending tremors through the air.

What had pushed the Prince away a year ago felt like a warm breath of fresh air. Altair measured the undead beast and lifted his head towards the top of the temple to where she stood, watching.

"Elder Sister… I'm disappointed. Is this it A mere army?"

Like a fairy untouched by the Hells around them, Luna stood. Her ethereal figure gleamed in the moonlight. She elegantly covered her mouth with one hand. "Silly boy. You've done nothing but seal your faith." chapter-source-MvLeMpYr

It was then that Alair frowned. He glanced back, watching as the bodies that lined the grass began to tremble and then regenerate. As if time was reversing, the Prince grimly watched with utter fascination as the undead Army rose again. He grimaced and looked to the Chimera.

"So I won't be able to make you my mount." He said, unwilling to forgo such a mighty beast. Especially one so large. "Guess I'll just have to look for a Dragon, or Kirin, maybe a Phoenix. Although House Aros kind of ruined them for me. But a Phoenix does some rather badass, doesn't it?"

As the Goddess stared at him, stripping the clothing off his flesh with her piercing gaze and then soul, Luna resisted the urge to question the boy. She knew he had grown stronger, but not to this extent.

Years ago, when Arsene approached her with a plan for his progeny within the Final Garden of Eden. Not once did they ever expect such a scene to take place. At his word, the dead would rise, wielding the power of their Master, as well as minds of their own.

Luna gulped down her excitement, trying to grasp the chaos that would unfold once Altair left.

"Sister! Am I to keep slaying till the blood is dry?" The Prince asked, wielding his ingrained arrogance as a sword. "We'll be here for weeks."

She smiled. " Then you'll die. My Army never tires."

"Neither does mine," Altair replied in a challenging tone as the men, woman, and beast howled. Their presence  swallowing the battlefield in a baptism of war. He reached for Endymian, unsheathing the blade that had not seen blood these past few months, and pointed at her.

A spyrful gleam flashed over the maiden's pearly eyes as she turned. "I'll see how long you last… boy." And Lunafrya vanished in a wisp of silvery moonlight.

With another roar, the Chimera opened its jaw, preparing to breathe fire. But the moment it did, Altair's figure had mysteriously vanished beneath its perception. And like an apparition, he appeared, landing upon the head of the goat with a single foot, his eyes shimmering a demonic light.

Enigmatic Step

As if the world's weight gathered beneath Altair's feet in a focal point of power, a flood of blood sprayed over the temple wall, drenching the pristine stone red, as a gale of organs splashed over the ground. Altair tore apart the Chimera with the power of seven mountains came crashing down. Crushing the beast into a fine paste before it could whimper a cry.

[Enigmatic Step (E)]

Proficiency: 57%

Descriptions: Condense mana in a focal burst beneath the user's feet.

A wave of destruction splintered the earth for over ten meters, leaving nothing behind but a crater of utter destruction and death. The Prince laughed like a demon of war, stepping out of the crater to his army,  cutting down the undead, and his laughter only grew.

When all was said and done, he surveyed the battlefield with undecided bloodlust, leaving the death trembling."Leave nothing standing! If the dead must rise, our blades will continue to fall! KILL! KILL! KILL!"

Overwhelmed by the dreadful presence, the Army of the Dead trembled, and despite being unable to feel the concept of pain, fear twisted there inside until their Soul's Flames dimmed.

Jorm and Kirr lifted their blades, bloodied by war, and released their war cry, followed by the other Fallen Shadows over the battlefield.