Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 53: Guilt and Despair

The city lord was right, they did not have much time.

The cracks appearing on the city barrier weren’t repairing themselves; they were starting to crack, but still, all of the warriors from the city were there in front, ready to confront the monarch of the beast race.

Everyone was standing their ground in anticipation. Jonan and his cohort were also present among the warriors.

Jonan was astonished, his eyes were widened with surprise at the oncoming of such a colossal being, feeling the palpitations of sinister energy leaking through the cracks on the barrier, he was sure that even the elders of his family would never dare to face such a colossal being.

"Why did such a mighty being come here to this city, which had no warriors of its match? What intentions does it have?" thought Jonan with a pensive face.

Elias sighed, observing the pressure from the monarch of beasts, he quietly said, "I feel the reaction of this venerated monarch might be related to our mission."

Marla flinched upon listening to Elias, Edric’s face turned somber, whereas Jonan became visibly upset.

After clearing their godforsaken mission, they were resting peacefully in the lodge, but hearing the commotion, they followed everyone to here, and now, noticing the massive darkened entity’s continuous attacks on the city was a depressing matter in itself.

Yet the worst thing they were wondering right now was that if they might be the reason for everyone’s death today.

Thousands of warriors manned the walls, and ballistae and cannons lined the battlements. Mercenaries stood shoulder to shoulder with city guards, even the assassins of different establishments stood among them, their blades were unsheathed, and their faces were masked.

At the center of it all was the city lord, who wore a ceremonial black armor adorned with glowing glyphs.

"Dear citizens, it is with utmost sorrow I have to tell you that we will have to stand united against this great foe," his voice rang throughout the city, carried by magic amplifiers, "know this: we do not fight today for greed or conquest, we fight for our home, for the children who sleep in basements, for the old whose bones still recall the previous war, we fight not as peasants or nobles, not as beggars or merchants, we fight as one, and if we have to fall, we fall with fire in our hearts, and not let it break the border we have taken upon ourselves to defend with our deaths."

Everyone wore grim faces, but they were determined and had courage overflowing from them.

Except for Jonan and his cohort, who were ashamed to even lift their heads, the very realization that they would be the reason for everyone’s death today was an unsettling sensation they felt.

Marla had small, teary beads in the corners of her eyes. Edric placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "Don’t overthink, it was a mission issued by our superiors, we are just workers they hire to do the job, we should not associate ourselves with feelings for the consequences of our actions related to the missions."

Elias, who stood beside them, sighed and mused to himself, "How can it be so easy not to feel anything, when we will be the reason directly or indirectly for the death of everyone in the city?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

He thought, "Just what were they thinking of by giving such a stupid mission, we did use to assassinate many important beings, but to kill an abomination, and now a monarch suddenly sprang up, which means it has some close relation with it or else, it would have not appeared here, I don’t think even our leader can do much about the Monarch."

The final preparations began, still, the darkness pressed on.

Lyneex floated beyond the veil, her colossal shadowy form coiled like a god of vengeance, her strikes relentless, her roar, though muffled by the barrier, made the very stone tremble.

In the depths of the city, the Phantom Brigade returned, their armor stained with blood. Silent as death, they took positions behind the main gates, with just the cold resolve of executioners waiting for their next command.

And the city waited, breaths held, as the final crack spread across the barrier, long, jagged, and glowing with sickly light.

The battle for The Wailing Shadow City was about to begin.

The barrier broke down way not with a deafening shatter, but with a haunting, reverberating crack, like the spine of the world itself breaking in two.

Then it was silence, it was unnatural, and suffocating silence.

The light from the glyphs along the city’s defenses flickered for a moment, then died.

And then it arrived with an overwhelming force.

A tide of darkness, it was not metaphorical, nor a shadowy mist or creeping gloom, but a living, writhing black tide that charged through the broken barrier like a burst dam; it roared as it flowed in, a sea of ichor and terror, sweeping all before it with rushing force, no time to respond, nor time to scream, the first rank of warriors, hard as stone, battle-hard, were engulfed at once, reduced to sinking things as their bodies were consumed by the boiling tide.

The cannons, the ballistae, the barricades were smashed like playthings in a hurricane; the mercenaries and assassins, expert killers, screamed in horror, before their screams were smothered beneath the tide, their eyes stolen, everything dark.

Jonan didn’t move at first; he couldn’t, his legs froze, his breath hitched, and his mind refused to believe what his eyes saw. The wave of darkness approached like the wrath of an ocean, and all he could do was stare; his body refused to obey him.

The moment it struck, everything was pain.

It wasn’t just physical, it was spiritual, the darkness burned through every sense, choked every breath, invaded every thought. It was like drowning in despair itself, like the concept of madness had become a physical thing.

Jonan’s body was flung back, crashing into something he couldn’t see. He rolled, gasping, struggling to even find air in the crushing tide. His fingers clawed at the street stones as if they might offer salvation, but they didn’t.

Marla screamed, not out of fear, but as her soul was being scraped, her voice cut through the air for a brief moment before the tide dragged her under.

Edric his face was contorted in agony, but he still lunged forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. He held onto her with a strength he didn’t know he had, even as the tide tried to rip them both apart.

Elias had fallen to one knee, his face pale, blood trickling from his nose and eyes, his arms were crossed before him in a desperate attempt to shield his heart from the invading force, but it was a losing battle.

The city lord stood at the epicenter, sword in hand, his black armor cracked and glowing dimly with flickers of weakness, his voice, so resolute mere moments ago, was gone; he watched, numb, as the darkness claimed his soldiers, his people, his city.

And then he, too, was swallowed.

"This... this isn’t a battle," Jonan thought, his mind slipping in and out of consciousness. "This is madness."

The black tide showed no prejudice, be it nobles, guards, children, merchants, or anyone; it swept them all away. The city’s magnificent towers began to buckle and fall, the dark surge rising to meet them. Fires sparked in places, only to be smothered by the consuming tide.

Some tried to fight, a woman clad in silver armor screamed a war cry and lunged into the darkness, blade first. She lasted three seconds before the tide consumed her, dragging her sword along as though mocking her defiance.

Others tried to flee, doors were slammed shut, windows were shattered, and multiple panicked footsteps echoed through alleyways, but no direction was safe; the darkness flooded them from all sides, cornering the entire city like prey.

Jonan’s hand finally found something solid, a piece of a broken pillar. He clung to it, coughing violently, his body barely responding.

Somewhere beside him, Elias was still breathing, though barely. Marla’s face was buried against Edric’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her as they tumbled like leaves in a storm.

And above it all, Lyneex loomed.

She didn’t even need to enter the city fully, her shadowy form writhed above the cityscape, immense and endless, her presence crushing; her cries weren’t shouts, they were the roaring tide of the ocean of darkness.

Each blow of her massive, formless limbs fractured streets and collapsed buildings, her rage ignited the very air, casting an eclipse over the sky; she was a monarch acting upon mortal warriors without restraint.

The Phantom Brigade, thought to be untouchable in their eerie silence, were gone, their polished, glyph-laced armor floated like husks on the dark surface, even the assassins—those faceless legends, were no match.

There was no last stand, no heroic resistance.

Only loss, complete loss.