Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 90: The Under-Realms

As Jonan made his way to the chief’s tent at first light, the heavens above appeared like a dull grey canvas of smoke, the sky had taken on an oppressive, salty heaviness as the abundant purple sea nearby suddenly exhaled during the night.

When Jonan entered the tent, he found the elderly man humped over a rough wooden table, examining a piece of time-weathered parchment. When Jonan cleared his throat, the chief finally looked up.

He bowed his head a bit and asked, "Sir, I am curious to know about the other colonies." Jonan began, his voice was low and resolute. "Where is the middle of this land?"

The chief breathed a sigh, his eyes turned a bit melancholic, he then gave a long, measured look, and then reached beneath the table and produced a map, which was worn and yellowed, its ink faded a bit, but it was legible; he unfurled it with care.

Jonan’s eyes roved over it, trying to make sense of what he saw: a large island, lonely and isolated, surrounded by an endless expanse of dark purple waves.

The chief tapped a calloused finger at a spot slightly below the map’s center. "Here, just below the center of this island, is where our colony lies."

Jonan frowned. He could not understand, when they were near the center of the island, then where were the others, and so he asked, "I’ve never seen others," he muttered. "Even when I hunted with Kedes... there were no other colonies, nor other people."

The chief gave a knowing, almost sorrowful smile. "That’s because this map is only one side of the truth."

He sat back, letting his words hang, watching Jonan’s confusion deepen. "Apart from us, no other humans walk this patch of land."

The old man’s voice dropped; it was grave and steady. "If you seek others... you must go underground to the deeper parts of the land. The deeper you go, the more humans you’ll find, and the stronger they become."

"What!!! Others live deeper underground, but how and why?"

Raerin sighed and said, "The deeper underground you go, the more resources there are, and there are also our most bitter, deadly enemies, who those of our race fight to the death."

Jonan was contemplating that he had never heard or seen the enemy Raerin was talking about, and from his expression, it could be seen that it was a terrible enemy they had to face.

"The abyssal creatures," the chief whispered, eyes hardening. "They come from the endless purple sea, and for as long as my memory stretches, they have been our death-sworn enemies."

He described horrors about the abyssal creatures, Jonan had only heard as muttered legends, beings of impossible form, twisting and chaotic creatures, though the most dangerous wore the guise of men.

"They cannot get out of the sea," the chief continued. "But the underground, where light is weak and earth presses heavy, they hunt for our kind especially, and for centuries we also used to live there in the underground... until we were driven out, because our god was forced into a slumber."

A tightness gathered in Jonan’s chest as the old man then spoke of ancient shame. "We were forced to reach the surface... a disgrace we had to carry in our bones."

"But now, with our god awakened," the chief said with his eyes sharpened, and his eyes gleamed like stones in the dark. "We will return, and reclaim what was stolen, and fulfill the vows of our ancestors, we will once again, one day, face those abyssal creatures and lay waste to their kind."

Jonan stood in a silent daze, his thoughts were a tangle of disbelief and grim revelation. The abyssal ruins weren’t as simple as he thought it to be, but it was a veil covering something deeper, older, and more terrible.

In his mind, he felt bad for the tribe members of this land, how ashamed they must have felt to be driven out of their real homes, and instinctively, he asked the chief for a map of the entire human settlement. The chief did not hesitate.

With a gnarled hand, the chief drew forth another parchment, heavier and lined with runes Jonan couldn’t decipher. He spread it open with a flick of his wrist.

Jonan’s breath hitched. The map showed a vast mountain, its peak was submerged by dark purple waters. He realized, then, he’d been living on what was merely the tip of that mountain.

The land around it was marked with descending layers, each representing settlements hidden beneath the earth. The world he knew was but a frail skin stretched over a buried world.

The chief began to explain, each word like a stone dropped into Jonan’s chest. "There are six layers of the underground," he said.

"After us, the outermost colony is the first layer."

"There lie four weak colonies, which struggle to survive; they are the ones who hold back the soldiers of the abyssal race, and also the beasts that would otherwise create problems," he continued, tracing a ring on the map.

"Then beneath that lies the second layer. Eight colonies cling together there, they are stronger, and live in unity to face off against the less weaker abyssal creatures."

Jonan felt his pulse quicken as the chief’s finger moved lower. "Then, at the third layer, there are sixteen colonies present, some of them are ancient and old, and some of them are new, and they also bravely hunt and kill their enemies from the abyssal race."

"And deeper still," the old man went on, a glimmer of reverence in his tone. "The fourth layer, where thirty-two colonies have carved out their dominions, they are respected by everyone among all the layers of the underground, they are leaders, who take care of the weak, and face the strongest abyssal creatures by themselves."

Jonan could feel blood rushing to his head, he also wanted to face these so called abyssal creatures, who the humans of this land call their death sworn enemy, he wanted to see them, face them, because he has also enemies of his own, who he has never been able to think, if it is even possible for him to ever kill them, like the Monarch Lyneex, who slaughtered the entire city of humans.

And from what he could see now, a pattern was beginning to emerge in front of his eyes, a growing hunger, each layer larger, more violent, more desperate to reclaim their might from the abyssal creatures.

"And below that," the chief’s voice softened to a hush, "the fifth layer, the most populous... the endless, a land without end."

He spoke of countless colonies spread in a darkness without horizon, all living under the iron will of the Big Four, names Jonan had never before heard.

"The Warring Dragon Colony," the chief whispered first, voice thick with something close to awe.

"Bloodthirsty conquerors, mad warriors, they are unmatched in strength, whom both the abyssal creatures and beasts are afraid of."

"Then, the Serpent Flower Colony," he continued, his face darkening. "Masters of poison and medicine, loyal to their race, healing every human in need with the best of their abilities, but they are far more deadly to their enemies; they decimate entire groups of enemies alone just by lifting a finger, that is their might."

"Abyssal Thorn Colony," the old man spat, his lip curling. "Twisted kin of our race, who are bound by the hatred of vengeance, their every fighting art targets the weaknesses of the abyssal creatures, they can find an abyssal creature from a mile away, and their fighting arts are different from ours."

"And lastly," he said, voice shaking, "The Imperial Colony. The oldest, proudest, and most ruthless of them all, the ones who are responsible for every member of the race, their intelligence, their connections, their authority and power surpasses the other three by a margin."

Jonan’s head spun, he never knew there existed such mighty, brave, and loyal leaders who were incorruptible, listening about them made Jonan a bit ashamed of how things were at Dreavows, of how corrupted with power everyone was.

He looked back at the chief, who merely nodded as if to say, This is the way of it. This has always been.

Jonan turned his gaze back to the map, now feeling small and insignificant before the vastness of it. The land above had been a mere prelude.

He thought of the abyssal creatures residing in the depths, flickering and horrible. How did humanity endure?

He felt a chill certainty leak into his bones. If there was a way out, to the end of these abyssal ruins, he would have to go down.

To enter the unknown under-realms and to face the horrible abyssal creatures.

He asked the chief one last question. "What about the sixth one? There are six layers, right?"

The chief gave a crooked smile. "That is a mystery; no one has ever been to the sixth layer, but we believe that the sixth layer exists..."