With the Demondrake arch lord Cydothan finally revealed, Orion couldnât afford to wait on the first layer of the Abyss any longer. He had to end this, fast, before the creature realized it was a trap and bolted.
In truth, the thought had already crossed Cydothanâs mind. The searing pain from the stump where one of his draconic claws used to be was a potent motivator. Orionâs last attack had carried a soul-rending effect, and Cydothan discovered with a surge of terror that even his speciesâ legendary regenerative abilities couldnât regrow the limb. The wound was dead.
"Thatâs not going to work, you know."
As the Demondrake arch lord frantically tried to staunch the bleeding, a voice echoed from nearby. Orion stepped through the spatial rift, his presence calm and absolute.
"Whoâ" Cydothan began, a primal reaction to the intrusion. His question died in his throat as his eyes focused on the newcomer, a wave of recognition washing over him. "Death-Soul Race!"
The lifespan of a Demondrake was long, and Cydothan was an arch lord, privy to histories and experiences far beyond his lesser kin. He had traveled the higher planes of the Abyss in his youth. He had seen the Death-Soul race before and knew them for what they were: a species of terrifying power and unnerving mystery.
In the Abyss, they were a greater power than even the Demondrake race. They were, for all intents and purposes, masters. Rumor had it that a being from their ranks was the one true ruler of one of the Abyssâs deepest layers.
"Well," Orionâs voice was unnervingly level. "Someoneâs done their homework." He hadnât expected his Deathly Soul-Reaper form to be identified the moment he set foot on the second layer. "Since you know who I am, you should understand. What you lost wasnât just one of your draconic claws. It was the fragment of soul sealed within it. Without a specific ritual to restore it, youâre never getting that back."
Orion glanced at Cydothanâs mangled forelimb, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He remembered the claw heâd just collected back in the rift.
A legendary weapon forged from an arch lordâs claw... Could be a nice gift for one of my disciples. Or the kids.
Having his identity and the nature of his power laid bare extinguished the last embers of Cydothanâs will to fight. "Look, you got me," the Demondrake rasped, all aggression gone. "Iâve got nothing left to say. Letâs just call it a day."
He assumed Orion was just passing through, flexing on his way to the higher layers. There was no point in picking a fight with a predator of that caliber.
But Cydothan didnât know the whole story. Orionâs three-month vigil in the spatial rift wasnât just about building a reputation and attracting followers. The other objective was to bait this specific big boss out of hiding, clearing a path for his Champions Alliance teammate, Makareth.
Ever since heâd awakened his own Lordâs Stone, Orion understood how much the Deputy Commander was investing in Makareth. Unlike Orion or Kraken, Makarethâs path to the demigod rank was supposed to be a clear runway. As long as he developed steadily, his ascension was all but guaranteed.
For that to happen, the Champions Alliance needed to plant a permanent seed in the Abyss, and the Abyss-born Makareth was their chosen one. This wasnât about seizing a small patch of territory like the bros had done in the old days; this was about infiltrating the highest echelons of the Abyss with one of their own.
And for that to work, Cydothan had to go.
It was a risk, pushing Makareth so hard and clearing his obstacles for him. But the Abyss was too damn chaotic. The bros werenât sure heâd survive long enough to reach demigod status on his own. It was a calculated risk they had to take. Besides, once Makareth was powerful enough, he could always go back and grind through the lower levels the hard way, just like Orion was doing now.
"Call it a day?" Orion let out a low, humorless chuckle. "You wish."
He took a single step, and his form vanished. Cydothan was the single biggest roadblock to Makarethâs future. There was no way Orion was letting him walk.
"You picked a fight with me. The price is your life."
A phantom of his scythe sliced down. An inescapable power, a rule of reality, descended and locked Cydothan in place, flooding him with absolute despair. He was only an upper arch lord. Against a Deathly Soul-Reaper, he was hopelessly outmatched. He realized now that if the spatial barrier hadnât absorbed part of Orionâs initial attack, that first blow would have killed him outright.
"My lord, I beg you! Save me!" Cydothan shrieked into the void, playing his last card, calling on his hidden patron.
"Thatâs far enough."
A hazy demigod phantom materialized, throwing up a black ward that intercepted Orionâs attack. The spectral scythe froze inches from Cydothanâs skull, unable to advance.
"And who are you?" Orion didnât retract his weapon. He held the standoff, pouring more power into his attack as the faith energy in his Deathly Soul-Reaper form burned at a terrifying rate.
Oh, for fuckâs sake,
Orion thought, the internal complaint a stark contrast to his cold exterior.
Are you kidding me? Every second this drags on, Iâm burning through my faith reserves.
Conquering the Abyss was always going to be costly, but heâd expected this level of power drain in the higher layers. To run into a demigod on the second layer was just his luck.
"Who I am is not important," the phantomâs voice was a calm, dispassionate rumble. "You need only know that Cydothan is under my protection. For his transgression against you, we can offer compensation. The Demondrake raceâs territoryâand everything on itâis yours. Let this matter end here. What do you say?"
Orion went silent, considering. From the second layer onward, each plane of the Abyss had a ruler. He had no way of knowing if this phantom was it. That uncertainty gave him pause.
"The territory is mine," Orion stated, his voice hard as steel. "And so is the entire Demondrake race. All of it."
The phantom didnât hesitate. "All yours."
With a nod, Orion retracted his scythe and gave a dismissive wave.
The demigod phantom reached out, tore a new rift in space, and rode the terrified Demondrake Cydothan through it. They were gone in an instant, without a backward glance.
The speed and simplicity of their retreat, however, left Orion with a cold, unsettling feeling in his gut. It was too easy.