Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 1270: Face of Hope



Deign was an island that Skullius, as Bright Storm, had been given by Eaniss as his territory after becoming a Faction Leader. It was the same island that Timmit had called home, lording over a large Sacred Forest as its guardian, albeit one that had needed Skullius' help from time to time.

Skullius had never managed to forget his attachments to this island. Before he initiated the two-months-long training in the Timemould Mirror Box, he had dragged Deign into the Empyrean Bosom – along with hundreds of Clusters using a Blessing he had made through the Fallen Reincarnator's Shadow- and placed it over the Ju`wtte Transfiguration Pool.

The trio landed on the island. Skullius was pleased when he felt the grasses kissing his dark crimson greaves. Beyrmir and Elita had no feelings of attachment to this place, so they couldn't share this nostalgic feeling with him. But that was fine. They could appreciate the island a many other different ways.

Skullius led the path onward.

There was little to be seen on the island that was truly extravagant. It was simply a small island without much value. Skullius had received it from Eaniss knowing this fact.

A great hill, and a few mountains rose over the near horizon. Tonnes of powerful, tall greens could be seen on another side, but all this was a mask for the true treasure on this island.

Soon, the three reached a large archway made of painted wood standing conspicuously in a clearing. A trail of grooves traced its rises from its two feet and curved along its arch. Fleshless faces were carved into this arch, giving it an intimidating look.

Skullius placed his hand on one of the posts of the archway. He infused Null Life Essence into it, and the grooves on the whole thing flashed bright. A radiant flare appeared between the posts of the archway, throbbing with spatial properties.

Skullius walked through it. Elita and Beyrmir followed.

With a sharp flash and a seamless transition that came after a moment's entrapment in sad, still darkness, the trio were assaulted by rich mana, the turbulence of a storm, and a cool air. They were no longer on the unimpressive island.

A great mountain rose before them, piercing into a dark sky that refused to be brightened by the sun glowing high past the clouds.

Skullius always chuckled when he met this sun's light.

He had used the Brilliant Dent, a Mythical storage treasure stolen from a Grand Priest of the Purity by Yuyui, to duplicate the Aigas sun and store that copy here. Well, this whole place was the inside of the Brilliant Dent, connected to the real world by the archway.

"I felt my powers increase slightly," Elita said with a strange look on her face.

"Yeah, that an effect of this place. We're actually inside a storage artefact," he explained.

The three scaled the mountain. It didn't take much effort, thus Skullius spared some instead of flying.

Soon, they were face to face with the Honing Fortress - the original residence of what Skullius had now declared to be the Stark-Soul Order. The entire twenty-meter-tall structure seemed to made of a collection of massive, round, obsidian poles with golden rings at their ends. 124 square windows spat light out from the inside, illuminating the mountain top and the fortress' pretty precedings.

Two cubical pools of clear water stood before the Honing Fortress, between them a clean pavement leading to the entrance.

Elita was charmed by the decor.

She gave simple nods of approval all the way to the entrance.

The inside of the Fortress was many leagues larger than the outside; the disparity was staggering. The dark, marble floor was welcoming, which couldn't be said for the view at the end of it.

There was no wall to shield the first floor from the burst of essence coming from the back of the fortress. This was how Skullius had liked it. He would sit on the great throne placed at the end of this floor, familiarising himself with these essences using [Epiphany] back then; the mountain was, after all, the same one from which he had extracted the secrets to Distorted Gravity, Spatial Lightning and Stagnant Space.

"This is a beautiful place," Elita said as she looked around. "Doesn't seem like anyone is using it. Are you looking for tenants?"

Skullius laughed.

"I'm considering it."

He then swept the entire fortress his intense, innate senses. Soon, he had found where Theurien and Silrat were. Several Strawlers were showing them the two great pools on one of the floors.

One was a great mana pool, and the other was a Null Life Essence pool.

All the Unlimited and Skullius himself had used these pools to replenish their reserves back then. Skullius in particular was able to access these pools even while far away from the Deign. Of course, this wasn't a thing of the past now. After his battle with Caxellac, Skullius had stowed his excess reserves of Null Life Essence in this pool. He had further uses for it, rather than the mana pool which was struggling to justify its existence due to recent events.

With a thought, Skullius used (Greatest Hegemon of Sorcerous Mana] to connect to both Silrat and Theurien's mana cores. With another thought, he forced their mana to adopt spatial qualities through his own affinity with Spatial Lightning, and in a blink, the two men were standing before Skullius, stunned.

The Hybrid Luman did his very best to conceal a majority of his presence. Kintar had been right. It wasn't safe for them to feel even negligent bits of his pressure.

Silrat gaped.

"You've changed. Again," he said with a sheepish, wiry look. He didn't know how much of this madness he could take in one day.

Theurien seemed to be adapting better to the strange, beyond mythical world he was

introduced to today.

"You look much better than before, I'd say," he said with a weak smile.

The two appraised Skullius thoroughly, but from a distance. Even they felt something

unnerving about the cloud he wore like a robe.

Skullius was amused. He had half expected the two men to fail to recognise him.

He didn't entertain the needless chatter, however.

He gave Theurien a stern, heavy gaze. The man shook slightly.

"I didn't make a promise to you, but I felt obligated to deliver regardless, especially after all

you lost. Today, all that I tried to do for you was almost rendered meaningless by my own

hands, funnily enough," Skullius said.

Theurien didn't understand what Skullius was talking about, but the mention of loss

triggered him into sorrow at once.

"What... what are you talking about?" he asked.

"It's better if I show you," Skullius said, and a moment later, the five of them were no longer

in the wide and spacious first floor. They now stood in a small, bright room; the walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was white.

But the beauty of the room was incapable of trapping the attention of the arrivals for long, after all, a more enthralling scene stood in the middle of the room.

On a soft, white bed covered by a large, mystical glass cage layered with what looked like runes, a soul was laid.

This soul seemed to be at peace, lying on its back on the soft blankets beneath; they held it

with care.

Stylla looked as though she was asleep. Her form was rather faint; fitting for a mortal soul. The runes on the glass that covered her bed constantly sent what looked like specks of glitter

towards her, and her form greedily absorbed them.

Theurien fell to his knees at once.

He buried his face in his hands and struck the floor.

The first feeling he had had to endure upon looking at Stylla was overwhelming relief, but then sorrow and a feeling of dark foreboding snatched him, telling him that this was a ploy; that it was time for him to say goodbye to his oldest daughter as well.

He couldn't bear it.

Skullius was stunned. He couldn't understand why Theurien reacted this way. Silrat couldn't muster the words to say and was equally stumped.

Elita, however, kneeled and placed her hand on Theurien's trembling back.

She smiled.

If there was something she knew best, something she had absorbed so perfectly from being a Paladin Champion, it was instilling hope in the kindest possible way to those that had been living in darkness for too long. She knew how to respond to those that dared not hope for the

best in case the dark stripped them of their happiness.

She smiled. "Raise your head. Look at her. She's not going anywhere. She's hanging on," she said.

Slowly, Theurien rose. His eyes were red, thick with sorrow he had had to keep at bay for a

long time. Tears and snot fell endlessly from his face.

"Is she... is she... Will she...?" he stammered as his eyes pierced Elita's.

Elita received his hope with a bright smile and a kindness in her eyes that gave Theurien

ample resolve without the need for words.

At once, Theurien stood up and drank in the sight of his daughter. He wept bitterly.