Chapter 98: The Infernal Circles
A messenger of death. Her skin was smooth as snow, pure as the rain from the heavens, walking silently. The branches did not creak and the wind remained static around her.
She slowly approached the scene where Proud Heart had been decapitated. The body had at no point knelt, falling heavily onto the grass.
She opened her eyes with surprise, widening her smile horribly. Her prey had disappeared like a ghostly whisper, completely escaping her senses. An commendable ability to escape like a frightened rabbit.
She began to sing a small ascending melody, until her expression soured. She murmured curses and withdrew as if her intervention had never existed.
Despite the incalculable value of the corpse on the ground, she had ended up ignoring it. She did not direct a second glance at the flesh for which three different witches had previously fought arduously.
Under three thick branches, covered by wild undergrowth, he remained totally conscious and holding his breath. Revealing his existence at that moment would probably equate to suffering a violent death without any kind of salvation.
He had felt those dark and mocking eyes upon him.
The difference between the strength of the witches and the participants was notably unequal. They functioned as unconditional punishments, without escape or forgiveness.
Their levels must be far too high and unjustifiable. With supernatural abilities very different from the common ones. They were practically invincible enemies.
His instincts screamed in alert every time he sensed one of their damned presences.
She... Simply left? It is illogical. She should not have acted that way. Her countenance changed from one moment to the next.
His line of thought was correct. The witches were similar to hungry devils that had escaped from the eighteenth infernal circle. Extremely vicious and symbols of desire.
They would not have abandoned under any circumstance the one they marked as prey, much less a booty that represented great value. It was an unheard-of action.
The questions surrounding the mystery of the witches kept accumulating.
Suddenly a drum began to resonate through the silent forest. The rhythm was solemn and slow, ascending in tones and descending again. Deepening the solitude and the slaughter within its four directions.
The sound became so dense, until it ended. Gabriel had managed to dominate the thirst for blood that was manipulated inside him, through an even stronger voracious desire: Devour, dominate, and create the law.
It was his blood resurfacing with authority after a long lethargy.
Vampirism was dominant. A state intertwined between matter and soul. Latent or permanently dormant.
His true inheritance was beginning to awaken. An inexhaustible frenzy that could flood the world.
Gabriel looked like a corpse that could not have afforded the coffin on the black earth. At no point had he tried again to play a game of chance with death. Mortality was a common currency in those damned fields.
Suddenly his interface glowed again, with the crimson color filtering into his pale face. It was an official system announcement.
He observed it with surprise, doubting if it was not the heretical method of one of the witches causing him a hallucination.
_______________
CONGRATULATIONS, player. You have successfully survived the instance of [The Hunt]
Before the immeasurable desire of the witches and their extremely sensitive sensorial senses, you have successfully escaped and survived a new round. You are a survivor.
Will you be able to overcome the infernal circles? You must discover it, sinner. Overcome The Hand of the Dying.
________________
This trial was too fast. This should not be so, unless the majority of participants died in a rapid way.
He was right in his thoughts. In that damned forest countless had died.
Its duration made no sense in comparison to his previous trial, but the only decisive factor was the conditions. With the thirst for blood that instinctively filled every warrior and the seductive song of the witches, many had fallen under the steel.
It was humiliating and shameful.
But the only thing he still did not understand had been the effect of the mental suggestion. Under his unique conditions he had overcome it, but many others had not counted on the same luck.
They remained as cold corpses hidden by the grayish mist.
Against his expectations of a general disconnection and a predetermined waiting time, a voice sounded intensely authoritative.
"Sinners, the circles of hell await you. Why have you not yet boarded the tram?"
It came from the center of the forest. Its suggestion was immense and incomparable with the previous demonstrations.
Suddenly Gabriel began to walk, guided by a greater force. He avoided any kind of tree and obstacle in his path, without any kind of delay. As if possessed.
In fact, he had no control over his body. He had lost the strength and control over his physical will since he heard the mysterious being, as if they were inscrutable orders for the soul itself.
The same message had repeated three times before him.
(DANGER! AN ENTITY OF THE HIGHEST LEVEL IS MANIPULATING YOU)
(DANGER! AN ENTITY OF THE HIGHEST LEVEL IS MANIPULATING YOU)
(DANGER! AN ENTITY OF THE HIGHEST LEVEL IS MANIPULATING YOU)
His body had nothing with which to face it, being controlled by an irresistible dizzying force. Only his thoughts reproduced at every moment, trying to devise some method of resistance.
But it was too powerful. He understood that any result could turn out to be fatal.
He could only check its intentions personally. If it were a hungry entity, he would probably become dog meat.
He was drawn crossing the forest and ignoring the mist that permanently covered it. His steps did not stop, guided toward a concrete destination.
It was a zone that had not been affected by the mist. A great circle in the center that was not infested by external effects.
Beautiful women gathered in a great quantity. Their smiles were charming and a little reluctant. They were the witches who had tormented the participants of the hunt, who gathered docilely without daring to make noise.
On a stone altar there was another creature, indescribable; it had the head of an ox and a hardened skin of gray scales. Similar to the demons of the stories. It stood with solemnity.
Soon he saw how other participants also arrived, walking like puppets with broken strings. On their faces the terror and the confusion was palpable. They had not had as much luck as he, suffering the suppression of the being.
They were the individuals who had managed to survive in the chaos, dodging death on numerous occasions. He managed to recognize former acquaintances among those present.
Two members of the Despots had survived and there were also members of the Fallen of Prometheus and the Church of Rhodes.
Indifferent and almost imperceptible, Abyss was the only one who had survived of the remaining members of the Black Beetle team.
And... Francis?!
The shameless thief was one of those who remained with a livid face, totally terrified and almost wetting his pants. He trembled without stopping, curling into a ball.
His luck must be due purely to the coincidences of destiny. Unless he was hiding enormous secrets.
Perhaps he had run during the entire hunt...
A bell thundered when everyone gathered under the same wing, with the witches lowering their heads in servitude. The demon similar to a chimera finally opened its eyes, with the shine of an animal with wisdom.
"You will be abandoned in the catacombs of the dead. Where there is no hope or light. The most fearsome infernal circles," its voice thundered the minds of those present.
It was absolute; it was the law. There existed none who could face that creature.
"You may surrender. Those who are not apt and of weak will may abandon the challenge and return to their insignificant life. It is a possibility that is delivered to all: Be wise."
"Now descend with the dead. Experience the secret of a great life. And do not fall into madness."
With its eyes losing the shine, until becoming a statue, a choir of angelic voices began. The witches were participating in an extremely complex rite that involved everyone.
Their bodies slowly began to rise and move against their wills. Their minds drunk with desire under the illusion. They headed directly toward a dark hole that remained unnoticed.
He observed for the first time the effect of the cursed voices on less extraordinary individuals, who fell without control into a hedonistic vortex.
But among everything an individual stood out for his absolute calm before the pressing situation. He had a disheveled and carefree appearance... He advanced with unrestrained confidence.
Quickly everyone fell into the dark embrace of the well, descending into an extremely deep sleep.
When he woke up, he had been devoured by the darkness.
He felt his body with desperation, trying to understand if he still had one.
He was cold, very cold...
Was this the underworld? The infernal circles?
The cold was extreme in that chaotic space. A ghostly wind ran through it, sending chills down his spine.