Shadow of the Abyss

Altair stared at the sacred flame in his hand, slowly turning to embers, unable to maintain its current form for longer than ten seconds. Without a base spell to cling to, his soul could not support the massive drain. Still, during that time, Morrigan laid waste to the hundreds of undead within the vicinity.

She hadn't seemed to be in a rush, saving the majority of her mana by not using any big skills.

It had seemed obvious, but watching the grace with which Morrigan killed only seemed to highlight how much of a proficient killer she truly was. That much had been obvious. Yet, seeing her in action, Altair felt an odd sense of rivalry. He'd never felt this way before. After all, who in his generation, but those who experience rebirth, could face him?

"Whatcha staring at?" Morrigan asked with the arrogance of a Nobile. She had a teasing smile that didn't quite meet her eyes when a horde of undead goblins came from the western bank. There gnarled faces, burdon by pestilence, snapping at those teaming with life.

Altair froze. Not just goblins were approaching; from the north, south, and west, various undead creatures were rising from the asphalt. Instincts warned of some unseen danger, but it was his rational mind that told him to stay and fight.

He stayed.

Without hesitation, he landed beside Morrigan as Tasha, Raven, and Seina followed, gathering around in a formation that left no side unprotected. It would be a simple thing for Tasha, a Ninth Circle, to slaughter everything with a snap of her fingers, but neither Altair nor Morrigan wanted that. They wanted to train and grind levels.

Of course, grinding levels was not necessarily required, as many denizens of the towers and on Terra had found a way to skip the process of 'leveling' in order to reap the benefits of having a higher Mana Capacity. Such action usually led to the person being significantly weaker than their peers, but with enough resources, such actions could be mitigated.

Altair had originally considered doing as such since his Attributes outshined everyone on his level, but he threw away the idea when Tasha had shown him her attributes a few months ago. The numbers had been so astronomical he wondered if a fully fledge transcendent was her match. If he were to match her one day he'd need to make every class he obtained count.

With such a goal in mind, Altair pushed himself, falling into combat and forgoing sleep. He fought for seven days and seven nights. He fought with his blade when his mana well ran dry, losing track of how many times Raven came to his rescue when he was at his most vulnerable. It took nearly ten hours to recover his mana but only two hours to expend it.

The hordes of undead never stopped. They were a constant in this godless realm.

Still, Altair felt right at home. He was learning so much from Morrigan, whom Athena once said reminded her of Thanatos and Ares. Altair didn't quite understand the comparison, but the more he fought alongside her, the more he realized just how powerful she was and why she'd made such a distinction.

Morrigan was a true goddess of war and death. Whatever she faced, no matter how much stronger or how they outnumbered her, she had a technique for any situation. That was true when she faced seven specters and two Wraths.

Altair had expected her to retreat, but with minimal mana, tracing her sword, she felled each one with minimal effort. She was never in one place and had taken up the leader's position, directing Altair where to go and what skill to execute when necessary. He'd felt rather embarrassed at first, but the more Morrigan commanded, the more he began to understand how she fought on the battlefield.

Tenebrae had taught him the basics, but Morrigan allowed him to perfect all he learned on the battlefield.

It was past the seven-day mark that he began deciding to take hold of the commander position, instructing everyone in a way similar to Morrigan. There had been a noticeable drop in proficiency, but no one seemed to mind. Especially Morrigan seemed to brighten as she began explaining various types of formations and how to better incorporate the skills of those he commanded.

Their battle carried on for nearly a month before the undead stopped rising from the bowels of the earth.

"Not bad!" Morrigan said, slapping his shoulder. She took out a demijohn filled to the brim with hard liquor and took a swig before handing it off to Altair. "After a battle like this, a drink is the best thing for one's mind."

Altair lifted the demijohn, finding it oddly heavy—at least a hundred pounds. Questionably, he gave Morrigan a look.

"Did I not mention I'm an inscriber? It's bigger on the inside. I'm a little weak, so I couldn't mask the weight of the object in 'space,' now stop asking questions and drink. There is more than enough for everyone."

"As you say, Commander,' Altair responded with a teasing smile, amused by the glow of embarrassment stretching across her cheeks. She almost looked cute enough to eat if not for the undead gore that stained her exterior.

"Can I finally sleep?" Seina pitifully asked, toppling to her knees.

Altair didn't even bother to pass her the demijohn as she fell asleep the moment her knees struck the ground. He chuckled, taking a swig only to lift his brows in surprise. "This…" He breathed as a burn simmered in his chest. "This is going to kill someone!"

Morrigan laughed. "Made it myself. When I first stepped onto the battlefield at age seven, my general gave us each a mug of the ale he made. He showed me how to ferment my own, though I perfected it."

'Is this the real Morrigan?' Altair thought, curious why the battlefield brought out her personality the way it did. He'd never seen her so… normal. She wasn't cold and unbridled like before but rather a soldier who had just gotten off duty.

'Master! Don't hog it all!" Raven protested, snatching the demijohn before chugging several mouthfuls before Morrigan snatched it away from the crazy girl.

"Dear Lord!" she exclaimed, looking at Raven turning a peach red.

"More!" Raven drunkenly exclaimed, outstreching her arms. She was like a baby whose bottle was snatched away.

Tasha laughed, clapping her hands as a mythical force cleansed their bodies of the filth and gore of the battlefield.

"More!" Raven said breathlessly, swaying to face her Master. She glared at him accusingly. "And corn! You promise, Corn!"

Altair scratched his cheek. "Well, I told Syris to—"

"Liar! Raven has been watching Master. He hasn't contacted Big Sis in a month!"

"I—"

"Corn!!! I…" Raven's words trailed off, fainting as the wine became too much for her to handle. She tumbled into her master's arms, fast asleep.

"How is it so strong?" Altair couldn't help but ask.

'Trade secret," Morrigan said, taking another swig, giving her voluptuous body a good stretch. She looked Altair up and down, appraising him with glowing red eyes. "You're a lot better than I thought. Who taught you the basics of war?"

"My Mother," Altair said.

"Speaking of Tenebrae," Tasha joined. "How was she as a Mother? They say she raised one of the Monarchs of the Hells."

"Who?" Altair inquired.

"The Eighth, Lord Mephistopheles," Tasha said with glowing fascination. "Though that was just rumors."

[Divine Sin, Daddy nods in confirmation that such a claim is true]

[Divine Fallen, Conquest reluctantly admits it's true]

[Divine Being, Titan Fall, cannot believe his ears]

[Divine Being, Six Sage is appalled by such a revelation]

Tasha made a strange face, "Why is that so hard to believe? She is the Night Mother. Every Monarch of the Nine Hells respects her greatly."

"Does that make Mephisto my uncle?" Altair asked, suddenly feeling the fog of the wine clouding his judgment.

"Huh… never thought about it like that."

"What about Luna?'' Altair asked.

"You mean Miss Secrets?" Tasha mused, accepting the demijohn. She took a large swig and said," I heard she taught him too. It's why he's so mysterious. He learned from the best."

Morrigan lifted a single brow. "Should we be talking about this? He is a Monarch of Hell."

[Divine Fallen, Conquest, claims that <Mephistopheles> doesn't care about such things and that he might even laugh.]

"What about Beelzubub?" Altair inquired. "What's he like?"

[Divine Fallen Conquest tilts his head, curious why you want to know]

Perhaps it was the wine talking, or perhaps a scheme had begun to coalesce in Altair's mind, for he said, "He invited me to Genesis. Said he'd even cover my expenses."

Tasha suddenly paled. "Are you being serious?"

"I've no reason to lie," Altair said as Tasha handed him the demijohn. He hiccuped, looking down at that large thing, significantly lighter than before. "How much did Raven drink? I hope she doesn't take up drinking. Does anyone ever ask why wine is so expensive? Seems silly to me."

"Makes you feel good," Morrigan said.

'I guess. So do other things. How strange. Master is fascinated by wine. I think she'll like this…" he muttered, taking a large swig before lowering the demijohn. "That's it for me.

Tasha… can you lay down a formation? I…I'm a bit tired."

"Tired!" Morrigan crackled. "We're not going to sleep until this bottle is empty!"