Elysium's Multiverse

Chapter 242

Chapter 242

Sweat dripped down her skin.

The molten cavern radiated hot energies even twenty minutes after the ratkin’s ambush, and it’d taken that entire time to find Azmoth even despite the connection they shared as co-minions under Riven’s control. If not for that connection, she’d never had found him in the vast desolation of what had once been the city of Deepnest.

Genua’s head remained bowed, hands steepled in front of her and only occasionally shifting at intervals for necessary hand gestures while chanting the rites of her Transfusion Zone miracle. Blood divinity swirled around her like a thick mist of red, and the crimson runes along her skin flared brightly while her eyes remained locked on the broken body of Azmoth in front of her.

Slowly but steadily, the demon’s large frame began to repair itself. Bones snapped back into place, metal plates that’d been torn off now refused themselves to his musculature, the breathing became less ragged, and the caved in left side of his skull shifted into a more natural form while her healing miracle took hold.

The huge maul on his left was shattered and embedded into the smoldering cavern wall, the enchantments on it broken, as was the shield that he’d take the brunt of the initial blow with. She could barely make out the remnants of his items after they’d been so thoroughly destroyed, with much of the molten rock behind the demon having even melted over some of the fragments.

“Little priestess…” Azmoth muttered in a guttural growl, prying himself out of the crater he’d been flung into with a shower of orange-hot rocks as his fires flared to life around him. He shook his huge head, and gave Genua a nod of appreciation when she stopped her chants and let out a long huff of exhaustion. “Thank you.”

A clawed finger lifted and tapped the elf thrall on the metal headdress she wore, and he turned around to gingerly lift up the broken fragments of his maul with a sad groan. “This is first item Azmoth ever receive. It present from Riven, and makes me sad to see gone.”

Genua, who was still heaving from exhaustion and taking in slow, deep breaths, shot a glance towards the tunnel that lead out of the cavern far, far away from where they now stood. “Azmoth! We need to save him! He was taken by the-”

“He not need saving.” Azmoth stated with a shake of his head, finishing picking up the pieces of his stone weapon - or at least what he could salvage from it - and chuckling with his head turned her way. “He is fine.”

Genua’s eyes widened, and she took a step forward to point towards the way Riven had gone. “NO! NO Azmoth he is NOT fine! He was captured!”

If Azmoth could roll his eyes, he would have. “Little priestess… You have soul bond to master. You can feel how and where he is if try hard.”

Genua furrowed her brows, hissing when she stepped forward again onto another hot piece of molten rock that nearly burned through the boot she was wearing. Sweat continued pouring down her face, dampening her clothes, and she wiped her forehead with a sleeve and threw her hands out to either side. “What in all the hells are you even talking about!?”

Azmoth looked confused. “You really not know?”

“Know what!?”

“Focusing on soul bond allow to feel master’s presence. Not as strong as Athela’s bond where she talks through mind with telepathy, but still strong enough to know he fine. He is awake, his soul very strong, and he that way.” Azmoth pointed downwards through the floor of the cavern and slightly towards the outer wall where the blighted ratkin had taken Riven’s bound body. “If he need us, he can summon Athela and me. But he not do that. He likely want me stay with you to protect you and unborn child.”

“They bound him with anti-magic! That’s why he’s not summoning you! I will NOT be left to take care of yet another child ALONE!” She stomped her foot into the ground, fists clenched. “I can’t. I just… can’t. I’m already drowning as it is with Len. I’m a failure, and I can’t provide the kind of support they’ll need by myself.”

Azmoth tilted his head to the side. The large four-armed demon opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again. “If Riven not ok, why his power growing? I can feel from here. No, he summon through portal if he need me - Riven is one of strongest on planet. So we will go to surface, to make you and child safe.”

With that, the large demon picked Genua up and flung her over one shoulder - much to the protests of the priestess, before walking out the opposite way they’d come. It hadn’t been anticipated that the ratkin could or would blow up their entire capital city just to strike out at Riven or Allie, but Azmoth was confident based on the connection he had that Riven would be fine.

Though… the feeling he was getting from that connection was certainly a little more sinister than the one Riven usually had.

Meanwhile, in other parts of the world at that very moment: Kenji, the last man of the cultist group who’d killed Athela, looked up from where he was carving runes into corpses with a grin. The dim light of the hidden cave barely illuminated the newly formed tattoos of the profane that littered his body, or the new limbs he’d taken from recent victims to build himself up. While Nora Lang, the asian woman Riven had met all those months ago on the ascension of the pyramid in Chalgathi’s Starter Quest, pulled a rapier out of her victim and pried the amulet from his quickly cooling hands in the snow. She saw the quest update in front of her as the five artifact pieces meshed together into a new combined item set of her own.

It was almost time.

[The Apocalypse Beasts, Chalgathi, Quest Update: Blithe Fullhandle has fallen in battle to Nora Lang. Nora Lang has acquired 5 of 5 set pieces for Chalgathi’s Inheritance.]

[All 10 sets for Chalgathi’s Inheritance have been completed.]

[World Quest 2, The Apocalypse Beasts:

The death of this world approaches. Neckra, the Skeletal Devourer, churns in his sandy tomb amidst a sea of the unliving. Chalgathi, the Plague Dragon, awaits those that would free him from his skyward prison above the clouds. Chubin, the Glass Kraken, seeks an escape from the abyss beneath the ocean. The cults of the end times gather their strength and resources to try and find the lairs of their chosen apocalypse beasts. Should they succeed, your world is doomed.

As one of the 3 Apocalypse Beasts born for this cycle of ascension, Chalgathi is destined for carnage. It is a creature of nightmarish power, a beast born of hate and malice. 5 years after the beginning of this integration a wave of destruction will spread across all the world on wings of decay. Empires will fall, billions will die, and the very ground you tread upon will rot and wither - for the plague dragon has finally awakened.

However, there is an alternative to this fate: Stop the cultists from raising the plague dragon to his adult form, find Chalgathi’s incubation chamber, and destroy or claim his egg for yourself before the 5 year period is done. You, Nora Lang, are one of his chosen ones, a final contender. You have acquired all of his artifacts: the amulet, claws, mask, pauldrons, and breastplate. It falls on you to act.

In the beginning, there were 1672 with an unholy bloodline. There were then only 50 chosen ones to leave Chalgathi’s Trials. There are now 16 originals remaining, 10 of which have collected all needed pieces to enter the next phase of this world quest. The chosen ones are divided into 2 categories: Cultists, and Non-Cultists, and you are all competing against one another regardless of what category you fall into. Depending on which of the chosen reaches Chalgathi’s lair to successfully claim his egg, each outcome could have drastically different consequences with salvation or damnation of Panu. ]

[Chalgathi, The Apocalypse Beasts World Quest, Panu, sub-event has been unlocked: The Altars of Despair and Hope.

Chalgathi, the Plague Dragon, is the final of the 3 apocalypse beast to have his 10 item sets collected. Due to the unexpected and early acquisition of all 30 item sets across all 3 apocalypse beasts, including Chalgathi, the Plague Dragon, Chubin, the glass Kraken, and Neckra, the Skeletal Devourer - The Altars of Despair and Hope event has been expedited. You will arrive at your designated starting point for World Quest 2 within 3 hours from now.

When arriving at your designated starting spot, you will gain the locations and access to Chalgathi’s Altars. You will be required to visit all 4 Chalgathi altar sites and activate the shrines before acquiring knowledge of the location of Chalgahti’s Temple where Chalgathi’s incubation chamber has been hidden.

There is 1 Altar of Hope where all Non-Cultists will arrive. There is 1 Altar of Despair where all Cultists will arrive for this event. There are 4 additional altars for each of the 3 apocalypse beasts for a total of 12 additional altars.

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The Altars of Despair and Hope are exclusive areas designated by the Elysium Administrator, where only the chosen of the apocalypse beasts who’ve acquired the 5 needed artifacts, as well as abducted participants from across the multiverse, may enter. This applies to all apocalypse beasts, not only Chalgathi. Here at the Altars of Despair and Hope you will be divided into two groups: Cultists and Non-Cultists.

There are 21 registered Cultists.

There are 9 registered Non-Cultists entering this event.

As previously described, the outcomes of this world quest differ greatly depending on which of the chosen acquire the prizes for these quests. Thus, cultists will be pitted against non-cultists when reaching these altars. Non-Cultists across all three apocalypse beast categories will arrive at the Altar of Hope, and Cultists across all three apocalypse beast categories will arrive at the Altar of Despair. It will be highly incentivized to work together with your given team upon arrival, and severe punishments will be handed down to those who intentionally harm any others within your own category while involving yourself in this sub-event of the questline. However, despite these punishments, killing your own teammates may be needed in different scenarios in order to make sure that it is you who gets to the temple first - rather than your peers.

Here are the rules:

Upon opening the altars in 3 hours from now: the next phase of World Quest 2, The Apocalypse Beasts will begin. You can expect to enter an alternate pocket realm at that time along with other various people, places, artifacts, and events drawn in from around the multiverse; and can be expected to be gone for approximately 1 year’s time.]

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***

The Amphitheater.

An enormous place deep, deep down in the underdark that had once only been a refuge for the most devout worshipers of the old world’s gods - ones that she’d had hoped to escape with the arrival of the system, due to how brutal and bloodthirsty they were. She’d even thrown the priests out of the city when she’d realized their connection to the old world’s gods were no longer as solid, and that they had limited power here in the new multiverse.

And yet here she was, Queen Bez - a once rotund leader of what had once been Deepnest, matriarch of the blighted ratkin clans, having led them here in their time of need. Having led them in an attempt to restore to the old gods what had been lost - as a trade. She was desperate, as were all of her kin, to get their old bodies back. To remove the stain of undeath, the stain of blight, that would mark them as outcasts from the other ratkin of this world forever. Simultaneously she was eager to have revenge on the one who’d caused them to turn into abominations.

Even if it wasn’t a direct strike against Allie, even if it was her brother instead. There would be vengeance for what had been done to the broods of Deepnest, for the agony of knowing what they’d been cursed with. Forever they would be outcasts amongst their own kind, never again able to return to the swarms and homelands of the deep. For this: Queen Bez would have been happier if it had been Allie that’d walked into that trap, but Riven was a very close second best.

Many hundreds of thousands of their kin - potentially over a million; both those who had been outcast in the past, and those who’d lived in the very center of the prosperous Deepnest she’d taken decades to cultivate, were present on the large stone steps that stretched for miles. The enormous amphitheater had been a thing of wonders in the past, being built by an unknown race in an unknown time - a wonder of the world. A relic of ancient history long lost to the record books. No one knew who or why it was built, or how they’d created such a large hollowed out structure such as this, but the fact remained that miracles cast here were always of higher quality; leading many of the ratkin scholars to believe it was the site of some great ritual once upon a time. That, or it’d once been a place of ceremonial and sacred value - which in turn had been utilized to produce worship sites for their own faithful even prior to knowing how miracles actually worked by system standards.

Hundreds of huge stone pillars held the cavern ceiling up, and packed crowds of murmuring undead ratkin whispered to one another as lines of hooded priests with metal staves continued preparing the ritual ceremonies at the bottom. Dozens of huge stairways leading from the top down to different flat platforms big enough to house small communities were present at a couple intervals, and at the very bottom in the distant depths at the very bottom of those stairs was a very large, singular, circular platform where the queen now sat next to some of the hooded ratkin priests she’d once thrown out of her society. She had once been very large, very fat, and a black-furred beauty in her own right - but now she’d been reduced to nothing but literal skin and bones with vomit-green eyes; with fumes that rose off her body as wisps of blighted plague.

Yet, the priests promised they could bring about salvation if she just gave them this one chance to prove themselves. A chance to repent. The priests claimed they’d finally made contact with their old gods, and that - if given proper sacrifice - they’d be able to summon those gods back to Panu and into the Elysium system - so that they may bring about an end to the blight that afflicted all their bodies.

She would see whether or not this was true.

Silence overtook all the crowds as the bishop Prek bade Queen Bez to enter the pool of blood - directly in front of the large blessed ziggurat where sacrifices of their own kin were set in a row on spikes. Only this blood had a green tint to it, and it smelled like… infection. A byproduct of their new bodies. Two hooded ratkin priests went to remove her cloak, and moments afterward Queen Bez felt her right skeletal foot enter the crimson bowl of liquid. The warm fluid engulfed her leg, and as she waded further in it engulfed her up to waist height. Chunks of coagulated cells floated about in a rather grotesque reminder that many had been sacrificed to perform this ritual, and she would not let those people go to waste.

The bishop raised a hand skyward. With a flick of his wrist his scrying ability took hold and displayed a large magnified vision overhead focused on the ceremony so that all could witness the proceeding events. Candles burned around the perimeter of the ritual circles, along the blood pool, under the sacrificed bodies where the priests stood, and all along the low stone walls at the very back of the amphitheater next to the ziggurat.

Head bowed, Bishop Prek too began to strip and stepped into the large pool of sickly fluids. He stopped short of Queen Bez leaving a six to seven foot space between them. He spread his hands out wide, as if to embrace her, and called loudly for all to hear through the scrying ability broadcasting the event across this amphitheater.

“Bez, Queen-leader of the Brood-Clans of Deepnest. It is me-my sacred-holy duty to serve-honor the one bonded to our ancient-long lineages. What is it that you-we wish to do here-now today?!”

Queen Bez did not hesitate, and her sinewy, bony body bowed in reverence - hope beginning to build while the sprawling crowds of her people watched nervously from above. “I wish to speak-converse with Rashi, the Great Winged Rat! I seek-find advice to cure-save our people-kin from undeath-fate! I seek vengeance on bat-kin fiends who curse-wound us!”

Murmurs of unease and hope filled the amphitheater, but were soon silenced with a wave of Prek’s hands.

Bishop Prek held up both arms to the sky and lifted his eyes to the ceiling above. The beating of drums began to thunder out from the priests and priestesses of the temple at an increased tempo.

“It is known-seen that Rashi smile-grins upon us, and that he-he forgives. He has spoken-told me of his sadness-anger that we abandoned-left him in the darkened days-times of the integration, but is pleased-happy to see us come back! But a price-toll must be paid-given. Us-we must solidify our pact-deal with the great winged rat before he all-fully embraces us as the new chosen people! Are you sure-certain you wish to proceed?” Prek was genuine in his question. There would be no going back from this. “Bringing old-world god will make you-you many enemies of new gods and pantheons. You must be solid-stone in your resolve, and must be willing-eager to pay the toll-fee of the blood sacrament.”

Bez’s eyes narrowed. She had no other choice but to pursue forgiveness, not if she wished to remain as a true ratkin instead of this new species they’d all been transformed into. She didn’t even know if the priest was telling her the truth, there was a chance he was completely making this up. There was a chance that this priest could be doing something else entirely rather than summoning an old god that many of their kin had decided was nothing but a farce - but her desperation to regain what had been lost was a counterweight to reason. She had to at least try.

“I am ready-certain.”

Prek excitedly clapped his undead hands twice and pointed to the back end of the temple with a spit-laced shriek. “BRING FORTH THE FINAL-LAST SACRIFICES! BRING FORTH THE FINAL-LAST VESSELS SO THAT THE FATHER-KIN, THE GREAT WINGED RAT, MAY SEEK THE CREATION OF HIS BODY-VESSEL!”

The drums doubled in speed and the clergy began to chant in rhythm with the beat. Ancient words and phrases that even Bez didn’t entirely understand the meaning of were hummed, chanted and sang by all of the blighted clergy present. And one by one, the blighted hordes of onlookers joined in. Their mouths moved as the words came to them, gifted to them from some otherworldly, foreign power, as the pool of blood tinted with green began to swirl with the intense and vulgar ritual.

Four priests and priestesses exited from a hallway leading and built into the stone of the ziggurat’s main hall. The four undead ratkin had long slender ropes in their hands and were pulling objects out of sight beyond them. Seconds later the pulling and yanking of the clergy produced four captives: Rashtalia - the tall broodmother of Brood Tarrow who’d acted as diplomat to the Thanes. Snagger - the ratkin warrior who’d first befriended Riven in the underdark. Mesha - Snagger’s cousin and the smallest of the three. Then, finally, Riven - who was bound with multiples of suppression collars, shackles,and trinkets that would offset his absurd mana access. He was awake, though seemingly only barely - and he in particular another mana suppression rune carved into his forehead that wasn’t healing.

“THE FIRST!!!” Bishop Prek screamed, slapping his hands into the pool around him while the chanting of the priests and priestesses grew louder - their metal staves beating into the cavern floor under the candlelight and shadows of the sacrificed ratkin held up on spikes.

He pointed to Rashtalia, and the broodmother began to scream through her gag while she was irreverently dragged across the ground - kicking, sobbing and bound - towards the pool. Her body too had undergone the change, but she was still hyperventilating.

Queen Bez couldn’t tell what she was saying over the enthusiastic chanting and beating of drums, but she did note many of Brood Tarrow in the front lines of onlookers turn their eyes away in shame or revulsion. She knew that many of Rashtalia’s friends disagreed with this, just as they had when they had sacrificed those now up on spikes during the first ritual, but Queen Bez also knew that it must be done. The gods of the old world demanded blood, so they would get it.

“THIS WOMAN-WHORE TURNED HER BACK-TAIL ON US-WE! BEFRIENDED BATKIN QUEEN-LEADER TO STAB US IN BACK!” Prek screamed as the woman was dragged across the platform towards the pool.

The crowds that weren’t chanting, roared in anger like a thunderous storm.

Prek nodded his approval. “SHE HAS FAIL-FAILED AS A DIPLOMAT-SPEAKER AND SHOWN-LED US INTO DISASTER WHEN OUR LEADER-QUEEN BEZ TRUSTED HER!!”

Of course, this wasn’t entirely true. Queen Bez knew this, but she had to pin the blame on someone. She had to give focus to the anger and rage her people were feeling, the calls for war needed to be heard, and Rashtalia was one of a few targets she would pin this entire problem on in order to let her people vent their rage. Allie would eventually come after that, but only when they grew stronger with the help of their old-world gods. Until then the unrest needed a focus point.

Two priestesses, one on each side of the temple platform, bent down with candles and lit a stream of oil that had been poured onto the ground. Yellow flame ignited, burned, and continued to burn a semi-circle tapestry of intricate runes, symbols, and diagrams that had been placed around the pool of blood. The firelight glistened off the naked bodies in the pool and blood they stood in. Four more priestesses all stepped forward simultaneously and waited along the edge of the pool while their individual servants took the liberty of taking their clothes off, revealing patches of fur on exposed muscle that occasionally lacked skin - or even bone protrusions that were sometimes not even part of the previously normal anatomy. After each of the four priestesses stood barren along the edge, they again simultaneously took a step into the shimmering liquid - tails flowing behind them.

Ripples of blood moved along the otherwise flat silky surface as the undead ratkin women waded into the center to surround Prek and Bez at four corners. And just as the clergy pulled their violently struggling captive between two erupting pillars of flame to enter the centerpiece of the ritual, the four servants along the pool’s edge at spaced out intervals to prostrate themselves.

One of the clergy coming from the ziggurat ripped out Rashtalia’s gag with a knife, while taking her forward, and she began to beg.

“PLEASE NO-NO!!! I’LL DO ANY-MANY THINGS, JUST DON’T KILL-SACRIFICE ME-ME! PLEASE DON’T QUEEN-LEADER BEZ, WE ARE FRIENDS-KIN!!!” Rashtalia flailed along the ground, absolutely horrified, as her captors pulled her forward. Her hands and feet clawed at the ground inbetween the yanking of the cords around her limbs. Her heart was pounding wildly and the poor terrified ratkin woman shrieked, begging them to let her live.

Then, as she was brought up violently and forced to kneel at the edge of the red fluids, her eyes met Queen Bez’s own.

“Bez! Bez-kin please, please-please…!!!” The sobbing ratkin woman clutched at her pale, hairless stomach as she tried to contain her terror. She sniffled and choked on her own saliva amidst the heaving of her breasts. “I’ll be a good servant-kin slave! I am sorry-sad that I fail-failed to stop Allie-queen batkin from cursing us-we, but I did not know-see this could happen! Please-please, just let me live-go!”

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