Shadow of the Abyss

The chill that prickled Altair's skin had him shaking within his carriage towards St. Toraina, the holy ground of Sepith, housing the Seven Pillars of Virtues. Perhaps it was stepping onto holy ground wielding four sins—that had to be the case—but Altair found himself shaking. The Primal Instincts he had honed to new heights were screaming at him to leave, to run.

"Master?" Raven's voice reached as she placed a palm on his knee.

For some inexplicable reason, the chill placating his being faded alongside the goosebumps as he forcefully said, "For a second, I sensed an unexplainable danger."

Raven's icy, calm face never wavered. "Then we flee." It was not a suggestion. Before he could voice any objection, Raven had already stood up about to speak to the coachman before Altair pulled her back to the side with a wry chuckle.

"Relax!" He wanted to laugh at how ready the woman was to retreat. "Someone was probably just talking about me. A strong bastard. A God, perhaps. I shall not flee over mere speculations."

Perhaps that hadn't been what Altair should have said because, for a single second, he felt he had been dropped in a skillet by the hardened look Raven had given him. He almost rose to escape that heated gaze of hers. How the woman developed such a look made him jealous. It was surely a look only a woman could use against him.

The carriage suddenly made a jerking stop, though neither he nor Raven swayed, aware they had arrived at their final destination.

It took only a single breath for Altair's palatine nature to reflect across his eyes. Raven seemed to understand before stepping out to secure the area; when she had, the door to his carriage opened once more to welcome him.

Three Sisters, followers of Ariandel, no doubt welcomed him with open smiles that never reached their eyes. Their faces were smooth, with a hint of that ethereal grace that simply could not be obtained without years of practice. From what he knew, those who followed the teachings of Sepith did not usually bow towards anyone other than their fellow sisters or Angels. Even before the King, they kept their heads straight. For them to do so now only place Altair more on guard. He suspected they were trying to fan his ego—a very interesting approach that just might work—he certainly was happy about it.

"We greet the First Young Master of House Nier," the three women said in unison.

"I—" A sudden lashing of fear dug into his pores so vigorously, a killing intent, he did not realize he was bleeding out, so baleful in nature that the white marble stone he stood on shifted to black as his eyes glared at the heavens. And for the first time since he had arrived on Almor, Altair turned on his System Chat.

[Divine being, Praying Raven, exclaims in shock at your ability to sense the intent of the divine!]

[Divine Being Stellar Moon, covers her mouth at your Transcendent Intent]

[Divine Sin, Archeon, roars in laughter at your baleful aura]

[Divine Being, Titan Fall, stares grimly at the transformation of the spawn of the Second Monarch of Hell!]

'So not only did they reveal my identity, but they told them of my secret identity!'

If Altair was perturbed, his facial expression did not show it, though the Baleful aura suffusing his being became like an angry torrent of hate, turning tangible in the form of black arcs of lightning, lashing across the earth-shattering marble stones as his presence could be sense all around Vastroph.

He laughed, running a hand through his blackening hair. He couldn't stop the rage nor the Baleful Aura from altering his features. He had learned from Iliana the uses of Baleful Aura and how to infuse it into one's body—how to use it as a weapon of utter destruction, just as his uncle Zariel Snow did long ago to tear through Heaven's End, to reach the Thirty-Three Heavens.

"Bastard!" The words were not directed at anyone present, but the bolt of baleful lightning that lanced out of space sought to tear the world asunder, killing anyone within a mile of his position too weak to withstand his soul's presence. Of course, that did not constitute the holy ground of Sepith, which was protected by the divine; still, those outside it were not spared.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Baleful Lightning tore the skies asunder as pride and sloth sought to merge with his will, lighting the morning light to a blackened world of sin.

"You did not have to go so far!" he snapped, glaring as if he were looking at his father and Lilith. They were surely watching, laughing at his sudden outburst. The reveal of his Master he could accept. He could plan for it, but his father was another story. That had been the worst possibility. However, he never accounted for those 'bastards' to reveal his identity as Nox De Nier to the Myriad. The very identity Grimory had secured for him to traverse the Towers.

"FUCK!!!!!"

A/N: I rolled a nat one, soooo~

[Infernal Archaeon, Arsene Snow, wild laughter is shaken the Second Layer of Hell]

Altair was stunned to see the name, red, the color of blood, pop up on the system screen, somehow distorting it as if his very name was too powerful to be written.

'Archaeon?' the name itself stirred something in the back of his mind, awakening something that should never have been awoken within Babels Tower. A power Mephisto had warned him not to use. It took everything he had to push that power down to not have it explode in his face. And even then, he felt the touch of Death, no Primal Death on his shoulder, before it faded.

[Infernal Archaeon, Arsene Snow, grins from his Throne of Brimstone and welcomes you to the True World of Gods and Demons.]

"Fucking Bastard!" Altair roared. He ignored the alarming rate of paladins, Dawnbreakers, and followers of Theia from out the Temple of Sepith, each in the stages of Ninth Circle. The Mark of Cain was burning, and the Goddess of Rot was no doubt watching.

Even the plans there were ruined by his interference.

Altair suddenly felt as if he should have followed the Sin of Wrath as his father had. The acrid pain of hate in his chest was burning so fiercely that it took an effort not to explode with the Thirteen Godhands. They were there just within reach, burning gold upon a sea of shadows within his consciousness. The ancient power felt so sweet, like a nectar calling for him.

"FUCK!!!!!!" He screamed, letting it all go, all of it. Anger, hate, even his pride as he looked around at the Dawnbreakers, Theia's little paladins that had taken the Vow of Mercy and at least the Vow of Temperance. He sighed, ignoring the fifty or so golden paladins, directing his attention to the three sisters.

"I'm ready; take me to the Saintess." It was not a suggestion. The command lashed out, and even they appeared to lower their heads in reluctant agreement. Whether they wanted to or not, Altair gave them no hope of refusing him. The Eye of Sacrilege had already begun to pulse with its intangible power, invading their sea of consciousness to dominate their minds.
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The three sisters nodded, and Altair sent a cold eye to Raven. "Send a message to Tasha. Tell her that I have been exposed."

With a graceful bow, Raven nodded in the affirmative. " As his Majesty commands."

****

As Ashara stood atop the rooftop of the gentleman's club, eyes locked in the direction of that dreadful Baleful Aura that reminded her of a baby devil, a half smile played at her lips. She could sense her master's rage and just about understood. She had just returned from the mental space where Grimory had summoned her from to inform her about Altair's heritage.

"Find out the secrets to becoming an Archaeon!" she had commanded with a feverish gleam in her eyes. It was a look Ashara had never seen in her Master that made her wonder what exactly the sin she represented was. "Arsene Snow is the Myriad Heaven's first Archaeon! A stage he created. We need to learn the secret of such a thing."

Ashara scratched her head, staring in the direction of her master's power raging across Vastroph. Grimory's command was simple enough, but she had no idea how to even go about such a subject. Not when her Master's rage was still so fresh.

"They'll all be coming now," she muttered to herself, glancing at the several Spatial vortexes opening across the city. There were hundreds of them. Some were from higher up in the tower; others were returning to the tower. "It won't be long before the Seraphim and Fallen begin sending their own chosen to persuade Master into joining their side."

She shuddered. Her entire life, she had heard of the exploits of the Silver Devil and the First Abyssal Lord. That was to say nothing of their wives. The First Nephilim and the Abyssal Empress. Both had made their very own era. Even their children were creating waves within Arcadia.

"Master is about to have a rough few decades."