Ballad of Heaven: Clash of the Cursed

Chapter 11 - Bound by Duty

"Finally, the moment has arrived," Aamon murmurs under his breath, sitting on his throne, his gaze fixated on his tightly clenched fist.

In the sacred area within the Nocturna base, Aamon walks in with purpose, Its architecture, with intricately carved stone pillars rising up to support a domed ceiling adorned with elaborate patterns and symbols. The air is thick from countless rituals performed within its sacred confines.

As sunlight streams through the stained glass windows, the temple's interior transforms into vibrant colors. The hues cascade across the marble floor. The hues dance across the marble floor in mesmerizing patterns. Each pane of glass tells a story, depicting scenes of the legend of the hero and the devil, fighting an endless fight.

As Aamon stands in contemplation, three Nocturna warriors in clad enter the temple. "Hey, Hey Aamon! We're here, just as you asked," one of them calls out, their voice muffled by the confines of their sleek black armor. A helm obscures the his features.

"Yes, anything for you, Lord Aamon," another voice speaks, as she approaches Aamon and gracefully kneels before him.

The figure in the black armor also kneels, then leans in to whisper, "Ohhh, looks like someone's got a crush on the big boss, Aamon," He teased.

Shaila grits her teeth, irritated, "Get away from me, Zelzen, you imbecile." She rises to her feet and strides towards the center of the room.

Zelzen chuckles, unfazed by Shaila's reaction. "Aw, c'mon, Shaila, just having a bit of fun," he remarks, laughing as he follows her to the center, standing a few paces away.

The third Nocturna warrior remains silent, joining the others in the center of the room. As they form a circle, a solemn aura envelops them, and they begin to chant in a language not known by human beings, one that echoes from the depths of a different realm. Their hands weave intricate gestures, Immersed in a state of profound meditation, they channel unseen energies.

Not a single trace of Eternal energy was being harnessed, but something altogether different surged within the confines of their ritual. Meanwhile, Aamon stands just beyond the circle, his gaze unwavering as he watches over the ritual with a sense of detached curiosity.

As the chants reach a crescendo, a shimmering portal materializes in the air before them, its edges pulsating with an otherworldly glow. Aamon steps forward, his silhouette outlined against the swirling vortex of energy. With a sense of purpose, he walks into the portal and disappears into the unknown depths of the Dusk domain.

In the dimension, Aamon finds himself surrounded by an oppressive darkness. Debris drifts through the void, remnants of forgotten worlds and lost souls. Among them, he glimpses the eerie sight of human children, their forms twisted and contorted by the effects of dimension.

("I mustn't stay in this dimension too long.") Aamon thinks to himself, as he looks down to his fist, repeatedly clenching it. ("I can already feel the effects of it changing me.)

Aamon looks up to the echoed screams within the domain. Ignoring it, Aamon presses onward, guided by a faint red light that flickers in the distance. With each step, the darkness seems to close in around him, threatening to consume him whole. Yet, he remains undeterred.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Aamon reaches his destination— As he gets closer to the shining red light, it becomes more visible. A solitary weapon floated about, chains wrapped around it as it flouted.

Aamon rips off the chains, and grins. For under it, was a sacred weapon owned by the devil of darkness himself: The Scythe Curtains of Banishment. Its blade gleaming dully in the dim light of the void. With a sense of reverence, he reaches out and takes hold of the weapon, feeling its weight in his grasp. It is a symbol of power, a tool of destruction and creation in equal measure.