Shadows Reborn (2nd Book)

Chapter 32: The Summoner, Successor, Servant

 Just a little further, my Champion.

Of course, Lord Master. The subservient slave responded to his master's command, walking in light footsteps, barely making a sound as he trudged through the streets of Shardizar, effortlessly evading every guard.

Because for whoever even sees a glimpse of the Champion of Shadowy Death was eliminated, whether it was a stab from the back, or a snap of one's neck, it didn't matter to him, only that he reached his goal. Corpses littered the streets, dressed in chainmail and leggings, seen by none but the slave himself as he walked through the city's streets.

The shadows call for you, boy, they know of your goal.

How, master? He asked his Lord Master, the god, the being that controlled his whole life. Red eyes were focused on his surroundings, swift darts around, never missing the slightest disturbance in this grim serenity he had just created. A black void covered each of his orbs, spreading to the tips of his eyes, only broken by the red orbs that were now his own eyes.

Do not fail us. Came the only answer of the demon lord, leaving the Champion's question unanswered, but of course, he did not mind that, for how can a mere slave fight against his Lord Master?

It shall be done, Great One.

His footsteps came to a complete stop as he came upon a marble fountain, and with his eyes that could only belong to a demon, he saw something encircling the font, a black shadow going around that is so fast that only a blur was what he gleaned.

One conundrum that stumped him the most was no water flowed, and it was but a single design on this city, but at the same time, it stood out the most, and it looked as if it was the oldest and most unique construction made in Shardizar itself, the most beautiful one perhaps, however grim its purpose was to him.

What... He raised his eyebrow, brandishing a blade that gave the air of pure enigma, a blue wisp rising out from the tip, shortly dancing with the air before completely dissipating within the void.

You aide calls, boy.

With his ears, he now heard voices. They were like the fleeting wind passing through, and yet the Champion heard them, resonating in his mind. Threats, information, announcements, declarations, mere statements, all were said by this one voice.

He would have been lying when he was slightly disconcerted by this one voice saying all these things, irrespective of any matter told by it.

Into the bowels you go.

"What?" He said in an incredulous tone, shaking his head. He looked at the black shadow flying around this one marble fountain, and saw that it had stopped, and formed a complete shadow of a human, looking at him directly. The strange thing was it possessed no such eyes to do the action, but the Champion himself felt himself stiffen under the black shadow's supposed gaze, and a light gasp slipped past his lips.

Open the scrollS, boy.

He followed, and did so, drinking its contents in a futile way to sate his thirst.

The first sentence his eyes came upon was,"For whomever reads this, know that you are treading upon dark grounds, and our unholy Father himself is now watching over you. You are holding the scroll of Noctres Vocantem, the greatest Champion of our Lord, and with this alone, our Lord shall be whole once more."

"This is reserved for the zittafyl alone, and if you are not one, it is highly advised you close this at once, lest our unholy Father unleash his wrath upon you, unworthy mortal."