Bonds of Darkness: Swordmen's Redemption

Chapter Forty-Five: Stab

With a nod of understanding, Y/N closed his eyes, allowing the portrait's mysterious allure to envelop him. The light intensified, hands of fate drawing him into the frame, as he and the portrait vanished into the fabric of the void, leaving behind the silent, expectant darkness.

The transition through the portrait marked not just a physical journey, but a passage through the essence of memory and time—a leap into the unknown with only the silent approval of IX and the guidance of gathered memories to light the way.

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As the light receded, Y/N found himself standing amidst desolation incarnate. Gargantuan structures pierced the sky, their Gothic silhouettes clawing at the clouds. The moon hung low, an indifferent witness to the decaying grandeur below. The air was thick with an eerie vibe, a chilling presence that whispered of death watching from every shadowed corner.

The decay was palpable, vibrating with the disturbing energy of the Great Ones. Y/N's face contorted with revulsion at its touch, a sentiment shared by IX, whose form shuddered visibly.

"I can feel them, they are close," Y/N murmured, his voice a hushed thread in the oppressive silence. The precaution seemed necessary, a way to conceal their presence from unseen entities that might lurk nearby.

The encounter with the Embodiment of Abyss had transformed Y/N, amplifying his powers to unprecedented levels. One such gift was a heightened sense, a shadow's intuition, allowing him to perceive energies and presences undetected by mortal means. The darkness was no longer a veil to him; it was his dominion, his extended sensory organ, alert and alive.

In this domain, he felt an absence—an unsettling nothingness. It was an enigma, a non-life that defied description, a transcendent aura beyond the ken of mortals, signaling the proximity of the Great Ones.

His reverie was shattered as a colossal figure emerged, draping itself around the clocktower like a grotesque ornament. The entity bore a resemblance to the amygdala, a creature of arachnid lineage, yet wholly other. Seven lean arms adorned its frame, each ending in clawed digits, two glowing ominously. A reptilian posture, an almond-shaped head caging a visible brain, surrounded by lidless eyes and writhing tentacles, completed its nightmarish visage.

With a sense of grim determination, Y/N summoned the Ornate Dagger, his grip firm. His powers, still untamed, were a risk he could not afford; the tangible steel was his chosen ally this night.

Yet the Great One remained passive, its multitude of eyes observing Y/N without intent. "Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice edged with hostility that seemed to dissipate against the creature's silent vigil.

The entity regarded him, its gaze alien in itself, before a voice, a cacophony of inhuman whispers, broke the silence. "Venture forward, godling. For Idrila awaits you."

The words heralded a surge of power from the deity. Instinctively, Y/N enveloped himself and IX in a cocoon of darkness, a barrier against the unknown. The Great One's hand enveloped the cocoon, curiosity rather than malice guiding its touch.

"I will show you of her memory, cursed fiends," it declared. The world twisted, dimensions warping, as Y/N and IX were catapulted through the eldritch tapestry to another chapter of their tangled odyssey.

The void swallowed them, leaving behind the crumbling cityscape, as they plunged deeper into the memories of a deity, towards revelations yet to be unfurled.

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There was an immediate and profound sense of wrongness that permeated the air as Y/N stepped through the threshold of the new realm. His senses, usually so sharp and reliable, flailed wildly as if trying to grasp onto something tangible within a sea of chaos.