Over the course of thousands of years, Oolacile was no more. Replacing its rubble was the shifting earth.
Tectonic plates rumbled over another, burying the magical city and what was left of the Abyss. However, that doesn't mean it was gone forever.
Deep in a mess of toppled trees and poisonous swamps, Mandias searched for the tomb of the Abyss Watchers.
In absolute darkness, he swayed through the same path he took to light the torches. Yet something was amiss.
The sloshing waters below alerted him, forcing him to draw his sword at his waist and stand his ground.
Below a few crumbling planks of wood, ripples of water touched the base of a small tower, introducing an ancient evil.
A Darkwraith stalked the poisonous grounds, searching for any bits of light to sniff out, and any ounce of humanity to steal and consume.
It stopped dead in its tracks once Mandias's torch touched its Abyss-covered form. And with a slow, eery turn of its head, it stared, stiff as wood while the green water calmed.
In one hand was a dark blade, while in the other was a glowing red light, a means to maim and drain its victim.
Sheathing his sword, Mandias continued on. The Darkwraith was a threat to no one, not when it was trapped below.
Crossing several more planks and interconnected watch towers, he came across the only light around, a massive door with 4 lit beacons.
Hopping down and approaching, he again heard the rustling metal plates of Darkwraiths.
Quickly sniffing out his torch, he took cover beside the massive doors. Normally he wouldn't mind a fight, but for now, he needed to conserve his strength and supplies. For it was a long path ahead.
Silently watching several more Darkwraiths emerge from the darkness, he reignited his torch and dashed inside.
He followed a long dirt path until the ground suddenly became stone, and his surroundings were ruins.
Closing the doors behind him, he continued through literal piles of bodies, Abyss Watchers, to the hidden path below.
After yet another long walk, he allowed himself a moment of rest. Removing the coiled sword from his back, he jabbed it into the stone floor, creating a bonfire when the scorching magic inside exploded.
The scolding flames were just as warm as the simple light it left behind. That had become normal to him, deadly flames were warm, and frigid storms were a calm breeze.
Taking a seat on the hard floor, he crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees. He grew relaxed as time passed, allowing his plated armor to hold his weight in place for a nap.
Just as he shut his eyes, a golden shimmer touched the soot-covered metal encasing his body.
He grunted in initial confusion before he recognized a simple summoning sign written on the floor. He also recognized the title written in stone.
Mandias considered touching it, allowing a companion in this dark and lonely quest.
Maybe they would only slow him down, and become a detriment. Or perhaps they could provide sufficient support, a means to quell the loneliness in his heart while simply being a face and voice to confide with.
Before he even realized it, Mandias had touched the glowing sign, allowing entry to an individual he considered his only friend.
"Mandias..."
He was silent, wordless as the Firekeeper's voice met his ears. She knew by now that he wasn't much of a talker.
There was only the crackle of the magical fire. No late-night bugs, prowling predators, or even a breeze. Everything outside was quiet and soon to be dead.
Mandias wondered if he made the right decision. Leaving the world in darkness was because of them, and it was a secret between them.
He often told himself that there was no guarantee the flame would reignite and that his death and hardships would simply be in vain.
His hand instinctively flinched away from the Firekeeper's as she sought it, earning him a momentary glance of confusion.
"I apologize..." She murmured with an earnest tone.
The weathered gloves over his hand rubbed the stone underneath, creating a slight sound he listened to as he felt a pit in his stomach.
"Mandias..." She uttered near a whisper. "Why do you retreat from my touch?"
That was the golden question. He figured it was at the back of her mind since the first time she attuned the souls he gathered.
"I..." He struggled to find the right words. Even when his eyes were hidden under his helmet, and the Firekeeper wore a cloth over hers, he felt anxious as she waited.
"I'm... but ash." He mumbled with the hollow hum inside his helmet. "An afterthought."
A smile appeared on her face, surprising him. Was she enjoying this? Mocking him?
Again, in the warmth of the coiled sword, she sought his hand, smoothing it over the floor until she found the sound of his gloves.
"Nay..." She murmured while caressing worn leather as if it were his own flesh.
"You are more... so, so much more..."
Darkness began to fade, making a crackling fire redundant. Yet the only use for it now was to reminisce in a distant past, not stave off subzero temperatures.
"Can you hear me, Y/N...?"
A deep, menacing voice touched the frosty air, creating a minuscule mist at the edge of a rustling forest.
"Because... I hear you."
Mandias stared at a monument to human survival, a gargantuan wall meant to ward off the darkness while housing what little light that could gather.
"Your voice, it speaks to me, to all that may listen. And yet... you don't seem to realize it."
Argus. It housed something powerful, an individual that had reached godhood without even realizing it. An infant when compared to something such as Mandias.
"You voice your happiness, your struggles... Like a baby, you are loud, reckless. That's what led me to you."
As the sun rose from the snowy forests behind him, Mandias felt its invigorating rays warm him, and empower him.
"But we both know what you've done... Yes, I sensed it the moment you returned. You've changed, evolved."
The power of the sun covered his body, melting the snow at his feet while creating a pillar of steam around him.
"You did what I could not... you slew Manus, Father of the Abyss. You were the legend we heard tale of."
His eyes narrowed, zoning in on the Argus wall with a scrutinizing gaze, a stare so deadly it could pierce the hardest of souls.
"Even at the end of something considered primordial, there is death. Manus could not run from it, nor could he attain it. That is... until you came along."
The Lord grew visibly frustrated. It was a deadly combination when mixed with his ancient wisdom and knowledge.
"So... why fight me? Why do you object to my cause?"
The leather over his hands crinkled with arcs of golden electricity. The joints in each knuckle ached, suffering from pressure so severe it could mold the densest of metals.
"The Brothers are nothing but dead weight... Our so-called protectors we must worship and appease. And for what? What had they done to deserve something so luxurious?"
His eyes soon drifted to the sky where they peered into the beyond. Mandias searched for something, a pair of beings that eluded him.
"Even so... If Y/N can't hear me, I know you can."
He could sense it, fear. It came from a realm he could not touch, a land that was unattainable without the ancient Relics they left behind.
"Mark my words... I will find you. And when I do, it will be a day of reckoning."
The Brothers were worried. How could they not be? Mandias could outlive anyone in Remnant, making time his only ally if nothing else was left.
"Even now you're silent, scared... That's nothing new. We're all just an experiment, right? A world you wanted to make your plaything while forcing its inhabitants to worship you."
That was it, all he needed was time.
"Gods... No matter what world I see, or deity I hear, you're all the same."
He spat their title with venom, a clear hatred that lived longer than anything on Remnant.
Beyond his broiling emotions, Mandias felt their worry and growing fear. They consulted one another, trying to devise a plan to rid him from their lives.
"Gather your champions... Muster your courage. I'll be here, and I will continue to remain until you are but ash at my feet."
Dark, furrowed brows of determination were paired with eyes of undying fury. They were a testament to true survival and the iron will of a man who remains unbroken.
And it was pointed to the heavens, begging for retaliation from the Gods.