A/N: All rights to the original content are reserved by the respective copyright owner.
Chapter Image Source:
www (dot) reddit (dot) com/r/darksouls3/comments/lbqyok/i_drew_pontiff_sulyvahn/
I'll be uploading chapter 20 in a few hours. Comment and Vote to show your support, thank you!
---
The once bustling corridors of Xianzhou Yuque had transformed into a nightmarish labyrinth, where shadows danced in macabre waltz with eerie whispers. Denizens of Abundance, clad in ominous ebony armor adorned with grotesque motifs, were orchestrating a sinister rite. They forced the conquered vessel's residents to drink from vials containing a concoction as dark as their intentions. This elixir promised to unlock the deepest, darkest desires within, luring them down the treacherous path of Mara.
"Some more! You must drink!" commanded one of the Mara warriors, a man with crazed eyes, as he thrust a vial toward a trembling resident.
"I... I can't... Please, spare me..." the resident stammered, caught in the merciless grip of fear.
Amidst the chaos, a lone figure emerged—a woman clutching her child, desperation etched into every line of her face. The child's voice quivered, "Run, Mommy! Run!"
The pursuit was relentless, and the warrior chasing her wore a malevolent grin, intoxicated by the madness that had consumed his mind.
But just as despair threatened to engulf the woman and her child, salvation manifested in an enigmatic figure—the Pontiff of Shadows. The Pontiff appeared like an ethereal wraith, shrouded in an impenetrable cloak of darkness, contrasting starkly with the malevolent warriors.
"What is this madness?" the Pontiff's voice echoed through the corridor as it materialized before the bewildered army of Mara warriors. Its presence was like a storm, thunderous and mysterious, promising retribution.
"Who are you?" one of them demanded, his voice trembling, like a trapped animal.
The Pontiff remained silent, its presence radiating an aura of ominous authority, like an ancient tome whispering forgotten secrets. In an instant, the Pontiff's arm swung like a scythe, a single swift motion that unleashed a devastating wave of dark energy.
"Stop! What's happening?" another Mara warrior cried out, but it was too late. The inky tendrils of the Pontiff's power swept over them like a tidal wave of despair, obliterating their forms.
The woman and her child, now safe from the clutches of the Mara, looked upon the enigmatic figure with a mixture of awe and fear, as though they had glimpsed an otherworldly guardian. "Are you an angel?" the child whispered, lost in wonderment.
With a wave of its shadowy hand, the Pontiff cast a spell that induced a deep slumber in both the woman and her child. The encounter, as terrifying as it had been, would fade from their memories like a distant dream, leaving them unburdened by the horrors they had witnessed.
In the midst of the war-torn vessel, the Pontiff of Shadows continued its enigmatic vigil, a guardian of darkness that had intervened to protect the innocent. The mysteries surrounding its true identity and purpose remained veiled in obscurity, but its presence had brought a glimmer of hope to those caught in the maelstrom of chaos.
---
Within the heart of Xianzhou Yuque, Shuhu, a scholar and custodian of ancient knowledge, had been diligently tampering and mining the scrolls that held the secrets of the fleet's history. His men labored alongside him, their expertise in deciphering the enigmatic texts invaluable to their mission. They worked in silence, their minds focused on unraveling the mysteries of their own past.
But then, an eerie stillness descended upon the chamber, and his men began to faint one by one, as if an unseen force had sapped their strength. Shuhu, sensing that something otherworldly was afoot, knew that this was no ordinary occurrence. The trademark silence of the Pontiff of Shadows settled in the air, its ominous presence unmistakable, like the gathering of storm clouds before a tempest.
As the enigmatic figure materialized before him, Shuhu could not conceal his astonishment. He questioned aloud whether Xianzhou had hidden such a formidable soldier within its ranks, his voice a mixture of curiosity and wariness, like a scholar confronted with an enigma that defied explanation.
The Pontiff, now clad in ceremonial robes adorned with intricate jewelry, met Shuhu's gaze with an aura of ancient wisdom, like a sage of bygone eras who had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations.
Intrigued and wary, Shuhu ventured to ask, "Who are you? No, what are you?" The Pontiff's response was cryptic yet revealing, like a riddle shrouded in shadows. He declared himself a visitor from another dimension, a statement that sent shivers down Shuhu's spine. It was a dimension beyond the scope of mere planets, like a realm that existed beyond the boundaries of mortal comprehension.
Shuhu pressed further, asking if the Pontiff referred to other celestial bodies or distant worlds. The enigmatic figure shook his head, negating the notion of planetary origins. Instead, he introduced himself as a servant who faithfully followed the lord responsible for slaying Long, the Aeon of Permanence, his words laden with the weight of history and prophecy, like the utterances of an oracle.
The weight of this revelation hung heavily in the air. Shuhu, a scholar well-versed in the history and lore of Xianzhou, understood the significance of Long's demise. It was a momentous event that had cast the foundations of the local races, shaping their destinies in ways they could scarcely comprehend, like the pivotal turn of a cosmic wheel.
In a swift and practiced motion, Shuhu summoned his catalysts, prepared for the possibility that this enigmatic enemy, a follower of a deity who had vanquished Xianzhou's god, might prove to be a formidable adversary. The clash of knowledge and power loomed, as ancient secrets and hidden agendas converged in the heart of Xianzhou Yuque, like the collision of tectonic plates beneath the surface of a world on the brink of upheaval.
The chamber, once a haven of scholarly pursuits, now bore witness to an unsettling confrontation between two individuals whose paths had converged amidst the chaos of war. Shuhu's catalysts gleamed with an ethereal light, a testament to his mastery of ancient arts, while the Pontiff exuded an aura of enigmatic authority, a presence that seemed to transcend mortal comprehension.
As the silence stretched, tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, thickening with each passing moment. Shuhu's inquisitive gaze bore into the Pontiff's obscured features, searching for answers in the shadowy visage of the otherworldly visitor. The scholar's mind raced, attempting to decipher the cryptic puzzle that stood before him.
The Pontiff, seemingly unperturbed by the scholar's scrutiny, maintained an air of unwavering composure. His eyes, hidden beneath the depths of darkness, held a glimmer of ancient knowledge and untold secrets, like a tome of forbidden wisdom locked away in a hidden library.
In a voice that resonated with the weight of ages, the Pontiff finally broke the silence. "I am but a servant," he intoned, his words carrying the echoes of forgotten realms, "a herald of the lord who has brought about the end of Long, the Aeon of Permanence." Each word was measured, as though chosen with deliberate care, like a chant recited in reverence to cosmic forces.
Shuhu, however, was not satisfied with enigmatic proclamations. His pursuit of knowledge was unwavering, a thirst that could not be quenched by mere cryptic utterances. He pressed further, seeking clarity amidst the obscurity. "What purpose does your lord's arrival serve?" he asked, his voice resolute, like a scholar determined to unlock the secrets of a long-lost manuscript.
The Pontiff's response was veiled in mystery, as though he held the threads of fate itself. "Shuhu," he said, addressing the scholar by name, "your quest for knowledge has led you to the precipice of a revelation. The threads of destiny are woven in ways that defy mortal comprehension. Long's demise was but the beginning of a cosmic transformation."
Shuhu's mind whirred with contemplation, like gears turning in an intricate machine. He understood that the enigmatic figure before him was privy to truths that transcended the boundaries of his own understanding. The clash of ideologies, of ancient knowledge and otherworldly forces, had converged in this chamber—a clash that would shape the destiny of Xianzhou Yuque and its denizens in ways unforeseen.
The scholar and the Pontiff stood as representatives of their respective worlds, their encounter a prelude to a conflict that would test the very fabric of reality. Amidst the dimly lit chamber, the air was charged with anticipation, like a storm gathering on the horizon, poised to unleash its fury upon an unsuspecting world.
---
As the Xianzhou Alliance found itself thrust into the midst of an unexpected invasion, confusion and panic rippled through the ranks of its members. The once-protective barrier surrounding the flagship had been shattered, leaving them vulnerable to the looming threat of the enemy fleet. Above them, the darkened skies served as a foreboding canvas upon which the impending battle would be waged.
Amidst the turmoil, General Jinhua, a woman of unwavering resolve and leadership, ascended a makeshift podium. Her presence commanded attention, and her voice carried the weight of authority as she addressed the assembled troops. Her speech, delivered with a fervor born of conviction, served as a rallying cry for the soldiers who now faced the specter of war.
"Soldiers of the Xianzhou Alliance!" General Jinhua's voice rang out, her words echoing through the hearts of those who listened. "This is the crucible in which our fate shall be tested. It is a time when fear threatens to overtake us, for fear is but a natural emotion in the face of danger. But I implore you to rise above it! For we are the guardians of Xianzhou, and our unity is our greatest strength."
Baiheng stood nearby, offering a reassuring presence to Jingliu, the Sword Champion. Jingliu, her mind consumed by thoughts of vengeance, paid little heed to the impending battle for the flagship. Her focus remained singular, her eyes narrowed with determination.
Baiheng, with a voice laced with concern and understanding, addressed Jingliu. "Jingliu," she said softly, "I sense the storm within you, the tempest of emotions that seeks release. But remember, we must also protect the innocents who depend on us. If we lose sight of that, we risk becoming no different from those who have wronged us."
Jingliu's gaze met Baiheng, a complex interplay of emotions in her eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, held a hint of vulnerability beneath her resolute exterior. "I understand, Baiheng," she replied, her words a testament to the inner conflict that raged within her. "But know that my purpose remains unwavering. I will not allow her to escape justice."
Their interaction, a silent exchange of shared understanding and unspoken emotions, conveyed the depth of their bond. In this tumultuous hour, they found strength in each other's presence, even as the storm of war raged on.
Back at the podium, General Jinhua continued her impassioned address. "Our enemies may outnumber us, but they cannot break our spirit! We fight not only for ourselves but for the future of Xianzhou Alliance. We stand as a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. Let courage guide your actions, and let unity be our shield!"
The soldiers, their hearts stirred by the general's words and emboldened by the camaraderie of their comrades, felt a surge of determination coursing through their veins. Fear still lingered, but it had been tempered by the fires of resolve. As they prepared to face the imminent threat, their footsteps echoed with the resolute march of those who refused to yield to the shadows.
In the heart of adversity, amidst the chaos of war, the Xianzhou Alliance stood united, ready to confront the unknown and protect the future they held dear.
---
The army of the Xianzhou Alliance had successfully landed on the besieged flagship, and General Jinhua's voice boomed with authority as she issued her orders to the High Cloud Quintet. Their mission was clear – capture Shuhu, and if that proved impossible, eliminate him.
As the quintet ventured deeper into the heart of Xianzhou Yuque, they bore witness to the grim aftermath of the battle. The corridor was a nightmarish scene, with the lifeless bodies of Mara-struck warriors and Xianzhou's cloud knights strewn about, mangled and disfigured. Blood painted the metallic floor, a gruesome testament to the brutality of the conflict.
Amidst this horrifying tableau, Yexian stood like a macabre centerpiece. Her once-lustrous crimson hair cascaded down her back, now tainted with the darkness of her deeds. Her presence was an unsettling force, an aura of madness that seemed to seep into the very walls of the flagship.
The High Cloud Quintet couldn't help but be unnerved by the sight. Jingliu, however, remained resolute. Her eyes keenly observed Yexian's unusual attire – the absence of her customary armor, replaced by blood-red bandages and skin-tight clothing adorned with a thin layer of armor. What truly caught her attention was Yexian's sword. Once a magnificent jade blade, it had transformed into a sinister blood ruby, radiating a malevolent energy that sent shivers down their spines.
Yexian slowly turned her body to face the approaching quintet, her lips curling into a deranged smile. "Ah, my toys have arrived," she purred, her voice dripping with madness.
Jingliu's blood boiled with anger, memories of their past encounters resurfacing. She stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding as she turned to her comrades, a fire burning in her eyes. "Go," she ordered them tersely, her gaze locked on Yexian. "Proceed to Shuhu. She is my opponent."
The other members of the High Cloud Quintet exchanged uneasy glances, reluctant to leave their leader behind. But when they saw the seething determination in Jingliu's eyes, they knew there was no room for argument. Time was a precious commodity, and their confrontation with Yexian had just become an obstacle on their path to Shuhu.
They nodded in reluctant agreement and hurried past Yexian, each of them casting a worried glance at Jingliu before disappearing into the depths of the flagship. Alone with her crimson-haired adversary, Jingliu and Yexian locked eyes, a palpable tension hanging in the air.
Yexian's deranged smile widened as she took a step forward, her voice laced with sadistic anticipation. "Shall we have round two, my dear Jingliu?"
Jingliu's expression hardened, her grip on her lightsword of ice tightening. The battle between these two formidable warriors was about to reignite, and the outcome would have far-reaching consequences for the fate of Xianzhou Yuque.
Jingliu's voice was cold and unwavering. "This ends here."
With those words, they clashed once more, a whirlwind of steel and magic in the narrow confines of the flagship's corridors. The echoes of their battle cries reverberated through the metallic halls, a testament to their unyielding determination.
The High Cloud Quintet, now on their way to confront Shuhu, couldn't help but carry the weight of their leader's battle with them. The outcome of this confrontation would shape the course of their mission and the fate of Xianzhou Yuque itself.
---
Jing Yuan, Baiheng, Dan Feng, and Ying Xing pressed onward through the grim heart of Xianzhou Yuque, where the palpable aura of divination magic guided their way. As they advanced, the eerie silence of the vessel's inner sanctum was broken only by the haunting echoes of their footsteps. The dimly lit corridors seemed to stretch on endlessly, a labyrinthine maze of metal and shadows.
The path they followed was marked by a trail of fallen Mara-struck soldiers, their lifeless forms scattered like discarded pawns on a macabre chessboard. The gruesome aftermath of the battle bore witness to the carnage that had unfolded within these once-sacred halls.
Their grim journey led them deeper into the heart of the flagship, and it was there that they stumbled upon a scene that defied all reason. Shuhu, the enigmatic scholar and custodian of ancient knowledge, lay pinned to the gravel beneath countless spears and swords. His usual air of detachment and knowledge had been replaced by a look of sheer vulnerability, as if the very essence of his power had been drained.
Yet, what seized their attention even more than Shuhu's plight was the presence of another figure. Dan Feng's eyes widened with recognition, for he had encountered this enigmatic character on previous occasions—the Pontiff of Shadows. Beside the Pontiff was a man whom Jing Yuan also recognized, a figure from their past encounter: Zhaohui.
Jing Yuan, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, called out to the Pontiff. "What is the meaning of this!?"
The Pontiff, shrouded in darkness, turned its gaze towards them, its faceless visage gleaming with an otherworldly luminescence. "Shuhu has summoned something," it replied cryptically, its words laden with foreboding. "A dragon of death is on its way, and this man is the vessel."
The revelation sent shivers down their spines. Zhaohui, once a seemingly unassuming figure, was now at the center of a cataclysmic event. Questions tumbled through their minds like leaves caught in a tempest. What kind of power could Shuhu have harnessed to summon such a malevolent force? And how had Zhaohui become the vessel for this impending calamity?
Their apprehension deepened when Zhaohui, his thin form trembling, began to undergo a grotesque transformation. His body convulsed violently, as if wracked by an otherworldly force. An eerie green-gray miasma began to seep from his very pores, casting a sickly pallor over his flesh.
The miasma expanded outward, enveloping the fallen Mara-struck soldiers and their discarded armor. It was a nauseating and nightmarish sight as flesh and bone, living and dead, fused together in a grotesque amalgamation. The once-lifeless bodies seemed to twitch and writhe with a grotesque semblance of life.
Then, the abomination took form—a nightmarish dragon, its body covered in shimmering silver scales, partially obscured by a fleshy, writhing veil of green and blue. It possessed a double lower jaw lined with rows of razor-sharp fangs, reminiscent of deep-sea predators. Its small red eyes burned with malevolence, and bright yellow spots adorned the sides of its head. Sickle-shaped claws adorned its toes and wingtips.
The dragon's immense form nearly filled the space they occupied, casting a shadow that seemed to devour the very light. It unleashed a blood-curdling shriek, a sound that echoed with the tormented cries of countless lost souls.
Jing Yuan, Baiheng, Dan Feng, and Ying Xing stood rooted to the spot, their senses overwhelmed by the grotesque horror that had been unleashed before them. Their mission had taken an unforeseen turn into a realm of darkness and peril, and the fate of the Xianzhou Alliance hung in the balance.
As they faced the monstrous creation before them, their resolve would be tested like never before, for the true battle had only just begun.