Shadow of the Abyss

Within the Martial Halls, Altair felt he had stepped into a library, but rather than books, he saw a litany of silver cube-shaped devices glistening an azure light, racked on top of bookshelves designed specifically for these cubes. From one end of the room to the other, they stood, categorized into six main groups: Martial, Magical, Cultivation, Engineering, Alchemy, and Rune Work.

Less crowded than he'd imagined, mainly filled with drones dancing through the air to help organize and add to the vast library, Altair and Ren entered the magical category with a singular goal in mind.

Starting from the front, Altair began his search for a technique that would turn his raw Mana into physical strength. Ren had Infernal Rage that nearly tripled her physical strength, while he had to rely purely on skills and spells if he wanted to keep up.

[Tortoise Skin]

Grade: E

Effect: Enhance Con

Description: Allows the user to weld the flesh of man into a shield based on Mana.]

[Ogre Strength]

Grade: E

Effect: Enhance Str

Description: By devouring the bodies of your enemies, you will gain the strength of the mighty]

[Enhance]

Grade: F-

Effect: Minor Enhance

Description: The user will be able to enhance specific attributes on the fly. Warning: Due to versatility, this Skill can never achieve a multiplier past 2x.

Going through the various cubes that lit up with various descriptions, Altair wanted to cry tears at the level of trash flickering across his eyes.

[Divine Sin, Archeon is willing to grant you a powerful enhancement skill if you reveal your identity.]

"Keep dreaming," the boy mope. He wasn't that desperate.

Most skills were hard to learn, taking years to appear and decades to train, at least for most people. But every Skill had a limit, with a rare chance of evolving. Within the serpent outreach, Altair had managed to upgrade his Survival Instincts skill into Superior Instincts, a D-rank skill. Through many life-and-death battles, he was able to evolve it.

But Altair knew his bloodline had a lot to do with the evolution of such a skill, which was tied directly to the body, unlike mana spells or techniques that needed to be learned and understood to grow.

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He lamented his fate. "I don't want to learn multiple enchantment techniques… I'm sure none of them are compatible with the other." He told himself, lifting the cube of the weakest potential. He sighed. "2x is better than nothing. At least until this so-called master of mine reveals herself. Speaking of… when is Mother going to return my calls?"

"It's alright, Art," Ren assured him, hopping on his shoulder. She looked at many options. "I'm sure you're smart enough to create your own once you understand the mechanics. Mine came to me innately; its only requirement being a Nephilim. But I'm sure if you read all of these, you'll be able to create your own."

"And that there lies the problem." He said, his voice low. "Mother said I have a Master, who is most likely a God. I'll be wasting time and effort creating my own when she finally decides to give me something."

"Art…" Ren mulled over. "Didn't she give you… the Ninth Form?"

Altair grew silent, a grim look flashing across his scarlet black eyes. "Yes. The Blade of Eternal Madness. But I'll not start that accursed training until the Soul of the Indomitable reaches at least E rank."

There were very few things that scared Altair. But the thought of turning into Talia when she was lost in an abyss of madness was not comforting. He knew of the pleasure it brought but the destruction that it waged. Were he to turn into a madman on base… all of his fellow brothers-in-arms would cut him down without hesitation, of that he was sure.

"I still think it'll be worth it, Art," Ren told him, nudging her furry cheek against his. "We can't rely on our master for everything, even if it's a waste of time. The Knowledge you gain can be put to good use."

He hadn't thought of that.

"When did you get so smart?"

"Ren has always been smart. Art." The little pup said, arching her head high, resisting the urge to howl. She licked his cheek. "Now grab your shit, and let's look at some of the Alchemy stuff."

"As you wish, my Lady." He said, feigning chivalry. Altair chuckled, gabbing a few datacubes before making his way towards the Alchemy escort and finally Rune Works.

When they arrived at the counter to check out their findings, the librarian of the Mariel Hall glared at the boy. "You are going to read all of this?"

He looked old, barely on his last leg, with balding shriveled grey hair and a few dozen missing teeth. Those that remained in his mouth were stained brown and yellow with plaque.

"Yup."

"Have you never heard of biting off more than you can chew?" Old Yelv gripped, his voice hoarse with rage.

"Nope."

Yelv trembled, his murky greys narrowing towards Altair's deadpan expression. He'd seen many like Altair. Many that took more than they could handle, believing they were special. And many who'd return after months or years, wasting their time and resources.

"Is there a problem?" Altair asked. Glancing down at the dozen cubes that were sure to last him a few days, weeks at the most. "Is there a limit on how much I can take out?"

Old Yelv shriveled lips thinned. "Young Man, a word of advice. A dragon must learn to walk before he can fly. Do you understand what I'm saying? Put these back and—"

"I know what I'm doing." The Prince pressed with an edge in his voice.

"I see." The shriveled old man said, closing his eyes. He sighed. "I see. Then go," he said, logging the cubes Altair wanted. He'd done his best.

Exerting Mana into the Draupnir Ring, the twenty-seven cubes vanished within its inner dimension. When the old man saw this, his eyes went wide, and his spine straightened out for the first time in nearly a decade.

"Thanks." The Prince said and left without another word. And as he stepped through the iron doors, a familiar face popped into his field of vision.

"You!" Lieutenant Jor Silmar growled. "Murderer."

Altair didn't deny it. He'd killed plenty and was sure to kill even more. "Lieutenant Jor," he said with a playful gleam. " Careful. The Investigators have cleared me. I've no idea what happened to your men, but—"

"Silence, boy!" Jor demanded. 'You don't kill a man over such—"

"A what?" Altair said, his voice raised, gathering a few onlooker's attention. "You entered my sleeping quarters. You destroyed my property. Talk down to me. And what? You think someone won't seek revenge?"

"So you admit it!" Jor roared, snapping his eyes to the onlookers. " See! See! he admitted it."

"Goodness, you sound deranged. Are you feeling well, Lieutenant? Did you not hear that I've been cleared? I've yet to do anything yet. Investigator Lue knows this. Seems to me you offended someone you shouldn't have.

I'd watch your back if I were you. You and that Hilda Strob." The Prince warned, his cold eyes filling with a ruthless aura of discord. He stepped past Jor, glancing his way with a chilling smile, setting forth a trap with such ease he laughed.

Red shone through Jor's eyes in a single instance, blinding him of reason, feeling that accursed smile bring about a humiliation he had never faced throughout his hundred years of life. Jor shot a palm towards Altair, pouring all three Mana Rings of cultivation into Altair's chest.

A  thunderous eruption of Mana exploded as Altair barreled through the Iron doors, his body skidding like a stone on water through rows of shelves before coming to a stop.

"YOU!" Old Yelv roared, and all of the Fortress trembled. Alarms shrieked as lights began to flash.

But Jor hadn't even noticed as he stared at his palm. He was sure his palm came in contact with Altair…  And, yet, nearly half the power didn't connect.

"Bastard." Old Yelv mustered as his Seven Circle materialized, crowning him as he approached Jor. When Jor looked up, a cruel realization struck him, sending a dreadful tingle sensation down his spine.

"I-I-I," Jor muttered, unable to find the words, forced to knees by a presence that came crashing down on him like a mountain. Blood pooled from his eyes, following the charging of armed soldiers.

"Commander!" Second Lieutenant Vincent Windell addressed at the helm, gripping his short sword and pistol.

"Check on the boy… Although I fear he—"

"I'm good," Altair muttered, stepping out of the rubble with blood trailing down his lips, and his hair mattered by blood and debris. He approached as the soldiers made way for him. He stood beside Old Yelv.

"How… How are you alive?" Jor muttered.

Altair didn't immediately answer, but it was clear that everyone wanted to know.

"Altair?" Vincent said, connecting all the dots in a single instance. Anger washed his face in a blinding flash. He whirled to Jor, pressing the barrel of hisTech Pistol against his eye, barely resisting the urge to pull the trigger.

Feigning weakness, Altair placed a hand on Vincent's trembling shoulder, "Don't do it, Lieutenant. It's not worth it." He said, inwardly grinning like a demon. He glanced at Jor. "He failed to assassinate me." Altair resisted with all his heart not to reveal a victorious smile. "Let's let justice do their job."

'And that Jor is how you properly taunt someone.' Altair thought through narrowed eyes.

"Assassinate! No! I-I–" Jor tried to say through an onslaught of ugly tears and whimpers. "I– Was… I was just trying to—

"Altair does have a bounty of 10,000 Sols," Vincent muttered, lowering his pistol. "It all makes sense. Last night… you were trying to provoke him to attack you. When that didn't work, you killed your men to frame Altair!"

"No~! Your wrong! I-I-I didn't do it! I—"

Not seeing a need to interfere more, Altair gestured to Ren, who flew off his shoulder the moment Jor struck. He smirked, knowing everything had fallen into place the moment Jor called him a murderer in front of everyone.

Everything played out like he suspected, including Jor's attack that allowed him to test out his Almighty Resistance, which ate about fifty percent of the damage.

"Lock up this assassin. We'll find out what he's got planned, even if it means we have to peel his fingers off." Old Yelv commanded. "No one is allowed to see him. Are we clear? No one but the Admiral or me."

'SIR YES SIR!!!!"

When Altair returned to his dorm after getting a checkup from Amilia, per Vincent's direct command, he devilishly grinned. "That was easier than I anticipated. And now the balls in Hilda's court."

Ren hopped from his shoulder and onto the bed, transforming back into human form. "Hilda is the one who wanted to kidnap me, right?"

"Correct." Altair nodded. "And now she's got three options. She can try to haggle for Jor's freedom, Silence him, or do nothing."

Amused by her Prince's words, Ren nestled herself beneath the covers. "What do you think she'll do?"

He shrugged. " who can say? I've never met her or even seen a picture of her. But if I were a betting man. She'll kill him. In fact, I hope she does kill him.

Her name is already implicated in my report about the murder of those poor six soldiers."

"... the ones that you killed."

"I'm an innocent man." Altair shamelessly said, falling onto the bed, smiling. "The truth field they put me under even said so. The moment Jor dies. Hilda becomes the prime suspect. And just like that. One stone kills two birds."

"Don't you think you are a tad bit overconfident?" Ren mused, enjoying the glimmer in her Prince's eyes as he explained his plan to her.

"Nope. Hilda was using Jor, a man of limited intelligence, in my opinion. I suspect she might share the same level of intelligence, maybe higher, but not by much. If she doesn't kill Jor and he rats or makes a deal or whatever, she could potentially lose rank or, worse, be Court Martial. He needs to die."

"Then she comes after us." Ren reminded him.

Altair grinned. "Hilda is a commander. She'll have juice, but she'll have to tiptoe around Fat Mike."

"You're pinning your hopes on that fatty?"

"Not in the least. I'm pinning it on pride. Hilda tried to harm a member of his battalion. If Fat Mike doesn't react, he'll lose a lot of respect within his ranks."

"Art… you're a little scary." She said, giggling to herself.