Chapter 119: The Whisper of the Goddess's Corruption
In a grand hall, built in the style of the dwarves who were the masters of such architecture, the black, demonic aura was so thick it was almost tangible, and the very air was heavy and still.
The flickering candlelight illuminated a massive throne, upon which a slender figure sat in silence.
The being once known as Eirik was sitting perfectly still, and yet the demons below him did not dare to breathe. His methods were even more brutal than their own, especially when it came to his own kind. He had already killed hundreds, even thousands, of them, almost as many as had died in the war. He was a tyrant. Some had already taken to calling him the Tyrant Demon King, Asmodeus.
A dark and ominous energy now swirled around him, not by his own will, but like a wound that would not stop bleeding. It had stained the throne and the very air around him a deep black.
His face had not changed. Unlike his old friend, who was now a silver-haired old man, thirty years had not left a single mark on him. It was as if his life, and his aging, had been frozen in time from the moment he had been corrupted.
But the price for this unnatural youth had been a heavy one.
His eyes were sunken and hollow, the whites completely black, with only a single, faint flicker of light remaining, a final, stubborn act of resistance.
"Eirik, why do you not give up? There is no one left to save you," a gentle, feminine voice, a voice laced with a thick, viscous malice, a voice like a seductive whisper, echoed in the deepest, most broken part of his soul. It was the voice of the corrosion, an extension of the goddess's will.
Rhodes had heard that voice before. But the moment he had, he had abandoned his corrupted body. Eirik, however, could not. He had first thought it was just a hallucination, but he had been drawn in, deeper and deeper, and by the time he had realized it was real, it was too late. With his last shred of sanity, he had said his goodbyes and had set off on the path to becoming the Demon King.
The goddess's remnant will had a simple plan. Eirik's body was too weak; even if she were to completely possess it, she would never be able to become the Goddess of Procreation again. And so, she had him gather the demons, to become their king and to receive their faith. And with their power, his body would be strong enough to challenge a god. And then, she would have her revenge. Revenge on the man who had killed her, the man who had ruined all of her plans.
But she had underestimated Eirik's mental fortitude. Even after so long, he had not yet succumbed. He was still fighting. His stubbornness was driving her mad, and it made her attack his soul with an even greater fervor, trying to crush that last, tiny spark of defiance.
"Look at the power within you. Look at the demons who have bowed to you. What more could you want? Why cling to such a meaningless resistance?"
"BE QUIET!" he roared, and his fingers tightened on the arm of his throne.
The throne, made of solid metal, groaned in protest, and a wave of raw, dark energy erupted from him, sweeping through the hall. Some of the weaker demons coughed up blood, and the wave of power even reached outside, instantly vaporizing a few magical beasts.
"Hahaha, is this your proof of resistance?" the voice said, a hint of anger in its seductive tone. "So what? Even if you kill them all, it will be of no use!"
A wave of excruciating pain, as if his very soul was being torn apart, washed over him, and he nearly fainted. He doubled over, his breaths coming in ragged, painful gasps.
And the voice just laughed. "See? How pathetic you are. Your pain is my plaything. You cannot even choose to live or die. Eirik, my dear vessel, you no longer belong to yourself."
"I WILL NOT YIELD!" he squeezed out the words, each one bringing a new wave of pain. The tiny spark of light in his eyes flickered, as if it was about to be extinguished.
And then, he remembered them. His companions. Rhodes.
The hope that he would come for him, it was the only thing that kept his last shred of consciousness from being completely consumed. Even if he were to die, he would take her with him.
"Rhodes? That damn creature!?" As if sensing his thoughts, the voice became sharp and venomous. "He's long dead! Dead in my divine storm! Your hopes are in vain! Give up, my dear Eirik! You are the true master! You can do so much better than he ever did! You can have so much more honor!"
"Hahaha!" he threw his head back and laughed, a wild, unrestrained sound, as if the laughter could somehow ease the pain.
"What are you laughing at?" the voice asked, confused.
"He is not dead!" his own voice was a weak whisper, but it was filled with an unshakeable conviction. "He knows everything. And he will come for you, with Org in his hand, and he will kill you again. And this time, there will be no coming back for you."
He believed that he would create a miracle. Just as he had always said, to believe in a miracle is a miracle in itself.
"FOOL! IMBECILE!" the voice roared in anger, and a new, even greater, wave of pain washed over him. He felt as if his soul was being slowly sliced apart by a thousand blunt knives. He trembled, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps. It took a long time for the tiny spark of light to return.
Every act of defiance brought only more pain, a deeper corrosion. With every moment of clarity came the knowledge that the next descent into darkness would be even deeper. He was so tired. It felt as if his consciousness was sinking, drowning, unable to resist.
He didn't know how much longer he could hold on. A wave of weariness so profound washed over him that he couldn't even lift a finger.
"Rhodes..." he called out with the last of his strength, a plea in his voice. "Where are you? I don't have much time left. Come... and end this..."
And with those final words, the last spark of light was finally swallowed by the darkness.
The figure on the throne was once again still and cold, a puppet controlled by the will of the goddess's corrosion.
But the echo of his outburst, it was a silent testament, a final cry for help from a soul named Eirik, waiting, hoping, for a certain someone to bring him a final, destructive, salvation.
(End of chapter)
~~~
Get early access to 20+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
~~~
Every 150 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter