Darkness covered the small staircase that descended into the depths of the catacombs, a cool breeze blowing through the passage.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A hooded figure made its way through the tunnel as if it were their home, with perfect precision in their movements and an unmatched ability for stealth.
The pitch-black surroundings seemed to consume the cloaked humanoid, their appearance fading into nothingness as they descended.
Yet, even with all that secrecy, another presence followed the stairwell, albeit faint, blending into the background.
Lurking less than five steps behind, the young Eleanor Lynn moved with the lightness of an assassin and the precision of a hunter.
Similar to the person ahead of her, she bore a long drape that obscured her form to the highest degree, concealing every ounce of divinity that exuded from her mana core.
Not only that, but when she was gazed upon, recognition would be impossible, and her identity would be left protected even if she were to speak aloud.
These things were all known to the blonde child who followed closely behind the other hooded figure, the power of Aether far greater than she had initially predicted.
There is no doubt this tool is on par with something a Sea King would use… If not greater…
Shaking the thought from her mind, she felt the stone beneath her feet change into a gravelly texture and flatten out.
The bottom?
It had been nearly ten minutes since she had passed through the graveyard gates and trailed the man into a tomb that hid the very steps they now descended.
During that time, she had made no further progress in identifying her target or his intentions, leaving her in a state of nervousness.
However, as he continued ahead into the darkness of the catacombs, she couldn't help but shiver.
Just how far does he intend to go?
There was no telling if he ever even had a goal or if his wandering was just a result of a mental issue never treated by an Angel.
Regardless, she did not cease her pursuit, as the man's journey was bringing her closer and closer to her intended goal anyway.
I hesitated to head straight into the catacombs in case that mist returned; however, now it seems as if it'll be a perfect opportunity to enter the Chamber of Eternal Rest.
Up ahead, bones creaked as the hooded figure hurried through the pitch-black hallway at great speed, his tireless effort impressive even for the strongest of athletes.
Eleanor's skin paled an even lighter white as the cold rasped at her short form, eating away at the weak frost resistance provided by her mana.
Clink!
The man stopped dead in his tracks, his head whipping towards the left and staying like that for a long moment.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
Another set of strange noises echoed through the tunnel while fragments of crystalline white light erupted into existence.
Before the girl could even react, color spread out everywhere, her head spiraling and her mind weak and struggling to remain awake.
She nearly collapsed to the ground, her body falling against the wall and her Aether-forged fabric turning back into liquid as her core failed to provide it with mana.
A strong pull on her hair forced her into the ashes that coated the floor, a knee pressing onto her back, restricting her airflow.
Words passed above her, yet she couldn't decipher them, a unique, almost dangerous language far too brutish for a priestess to know.
Her vision began to return; however, it was not soon enough, as the moment her eyes fluttered open, a heavy rock collided with her skull, knocking her out cold.
…
Hurts.
Blood.
Concussion.
Rope.
Monster.
Eleanor stared limply at her attackers as she lay flat atop a stone table, a ceremonial dagger plunged straight through her stomach.
Her hands shook and trembled when she tried to move them against the thick ropes that bound them across her chest.
Lying down in a position resembling someone freshly deceased, she was forced to remain silent and left to suffer a fate worse than death.
Rolling her head to the side, she gazed upon the hooded figure who lived within her apartment building.
The man had a disgusting face resembling that of an ogre, while his mustache was so long that it fell down over his lips.
He looked like he had nearly double her own body weight, a fact that she had deduced earlier; however, now she could see his greasy, fat belly in all its filthy glory.
What surprised her the most was not his horrendous appearance, but rather the protrusions that erupted from the top of his head.
Black horns jutted up from his bald head, resembling those of a goat, their ends not yet curling but on the verge of doing so.
H-half…ling…
Eleanor turned her head towards the other side, where two other robed figures stood, one a woman with a similarly disgusting appearance, while the other was a man the size of a dwarf but with the appearance of a supermodel.
Both of them, like their compatriot, bore horns of varying lengths that were also pitch-black, exuding a strange aura.
Closing her eyes, she felt her body seethe with unanswered rage and malice; the race that dared to imprison her was all too familiar.
After the war waged by a monster known as the Sovereign of Chains, a type of human hidden from the world came to light.
Born through the copulation of human and sea terror, a new monstrosity could be created—a halfling.
For the longest time, no such cases were ever officially documented, as the dark history of human experimentation got buried, and any successful attempts were burned at the stake.
Yet, it was not only humans who attempted such horrors, but also the very monsters they sought to eliminate for eons.
Certain species of sea terrors, typically those of the highest magnitude in the world, could alter the very essence of their reality, changing themselves into what many believed to be something akin to humans.
Bearing two legs that replaced their fins and a set of lungs that supplemented gills, those monsters walked among men for decades, breeding in the backwater communities too weak to include powerhouses that could detect their mana fluctuations.
As such, abominations were spread throughout the seas, and a cover-up was no longer possible—the human experiments of the thirtieth century were finally revealed to the world.
Hundreds of government officials were executed for their part in the tests, and the research was released publicly, much to the dismay of the world.
Multiple genocides occurred over the decades, attempting to eliminate the hybrid scum that had infiltrated human society.
However, with the population numbering in the thousands and most too weak to even sprout horns, it was impossible to erase them completely.
As such, they faded into the background of history, that is, until the man who waged war on the world itself appeared, failing only after a global offensive led by the now-united Sea Kings of the era.
Eleanor Lynn, whose life was altered by the choices of that race, could not help but bear hatred against them.
Now, those halflings once again stood in her way, forcing her into submission and preparing to end her life.
I…
Her body shook, and her legs trembled, the blood oozing from her stomach beginning to coagulate even though the wound was only getting worse with her every move.
Can't let this…
The halflings who chanted around her in their foreign language, likely long-lost to history, hurried through their words.
"Pane… Greed… Halfing…"
"Lust… Seraphine… Envoy…"
"Luna… Human… Pride…"
The roaring in her ears drowned out the occasional word spoken in ancient Nordic, blood rushing into her head.
Her thoughts raced faster than she could comprehend, a single instinct materializing at the core of her being.
Words of truth spoken by Lady Prudentia.
Reassurances of ailment uttered by Lady Strixen.
Phrases of grace whispered by Lady Ariel.
And lastly, above all others, the single sentence that had stuck in her mind since she had heard it all those weeks ago in a chat with the young Abraham.
"One day you'll have to do it right?"
The room, smelling of iron, trembled slightly as a flicker of yellow emerged behind the blonde-haired girl's eyes.
In her head, the voice never once wavered, only guiding what she did next, her choice long since decided for her.
"How long until you have to kill someone? Angels are not saints, and they resort to murder when necessary, yet you… You show naivety towards the mere idea, and such thinking only leads to one thing."
The three halflings were shouting with their entire being, their pale forms illuminated as Eleanor's body began to twist in any number of directions.
"Weakness."
The Emblem of Circe burned on her neck, shooting fresh, purified mana to every corner of her body, erasing the corruption that haunted her for only a moment.
Yet, that was all the Priestess of Depths needed, her chains melting to dust and her hands moving towards her stomach.
Without even a sound, she placed her right hand on the dagger and pulled upward, removing it from her insides.
Blood spurted out for a second before ceasing, the Aether that had been left inactive now shaping itself into golden bandages that wrapped around her mid-torso.
The only negative effect was a spike in her emotions that had already been on the verge of rampaging.
For weeks, she had suppressed her hatred, her malice towards the Old Man and his monstrous ways.
Today, on November 10th in the Great Beyond, the carefully repressed mental state of Eleanor Lynn finally collapsed.