Chapter 294: Chapter 293: ELDER
"Waiiiitttt!"
Aurora’s voice cracked across the chamber like a blade splitting the air, sharp and desperate, echoing from vaulted ceilings where shadows clung like watching spirits.
She descended from above, not as the woman Atlas had known, but as something... altered. Her third eye glowed open, wide and blazing with eldritch light.
Her skin had darkened to a hue like charred ash, and her arms shimmered with newly-carved sigils—lines of golden fire and silver burned into flesh, crawling like constellations alive. Her palms burned brightest, pulsing with the same raw power that tethered Galiath in her grip.
Atlas froze mid-strike, his fist suspended inches from Bane’s terrified lion-face. The air alone from his halted blow pressed hard enough to burst veins in the beast-king’s muzzle, sending blood trailing from his nostrils.
Bane’s breaths came ragged, his body trembling in primal fear. He had roared at armies before; now he could not even meet Atlas’ gaze.
Atlas turned his head, golden eyes narrowing at Aurora. Her presence was alien, familiar yet wrong, like staring at a reflection warped by broken glass. "What happened to you?" His voice was a growl, equal parts curiosity and suspicion.
Aurora’s reply came not in her usual tone, but in layered echoes, as if two voices—hers and something vast, detached—spoke in unison:
{Minor upgrades... cause that I got to use more than one brain.}
Atlas frowned. The words made no sense, yet their weight made his chest tighten. His instincts prickled.
Aurora’s lips curved in a sardonic half-smile. "This cunt gave me an extra brain to process more magic," she said aloud, her normal sharpness returning for a beat, as she gestured to Galiath.
The clone of Aurora—no longer stable—sagged in her grip. Its skin was pale, half-dissolved, leaking strange yellow mucus where its skull could no longer contain the slop of half-burned brain matter.
The mockery of her own form now looked alien, obscene. She let the body drop. It hit the marble floor with a wet splatter, leaving a rancid stench of spoiled flesh and corrupted blood.
Atlas grunted, shaking his head. "What?! You and your weird shit... First, why should I not kill these bastards right now?" His voice boomed, his fist itching, shoulders taut like a coiled predator ready to spring.
Aurora drifted lower, the glow of her sigils pulsing like slow heartbeats. She moved with an unnatural grace, as though gravity itself bent to her whims. "Because," she said, voice cooling, "I pried inside the mind of this filth." She gestured at the dissolving body of Galiath.
Atlas raised a brow, easing his boot off Bane’s chest slightly. "...And?"
Aurora tilted her head. The air around her shimmered faintly, warping like heat haze. "It seems they were going to give us the way to the Fourth Layer."
Atlas blinked. His eyes flicked from the bleeding lion sprawled before him to the broken witch-queen Jenny lying discarded like a doll. "Damn..." he muttered. His lips twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. "...Did I go too hard on them?"
Aurora’s gaze drifted over Jenny’s battered, almost unrecognizable form. The once-proud succubus queen now looked shrunken, ruined. Aurora’s third eye blinked, and her mouth curved into a cold smile. "Well, yes. Jenny is not Jenny anymore." She did not flinch as she said it—there was satisfaction in her tone. "Don’t worry. They deserved every bit of it. Your judgment was correct. They wanted to use you. Use me. As collateral. To throw us against the most powerful Demon King of the Third Layer."
Atlas’ eyes lit with sudden interest. "Hmmm. Interesting. Is it someone we’d have to face anyway?"
"Yes." Aurora floated down fully now, feet grazing the cracked marble. "I told you of him before. The one who once battled the Empresses themselves. He lost... but even in defeat, he survived. These fools dreamed of killing him, stealing his Authority. So when they learned a new demon king had appeared—you—they thought their chance had come."
Atlas let out a low whistle, flexing his hand as his rage dimmed into calculation. "Well, it failed. Badly." His golden gaze returned to the broken kings, his jaw tightening. "So why shouldn’t I finish them off?" His voice rumbled like thunder promising a storm.
Aurora exhaled, her ash-dark skin glowing faintly as her sigils shifted like living things. "...Because your arrogance is climbing too high, Atlas. And because he is no ordinary demon king?"
Atlas studied her, then the others again. "So you’re saying he’s so strong we need these fuckers?" He spat the words, disgust threading his tone.
Aurora nodded. Her third eye flickered with grim certainty. "The reason I could never pass into the Fourth Layer was him. He guards the gates. And then—I was much, much stronger than I am now."
Atlas’ brows rose. "Ohh." His tone shifted to something between surprise and mockery. "Even with the third eye stuff?"
Aurora’s lips thinned. "...Yes."
"And those shiny tattoos?"
She scowled. "...Now you’re just picking on me."
Atlas’ laugh boomed through the chamber, breaking the tension for a heartbeat. "Hah! Couldn’t resist."
Before Aurora could retort, another voice cut through the chamber.
{The slayer stands correct.}
It was deep, resonant, thrumming like the toll of a colossal bell. The sound wasn’t merely heard; it crawled under the skin, vibrating in bone marrow.
From the shadows at the edge of the hall, a figure emerged. He wore a robe black as starless night, hood drawn low, his face hidden entirely. His presence dragged the temperature down; Atlas could see his own breath plume in the cold air.
{It seems I was late,} the figure intoned. {I told them to hold the meeting until I returned. But they rushed it anyway.}
Atlas’ stance shifted instantly. His golden eyes locked on the newcomer. "Ohhh... Are you some extra demon king we didn’t hear about?" His voice was sharp, mocking, though his muscles coiled in readiness.
Aurora’s expression darkened. Her third eye narrowed, glowing harder. "No," she whispered, almost reverently. "He is one of the Elders. The one I glimpsed through Galiath’s mind. The one I warned you of."
{Indeed,} the Elder said, inclining his hooded head slightly. {I saw you then as well.}
Doom.
Atlas blurred forward in an instant, faster than thunder. His folded hands crashed together, aimed at the robed figure’s skull. The sheer force split the air with a concussive crack.
The Elder did not move.
Atlas halted his blow an inch from the hood, teeth bared. "Tell me one good reason," he snarled, "why I shouldn’t pummel you like I did these cunts." His fist trembled with leashed violence, veins glowing faintly with power.
"Atlas..." Aurora warned, her third eye burning brighter, glyphs across her arms blazing. Her tone carried an uncharacteristic edge of fear. "He’s different."
{{{{{She’s right.}}}}}
The words came from inside Atlas’ skull. The Guide’s voice, layered, vibrating, five-toned. {{{{{Do not strike him. Not yet.}}}}}
Atlas’ hand twitched. His hunger for violence screamed louder than the counsel of gods, yet his instincts hissed caution. His knuckles whitened as he held himself back by a thread.
The Elder’s hood dipped slightly. He chuckled, soft and knowing. {...Arrogant. A mortal walking the path to immortality. A perfect vessel.} His tone was almost amused, almost reverent. {Tell me, Atlas. Is our prophet—our Guide—speaking to you?}
Atlas stiffened. His golden eyes flared with sudden, dangerous shock. "...?"