Renai's boots clanked against the dark, cold floor of his commander's palace, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent halls. He was battered and weary, bearing the marks of battle on his very soul. A few days of rest were what he desired, but duty called. He had to report how the mission went to his commander first.
Renai took several winding turns as he ascended the seemingly endless hallways, passing a succession of guards and workers. The workers bowed their heads in deference, scurrying to their tasks with a nervous energy, while the guards stood like silent, unmoving sentinels, their faces grim, pretending to guard the way.
It's funny, really, Renai mused, a wry smile playing on his lips. The individual they're supposedly guarding is vastly stronger than all of them combined. They wouldn't even register as a threat.
Still, protocol was protocol, and even in this realm of immense power and ancient evils, certain rules had to be observed. The rigid structure of the Gahenna faction demanded it.
The guards eyed Renai warily as his boots echoed against the cold granite floor. The commander valued silence above all else, and Renai knew they must have witnessed his terrifying rages. Perhaps some of them had even seen him silence a few guards who hadn't been quick enough to muffle their coughs or whispers. It was a grim reminder of the brutal efficiency that governed their existence.
But he needed not worry, he was the commander's favorite, or at least, as much as someone like Velkrath could have a favorite. It was likely due to their shared connection to primal forces, Renai wielded anger, a volatile and immediate emotion, while the commander embodied wrath, a cold, calculating, and far more destructive force,
wrath.
He was Velkrath, one of the seven Overlords that headed the Gahenna faction, a being of immense power and influence, second only to the Sovereign himself.
The palace was silent, built in dark stone and lit with green candles. Renai wondered how old the palace was and who it was made by. The halls were empty except for the people that worked within.
Renai's thoughts were cut short as he finally reached a dead end, or what appeared to be one at first glance. A circular puddle of darkness, unnaturally still and undisturbed, carpeted the floor a few steps ahead. It was almost as if the darkness itself had coalesced into a physical form.
"It's me, Renai," he said, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. He had made this journey countless times, yet the process never ceased to irritate him.
The puddle rippled, the smooth surface distorting as if something vast was stirring beneath. Slowly, the puddle expanded, growing larger until it formed a murky pool, its dark surface reflecting the faint green light of the candles in a distorted, unsettling manner. Tendrils of darkness reached out, flowing toward Renai, only to evaporate in a hiss of steam as they came into contact with the heat radiating from his body.
A head emerged from the pool. Slowly and laboriously, a figure crawled out, dripping with viscous, black fluid. Renai stared at the scrawny, frail figure as it shuffled slowly toward him, his gaze filled with barely concealed contempt.
He had never liked this old man. It was a visceral, irrational aversion, and he suspected it had something to do with the fundamental disparity in their concepts. The old man seemed to be a person that had lost will in the world, and Renai hated it. The old man's very presence seemed to sully Renai's essence, like a drop of poison contaminating a pure spring.
The frail old man reached out a trembling hand and touched Renai, his gnarled fingers brushing against his arm. As he made contact, Renai felt a subtle shift occurring within him, as if his very being was becoming somewhat intangible, less anchored to the physical world. It was a disorienting sensation, and he instinctively recoiled. The frail elderly one finally spoke, his voice barely audible.
"Renai… as stalwart as ever."
Renai regarded his words with a shrug, dismissing them as empty platitudes. He stepped over the pool, ignoring the residue of darkness that clung to his boots, and strode toward the dead-end wall. As he passed through, the temperature spiked, a sudden and brutal wave of heat that made him almost gasp.
Even though he was incredibly resistant to fire and heat, he still felt a touch of discomfort, the sudden increase sending a jolt of adrenaline through his system.
Black flames clouded and licked at the walls of the hidden chamber, the flickering light casting grotesque shadows that danced and writhed like tormented spirits. The inferno demarcated the chamber into two distinct halves, dividing it down the middle with an impassable wall of heat and shadow. Renai was never sure if the two halves were equal in size, he had never seen the other side. He didn't even know what it looked like, but one day he would see what it was
Renai breathed in the essence of the "ghost flames," as he liked to call them, feeling their power seep into his lungs. Unlike his own flames, which were born of fury and rage, these were different. More corrupted, more vile, and vastly more dreadful. He could almost feel the sinister energy seeping into his bones, riling up his spirit. He had no feelings for what this was, but he knew it felt good.
Suddenly, a voice sounded from beyond the veil of flames, calm, steady, and ancient, yet imbued with an unmistakable undercurrent of immense power. It was a voice that commanded respect, not through force, but through the sheer weight of its presence.
"Renai… Renai, your spirit is down and your soul is bruised… you failed."
Renai was one of the top three tiers of power in the entire faction. Given that the most powerful leader, the Sovereign of Gahenna, was… unavailable at the moment, he was effectively one of the number two. Under normal circumstances, every lower member of the faction would bow at his approach, save for those who worked directly for one of the seven Overlords, like the guards and workers he had passed minutes prior. But even they still regarded him with utmost respect, a deference born of fear and awe.
Despite all of this, at the sound of his commander's voice, Renai fell to one knee, his head bowed in a show of submission. He was obligated to give that much respect in the presence of Velkrath. His commander was an old and powerful being, and respect must be given.
"I'm sorry, Commander," Renai said, his voice subdued. Still on his knee, he bowed his head further, facing the charred concrete floor as if it held the key to his absolution.
The voice was unwavering, his judgement clear "You should be."
"So, I'm assuming the kid is still alive, then?" Velkrath continued "What is the situation"
"Yes, Commander. Persia, one of their captains, intervened, the convert was not the only one there"
Renai paused. Seeing that the commander didn't utter a sound, he took it as a cue to continue, carefully choosing his next words to convey the scope of his failure.
He told me that Ichl was dead, killed by Auror, and that I should let the Convert be, or I'd be going against him. He also tried to dissuade me by saying going against him was going to start the revolution." Renai paused, the words laced with bitterness.
"He was stronger than I thought."
The commander remained silent for what felt like an eternity. Renai knelt, fighting the urge to tremble. No matter how hard he tried to project nonchalance, his commander was a terrifying figure, and Renai's respect was born of fear.
He tried to reassure himself that the commander was merely a rank above him, but he knew their power was on vastly different levels. It seemed the higher one climbed, the greater the chasm between each rank.
Finally, the commander spoke, his voice a low rumble, "That bastard in gold is an unpredictable menace. He could have used the kid as a distraction, but regardless, Ichl was a good friend. I'll take up the case personally from here."
Renai sighed, a wave of relief washing over him.
But the commander wasn't finished. "One more thing, Renai. Can you remind me of the instructions I gave you before you left?"
Renai's stomach plummeted. He gritted his teeth, knowing what was coming. When the commander asked questions he already knew the answers to, someone was in trouble, and this time, it was him.