The boy dropped to his knees and coughed violently, a mouthful of blood spilling from his lips.
For a brief moment, the feeling of victory warmed his battered heart.
He had won.
Somehow, against all reason, against an army of flesh and an eldritch monstrosity that should have been far beyond his strength…
He had survived.
Unfortunately, that feeling of victory was erased almost instantly.
The old man blinked into existence directly in front of him.
No footsteps.
No warning.
One moment, the boy was alone.
The next, that ancient figure stood before him.
The old man laughed.
“Amazing.
A worthy vessel indeed.”
The boy slowly raised his gaze.
For the first time, he truly understood how vulnerable he was.
His body was exhausted.
His wounds burned.
His strength was nearly gone.
If the old man wanted him dead…
The boy would die.
Yet the old man didn’t attack.
Instead, his expression subtly changed.
He seemed to sense something.
His smile faded.
His brow furrowed slightly.
And far beyond them, the red horizon became increasingly unsettling.
The dazzling crimson light in the distance began to writhe.
Something was emerging from within it.
A figure stepped out of the depths of the red radiance.
He wore a long brown robe that concealed most of his body.
His skin was bronze, almost glowing beneath the strange crimson light, and beneath the hood of his robe were a pair of piercing yellow eyes.
The figure stopped.
Then slowly removed his hood.
Long brown hair cascaded down to his lower back.
His face belonged to a handsome young man.
Yet there was something profoundly wrong about him.
Something that made the boy’s instincts scream.
The old man narrowed his eyes.
His voice carried the weight of someone remembering an incident from an impossibly distant past.
“The creatures of the abyss say that… he that lives by the mother shall perish by the mother.”
The young man chuckled.
An eerie red light illuminated his face.
“Would any creature have it in any fancier way?”
His yellow eyes shifted toward the boy.
He looked at him for a moment.
Then nodded.
The boy’s heart sank.
What the hell did that mean?
The old man spoke again.
“He never fights, he says.
He says that he will never give up his authority.”
The young man laughed.
“I won’t.
You are completely right.”
His smile widened.
“Your pathetic attempts to crumble my plan aren’t working.
You should move on.”
His voice remained calm.
Almost cheerful.
“I will succeed in my plan, even if it means going to war with the Motherland.”
The young man tilted his head.
Then smiled.
“It makes no difference what you want, nor what you think of war.
The abyss endures.”
His voice echoed strangely across the second layer.
“The abyss was always here.
Ever-changing… everlasting… and it will always be watching over everything from a distance.”
The red horizon pulsed behind him.
“Before living beings began to grow in number, the abyss waited for everything.
The ultimate barter, awaiting its ultimate specialist.”
His eyes glimmered.
“This was always the natural nature of the abyss.
Its interests are, at once, diversion… mighty authority… and vindication.”
He spread his arms slightly.
“See it!
The abyss—the truest opposite side of creation.
The true side of existence.”
His voice became more solemn.
“The abyss tests one’s will… and the will of another individual within a much larger will.”
The boy could barely understand what he was hearing.
Yet every word seemed to crawl into his mind.
“The abyss is, at last, a corrupted force that drives every living being to do what they wish to do.”
The young man took a deep breath.
Then uttered his final words with absolute conviction.
“The abyss is our mother!”
Silence.
The old man remained completely unfazed.
“You’re really pathetic.”
The young man sighed.
Without another word, he summoned a bronze book.
Its cover was etched with incomprehensible words and complicated symbols that seemed to shift whenever the boy tried to focus on them.
A black quill appeared between the young man’s fingers.
He began writing.
For a time, absolute silence reigned over the second layer of the abyss.
The scratching of the quill against the pages was the only sound.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Then the quill stopped.
The young man looked directly at the boy.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
Then he continued writing.
Mysteriously.
Without explanation.
Nearby, the old man spat black blood onto the pitch-black marble floor.
The young man didn’t even look at him.
He simply continued writing.
Eventually, he folded the bronze book shut.
He calmly placed it beside himself.
The book and black quill immediately began floating away, drifting aimlessly into the crimson light of the horizon until they disappeared within it.
The young man pressed his hands together.
Slowly, he dragged them down his beautiful bronze face.
Then he lowered both hands and placed his palms against his chest.
His expression became solemn.
“If you truly feel that way, then…”
He paused.
“Whoever in creation or in the abyss disobeys the Mother and threatens her… any violence directed at the Mother shall cease to exist under my wrath.”
The boy stared blankly.
He understood almost nothing.
Who was this mysterious young man?
Why had the old man finally shown emotion toward him?
And what exactly was the Mother?
Countless questions crowded his mind.
But the boy was exhausted.
Even thinking felt like it was draining the last scraps of energy from his body.
The old man suddenly chuckled.
“Then I’ll give you a punishment.”
The young man looked toward him.
“Are you going to kill me?”
The old man’s response was perfectly even.
“Oh no.”
He smiled.
“That would be boring.”
His smile widened.
“I’ll give you something that you always hate.”
The old man’s voice became almost affectionate.
“An eternal, agonizing melody.”
The young man’s expression didn’t change.
The old man continued.
“It’s not death.
It’s not anything so simple.”
His eyes glimmered with something twisted.
“A real punishment comes from love.”
The boy’s breathing slowed.
“The first person the Mother has killed… she loves them.”
The old man laughed dryly.
“Even if I had no faith in the Mother… even if I were overwhelmed by the emotions of our siblings… I should still want to succeed in my grand plan.”
The old man turned toward the boy.
The boy was still shaking.
Pure fear had swallowed him whole.
Despair had settled into his bones.
The old man didn’t even bother worrying about him escaping.
The boy could barely move.
Then the old man looked back toward the young man, who remained bathed in the crimson light of the horizon.
“The Mother…”
His voice became strangely distant.
“I idolized her.”
For the first time, something resembling genuine emotion entered his voice.
“I was truly determined to measure my grand successes against hers.”
The old man continued.
“First, I gave away my soul and mind, and fell from divinity in that battle.”
His expression twisted.
“I wanted to demonstrate and prove a point—that I was better than every one of you miserable, wretched bastards.”
He laughed quietly.
“Next, I departed from reality itself to retrace and gaze upon the actions of different species.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I compared them to my own.”
He spread his arms.
“I wanted to match her accomplishments.”
His voice echoed throughout the abyss.
“Bringing illumination to a broken world.”
The young man smiled mischievously.
“Oh, you see, dear one…”
His yellow eyes gleamed.
“I don’t mind these ambitions.”
He chuckled.
“You may hate me.
You may call me names.
Call me whatever you want.”
His smile widened.
“But I honestly think you might do much, much better to have slightly more faith in the Mother.”
The old man suddenly laughed.
Not happily.
Not normally.
He laughed like a man whose mind had finally cracked beneath the weight of centuries.
“Calling you names?!”
His laughter continued.
“I apply those things to myself!”
The old man’s eyes widened.
“You are me!”
The words echoed across the marble.
“You say things that have already tortured my mind for centuries!”
His voice rose.
“You stop all my mischievous plans and ideas!”
He pointed toward the young man.
“You are pathetic and worthless!”
His expression contorted with hatred.
“You are a horrible stain!”
His voice shook with rage.
“I cannot tolerate you anymore!”
The young man merely chuckled.
“Alright, then.”
He smiled.
“Let us all see if you truly can’t tolerate me after this.”