Athar quickly scurried up to his master, but kept an eye out for any more of those invisible bastards. As the cages began to descend in a spiral, he couldn’t help but notice that the size of the cages only seemed to grow the further they descended. Most of these he had only heard of in legends or stories from merchants on the street, but seeing them in person filled him with both awe and fear.

Reaching the final cage, he strained his neck to look up at the creature within. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the Masked One said. “Very much so, my lord, but what is it?” Athar asked, entirely unable to recognize the creature. It stood about sixty meters tall, with pale, white fur and a horn on its forehead.

It looks like an unholy cross between a unicorn and an ogre, but more threatening, he thought.

“It’s known as a Royal Ochelon. There are very few of its kind remaining in this Realm, but I found this one meandering a little far from its den,” his master replied simply. “It was injured when I found it; likely a territorial dispute, but I never confirmed it,” he gestured to a large scar spanning across its muscular abdomen.

“You may be wondering why I’ve brought you here to see the horde beneath this place,” he continued, glancing over toward his servant. Athar could only nod his head. “I’ve come to show you what true power really looks like,” he said.

“My lord, this is an incredible beast, to be sure, though why you keep them in cages is beyond me,” the young man began. “I have always assumed, being as powerful as you are, that you could control them, regardless of whether they’re in a cage,” he concluded.

“I can. Although the expenditure of mana is quite high. I’d rather keep them where I won’t have to use it perpetually until I find another way of controlling them,” the Masked One explained. “But that’s beside the point,” he began, shaking his head.

“I’ve also brought you here to see how well you would handle yourself amidst such creatures. Showing any signs of weakness is probably the quickest way to being eaten by them,” he said, making Athar swallow dryly.

“It seems as though you are comfortable enough around them. However, your lack of experience is… telling,” the Masked One said. “I’ve had my fair share of experiences with beasts, although I should mention that an addia was not on that list, my lord,” Athar explained.

“Ah. Well, you won’t make the same mistake twice, will you?” the mage asked ironically. “Of course not, my lord,” Athar shook his head quickly. “Good. That is the very least I expect from a bastard like you,” his master said with disgust.

I wish I knew why he calls me that, Athar frowned slightly.

“My lord,” he began after a short break in their conversation. “What is it?” his master asked. “I’m assuming you have some sort of plan to disrupt the destruction of the portals,” Athar said matter-of-factly. “I do. However, there is one final thing I need to be sure of before I show you what that will be,” he said and turned to stare his idiot slave in the eyes as he put a hand on his sternum.

“Stay still; I don’t need you to do anything other than that,” the Masked One said, as Athar gazed down at whatever it was his master was doing. Mana began to flare beneath his rib cage as his master’s eyes flared, giving him a sense of unease he’d never felt before.

Ugh, it’s like he’s digging into my soul, Athar strained against the pressure.

His thoughts began to race, though it was not by his command, but the work of his master. Worrying that he might have suppressed a memory his master wouldn’t like, he tried to follow his own thoughts, going over every memory, every emotion, every heartbreaking moment.

The mana sank deeper, digging into parts of himself that not even he knew he had, but before he could piece together what was happening, his master withdrew his hand and the mana along with it. “H-how?” he asked shakily, observing the swirling sphere of violet mana in his master’s grip.

The young man’s palms began to sweat, and with his knees buckling at the sheer pressure of having his soul dug into, he strained to stay on his feet. The mage glared at the sphere momentarily, as if confirming something unspoken. He looked at his servant and smiled wickedly beneath his mask.

So he was right, he thought, shifting his gaze back to his servant momentarily.

“I hope you’re ready for what I’m about to show you, Athar. Your cooperation just now will be one of the keys to our success,” the Masked One said cryptically, condensing the small sphere of mana into the palm of his hand.

That’s the first time he’s called me by my name. Then again, I don’t think he ever asked for it. Did he only find out after digging through my soul? Athar considered with widened eyes.

“What do you want to show me, my lord?” he asked with an air of caution, still shaking from the spell. The Masked One didn’t reply, but proceeded to undo the ward on the towering ochelon’s cage. Just as the ward was dispelled, a rune made of mana appeared on the creature's head to control it.

“Follow me,” the Masked One commanded. The creature exited the cage in a zombie-like state. “That means you too, Athar,” he continued.

I should be astonished at his abilities, but after having felt him dig through my soul, I can only imagine what this creature is going through, he thought.

Just behind the cage was a door that led to an incredibly octagonal ring with runes inscribed along its circumference. Through the slits of his mask, his eyes glowed an even deeper violet, as the tendrils that once flowed from them were drawn into his eyes as he reached into the Underworld.

Though its use was not as widespread as that of the Ethereal realm, it still held its own power. A dark and devastating power, one granted to him from the Undergod, Volzuk.

He looked about him and saw the exact inverse of the Ethereal’s spiral above him. The streaks of power were dark and nearly lifeless, except for occasional bolts of violet lightning that sewed their way through.

They moved about in a monochromatic dance, one streak weaving into the other, all heading towards an otherwise lifeless orb in the middle of the sky far above him. Dead trees riddled the ashen ground beneath his feet, making it feel like the very life had been drained from the Realm.

Dried bones of countless creatures lay intermittently between the fallen logs, while oozy smells stung his nostrils. With every step taken, the ashen dust engulfed his feet and ankles, while a river of murky water and blood was filled with dismembered remains.

It was a wonder anything could survive there at all.

Looking at the lifeless orb far above him, he reached his hand out to call the mana down. It voraciously followed his command, swarming and engulfing him much faster than mana from the Ethereal. In accordance with his will, he returned his consciousness to the Between and pushed the mana into his mask just like before.

This time, however, his mask began to glow and produce a claw of pure, scarlet mana, which surprised Athar.

This is different than his usual spells, I know that much for sure; but what the fuck is that? It must be the mask’s power, he gathered, hoping he was right as the claw reared behind the mage like a viper ready to strike its prey. 

“What do you plan to do with that, my lord?” he asked nervously. “This,” the Masked one said, grinning beneath his mask. The claw rapidly lurched forward and buried itself in the royal ochelon’s chest, but the creature didn’t react. After a few seconds of astonishment, Athar felt a surge of mana and noticed the blood that had spilled onto the floor moving into the air where it became stationary.

Just then, a mist of mana began to seep from the creature’s body, eventually bursting it into chunks of meat. The blood, sinew, and entrails were flung around the room by the explosion, as well as Athar’s face and clothes.

He let out a yell of disgust and vomited his breakfast from earlier that morning. “What the actual fuck?” he asked, desperate for an answer other than just for fun. “Stop being so weak and look,” the Masked One said, visibly disturbed by his servant’s attitude. He was also covered in entrails and blood, but he had to maintain his focus on the task at hand.

Athar looked over at the claw that had impaled the beast and noticed a glowing, red orb in its grasp. “What… is that?” he asked, astounded at the sight before him. “This is a core,” the Masked One said. “A core?” Athar asked incredulously.

“Yes, though it is more commonly referred to as a soul. You see, the core and the body are not one and the same. It is made of pure mana, while our bodies are not. It can be altered, broken, repaired, or even transformed into something else entirely,” the Masked One explained.

Is that sadness or regret in his voice? Athar thought as he listened intently.