Chapter 756 - 757: A Hope For The Future

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Chapter 756: Chapter 757: A Hope For The Future The next trial was truth. Damon was counting on Lazarak to pass this one. After a handful of preparations, they set off. Lazarak remained in the form of a toddler, puffing himself up and acting pretentious in a desperate attempt to save face. Ghost came next, his body possessed by Damon’s astral form. For protection, Damon kept Matia close. She was far stronger than Ghost, and frankly he needed her beside him far more than he needed her guarding his true body in the deeper level. They climbed the familiar stairs and reached the floor with the murmur worms. Lazarak walked with soft, short steps, his tiny legs carrying him to the edge of the worm-infested chasm. The darkness below pulsed faintly. Damon folded his arms, curious about how Lazarak intended to cross. He remembered almost becoming worm food here. Luckily for him, he was not someone who died easily. Lazarak put on a thoughtful expression, as if he were completely in control. Darkness swelled around him. Minutes passed. Then Lazarak turned to Damon with a frown. "Well what are you waiting for? Do not dilly dally." Damon squinted. "Huh? What, me? What about you? You stood there aura farming for twelve whole minutes. I thought you had a plan." Lazarak scoffed, his baby face puffing aggressively. "This wretch. Can you not see I am an infant? Besides, I am conserving power for when I clear the fourth door. It is called planning." Damon felt his jaw tighten. The urge to pick Lazarak up and toss him straight into the chasm almost possessed him. Before he could act on the intrusive thought, Matia stepped forward. She raised her hand. A cold chill spread from her fingers and rolled down her arm. Ice crept outward from her feet, growing in crystalline branches that stretched across the chasm. The frost thickened, hardened, and formed a solid bridge of gleaming ice. She glanced over her shoulder at them, eyes glowing faintly behind the visor. Damon looked at Lazarak who immediately cleared his throat. "Of course this is as I planned. Ahem. Ahem. I must allow others an opportunity to shine." Damon scoffed. Truly deplorable. "Is this how other people feel about me..." Matia did not react to either of them. "I remember years ago when we crossed the Duhu Mountains," she said softly. "You asked me not to fly over the bridge. I did not understand why, but I learned soon enough." She turned slightly toward him. "We could cross safely on a bridge but never by flying over the chasm." Damon nodded slowly and raised his hand. "Actually that was a few months ago, but good thinking. Do not forget to destroy it after we cross." Without a word, she walked onto the bridge. Damon and Lazarak followed, trudging over the slick crystalline surface as cold air rose beneath it. They crossed without incident. Damon had been half expecting something to attack them, but the path remained eerily calm. The darkness of the passage ahead loomed. Unlike before, there was no hostile entity waiting in the shadows. "Keep your wits about you. We are about to enter the Garden of Hunger," Damon warned. They stepped through the archway into the vast, warped garden. Screams, laughter, and countless twisted emotions echoed from the souls trapped there. Matia formed a sword of ice in her hand. A shield followed, blooming from frost like a growing flower. She lifted her chin slightly, observing the grotesque landscape. Flowers made of human organs pulsed gently in the cold air. Grass made of tangled hair and ripped scalps swayed unnaturally. Damon could not see her face, but she seemed unmoved. "What do you think of these flowers?" he asked. When he first arrived, the old woman here had asked him the same question. Matia rarely spoke unless necessary, but as his shadow she never ignored him. "It smells like after a battle," she murmured. "Everyone is dead or too injured to bury the bodies. The air turns sickening... wounds rot... plagues spread... and death follows." Her voice was soft, almost distant, as if recalling something she had truly witnessed. Damon wondered if she had lived through a place like that. He opened his mouth to ask, but she tilted her head first. "In the darkness of Lysithara’s depths, before my corruption, I fell into a world like that. An illusion." Damon bit his lip. "How did you break free?" Matia stared into the abyss beneath their feet, gripping her sword. "I do not remember. Only that I did." "Sorry," he muttered, lowering his head. Lazarak glanced at her then asked. "This Lysithara place sounds horrible. My goodness, I had no idea such a vile place existed. Which continent would that be on?" Lazarak looked horrified, his tiny body stiff. Damon snorted. "It is a ruined city in Soltheon. Though you have never heard of it, since it does not exist yet." He glanced at the god, who looked very much like an offended toddler. "And you will most likely never see it." Lazarak winced and stuck out his tongue. "Just because I called you ugly does not mean you should curse me. I have lived thousands of years. I will probably live forever." Damon rolled his eyes and kept walking. "Lysithara will become the greatest city in Aetherus. Home to all who seek knowledge. Legend says all who wish to become kings and heroes must first overcome Lysithara." Lazarak listened with interest, tiny hands clasped behind his back. "This was because of its learning structure," Damon continued. "It taught anyone willing to learn, and many who studied there became heroes and kings. Legends in their own right." He imagined Lysithara in its prime. He had never seen it with his own eyes. Only its broken, monster infested ruins. A home for abominations. "It will have tall spires that reach the sky. Beautiful paved roads. Delicious food. Legendary knights and mages. Its rulers will be wise, and its technology revolutionary. This is the path of kings." Lazarak smiled, clearly enchanted by the vision. "A lot has changed since I was imprisoned here. The path of kings... I would love to see it one day." Damon’s smile softened as he thought of Valarie Sunwarden. In this era she probably hadn’t even been born yet. "Me too."

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