Chapter 455: Hollow vein XIX
The beast bucked hard as the scythe ripped its wound wider, but Asher held his ground. Black ichor burst out in heavy streams, raining down into the endless dark. The creature’s screams shook the pit, rolling across every mouth that opened in its flesh.
More chains lashed out, swarming him from every side. One caught his shoulder, another wrapped tight around his waist. They tried to drag him down faster, to bind him to the monster’s fall. Asher snarled under his breath and cut them apart, each swing of the scythe sharp and quick. Sparks and black fragments scattered through the air like shattered glass.
The deeper they fell, the stranger the pit became. The walls around them were no longer stone but shaped like ribs, black and huge, curved inward like the inside of some vast skeleton. They pulsed faintly, alive, and the chains ran through them as though they were veins.
Below, something darker waited. The chains that bound the beast stretched down toward a black seal far under them, glowing faintly with red marks. It wasn’t the bottom—it was a lock. And whatever it held was still alive.
The beast saw it too. Its many eyes rolled toward the seal, and its mouths bellowed as one:
"VESSEL... BRING US HOME!"
Asher’s grip on the scythe tightened. Bloodlight poured off him in waves, brighter than before, cutting the dark apart. His voice came out calm, steady.
"No. I’m not here to feed your chains."
The beast lunged at him mid-fall, jaws wide, claws reaching. Asher moved first. He dashed along one of the chains pulling the monster downward, cloak flaring behind him. His scythe came up, then down in one brutal swing.
The blade split through the beast’s arm, tearing it clean off at the shoulder. The limb spun away into the void, chains wrapping it and pulling it down toward the seal. The monster screamed, shaking so hard the pit itself groaned.
Still, more chains surged upward from the seal below, trying to grab him, to hold him, to pull him into its heart along with the beast.
Asher planted his feet against a falling rib of black stone, steadied himself, and raised his scythe again.
"Then I’ll cut the root itself."
He leapt straight down toward the seal, scythe glowing bright red, chains rushing up to meet him.
The chains swarmed upward in a storm, hundreds of them snapping like whips, barbed hooks aiming for his arms, his throat, his legs. They moved with purpose, not like simple bindings anymore, but like hunters defending their nest. Each one carried the weight of the abyss behind it.
Asher didn’t flinch. He twisted midair, his cloak trailing fire-red arcs, and cut through the first wave. The scythe spun in his grip, each stroke clean and precise, severing chains into fragments that dissolved before they could hit the seal. Every swing left bloodlight carved into the darkness, as though he was painting lines of red across the void itself.
The beast wasn’t done. Even while the chains pulled it downward, it lunged again, its ruined chest heaving open wider. From the gash, new mouths split the flesh, jagged and wet, screaming his name in voices that weren’t its own. "ASHER—VESSEL—ROOT—" The sound wasn’t just noise. It pressed on his bones, trying to slow his movements, trying to make his blood answer.
He roared back, forcing his will into the scythe. The blade flared hotter, brighter, until the entire abyss seemed to shrink around its edge. He slashed once, a diagonal arc that cut through the monster’s outstretched claws, then stepped off another falling rib and dove past its bulk.
The seal was close now. He could see it clearly—massive, round, its surface black glass laced with glowing red runes. Each symbol pulsed like a heartbeat, and every pulse pulled more chains from the abyss. They weren’t attacking randomly anymore. They were circling, weaving together into a net meant to catch him before he reached the seal.
Asher drew in a long breath. His voice came out low, certain.
"If this is the heart... then I’ll tear it open."
He spun the scythe once, gathering every drop of bloodlight it held, then dropped straight into the forming net. The chains converged all at once, hundreds slamming inward to crush him between them.
The abyss flashed red.
The scythe howled, a brutal swing tearing outward in a perfect circle. Chains snapped in every direction, their fragments shrieking as they fell toward the seal. The net broke apart, leaving only Asher’s falling figure blazing red in the dark.
The seal pulsed harder in response, runes burning so bright they seared against his eyes. Cracks raced across its surface, as if the presence of his power was waking whatever it had been holding back.
The beast above bellowed, chains dragging it faster toward the same lock. Its broken body twisted as though trying to wrap around him, to fall with him into the seal.
Asher leveled his scythe at the glowing surface. His eyes narrowed. His stance never wavered, even as the abyss itself roared.
"Then let’s see what’s chained at the bottom."
And he struck, scythe first, straight into the seal.
The scythe slammed into the seal like thunder splitting a mountain.
Red light exploded outward in jagged cracks, the runes shattering one by one as if screaming. The surface of the black glass buckled, fractured, then burst apart in a storm of shards. Each fragment fell into the void like burning embers, vanishing into nothing.
For a moment, the abyss went silent. The chains froze midair, quivering as though afraid. Even the beast’s screams stopped, its many mouths open but voiceless, its body held rigid by the pull of the pit.
Then the seal broke fully.
From the shattered core, darkness unlike anything before spilled out—not the formless void of the pit, but a dense, living black, heavy with hunger. It rolled upward in waves, pushing Asher back with sheer force. The chains snapped free of their order, writhing wildly as if they no longer knew what to serve.
And inside that rising dark... something moved.
A massive hand, skeletal but wrapped in stretched muscle, clawed its way out. Each finger was bound with links of broken chain, dripping black ichor that hissed when it touched the air. Another hand followed, then a ribcage, splitting upward as if the abyss itself were birthing it.
The monster Asher had fought shrieked—not in rage, but in terror. Its voices broke into wails as its chains pulled it tighter, dragging it directly into the thing clawing out of the seal. It struggled, but every link betrayed it, hauling it like an offering to its master.
The figure rose higher, its form half-hidden by the storm of black energy. Dozens of eyes opened along its chest and arms, glaring outward with ancient fury. Its voice boomed across the pit, layered and infinite, shaking every stone rib around them:
"AFTER AGES BOUND... THE ROOT FEEDS AGAIN."