The Twelve Apocalypses: A Damned Soul's Path to the Abyss

I jerked awake the next day to the burning of my brand. This was not a new experience. But when I rushed out of my tent, I was briefly taken aback by the fact that it wasn’t even dawn yet. This was new. For all his faults, Mercutio typically gave us the whole night to rest.

Such a departure from the norm did not bode well for the rest of the day.

When I arrived at our gathering point by the turtle, he was, for once, already waiting. The pain in my brand petered off immediately.

Somehow, that set me further on edge.

When all were assembled, he spoke a single word of command.

"Follow."

Then his turtle rumbled ahead of our procession.

Its pace was brutal. Even with an entire house on its back, the lumbering beast was now moving at speeds I could only match by engaging my body strengthening technique. The faces of the other recruits were grim. Had I not shared the technique with them as part of our oath, they would definitely be lagging behind the demon’s transport. Even now, with the advantages that a strengthened body offered, many were barely keeping up.

The one saving grace for this torturous speed was that we would reach our destination soon.

We were headed for a ringed fortress situation on a steep hill. It was so far away that only my enhanced eyesight allowed me to spot it. This meant that it wasn’t yet a discernible blur for the rest of my fellows.

Even from this distance, the fortress was impressive. My admiration only grew as our blazing pace ate up the distance, allowing me to pick out more details. The technology required to build such a thing must have relied heavily on mana. The walls were anchored directly into the cliffs, perfectly surrounding a chasm in the mountainside.

But the construction around this hole in the world’s crust wasn’t the main attraction.

What was gushing out of the hole was far more magnificent.

An endless tidal wave of mana poured continuously out of the opening. While a decent bit of it washed down the mountain and enriched the surrounding area, most of it was trapped by the half-transparent dome that stretched over the entire fortress. It wasn’t like the spatial barriers I was familiar with. Instead of a kaleidoscope of colors, this barrier had a baby blue tint to it, much like the color of mana itself.

That explained why this place had survived when the invasion force took down the inner kingdom’s barrier. The fortress wasn’t a part of the barrier network at all.

Mercutio’s turtle had just reached the foot of the mountain and taken one solid step onto it when a voice rang out above us.

"Halt, intruders!"

The strength of the voice belied the age of its owner. The elderly man leaned heavily on a gnarled staff that looked to be made of an enormous tree root. He was wrapped in a robe so black, it almost consumed the light around him.

"Who are you, to demand I stop?" came Mercutio’s taunting voice. He stepped forth, looking scornfully up at the elder. "A mage of middling power would bar my entry to this mana spring? How, pray tell, are you planning to do that?"

For a moment, the old man did nothing but stare at the demon. Then his laughter echoed down the mountain. I noted nervously that a few rocks clattered down to us as a result.

"True," the mage declared. "There is little I can do to stop you, if you set your mind on taking this place. Little I can do, indeed. Did you know we were ordered to retreat? We have one of the few remaining transportation matrixes that survived the fall of our kingdom’s new barrier. Much good that atrocity did us. I declined to follow the rest, of course."

"Then you are a fool. Your barrier is impressive in strength, but it is a work with no finesse to it at all. I won’t even need an hour to crack it."

Mercutio’s tone was mocking, but an admission that a demon would have to work that long at all was, in a way, a compliment.

To my surprise, the old man merely smiled down at the demon.

"I expected that. Your lot ruined her work, after all. We should never have unleashed that mad woman. Now, it is far too late." The old man paused and turned, looking at the majesty of the mana spring behind him. "Tell me, demon, what do you think of this place? What do you make of the mana spring that has sustained our kingdom’s advancement for several millennia?"

"I think it’s rather puny, mortal. I came here hoping for… more. No matter. I doubt I can find much of worth on such a weak world anyway, but I might as well check once you are dead."

"Ah, that… I apologize, but I don’t think I can let you do that," the old mage answered, his voice surprisingly cheerful as he turned back towards Mercutio. "You see, demon, I have always been an enchanter. I have spent countless years laboring to improve my craft for the betterment of my kingdom. Isn’t it fitting, then, that my final act would deny our enemies what few resources I can still withhold?"

For the first time, Mercutio stiffened. "What are you talking about? What have you done?"

The old mage wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes were lost, trained on something far away.

"Yes, yes, this will do nicely. I need no better tomb."

He smiled, lifted his staff with both hands, and let it fall.

At first, nothing happened. Then red mana erupted from the spot where the mage stood.

It wasn’t the red of demonic mana. Rather than the dark, almost sickly crimson that marked the gifts of the Abyss, this was a bright, clean color.

It covered the entire barrier in seconds.

Mercutio roared and threw his arms up, eyes wild, as mana started to flood from his body. It rose up in a giant wave, trying to smother the barrier.

Before it could, however, I caught sight of the mage’s clean red mana turning on the spring itself. The constant flow stuttered, paused, then reversed, as endless mana tried to force its way back beneath the earth. The ground under our feet shuddered, and I stumbled.

I wanted to run. To put all the power I could into my legs and just book it.

Instead, I grabbed Mia’s hand and dragged her closer to the turtle.

Above, cracks were starting to form in the fortress’s barrier. They spread rapidly, flickering and gleaming with that bright red light. I could see them even through the smothering of Mercutio’s mana as the demon desperately wove the torrent of his power into massive runes.

My ears popped. The pressure from the reversed spring was mounting in the air, compounded by the warring mana waves and the dismantling barrier. I pulled Mia along at a staggering run.

We barely made it under the turtle’s bulk before the explosion erupted.

The world itself shook as the might of a weaponized mana spring was turned on us. Bright red, dark red, and blue flames licked their way up from the depths, devastating all in their path.

Mercutio’s mount stumbled, then hunkered down to anchor itself as well as it could. We almost got squished, but Mia and I, along with the recruits who had brains, managed to press ourselves against the turtle’s shell and hold on.

Then the barrier finally gave way, and the noise of the explosion turned from deafening to something beyond sound as the old mage went out in one final blaze of glory.

—

I didn’t feel particularly scared as mana washed over everything in a burning haze. At some point, when you see a sufficiently impressive disaster, the emotion shifts from whatever you’re expected to feel into a kind of numb awe.

The experience reminded me of a video I once saw of a hiker caught in an avalanche. The poor guy managed to hide behind the tallest available rock, and then he watched the force of nature streaming around and above him, sprays of errant snow finding their way onto his clothes and camera.

Except I didn’t have the luxury of just watching the mana swirl around me.

The mystical substance was past the point of hot, well into the range of what wasn’t possible to encounter on the surface of a planet. Every stray spark that reached me burned, and it wasn’t content to stop at that. Instead of attaching themselves to my clothes or hair, the sparks sank into my mana. They fought to take root there, to ignite my own reserves and core until I became a straw man lit up from the inside.

Only my status as a full mage, and the ease with which my demonic mana half consumed the sparks, kept me from combusting.

Mia was whimpering in pain, but a quick glance at her assured me she would be fine. Without even meaning to, I had shoved her between myself and the shell of the turtle, covering her with my body. Only a few stray sparks reached her, and I had to believe she would be able to put those out on her own.

All around us, screams rent the air.

Many of the recruits were nowhere near as lucky or as powerful as the two of us. They were paying the price of Mercutio’s stupidity and the old mage’s spite.

I wasn’t just idly watching them, of course. Maybe it was opportunistic of me, but I was already squinting through blurry eyes in an attempt to identify as many ash piles as I could. Within them, I easily caught the glint of souls, unmarked by the passage of the inferno.

I smiled grimly.

Mercutio might not have let us openly loot the remains of other recruits, but I could definitely still snatch a few souls. Maybe even enough to spend on something good.

It felt like the eruption of mana continued forever. In reality, it couldn’t have taken more than five minutes for the mana spring to vent its fury. The gushing tide eventually stemmed, then petered out.

Not being a complete idiot, I carefully waited another minute or two for any last sparks to fade. Then, finally, I lifted my head past the turtle’s protection.

I was greeted by a significantly altered landscape.

The mana’s initial impact was a destructive thing, borne of uncontrolled interactions among the old mage’s runes, the mana spring’s changes, and the barrier. But mana was, at its core, a nourishing force. It naturally sought to alter and enhance its environment, as evidenced by the mostly benevolent mutations of demonic mortals living in mana-rich worlds. As such, a surge of mana as powerful as this one was bound to leave a mark.

And the mark was everywhere.

Every element of my surroundings, from the rocks to the plants to the air, now glistened with bright colors. The ground had been so heavily infused with mana that it constantly gave off a low level of heat. The crimson rocks sparkled and twinkled most enchantingly.

It was the plant life that really caught my eye. Before, the area had been scraggly when it came to flora. Nothing but grass, a couple of trees, and some mountain flowers. Most of this had burned away instantly in the mana explosion. But a few rare gems survived, fundamentally and permanently changed.

An odd, violet-colored patch of grass shone to my left. Its blades were waving despite the absence of wind. A tree stood three times taller than before, with leaves that were a vivid scarlet and a trunk that was the purest ebony I had ever seen. A flower cradled an orb of flame delicately within its crown of rainbow-like petals. Its stalk and leaves were nearly transparent, giving the appearance of a will-o’-wisp hovering low to the ground.

Those were just the most blatant examples. Every plant that had survived was now a magical wonder. I couldn’t help but lament the fact that the old mage’s final actions made the area even more irresistible… to anyone except demonic invaders. As it was, these mana-altered elements would likely be of interest to crafters, but I didn’t think demons would categorize them as highly valuable.

The biggest change was in the mana spring itself.

Whereas before, the flow was pure blue and solely nourishing, it now gushed with the mage’s bright red mana. I wasn’t sure how he had managed to infect the very source of the spring with his alterations, but it was unlikely that any regular mortal mages would be able to practice around here anymore.

Maybe he had done it thinking the same would apply to demons. Perhaps he believed only flame element users would be able to benefit from the spring, limiting the use of it severely.

Point of fact was, demons didn’t care. For them, mana was mana. And this world was so weak, even this torrential spring would be practically worthless in their eyes anyway.

While I reflected, I didn’t allow myself to linger. I had already pulled a dazed Mia to her feet, shoving the closest soul I could find into her hands. That got her attention. Her eyes cleared, and she shot me a startled look.

I quickly shushed her. Then, gesturing at the dazed or unconscious survivors around us, I silently urged her to get a move on.

She caught my message. Some of the others began to stir, but we still had a solid ten minutes of looting before a roar of rage shook the very air.

I chanced a look up at the turtle just in time to see a spell being hurled at the mountain.