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

I could have shouted for some of the other recruits to join us if I wanted to speed things along.

I didn’t.

Mia and I were doing quite well on our own. Flitting from one pile of valuables to another, we shoved everything into the dimensional bag. Mercutio had assured us that the innocuous-looking object would be able to contain the full contents of the vault and would also protect said contents from any harm.

By all accounts, it was a remarkably plain bag. Like something you would stuff potatoes into without a second thought. Yet, for all its shabby appearance, I now knew it was one of the few essential items no demon would be caught dead without.

I had checked the price in the small market that popped up inside the army camp. One of these bad boys cost upwards of six hundred souls, and that was for the most basic model. While ours looked shabby, it had an insane storage capacity.

It was yet another subtle way for Mercutio to establish his power and importance. And it was working, damn it.

I bit back a curse as I shoved another clump of magic ore into the disgustingly impressive bag. It was bad enough getting to see and touch all of this wealth without being able to claim any of it for myself. Knowing that it was all going to Mercutio, when he would probably just throw it aside after declaring it of no value to the legion? That stung.

It was while I was mired in these dark thoughts that I caught sight of something on one of the special pedestals.

It was a simple, understated drawstring purse, not unlike my legion-issued soul purse. But the limited catalog of famous enchantments I had inherited from my recently stolen memories told me this was no common bag.

It was a dimensional object, similar to the one I was holding. It was also remarkably valuable. This model allowed the owner to soul-bond to it, much like the grimoire I ’inherited’ from Clarinette.

I was practically salivating at the thought of owning such an item. Obviously, though, I couldn’t just take it.

Or could I?

There were so many artifacts in this room. Mercutio would never notice one item missing without a strict list of the vault’s contents.

A list I was pretty sure he didn’t have.

Now, it was perfectly possible that he could detect the mana signatures of magical items. When we went to turn over our loot, he could pick up on any theft by scanning us for any unusual auras.

However…

Well, the signature of soul-bound items changed to match the owner’s. If I was smart about things and didn’t show off the purse until after we parted ways, Mercutio might never catch on.

It was a stupid impulse, motivated entirely by pure greed and spite. Were I fully in control of myself, I would never have chosen to endanger myself for mere material gain, especially when this ’gain’ couldn’t even be measured in souls and guaranteed, at most, future convenience.

But I couldn’t stop myself.

Reaching out, I gripped the purse and ran my mana through it, just like I had when claiming my sword, soul purse, and grimoire. In a flash, the purse was mine. No amount of regret could undo my choice.

"Hayden? What are you doing?" Mia’s voice was hesitant. When I turned to her, purse in hand, her eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "You can’t just…"

"Shhhh! Think, Mia. Who’s going to know? We’re the only ones here. The rest are guarding us, and this is a soul-bound item. It’s small too. I can keep it close to my skin or in my pack next to my grimoire or something, and he’ll never even detect it. Actually, since it’s a dimensional item, we might be able to take a few things extra, too." I grinned, smug satisfaction curling through my soul.

"You can’t be serious, Hayden," Mia hissed, sounding just like a cat. Still, I could see the temptation in her eyes as they scanned the room.

"Why not?" I whispered. "It’s not like the purse’s mana signature is going to get stronger if we fill it with some of this stuff. Ever wanted a proper enchanted weapon? Or… how about a soul-bound grimoire of your own?"

I gestured at the magical books, smiling a distinctly demonic smile. I knew for a fact she was jealous of my grimoire. And while these were unlikely to come pre-filled with spells and magical lore, grimoires were prized for a reason. Books that could act as true repositories of magical knowledge were relatively rare. To see fourteen of them lying around in the vault was amazing, and too tempting to resist.

Just like I knew she would, Mia relented quickly. It helped when I reminded her that I would be the one smuggling the stuff out. She had nothing to lose if I got caught, especially if she threw me under the bus.

She grumbled a little at that and claimed she would do no such thing. Then we got to picking out our loot in earnest.

I didn’t want or need another weapon, especially since the vault seemed allergic to the daggers and short swords required by my stolen style. The vault did, however, have a whole collection of impressive-looking herbs, some of which I actually recognized from my basic enchantment knowledge. I liberated a good number of those. Then, on a whim, I collected as much magical ore and leather as I could.

By the time we stopped, I could tell from my bond with the purse that it was almost full. Considering that it had easily accepted two tents’ worth of stuff, at least if measured by our small, crappy tents, I was more than happy with our haul.

Sharing a grin, the two of us finished sweeping the vault clean, then clambered up the ladder and out of the vault.

"There you two are. We were getting worried."

The voice, like the death rattle of some metallic beast, made both of us jerk towards its source. Peering down the hallway, I glimpsed the outline of a burned corpse, illuminated by a flicker of flame bursting from its mouth with each breath.

The mutated recruit had come to find us.

"Sorry. There was way more stuff than I expected in there," I explained with a smile, affecting a casual attitude. The dimensional purse felt like it was weighing down my pack by at least a ton from where it was bundled up next to my grimoire.

"No problem. We haven’t had any trouble yet. Come on, let’s get out of here before that changes."

Without another word, the recruit whose name I still didn’t know turned around and started back towards the entrance. We didn’t have any reason to deny him, so we followed at a good clip.

Somehow, the way back seemed to take less time than when we ventured into the belly of the building. Maybe it was just a psychological thing, but it still put me in a relatively good mood.

The rest of the recruits relaxed when they saw us emerge from the inner hallways unharmed. Quickly, they assembled into a protective formation around me and Mia.

We were in possession of the goodies, after all.

A few minutes later, we were all safely out of the building. I allowed myself a tiny moment of relief. For once, it really felt like things would go off without a hitch.

I forgot that Berlis seemed to thrive on my pain and misery.

An explosion rocked the city center. The ground rumbled and shook, making us all fight to keep our footing. Looking up, I caught my breath as one of the biggest towers in the capital listed and then started to collapse onto its side. Its fall tugged on the chain of floating bridges, dislodging several islands. I could only watch in mute horror as the airy structures plummeted from their intended positions in the sky.

A shocking amount of pain and regret stabbed through me. It wasn’t the idea that there might be people hiding out on those islands or in the tower. It was the ruination of such an achingly beautiful city that I couldn’t stand.

I felt like I was witnessing the fall of history. All this knowledge, art, passion, civilization… it had withstood countless years, flourishing through the passage of time, always gaining in value rather than diminishing. And now, in the face of an infernal army, it was all crumbling away.

I had become very familiar with the idea of a ’demonic invasion.’

Now, for the first time, I understood the full meaning of those words.

Viscerally.

Then a scream of pain and rage echoed through the air, and my sorrow for the city was consumed by more important worries.

"Intruders!" screeched the voice, madness bleeding through every word. "You invade our world, you steal our souls, you destroy all that we have built! You will pay! We will have our vengeance!"

Even to someone who was part of a demonic army, the voice felt unnatural. It was like countless voices, young and old, male and female, were layered on top of each other and then forged into a new, abominable whole.

But more alarming than the proclamation itself were its effects.

As soon as the speaker promised retribution, the ground started to shake again. Cobblestones cracked and were shoved aside. The doors of houses threw themselves open, the floors within suffering the same fate as the streets. Filthy fingers grasped for the sky as bodies tore themselves out of the dirt.

Within seconds, we were frantically dodging a multitude of grasping hands as a literal army of the dead exhumed itself.

This wasn’t like what I had seen when the general raised the dead of Fortress City 12. This was something far more primordial, and far more abhorrent.

I could glimpse some scraps of soul-flame wavering in the eyes of the corpses. But whoever raised these people from the dead had drained their souls first, not completely, but almost. I can’t explain how I knew that. There was simply something angry, seething, inside my chest, demanding that I strike down the caster for daring to steal what wasn’t theirs.

At least we didn’t need to wonder where the city’s residents were anymore.

The vast majority of the corpses were fresh, only several days dead if my reckoning was right. They represented the full range of humanity, from healthy-looking adults to a child still gripping a toy in one rotting hand.

The sheer scope of what had been done inside the capital boggled my mind. Before then, if pressed, I would have claimed there wasn’t a single mage among the locals who could carry out something like this. To kill so many, then hide the evidence? The sheer amount of mana and skill required was staggering.

Then again, we were standing in a city based around a mana spring. If there was any place on Berlis where a local could achieve such levels of power, it would be here.

Of course, I wasn’t just staring around and thinking as the dead rose against us.

"What are you doing, you idiots? Are you going to wait for them to pull themselves fully out of the ground?" I demanded, angrily chopping at yet another undead trying to emerge near me.

I hated the sensation of cutting into them.

My sword usually sliced through flesh and bone like they were butter, but I was rudely reminded that this was only because it could transfer soul damage to the body. With no soul inhabiting the cadavers? My relatively dull sword caught on the bones, and even occasionally failed to slice through flesh. It was a mess.

At my reminder, the recruits surged into action. To their credit, Mia and the mutated man were already in the thick of it, slashing, chopping, and doing whatever they could to lower the number of threats shambling out of the ground.

Unfortunately, we were up against the population of an entire city, and the undead were proving to be tougher than they looked. They were also getting tougher by the second. I could see them gulping down the mana of the spring, rapidly gaining in strength, speed, and dexterity.

It wasn’t long before we were nearly overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Several of the recruits were mobbed, dragged down, and torn to pieces.

My eyes frantically scanned the street, finally landing on one of the bigger houses. It would fit all of us, and the front door appeared to be the only means of entry. The few windows on the first floor were small. It wouldn’t be too hard to block them or, in the worst-case scenario, guard them against intrusions.

"There!" I screamed, raising my voice over the sounds of battle, the cries of panicked recruits, and the moans of the dead. Most caught on when I started to cut my way through the crowd. Soon, we were making decent progress towards the house.

Not once did I drop my guard against the other recruits. The bitter lessons I received when I was almost assassinated, and in every battle prior or since, had taught me that much. Even when surrounded by other, seemingly harsher threats, I could never quite bring myself to feel safe around my nominal allies.

That saved my life when Mercutio’s new pet suddenly lunged. His sword ignited with flames, its blade aimed straight for my back.

My form wavered, then melted away entirely as his sword went through it. I materialized a few steps away, my own blade already singing through the air.

His scream was a thing of pure agony as I parted his hand from the rest of his arm, but my eyes lacked any pity or remorse. Instead, they blazed with anger, mixed with pure panic.

Someone under a mana oath had just tried to kill me.

"How?!" I snarled, almost alarmingly indifferent to the warming hordes of undead. This should not have been possible. I should have been safe, even if I could never feel like it.

My only answer was a scream of fury as the man fully erupted into flames. His own armor caught fire like dry kindling until he resembled a firestorm more than a humanoid.

This walking torch looked intent on giving me a hug, and the scores of undead seemed to share his conviction that it would be a swell idea.

I prepared myself to prove them all wrong.