Chapter 59
The Mausoleum of Moonshadow (1)
The First Territory of the Abyss was also known as the Mausoleum of Moonshadow.
It was the burial ground of a forgotten ancient race. Beings who had been cursed by the moon and fallen into corruption lay buried there.
Whenever the full moon approached each month, they began to convulse.
Gazing up at the moon they resented, they would claw madly at their coffins.
The sounds echoed throughout the entire canyon.
Creeeak. Scritch, scratch. Craaack.
Beneath the full moon, the crimson-stained canyon overflowed with all manner of ghostly energy.
The wailing of spirits resounded without end, and chilling cries clung to every ravine.
The fog blanketing the canyon was demonic energy. Yin energy, congealed from resentment and jealousy, billowed up everywhere.
The canyon of death—the very wellspring of hatred and malice—filled their vision.
Mapheltan folded his wings and landed on a large outcropping of rock.
A pitch-black, bottomless abyss stretched beneath his feet. Screams continued to rise from the depths of the ravine.
Raguel trembled as he backed away. The countless shrieks and the malice permeating the air were driving the blind boy into terror.
Mapheltan spoke calmly.
“One more step backward and you’ll be standing over a cliff. Unless you intend to throw yourself into the Abyss, stay where you are.”
Raguel immediately froze. He would rather die than fall down there.
He murmured in a tense voice.
“So… this is the Abyss.”
Although his blindness kept him from seeing it, every other one of his senses was trembling in fear.
Had he come here alone, the terror would surely have driven him mad.
Zalkarin, on the other hand, was brimming with delight.
“I sense evil beyond all measure! From where could such profound hatred and resentment possibly originate? O Great End! The essence of the Abyss is seeping into the body of this wicked servant!”
To a demon, the Abyss was no different from paradise.
Simply breathing here was enough to make a lowly imp grow stronger.
Mapheltan spoke.
“What are you two talking about? We haven’t even set foot on the threshold of the Abyss yet.”
Only then did Zalkarin and Raguel wear the same expression.
Both looked baffled.
“O Great End, if that is so, then what is this wicked place?”
“The Canyon of Death. It’s a passage connected to the Abyss.”
It was commonly known as the Canyon of Death. Early in the original story, this was where Gaf had nearly abandoned Johan.
Raguel flinched.
“It’s already like this… and we haven’t even reached the Abyss?”
Even the path leading to the Abyss consisted of an environment far too harsh for humans.
Mapheltan spoke in a composed tone.
“If you want to turn back, this is your last chance. The moment we enter the Abyss, we won’t be able to leave for two weeks. If you want to give up, say so now.”
Raguel bit his lip and tightly clenched both fists.
Greater than his fear of the Abyss was the terror of having to live the rest of his life as he did now.
He could not spend his entire life not only blind, but also crippled and lame.
He wanted a new, healthy body. Nor did he wish to betray Mapheltan’s expectations.
His voice trembled, but his resolve was firm.
“I’ll never give up. I’ve already prepared myself for this.”
Zalkarin exclaimed in admiration.
“For a human brat, that was an answer brimming with spirit! You are indeed worthy of having been chosen by the End!”
Raguel replied incredulously.
“Who are you calling a brat? You’re much younger than I am.”
Zalkarin was still an imp.
Apparently struck where it hurt, the creature flew into a rage.
“W-What nonsense! I am a demon who was born well over fifteen years ago! I have merely remained an imp because I never received the opportunity to grow, but before long, I shall be reborn as the Infernal Flame of the Abyss!”
A demon’s growth was not proportional to the passage of time. They could evolve only when presented with a special catalyst.
Raguel shook his head.
“Forget an infernal flame. You’re smaller than a campfire.”
“You fool! Even a raging inferno begins with a tiny spark!”
“Yes, yes, Lord Tiny-Spark Demon.”
“You lame little blind brat!”
“That doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Starting today, I’ll be saying goodbye to that life anyway, idiot.”
Zalkarin’s already red face flushed an even deeper crimson.
The two continued bickering for quite some time.
Mapheltan left them to it for a while.
Their anxiety has eased considerably.
It was a positive development. Excessive fear had a way of ruining things.
They only needed to maintain an appropriate degree of tension.
Mapheltan spoke.
“That’s enough.”
The instant they heard his voice, Zalkarin hiccupped.
“M-My apologies. I have shown you an unsightly display.”
Raguel awkwardly scratched his head as well.
“I… forgot where we were for a moment. Sorry.”
Mapheltan smirked.
“If you understand, why don’t you start getting ready? Ilea should have given you something.”
Raguel rummaged around in his backpack and pulled something out.
It was a mask fashioned from pure-white leather.
A Spirit-Demonic Concealment Mask—an artifact that blocked demonic and spiritual energy.
It was commonly shortened to a Demonic Concealment Mask.
Without one, an ordinary human would find it difficult even to breathe inside the Abyss.
Long ago, the Watchers of the Abyss had also worn these masks whenever they entered.
Raguel put on the mask just as they had. More than half of his small face disappeared behind it.
He also draped a pure-white cloak over his body. The Demonic Concealment Garment would protect his skin from the demonic energy.
With that, his preparations were more or less complete.
“I’m ready.”
Determination permeated Raguel’s voice.
“Then let’s go.”
Mapheltan lifted Raguel into his arms and leaped into the ravine.
The black demon glided through the canyon, his crimson eyes leaving shimmering trails along his path.
Countless screams and wails welcomed Mapheltan.
The vast quantities of malice all around them writhed at the arrival of the visitors.
***
Deep within the canyon, beneath the earth where not even moonlight could reach, two clumps of crimson light flickered.
They were Mapheltan’s eyes.
Their bloodred glow gleamed within the darkness.
He was searching for the entrance to the Abyss.
The surroundings were as dark as pitch, but that posed no problem.
A demon’s eyesight shone brightest at night.
The corners of Mapheltan’s mouth rose.
“Found it. Zalkarin, come over here.”
They had split up to search for the entrance.
Zalkarin merely looked around from a distance and did not return to Mapheltan.
Raguel spoke in a trembling voice.
“I-I don’t think he can hear you. It’s too loud around here.”
Once they had descended into the canyon, the ghostly wails had grown much louder. Now even the earth itself seemed to be trembling as though it would collapse.
Mapheltan clicked his tongue.
“They’re certainly throwing a fit.”
“Who…?”
“The evil spirits buried beneath your feet.”
All these vibrations were being caused by the spirits clawing and pounding at the ceilings of their tombs.
Goosebumps rose across Raguel’s body. Horrified, he jumped into the air.
For a cripple, his jumping ability was not bad.
“W-Why in the world are they doing that?!”
“They hate the moon. That’s why they stare up at the sky and go mad whenever the moon is full.”
The moon symbolized the Great Saint Margiel.
“Were they… punished by the Great Saint?”
“Something like that. To be precise, they were cursed by the Great Saint.”
Raguel swallowed dryly.
“If they incurred the moon’s wrath, they must be the worst of all sinners. And we’re about to meet them.”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“You’ll understand once we get there. Who knows? Perhaps they’re more pitiable than you think.”
“What? Pitiable? What do you mean by—”
“Experience it for yourself and make your own judgment.”
Mapheltan turned his head. Within his field of vision stood an ancient tree with a grotesque shape.
Its enormous trunk was twisted like a body that had been tortured until it hardened in place, while its bark was covered in marks resembling dark bruises.
It had neither branches nor leaves.
All that remained was the massive trunk.
It was the World Tree.
It was also the gate to the First Territory of the Abyss.
Mapheltan quietly gazed at the ancient tree. Despite being reduced to nothing but a trunk, the World Tree still possessed an overwhelming enormity.
It stood well over twenty meters tall, and its width filled an entire section of the ravine.
Five hundred years ago, it really must have reached the clouds.
That was how it had been described in the original story, and Mapheltan agreed completely.
While he was briefly lost in admiration, Zalkarin approached and spoke.
“O Great End, you have found the entrance!”
“Just bring me the key.”
Zalkarin pulled something from a backpack larger than his entire body.
“Here it is.”
The object he handed Mapheltan was a wooden plaque.
It was commonly known as a Heartwood Fragment—an artifact created by tearing away a piece of the World Tree’s heartwood.
The World Tree still remembered the pain of that day.
The instant the Heartwood Fragment appeared, green liquid began streaming from the World Tree’s bark.
It looked as though the tree were weeping tears of blood.
Mapheltan ignored it and pressed the Heartwood Fragment against the World Tree.
Immediately afterward, the ancient tree’s surface began to split apart.
The bark crumpled and twisted, forming a bizarre shape.
A wailing face emerged from the center of the World Tree.
Its drooping eyelids poured out green fluid in sorrow. A piercing scream erupted from the gaping mouth below them.
“Keeeeeeeeeeek—!”
Raguel immediately covered his ears.
It was a meaningless gesture.
The horrific scream burrowed through his eardrums and resounded directly inside his mind.
Raguel collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed by panic.
“S-Stop. Please stop. Stop it, please!”
The tenderhearted boy began to resonate with the World Tree’s grief and suffering. Never before in his life had he heard a scream so desperate.
There was no way he could endure it while remaining sane.
“No, stop. Please stop crying. Please… please.”
Zalkarin, on the other hand, could not contain his joy.
His eyes shone as he cried out in ecstasy.
“Wail louder! Suffer until you cough up blood! The Great End is watching you! Kneel before him and beg for mercy!”
Mapheltan felt pleasure as well. He, too, was a demon, and therefore found delight in the suffering of others.
“…Fuck.”
But he resisted it.
He bit down on his tongue and clawed at his own chest.
He felt as though the moment he surrendered himself to this impulse, there would truly be no turning back.
“This won’t do.”
Mapheltan hurriedly picked up Raguel.
He intended to leave this place at once.
He immediately leaped into the World Tree’s mouth.
Thus, they entered the First Territory of the Abyss—the Mausoleum of Moonshadow.
***
A mournful melody seeped into Raguel’s ears.
“Children who wander through the forest, when the pale moon rises, hide yourselves beneath your mother’s shadow.”
Raguel turned his head toward the direction of the song.
“For a hunter will be hiding in the moon’s shadow, waiting to prey upon you.”
The bizarre voice gradually drew closer.
“They will snare you with ropes woven from your mother’s torn flesh.”
Nothing appeared before the blind boy’s eyes.
“They will squeeze the tears from your eyes with skewers carved from your mother’s body.”
Within the absolute darkness, fear slowly consumed Raguel.
“Please be careful, for they are beasts who remain hungry even when their bellies are full.”
The song closed in from every direction.
There was nowhere to run.
“Blinded by greed, they are thieves who steal away our forest and our very breath.”
No matter how frantically Raguel turned his head, only impenetrable darkness greeted him.
“Before they grow any stronger, let us starve their bellies.”
Just as Raguel was about to scream, the song abruptly stopped.
Something cold seized his cheek with tremendous force.
Raguel was so startled that he froze solid.
A shout bordering on a shriek exploded directly before his face.
“Watcher of the Abyss—! You carry the stench of those hateful creatures—!”