Surviving as a Broken Hero

Chapter 92 – The Big City (2)

The forest stretched through the forgotten lands between empires like a festering wound, the pristine outer trees, almost suspiciously healthy and towering near the roads, were a thin veil hiding the twisted vegetation within.

Skeletal stumps twisted toward the sky, their blackened and almost burned branches slick with rot that dripped purple ichor to the cracked earth below.

The thick canopy of gnarled, tangled branches covered the land beneath in shadow even during the brightest day, as if the sun itself didn’t dare set foot within.

Numerous as they were, the branches shouldn’t have been dense enough for such darkness.

Bits and pieces of gray skeletons littered the ground beneath the trees—the once-abundant wildlife had long since died and remained behind as reminders of the corruption’s cancerous influence.

Deep within the ruined forest lay the ruins of the city, once a symbol of the denizens’ ability to coexist with nature. It instead served as the center of a far-flung web of deathly power and whispers in the dark.

The spires had gone through creation, destruction, and a period of reconstruction through tumorous growths directed at the hands of an architect with a sickening sense of congruity.

A tower at the center of the ruins soared toward the sky, the top of it jagged and sharp, as if trying to pierce the sky itself.

Bits and pieces of jewelry, toys, and scrolls littered the streets and hinted at the lively atmosphere the city had hosted long ago, all gone beneath the feet of those who came after.

The tower had once been little more than a ruined city hall. Only recently had it been renovated with a newfound sense of despair.

Within, at the top of the tower, the cavernous hall of the soot-blackened throne room threw long, shifting shadows. Rather than the aftermath of destruction, the soot had been deliberately painted.

Indeed, the tower was a ruin in appearance only, designed with intimidation in mind. Cracked and uneven tiles decorated the floor. Etched into the walls were terrible murals of suffering and despair.

Instead of the typical blue mana crystals providing light, dim red crystals sat in sconces along the murals.

At the end of the long hall sat the throne itself, crafted of bone, sinew, and stone.

The last of the light crystals was far from the throne, allowing dark shadow to reign over the jagged contour of the seat and the being resting atop it.

The Demon King himself leaned forward, his form not much more than a massive silhouette with crimson eyes piercing through the darkness like embers. He focused his gaze on the figure before him and emanated a deep pressure on everything in the room.

The figure, an elf, knelt there, unmoving—Alikr, one of his most trusted followers.

Failure was rarely tolerated amongst his forces, and Alikr had failed more than once. He’d even spared Alikr the signature traits of corruption through painstaking effort, and what had been the point?

He had neither a Relic nor a city to show for it, and even the Awakener responsible had slipped from the elf’s grasp. In the end, he’d only brought back information.

Granted, the information was invaluable—an Awakener with a Second System? One who could slip past all of their work and remain unaffected?

Such a threat couldn’t be tolerated.

‘I’ll give him one more chance,’ the king thought to himself.

He wasn’t worried for a moment that the elf would dare try to run—there were measures in place against such a thing.

‘Demon’ as they called him, he didn’t look forward to having to replace Alikr. It would be a waste of resources, after all.

‘If he fails again…’ If the elf failed again, there’d be an example made from him.

“You bring me nothing but news of a force that can ruin our plans after all this time?” the king drummed his massive fingertips on the edge of his throne. “Go, and bring me this Awakener’s head before he can interfere again.”

Alikr kept his head lowered and simply responded with, “Yes, My Lord. Who may I take with me?”

The Demon King’s laugh rumbled through the hall. “Take with you? This is your chance to redeem yourself. Are you implying you can’t even clean up your own mistakes?”

“…” Alikr clearly wanted to say something, but he was wise enough to remain silent. “Understood, my lord.”

“Go,” the Demon King said, waving his clawed hand in a gesture of dismissal and leaning back into the shadows.

Alikr slowly stood, turned in place, and walked out of the hall.

Left alone on his throne with the shadows undulating through the room, the Demon King’s eyes lingered on a certain system window before him.

[The Road to Power

Bring about the end of the civilized realms and spread your influence through every major city in the world.

Progress: 60%]

No reward was listed, but none was necessary. The Demon King felt the power thrumming through his heart, a power that only grew with each city corrupted.

Already, whispers plucked at the edges of his mind. Whispers of a realm far above the mortality that plagued even him—whispers of godhood.

The Demon King slowly smiled.

Eve felt that something was terribly wrong. Already, she’d picked up faint whiffs of demon influence in the city, something that seemed all too common amongst human cities in general, but the odor only grew as they neared the Lion Guild’s headquarters.

She’d once asked others, and they seemed blind to the smell, but to her, it was unmistakable. A side effect of her strange power, perhaps? Or was it due to not being afflicted with the same System as the rest?

‘Just what are they hiding here?’ she wondered to herself. Her good arm hidden beneath her cloak, she clenched and unclenched her hand.

‘Should I tell them?’ Her eyes flickered over to Aizen and Koise, who were chatting about how luxurious the Lion Guild was.

If her intuition could be trusted—and it’d never failed her thus fair—he was trying to build up to recruiting them into the guild.

It would’ve been funny, if not for the rancid corruption wafting through the expansive hallways, standing in stark contrast to the otherwise pristinely kept hallways. There didn’t always need to be shadows for evil to be lurking—sometimes, it was bold enough to show itself in broad daylight under the guise of justness.

She grimaced, her expression hidden beneath the hood of her cloak as they followed the guide who met them at the front entrance.

As she feared, the stench steadily grew worse and worse the farther into the grand halls they walked, peaking in front of a set of grand doors leading to the guild leader’s meeting chamber.

The guide, who looked to be little older than a teenager, rapped his knuckles on the smooth wooden door and waited.

A moment later, the door silently swung open on well-oiled hinges.

“Koise!” A massive man with a long, brown mane of hair falling back in gentle waves extended his arms for a hug, a smile forming across his tanned face. “Here most of us thought you’d finally gone and got yourself killed!”

Koise stepped into the man’s reeking embrace, unaffected by the smell that Eve could barely stop herself from gagging at.

“You won’t be rid of me that easily, Gregor,” Koise replied, somewhat dwarfed by the man’s size.

Gregor released Koise and stepped back to look over the group. “And here I thought I’d finally have some peace and quiet. Come in and tell me more about what happened. You can introduce me to your friends as well.”

They stepped into the room, leaving the guide behind, and Gregor shut the door.

Eve noted the silent way he twisted the lock shut.

Dark marble and gold surfaces decorated the room, a skylight letting in the sun’s warmth from above and a murky glass door leading out to a balcony.

‘Also locked,’ she noticed.

Three chairs rested across from Gregor’s single chair at the desk on one end of the room.

Gregor took his seat and beckoned for them to do the same with theirs, waiting until everyone was settled in.

On the desk before them rested a large pot of…

Eve sniffed the air and tried to block out the smell of corruption. ‘Cinnamon tea?’

Gregor gently poured the tea into the set of four teacups next to the porcelain pot and gestured at Koise.

“I received your report already, but so much more can be conveyed in person. This is Aizen, I take it?”

Koise nodded in reply, and Aizen straightened in his chair.

The man, Gregor, questioned them about the events at Karfana, the mistaken cause of the murders, Koise’s hunt, and leading up to their return.

Eve noted he skipped over a long period of time during their stay at this ‘City at the Edge’ he mentioned. Most of it aligned with what she’d learned from the undercity scum in Karfana and confirmed what she’d suspected—Aizen had some sort of innate resistance to the corruption.

“Well, Aizen…” Gregor lifted his teacup in a sort of cheers. “You’ve shown to be quite resourceful. I apologize you had to have such a bad first encounter with our members, but I hope you understand they were just a few bad apples.”

Aizen and Koise took their teacups in turn and returned the cheers. The others each took a sip and returned the cups to the desk.

Eve left her cup untouched.

“And hopefully, we can discuss some favorable terms for you. Don’t let one bad experience ruin your perception of us. The backing of a large guild can be more helpful than you think. Can you tell me what your class is, by the way? We can probably find a role for you as a squad leader right away.”

Aizen looked upward for a moment, lost in some inward debate with himself.

‘Is it the offer he’s hesitant about, the thought of revealing his class, or both?’ Eve wondered, focusing on what Aizen would say in response. Nobody she’d… questioned… had known his class, and he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with it either.

She’d noticed a few peculiarities, but there were a hypothetical endless number of classes, so she couldn’t exactly make a guess and hope for it to be right. What could possibly grant resistance to the corruption though? Even the Paladin she’d lost her arm with hadn’t been immune to it.

Not pressing the issue and leaving Aizen some time to think on his reply, Gregor finally turned his gaze to Eve. “Tell me, though,” he said, his eyes trying to bore right into her. “Who’s this?”