Chapter 32: Chapter. 33: Interlude: From Weak to Ash (1/3)

Skeletos Asthen, skeleton, weak. She was a heir of the Skeletos family. She knew she was different from her siblings, much different. Ever since she could remember she was weaker, less bright, and discriminated against by those around her. Though she understood one thing, even if they lived in a grand palace placed above the clouds of blood. The sea below was dangerous.

Murder and death patrolled, the bells tolled, and the weak hid, the strong fought, but no matter who they were, weak or strong; death was an inevitability for those below. Even for her, as part of royalty, should she continue being weak and surpassed, eventually she’d succumb too, much like those beneath the clouds.

Rise and fall. She was perhaps thirteen when she thought of it. Her father that doted on her became nothing more than a shell of his former self. She could remember how it happened vividly; a cloaked man appeared, his aura like never before, at his side he reached and took the life, and by the time he left. Her father couldn’t retaliate⁠— he didn’t want to retaliate. He was afraid of the cloaked man.

Her siblings never changed, the same old scrawny bones that annoyed her every day. She was different and she was well aware of it. When her mother was taken away from their household her father didn’t do anything to stop it. But perhaps it was his mother’s fault too, she didn’t have the strength to protect herself, much like those below. She had reached her end.

Even though she was royalty she never felt special. Her bloodline was muddled and weak compared to her peers, she was nothing but a shadow of the bloodline she held within her. But nevertheless, she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to hide in the shadows or fight for her life in this bloodied world. The Underworld in her eyes was nothing more than a wicked relay for chaos.

If she wanted to survive, she had to.

Be stronger.

She was weak, she was different, but she always knew what she wanted. Her mother had perished in front of her, and her father had done nothing to stop it, simply watching along with her. She didn’t want that. She wanted to be different from her father, and the people that took her mother.

Unfortunately she couldn’t go anywhere just yet. Her family wouldn’t allow it, especially her father who treated her as if she were made out of porcelain now. She was aware of her fragility, but during those times every action her father took, every little habit or word felt demeaning. Thankfully it wasn’t always like that. Sometimes:

When time was different.

When he thought no one was watching.

When the lights were out.

Deep underneath the palace there would be bloodshed.

He would train. He would massacre and kill dozens of beasts until his arms threatened to shatter. And she. She would see everything. Every second of it. She would carefully observe the moves of her father every time he trained. No bloodline abilities, no fancy tricks. There was only one thing present every time; pure technique.

It was something that she could achieve.

◇ ◇ ◇

She imitated her father in the ways she could, and after years, she had managed to copy what she had seen. But just to make sure, she still followed her father to the arena in secret. The hounds and beasts awaited in their cages as he prepared his weapon. One last time, she thought to herself.

She was excited, it could be considered a graduation even. She was no longer weak. The same hounds her father slayed by the dozens, she could too. The same moves her father did she could do. Now it was simply time for validation.

As the beasts growled, an icy mist enveloped the arena. Everywhere it touched was drained of color. A hand passed through space, revealing itself to the air as it opened a tear on the fabrics of reality. And that’s when she saw it. Another cloaked man. Or as she had come to find out.

A Grim reaper.

Her father, contrary to expectations, didn’t instantly attack. She thought he had a type of personal vendetta. That he wouldn’t rest till the day of his death. But he simply spoke.

"What brings you here?" He was nonchalant even. Where had all his rage gone? Where did his bloodlust go? He was just… calm.

"You see," the Grim reaper began. "My dearest daughter is quite special as I am sure you’ve heard. And I am looking to teach her how to fight with her scythe. I wondered if you could teach me your techniques so I can pass them on."

Her father pondered deeply, a deep rattle echoing throughout the stadium "I can do that but," he paused. "I wish to see her."

"That is not possible I am afraid," the Grim reaper answered, sorrow in his voice. "But she is well in Elysium. She awaits you. No matter how many eons it takes."

"No matter how many eons…" her father murmured. "Very well, I shall teach you, watch carefully then."

And just like that. Her father had fallen to yet another Grim reaper.

◇ ◇ ◇

"Why?" She cried at him. Sitting on his golden throne a staff of bones in hand. "Why do you keep letting the Reapers walk over us?"

Her father looked just as pale and pristine as always. Sometimes he would rattle in anxiety, but he didn’t seem to have aged since she could remember. Nonetheless she could sense sadness in her father. There was no anger for sneaking in and watching him, there was no anger for training in secret, simply… sadness.

"Asthen," he called. "It’s much more complicated than you think. Your mother didn’t belong to this realm, her time unlike yours or mine as finite."

"But⁠—

"You may resemble your mother, but you’re still a royal." He said with sorrow in his voice. "I know you’re different, but sometimes I can't help but think of you as her. And the fact that you must experience what⁠— what everything here is…" His body cracked and clattered. "It pains me to think about. That’s why I let you observe. I always wanted to teach you but…" He sighed non existent air. "I am afraid."

"But…" She was at a loss. "But… You’re one of the Lords, a Lord of all that is Bone in the loosest sense! What can the Reapers do to you if all it takes is a simple move for their bodies to collapse?"

"Like I said," her father waited a few seconds. "It’s complicated. It’s a fine balance, and everyone does their jobs. We cannot afford to⁠— fight amongst each other. Not with the current state of the world. And unfortunately, my… wife…" Her father clearly struggled to stay composed as lines ran through his hands. "Unfortunately she affected this realm too, especially after her life had run out."

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She stared. Her name was Asthen, weak. But at that moment, she felt that her father was the weak one. She stared at her dainty arms. She was different.

A body of flesh and bone. The body of a human. While her father and her siblings were nothing more than bone, she had more. She could feel pain that they didn’t. She would bleed unlike them. She was fragile. But⁠— at that moment… She felt that the image of the strong father she had built in her mind had been shattered. She knew he was busy. But how busy was unknown. Nonetheless, she felt it was inexcusable to be like that.

She had emotions. Many more than her father. But for some reason he always displayed more of them.

She didn’t understand it. She was different. Stronger than her father. More resilient. More persistent.

Even though she had stopped considering leaving the palace a long time ago. The feeling returned after leaving her father’s throne room. The blood tinted light at that moment seemed almost pretty. But one thing was certain now.

She had to leave the Underworld.

Fortunately, after many years of living, she knew the right place to go. Those who established security inside and outside the Underworld. Those that started from the abyss and expanded into the Underworld.

The Abyssal Hunters.

◇ ◇ ◇

She had left after a week. Preparation had taken slightly too long. But everything was smooth sailing, and no more than a day later she was now a provisional part of the force. It had been a hard choice to not reveal her bloodline, but ultimately she didn’t want her father to come searching for her.

But she wanted more. She wanted to leave the Underworld. And for that she had to become part of the main force. Which made her arrive at…

The cursed forests near the city, the black woods creaking with malice. A deadly mist enveloped the entirety of the area. Moreover, she was assigned a partner for this test. One that was too chirpy for her liking.

"Hey, what’s your name, tell me!" It screeched like the overly excited dryad it was. Or well the mutation it was. No normal dryad would’ve gotten close to any forest in the Underworld.

"No."

"Tsk, lame." She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

At least, even if her partner was useless she had something. Something incredible. She could use her racial skills on artifacts. And that’s when she stumbled across an artifact from earth. A weapon of pure power, after a few bones were added it was more than perfect.

"So, we must hunt a…" the dryad pondered, her face changed by the second.

"A treant."

A treant was simply another monster in her mind. Something that was supposed to be easily killable. But after venturing for hours into the forest. It was… unexpected. A rotted tree by the ashes of a phoenix had damaged it beyond reason.

The dryad screamed. "Get the fuck away from me! Cursed treemotherfucker!" Vines wrapped around the dryad’s body in an attempt to take its lifeforce. "Only reason I left Elaria was to explore the different realms, not get into this!"

She wanted to blast it away. Her hand twitched, reaching for her weapon. But, she didn’t want to kill the dryad for no reason. She was unsure if killing her partner would make the test instantly fail her. In the end, she reached for her polearm.

Just like father. Her mind was clear, even though it was the first time fighting something of this size, she didn’t think much of it. Approaching the treant, its vines launched like a barrage of projectiles. But she didn’t falter.

Calcaneus first… She dodged. Metatarsal second. A vine narrowly missed her hair. Spin. More vines missed. And attack. Like a flowing dance she evaded and swept the vines away. It didn’t take long before she reached the dryad who was more than helpful.

"Good job, keep doing it!"

The chirp made her pause. A vine hit her ribs. In an instant, sharp pain unlike anything she had experienced before filled her. In her blurred vision she saw the dryad far away. Good. It was time to use it.

The treant slowly approached, its roots digging through dry ground to try to waddle itself to her. Its bark was collapsing from the burn spots it had suffered long ago from the rebirth of the mythical creature. And like anything mythical, its residual magic warped it and changed it beyond reason.

Die. She pulled the trigger.

A white blast filled her vision, and shortly after there was only smoke. Recoil traveled through her arm, and the weapon broke from the stress it suffered.

Ashes were your fate. Ashes you will be. She closed her eyes happy with what she had achieved.

"Hey!" The dryad called, making her roll her eyes. "That was cool, human!"

"Human?" She asked back in confusion.

"Well you never gave me your name."

At that moment she felt like dying. Not literally but figuratively. She didn’t like her name nor its meaning, but if she had to choose between Asthen and being called Human, then the former was better.

"It’s Asth⁠—" She paused watching the ashes rain from above. In a way, ash signified the end of things. And for a phoenix, the start of a new life. She wasn’t a phoenix, but⁠— anything was better. "It’s Ash."

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