Chapter 78: Hell
A force unlike anything Draven had ever experienced rippled through the Land of the Forsaken. It was a wave of raw, unrelenting power that tore through the desolate wasteland, shaking the very foundations of the realm. Draven, despite his newfound strength and the abilities granted by his All-Creation Eyes, was powerless against it. The force struck him like a tidal wave, sending him sprawling to the ground. When the dust settled, the scene before him was one of utter disbelief.
The soldier—his relentless, seemingly invincible foe—was pinned to the massive gates of the Forsaken, a sword driven clean through its chest. The chains that bound the gate rattled violently, and the soldier's blade fell from its hand, clattering to the ground with a metallic *clang*. Draven's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "What… just happened?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.
Before he could process the scene, a figure approached him. The figure's presence was enigmatic, their features obscured by an otherworldly aura. It moved with a grace that seemed to defy the desolation around them, its steps silent against the dusty ground. The figure stretched out a hand, offering to help Draven to his feet. Draven hesitated for a moment, his instincts warring with his curiosity, but he eventually grasped the figure's hand. Their grip was firm yet gentle, and as Draven rose, the figure spoke, their voice calm but commanding.
"The timer is draining your strength," they said, their tone matter-of-fact. "If you stay here, it will consume you entirely. We need to leave. Now."
Draven nodded, his mind still reeling from the sudden turn of events. The figure's hand tightened around his, and in an instant, the wasteland vanished. The two of them reappeared in a place that defied comprehension—a vast, starry expanse that seemed to hover just beneath the moon. The celestial body loomed large in the sky, its silvery light casting an ethereal glow over the scene. Draven's feet touched a surface that felt solid yet intangible, as if they were standing on the very fabric of space itself.
"Who are you?" Draven asked, his voice tinged with both awe and suspicion. The figure turned to him, their expression unreadable. "It doesn't matter who I am," it replied. "What matters is who sent me here." Before Draven could press further, the figure said "I will have you prepared for battle in 7 days time according to my lord's Request, You shall be trained by me " Draven then asked, "Who's This lord you keep talking about" and the figure chuckled and said "Your ability with Lightning is Weak" he completely ignored the question asked by Draven.
Time Skip…..
Seven days passed in the Land of the Forsaken, though time flowed differently in this realm. When the figure reappeared, they found Draven standing at the edge of the lunar expanse, his gaze fixed on the distant stars. "It's time " the figure said, their voice echoing with a strange finality.
"You have a purpose to fulfill, a destiny to embrace. You've gained the favor of Hell itself, Draven."
Draven's eyes widened at the words of this figure, but before he could respond, the figure stretched out their hand. A portal swirled into existence, its edges crackling with dark energy. "Step through," the figure instructed. "Though seven days have passed here, only two minutes have elapsed in the realm of the living. You cannot fail, Draven. The stakes are too high."
Draven nodded, his resolve hardening. "I won't fail," he said, his voice steady. With that, he stepped into the portal, the figure's words ringing in his ears. As the portal closed behind him, the figure turned to gaze at the moon, their expression unreadable. "It's right about time, my lord," they murmured, their voice barely a whisper. The scene faded, leaving only the cold, silent expanse of space.
---
Back in the real world, the ground began to shake violently. Huey, who had been about to respond to Shiki's questions, froze mid-sentence. The blood that had pooled around Draven's lifeless body began to rise, piece by piece, defying gravity as it floated upward. The wound on Draven's chest healed before their eyes, the flesh knitting together seamlessly. A powerful aura erupted around him, swirling and roaring like a tempest. The air crackled with energy, and the sky above split open, the clouds parting to reveal a clear, radiant expanse.
Huey smiled, a mixture of relief and pride in his eyes. "You're still of that bloodline," he said softly. "I have no doubt, my golden boy."
Shiki's eyes narrowed as he watched Draven's body rise into the air. "So, my visions were true," he muttered, his voice low. He stood, his expression hardening. "The real fight has just begun." With a wave of his hand, he summoned two golden monkeys, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. "Golden Langur," Shiki commanded, and the creatures sprang into action, their movements swift and precise.
From Draven's position, the ground began to split, as if a divine being were descending from the heavens. The earth trembled, and the air grew heavy with anticipation. Then, everything stopped. Draven's eyes snapped open, and he floated upward, his body defying gravity with effortless ease. His gaze locked onto Shiki, and his voice rang out, cold and unwavering. "You will die by my hands," he declared, "not me by yours."
Shiki smirked, his expression one of grim amusement. "Very well then, little brother," he replied. "Let's see if you can back up those words."
---
Meanwhile, at the Seoul Hunter Association, Mujin and Akebi had just arrived. Mujin made his way to his office, where a letter awaited him on his desk. He picked it up, his eyes scanning the contents. The letter detailed a Request from SUHA—one that he could not refuse. The task was clear: find Sakamoto and bring him to justice. Mujin's brow furrowed as he read further. According to the mission details, Sakamoto had assassinated An Emperor,
Mujin's confusion deepened. "What happened?" he muttered, turning the page. The next section revealed that Sakamoto had gone on a rampage, targeting emperors. Akebi, standing beside him, gasped as she read over his shoulder. "This can't be true," she said, her voice trembling. "Sakamoto wouldn't do something like this."
Mujin's expression darkened as he picked up the phone and dialed the numbers of the S-rank hunters—Thomas, Frozen, and Daisuke. When they answered, his voice was sharp with anger. "I told you to keep an eye on him," he snapped. "How could you let this happen?"
Thomas's voice came through the line, calm but firm. "Mujin, I've been watching Sakamoto. He's been in the city all day. In fact, my house hunters were with him at a restaurant just a few hours ago."
Mujin's confusion only grew. "If Sakamoto is still in the city, then who carried out these attacks?" he muttered, more to himself than to the others. "Call him," he ordered. "Get him on the line immediately and bring him to my office"
As the call ended, Mujin leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. The pieces of the puzzle were scattered, and the truth seemed just out of reach. But one thing was certain: the stakes had never been higher.