Chương 204: A Ritual to End All Rituals

Zan'Illivis was overcome with anticipation as he stepped out into the central atrium. The sight was something he'd awaited for decades now. So many years spent whittling away at the limits that be to craft this masterwork of masterworks. Hundreds of sacrifices were strung up to the rafters by steel-coated tendon cables. Human sacrifices for something as simple as candles. It was enough to fill him with an almost childish giddiness.

Soul-infused fire scorched the runes marked through their skin, slowly melting them away as if they were little more than wax. They would last days. Plenty of time to enact his masterwork before their muffled cries deadened to silence. Between the numerous human chandeliers stood nine massive pillars. These obelisks — formed of bone and stone — dominated the amphitheatre. The runes ingrained in each tugged the eye in a way he still could not fully comprehend, despite carving them himself.

Each individual pillar had cost a year of effort — and many unfortunate disciples — to accomplish. Zan'Illivis tore his gaze away. They were unsettling to witness. Even as their creator he felt the sting, but that was a matter of course. The nature of that specific runic language did not bode well with the human mind. With eyes on the floor, he admired the core pentagram that connected the eerie obelisks to the central altar.

Five layers of corruption-immune steel etched with the most complicated array of ritual circles seen in decades. Zan'Illivis considered this the truest expression of his magnificence. The canvas of his magnum opus twisted corruption of the amphitheatre to feed into its own capabilities, transforming the only somewhat life-threatening pentagram to one he theorised as capable of shattering space itself around the black hole. Only the obelisks could balance that power. The day was finally here.

All his decades of dedication were finally manifesting before his eyes. Soon, none would deny the Fleshsmiths as a pinnacle cult. Soon, he would become known as the architect to bring them incomparable power. The single detail to sour this moment was the man standing in the centre of the atrium, beside the skeletal-welded altar. Zan'Illivis was not to be the conductor of his own masterwork.

"Zan'İ̘̥l̓l̆ͬi͎vȋs̫." Zandisth didn't bother to look up from etching his own runes into the altar. Changes to Zan'Illivis' masterwork.

"How goes the final preparations?" He tried not to let the anger bubbling below the surface show on his face as he stepped down the footbridge that crossed the deep — currently empty — channels. His control was tested further as a mere fourth creed crashed only steps in front of him. The girl had been tying one of the last sacrifices to hang from the ceiling when she'd fallen. Upon realising just who was now glaring down at her, she began apologising profusely and dragging herself out of the way.

Her broken legs didn't help her much, and she tumbled further into one of the canals. Zan'Illivis clenched his fist. This lesser deserved to have her soul ripped out for the transgression, but not now. No, her time would come. Soon.

"Well," he said, approaching from the other side of the altar.

"Only a single issue to deal with before we begin." As much as he despised having the honour of performing the ritual taken from him, it was a concession he had known he would have to make. Any ritual requiring the Fleshsmiths' Island would not be his alone. Despite the number of invested actors being far greater than he'd ever desired, Zan'Illivis could accept it so long as his designs were brought to life. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"Bodytwisters, I assume?" Zandisth continued to carve away precise lines in bone.

"How much territory have we lost?"

"No. They haven't even tried," he scoffed.

"If anything, it's the opposite; they've pulled back the front line." Finally, the man stilled.

"They have?" His eyes met Zan'Illivis' "I don't believe it. K'No͔͌͒̇ǐ̜͆r̢̥u̝s͕ didn't push in after them, did she?"

"No?" He had found that part of the message strange. Why hadn't she taken the opportunity given to her. Then again, he was no harbinger.

"The front line holds where it did. But… pardon my ignorance, this should be a good thing. We don't have to worry about the war interfering with our ritual."

"She may be a lap dog, but you can't say she's tempted by treats." Zandisth laughed to himself.

"The Bodytwisters shouldn't be backing out. Not now. They are the ones liable to face the most damage if we were to succeed in this ritual. At best, their retreat was a trap. At worst…" he trailed off.

"What was the issue you mentioned?"

"One of the hollowbears broke their shackles. It swallowed a few of our cultists and two of its cargo before it was put down." Zan'Illivis looked over the altar, trying to decipher the alterations the more powerful cultist had made. Zandisth looked at him strangely. Of course, if it was just that, it wouldn't be an issue.

"Did the souls mention something strange?"

"There were no souls." Zan'Illivis said.

"Really?" Zandisth sounded far too interested.

"Not even the sacrifices?" Zan'Illivis didn't bother to repeat himself.

"One of those that put the beast down mentioned a piercing light surrounded in dense shade slipping away when he arrived."

"Ah. An intruder." He nodded.

"Yes. Given the timing, I believe it is likely that whatever slipped in is connected to that amalgamation horde. Possibly an amalgamation itself." Zan'Illivis did not miss the slight twitch of the eye. Solan's second right hand was good at hiding his thoughts, but he knew the man too well.

"We should delay the ritual until the harbingers can hunt down whatever has made its way in." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Zandisth was silent for a long moment. If he hadn't already been alerted that the man before him knew something he didn't, then this certainly would have. Zandisth was impulsive. While he tended to spend much of his time plotting, when it came down to it, his was swift. Rarely did he hesitate.

"Zan'Bre̮̭̖ͯ̄ͭ̑nae̼͈l," Zandisth suddenly shouted through the atrium. When the woman — wielding the most vicious meat-hooks in existence — appeared besides them, Zandisth lowered his voice.

"There's an intruder. Hunt them. But should your target happen to be a teenage girl, do not kill. Bring her to me. Even if I'm busy." With a wave of the hand, she was gone again.

"We perform the ritual now," Zandisth announced, diving back into his carvings on the altar.

"What?!" He couldn't believe what he'd heard.

"We still have days before the optimal time. With no army threatening our bridges, we should use the time we have to hunt down the intruder before their presence interferes with my ritual."

"Your ritual?" Zandisth narrowed his eyes, but Zan'Illivis wasn't cowed.

"Yes my ritual," he challenged.

"I follow you, and accept that you are to perform the masterwork, but it will remain my life's work. I refuse to allow any needless haste in its execution." Their eyes clashed for a long moment before Zandisth broke it off with a smile. Suddenly, Zan'Illivis felt his body involuntarily recoil. That was not a friendly expression. Souls who were the focus of that smile so often found themselves with unspeakable horrors inflicted upon them. Still, he stifled his reaction and held firm.

"Zan'İ̘̥l̓l̆ͬi͎vȋs̫, of course this is your ritual." The man's expression was now as unmoving as stone.

"But circumstances change. If this intruder is who I believe it to be, we'll be far better off acting fast."

"The teenage girl?" Zandisth pointedly didn't answer.

"Prepare the true sacrifices." He didn't like it, but there wasn't much further he could resist. Not without driving a wedge into their working collaboration. So, walking below the dangling human candles, he approached the first of the pillars. Already, countless lower creeds filtered into the stands positioned at the periphery of the obelisks. He didn't know when it started, but they ritual hymn was already being sung in its synchronised beauty. Just as he'd imagined.

It was all good and well to prepare sacrifices for a ritual. A human sacrifice was typically enough to perform all sorts of feats. Better than lambs and personal loss. But for this ritual? No number of human sacrifices would be enough. No. They needed something specific. Something that would attract the god they wished to call. Zan'Illivis and Zandisth would not be appeased with any simple god. No. They needed an entity far beyond those bound by the other pinnacle cults.

To achieve their ends, they needed the power of the lord of ends. The one who culls. They would summon the Soulchasm.

X ̸̢̢̪͇͕̦̤͔̥͔̘̜̪̪̪̩͍̻͓̞̜͚͙͎̳̠́̓̈́̋̈́̊̇̓̚͜͝y̶̢̡̡̛̫̫͚̞͖̥̖̙̤̳̲͔̙͇͚̠̯̮͔̟͕̟͖̭̙̣̲̼͈̪̦̞̙͇̻͈͕̺͋̍̃̽̔̂̅̈̑̆̔͐͆͂͊̒͑̈́̾̉̆̊͋́̉̇̂̋̆̏̊̃̈́̎̏̅͆̅͘͝͝͠ͅr̶̢̛̛̛̘̪̦̘̻̤͍̮̫̤͉͔͈͇̹͎̝͉̱̖͍̙͕̅̓̈́̓̇̔̊̔͐̈́͑̌̇̇̇̉̐̊̈́̂͐̓̌̆̐̾̊̾̕͝͝ͅŗ̴̤͔̲̠͇̪̯͔̪̬͓͉̮̲̦̺̥͓̫͚̳͚̠̭̖̱̲̗̗̮̞̟̺͖̫͈͓̲͈̺͛́̀͑͊̎̏̏̽̈́͛̉̂͐̉̅̿̏͛̂̏͐̍́͑͊̒̅̅̈́͊̀͛̐͆̉̕̕͜͝͠ͅḩ̶̨̙̭͚̲̹͓̞͔̜̭̩̣̠̳͍̠͖͓́͌̓̈́̑̂̓̍̽̈́̔̑́͗͜͝ͅú̷̡̨̢̨̢̯͍̬̙̞̺̫̳̪̹̺̩̫̻̝̩̗̖̠͍̝̞̫̦̬̹̼͕̞̳̦͕͇̘͖̝̠̳̜͔͚̟̩̒̏̂̈̂͋̎̏̓͐͋̈́̌̔͋͑̌̎̓̅̇͑̌̂̄̓̐̓̈́̀̓̕͘͝͝͝ͅṿ̴̨̧͉̭̠̳̙̳̖̣̰̩̖́͆̿̍̌͌̎͋̆̓̎̑̏̚̚͜͝͝a̶̢̨̡̡̖̯̺̦̺͈͎̠̠͎̟͚̯̦̪͓̮͉̬͍͎̥͍͔͔͖̮̭̺̙͆́͛̒̇̌̆̈́́͛̍̿̑͗̆̑͊͑͂̔̏͛̀̚̕͜͝͝i̴̢̦͙̠̤͒̄̿̈̽͂͑̋̌͊̋̍̆̀̓̃̏͋̌̐̄̆̌́̒̊̒̄́̆̂̄̄̔͑͐̈̓̏̓͒͘̚͝͝͠k̸̛̤͖̠̓̀͗͋̏̿̏͌͌̂̒̑̅̾͐̂̎̐̈͐̈͑̈̍́̒͋͜͝͠ͅñ̷̲̟̹̀͒̃͗͌̃͒̾͛̄̀̅̎͝ȃ̸̧̨̧̧̨̨̰͉̼͕͔̳͉̪̻̘̼̼̥̰̝̱̻͙̰̈́̀̔̑̓̀̃́̿̿̇́̄̀́̆̀̒̊̉͌̂̒̚̕̚͠͝ͅͅ And to do so, loyal souls were needed.

Zan'Illivis activated the pillar. In an instant, his eyes pierced the veil that he'd been working towards for so many years and was awed by how much more everything he saw was. Knowledge so much greater than his mind could ever truly hope to contain flooded into his head. He felt like a flower bud, blooming into a completely new shape. Then… it was all gone. His protections snapped him back to the present, but not before he'd seen too much. A deep, harrowing sorrow stabbed deep into his soul.

There was so much he knew, yet here he was, contained to such a pitiful form. Overcome with desire to return to that fleeting comprehension of all, his fingers dug at his skin. If he could just force open the bud, he would bloom as he was meant to. Blood spilled from a dozen fingermarks, and yet there was no sight of that flower. Finally, he stopped. He wasn't doing it right. No, he needed to complete the ritual. Zan'Illivis needed the god's power to drag himself to heights no human could exist.

Only then could he touch that world beyond his own again, feel those senses, and comprehend all as he had so momentarily. The pillar wreathed in the blue glow of bound souls. Wrestled from their bodies, a thousand loyal souls now spun around the massive block of stone. They wailed in agony unnatural for detached souls. Each swam, trying in desperate vain to reach their bodies once more, yet unable to move more than a metre from the obelisk. Zan'Illivis turned to the other pillars. One down, eight more.

❖❖❖ Hours later, each of the pillars were finally engulfed in the intense blue of so many souls. At some point without his notice, the Island's LED lighting had gone out, leaving the amphitheatre to be doused in nothing more than the dancing shadows of the candles above and the loyal souls waiting to be sacrificed. What remained of the chorus sounded both hoarse and terrified. The upper creeds had done well to keep them in line.

"We are ready." Zan'Illivis returned to the altar. Even that brief glimpse of beyond made the runes carved into bone seem simplistic. But despite knowing so much more, none of it would apply to the world he knew. It wasn't a question anymore; he would bathe his eyes beyond the veil of the Soulchasm.

"You know what you must do." Zandisth looked at him oddly, but he paid it no mind. Turning, he called to one of the few cultists he'd granted runes to protect from the soul collection. The lesser creed rushed forward, carrying the single rare curse-mutated child they'd managed to land their hands on in the past decade. The loyal souls were the core of the ritual, but it didn't hurt to have a focal point for a sacrifice of such scale.

He didn't feel the knife until it had already pierced his heart, and pinned his soul.

"This really is an impressive ceremony you've designed. I'll make sure it is well and truly yours. You'll make a better centrepiece than that child ever could." Zan'Illivis choked. Blood leaked from his lips.

"Ah, I really should have seen this coming." He slumped, feeling the jagged edge of the blade dig deeper into his heart, and shred the core of his soul. Zandisth was intentionally making this far more agonising than it needed to be. Instead of tumbling onto the altar as he likely intended, Zan'Illivis stood tall. He grinned.

"Oh, that's right. I did." The blade was shunted from his back, leaving not a mark to indicate it had ever happened. Off in another part of the Island, there was an unfortunate soulsinger crumpled to the ground with a suddenly bleeding back and a ruptured soul.

"Come now, Z͐a̟͠n̖͐di̥s͈t̝̾h̃̔́. I've been around long enough to know how these things play out. I may have followed you because you are the best chance at usurping S͍̾ølą̛́̄n̼̙͈̘̄̍̓͘, but don't mistake that as trust or loyalty." He grabbed the child and shoved her on the altar.

"Now get on with it, and don't try anything again. The next time you attack me, the ritual will collapse." Zandisth slowly shifted his displeased expression to that same unsettling smile from earlier, but Zan'Illivis no longer felt revulsion. The man was so simple and mundane compared to what he had witnessed in that moment. Honestly, everything seemed to pale in comparison. With the world so dulled, he was ever more desperate to return.

"You know I won't forget this," Zandisth said as he turned to do his job.

"Well then, let's summon the Soulchasm."

"Let's."