Blood Immortal
Chapter Twenty-One

Dwelling in Hell

When the portal sealed, Aarian found himself standing in the depths of the demonic nether. He looked ahead, observing the panorama of endless volcanoes erupting and a peninsula of blazing fire. Then, in the distance, he could see the Spirit of Khordalam who’d been sucked back into the accursed realm. Khordalam shouted, a boom like thunder, causing the plains of hellfire to shake. Moments later, Aarian spotted a legion of demons and the last immortal Spirit approaching him in a frenzy.

Still in his demonic form, gritting his teeth, Aarian flew into the fiery heavens and glided toward the legion of fiends. Drawing closer to them, he conjured a scythe of pure light, fixing his enraged eyes upon the army. Aarian descended, his blazing wings flapping until he landed a mile away from the demons.

“Come forward, whelps,” said Aarian monstrously. “You will only make it easier for me to put an end to you.”

The forces of hell didn’t care about what he said. They simply wanted to annihilate him for what he’d done, especially Khordalam, their last lord. When the accursed legion approached him, however, Aarian lifted his scythe and vehemently swiped it in countless arcs, tearing apart dozens of galloping hellhounds and slithering tentacle demons.

Not one of them had a chance to even scratch him. He was so swift and precise that he did not miss a single enemy. He then leaped into the air and spewed holy fire on them. Upon landing, he continued to strike and tear them apart with his radiant scythe. They didn’t stand a chance against him. Within minutes the entire legion had been decimated. The only demon left was the Spirit of Khordalam.

“Shall we finish this?” said Aarian rhetorically.

“You shall pay dearly for such impudence!” boomed the demon lord. “No feeble mortal will be the death of me!”

“I am blood immortal!” bellowed Aarian. “I am the Dralekar!”

Aarian leapt into the air and swooped toward Khordalam who used the mountains and fires of hell to reform his body within the nether. By the time Aarian reached the demon lord, he’d regained his original form. Khordalam, standing thousands of feet high, attempted to swat Aarian like one would do to an insect.

Swiftly evading the gargantuan hand of granite, Aarian raised his scythe and sliced off a finger. He then conjured a sphere of holy power and hurled it at Khordalam who groaned, taking a step back. The demon lord tried spewing fire on the prince. Though avoiding the flame, he was whacked by Khordalam’s other hand. He fell down a mile away, crashing into the jagged ground that occasionally emitted steam and lava. Aarian, wounded by the attack, used his magic to heal himself. Using extensive amounts of magic weakened him but allowed him to stand. By the time he got to his feet, Khordalam was already upon him.

“And now you die,” said Khordalam, stomping on the prince. When he did so, however, he felt his granite foot involuntarily rise. “What?”

“A cyclops tried this on me once,” said Aarian, lifting the foot. “He failed miserably.”

Just then, Aarian picked up Khordalam and flung him across the mountains as though his colossal body was as light as a pebble. He then ascended to the inferno sky and rapidly flew over to the giant demon who was still falling. Upon reaching Khordalam in midflight, Aarian punched his rocky chest so hard that it splintered. Without wasting time, Aarian hurled his radiant scythe through the fissure within Khordalam, puncturing his Spirit.

“How can this be?” he screeched.

“There is only the One,” said Aarian, watching the demon lord’s body explode, followed by its torn Spirit dissipating.

He steadily descended onto the blazing peninsula and took a deep breath, relieved. The would-be immortal Spirits and their deadly legion of demons had finally been vanquished. He stood still, listening to the inferno. Would he dwell in hell for eternity? Was that his fate as the Dralekar?—to rot here forever?

After all he’d done, if such was his destiny, he wouldn’t be able to replace tranquility. The only thought that gave him a fraction of peace was him knowing that Yunedar and its denizens were safe. Accepting his doom, he aimlessly roamed around the plains of hell. No matter where he traveled, it was all the same: volcanic mountains, lochs filled with lava, abysmal pits, and an endless sky of fiery clouds.

He wished with all his heart to replace spirits of those whom he’d loved and lost during the demonic incursion. If he had to linger here for the remainder of his immortal existence, then it would at least be fulfilling to replace Master Dargain, Magi Frostwarm, Earamathras, or even his parents.

Yet after nearly a year of searching throughout the nether, he found not one spirit. He was all alone in the plains of hell. Aarian wanted to cry, losing hope. At this point, he finally realized that being the Dralekar was a terrible curse. This was his epiphany: that his destiny was to suffer endlessly more than any being in the history of Yunedar. Upon acknowledging this, he fell to the ground and wept miserably. Releasing his anger, replaced with tears of regret and hopelessness, he returned to his humyn form.

On the jagged ground, naked and shriveled in a fetus position, he felt so drained. Then his blonde hair discolored to a grayish tinge. Aarian’s blue eyes waned, his skin wrinkling. He was barely able to move. Truth be told, he didn’t care about this; at least until he heard a cackle that echoed throughout the fiery kingdom.

“You humyns are so pathetic,” said Izabaldo, appearing behind Aarian who lay helpless on the sweltering terrain. “I think this is what I’ve always loved about your pitiful race: the fact that you’re all so damn sensitive, emotional, and convinced that you must suffer to be alive. I think that is a rather interesting philosophy.” He lifted his hand, continuing to drain Aarian of his life force. “Don’t worry, Dralekar, I will make sure you suffer.”

Aarian no longer had any anger to use against the last demon in existence. He’d released every ounce of hate within himself when he lost hope of replaceing his loved ones. Yet that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight back; he still had the Spirit of light. Thinking of all those who had died because of fiends like Izabaldo, he conjured a magical barrier of light that enveloped him. The barrier protected him from his life force being drained further. Then, though struggling greatly, he summoned an angelic suit of white armor on himself and stood up.

“I don’t like it when demons insinuate that humyns are the only beings who must suffer,” said Aarian, his eyes glowing white. “That’s why I’m here, Izabaldo. I am here to teach you that suffering isn’t limited to humynity.”

That instant, he jumped into the air in a rotary motion while manifesting a radiant maul that shimmered so brightly it blinded Izabaldo for a second. But that one second was all Aarian needed to reach the demon. He swerved the maul against the demon’s horned forehead, pounding his face so hard that he flew into the hazy heavens. Aarian then leapt up, conjuring wings of light on his back, and soared into the firmament where numerous celestial bodies were suspended.

Upon reaching the celestial realm, he reached Izabaldo who was dazed and slammed the hammer into his chest downward, sending him back into the plains of hellfire. Izabaldo crashed through the ground so intensely that the peninsula split. Aarian then descended like a meteor, his eyes seething with limitless holy light, and bashed Izabaldo in the face countless times through the blazing granite until the demon reached the end of the nether world, returning to the celestial realm.

When this occurred, Aarian produced an uppercut so powerful that Izabaldo’s crippled body simply exploded. His immortal Spirit was all that remained. He quickly clutched Aarian’s neck, attempting to consume his Spirit of light. Aarian continued to age rapidly, groaning and gasping as Izabaldo’s transparent soul cackled in a resonating tone.

“That was impressive for a humyn,” said Izabaldo, his voice echoing. “You surely did teach me that suffering is not limited to humynity; but I am afraid your lesson ends here. Now it is time for you to join the rest of your kind in extinction.”

“Funny,” rasped Aarian, “I was thinking the same about you.”

With the last of his strength, Aarian released his Spirit of light, blasting Izabaldo with the remnants of his magic. The shockwave was so immense that it looked like a supernova, except it was a cosmic explosion of holy power. In the blink of an eye, the Spirit of Izabaldo disintegrated. Even the nether world vaporized.

Aarian drifted lifelessly, his twisted body bent and wrapped around cosmic dust. He no longer breathed. Stars flickered billions of miles away from his body. There was no sun near him. As a matter of fact, nothing other than interstellar mist accompanied the inert corpse of Aarian. Yet the swirling, misty dust embraced him, brightening around him and forming into a semitransparent platform of light.

Floating ahead, Aarian gently landed on it. Then some of the cosmic dust sprinkled over him, allowing him to breathe once more. At that exact moment, Aarian opened his eyes, huffing and puffing for air. Dismayed, he looked around and saw nothing but the flickering stars so very far away from him. He suddenly noticed the platform he lay on. Getting to his feet, the mist that brought him here slowly twirled and formed into a being of light. Aarian attempted to look at the feminine figure hovering before him but was temporarily blinded.

“You have exceeded my expectations, Aarian of Yunedar,” said the Spirit of light.

“Xen?” called out Aarian, squinting at the Spirit, finally able to see her. “How are you alive? I thought you gave up your soul.”

“Ah, that I did,” answered Xen, smiling. “But see, you released me when you sought to purge Izabaldo. And I must say, it was quite an amazing sight to witness his demise. But alas, a demon still remains.” She paused for a moment and continued, “My time has passed. And so I must depart once and for all.”

“No,” said Aarian, shaking his head. “You can’t. So many people reach out to you. We need you. We need to reach out to someone or something—anything in order to fill the void in our hearts. If you don’t exist, what meaning will we have?”

“You must, as with everyone else, become your own master,” said Xen. “It is time to believe in yourself and create your own future.”

“What of your speech about fate?”

“You have shattered fate,” said Xen. “As the Dralekar, you have accomplished something no other being has done, mortal or immortal.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, mystified.

“For the first time since my existence,” began Xen, “I cannot tap into the fabric of time to see the future. Destiny, whether you ever believed in it, is no more. The demons are gone. You have saved our world. And now it is time for you to return.”

“Is that even possible?”

“My soul is supposed to be immortal,” said Xen. “Though, it is my choice to sacrifice my existence to resurrect a mortal. It is the only white magic that allows one to revive without being tainted. And you have earned it.”

“No,” said Aarian frailly. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“I have lived far too long,” said Xen. “The world I once knew is gone. But you can still make a new life for yourself. Go now, Master Aarian, and create a future without good or bad; a future without destiny; a future without Spirits to rely upon.”

“But—”

Before he could finish, Xen transformed into a portal, sucking Aarian forth. He tried to resist; however, it was too strong. Within seconds he was pulled and consumed by the rift of light. Then it sealed and detonated into myriad particles. And that was the last time any being existed in the realm of the nether.