Garden Of The Abyss

Rushing down the hollow halls of the cavern, he was greeted by lacyrie who left from circular, carved out rooms within the expansive domain within the mountain, only to be eviscerated by his sharp, black claws.

He slowed down after noticing that within the rooms, humans were kept imprisoned–though none that he could see yet were still alive and breathing.

Despicable. These creatures of darkness must be wiped out. The stench of their evil is unbearable, he thought.

Walking down the halls, he continued to check each and every room for Elena, keeping his draconic senses honed as he traversed the bowels of the enemy's territory.

As he traversed the halls, he was stopped as he picked up the sound of labored, yet quiet, weak breathing from one of the many hole-in-the-wall rooms.

He quickly moved up, looking into one of the rooms to find a young man chained to the damp wall of rigid rock, cut and bruised with flesh missing from his arms and legs.

"...Are you alright…?" Akanni asked gently as he stepped into the room.

He didn't receive an answer from the weak, frail man of shaggy, blonde locks. Just as he knelt down in front of the injured captive, the frail man jumped, pressing against the wall and trembling out of fear.

Now that he had a closer look, he could see the marks of decaying flesh on his body; the touch of the lacyrie's darkness.

"No, no, no, no, no…!" He repeated through a shaky, fear-soaked voice.

"I won't hurt you," Akanni assured him.

Though his words didn't seem to get through to the main enveloped in trauma, who seemed to have been locked away and kept to rot in his own filth.

"...No! No! Don't! No, no, no!" The man covered his head, curling up against the ground.

He looked at the hand he reached out towards the man with, stopping as he stared at the claw-like nails that extended from his hand, reaching up to feel the sable horns that curved from the sides of his head.

Am I…a monster to him? Akanni thought.

Any movement he made caused the tortured man to flinch, tremble, and cry in fear. He returned to his feet, cutting the chains with a quick slash of his hand before he made his leave from the room.

"Venture not to leave this room for another hour," Akanni told him calmly as he made his way out, "by then, the ones who hurt you will be gone."

After leaving that one rocky cell, he soon found many others–some less afflicted, some far more gravely so.

There were too many; the amount of bodies, alive and dead, surpassed his comprehension of evil that the lacyrie could commit. He went through, cutting each of their chains, though all were afflicted with enough trauma that their quivering bodies would not even stand.

It was a disgusting concept to him; the torture and subjugation of others.

The strong are strong to protect the weak. That is why I couldn't stay in my own homeland; a clan that so fervently believed in "only the strongest are meant to survive"--if as an infant, you did not meet their standards, you were banished to the wildlands to die.

There is nothing more detestable in this world than those who do not consider those weaker than themselves; ones who do not look at the path they walk on, but simply stamp out whatever meaningless life persists below, he thought.

Glancing around, though, he left a trail of lacyrie bodies in his wake, glancing at the cells that held the freed, but still bound by fear humans.

…Iris and Felix are better suited for saving. I am a destroyer. It is not my place in this world to comfort those in pain. Still, I must find Elena, he resolved.

Again, he dashed forward, moving with speeds that made the lacyrie further down the maze-like corridors of the mountain-innards unable to react to his draconic self.

Before the hunchback, man-eating lacyrie could raise their weapons, he was already past them, swiping his claws as their heads were separated from their shoulders in a moment's passing.

This is their own justice. Flaunting their strength, subjugating others with it and filling them with such scars that will last a lifetime–I will let them know what it means to be helpless in the face of the overwhelming strong, he thought.

From the ceiling and floor, lacyrie ambushed him, but the draconic reflexes bestowed to him caused him to flick his heavy, armored tail as it beheaded the brutish orc behind him. For the in that chose to attack him whilst descending from the ceiling with a trident, he slapped its head, causing its neck to violently spin and snap as the lacyrie fell dead, instantly, hanging from the rocky ceiling.

However, a new problem arose as he grew closer to the end of the halls, setting his eyes on a familiar head of verdant hair, though it was difficult to see, even with his enhanced eyesight: blocking his path, a few lacyrie began to weave spells, readied for his approach.

"---!"

Through their gargled, incomprehensible language, they manifested their dark arts into the form of an abyssal gale that swept through the narrow halls of rock, leaving no option for him in the sense of evading.

The dark gale took the shape of multiple skulls, screeching and howling their deathly tune as it rapidly approached his position.

As calm and collected as the draconic, dark-skinned man remained, he drew in a large breath, letting his muscular chest expand with the hefty intake of air he brought into his lungs.

With a mighty breath, he unleashed from his pursed lips a golden flame that propelled like a mighty wave of a thundering sea through the corridors.

The majested, gilded flames had no trouble sweeping past the coalesced dark arts as if it was nothing more than a breeze in the path of hungering flames. With nothing left in their way, the breath-released flames crashed against the lacyrie, reducing them to charred, lifeless husks within moments, leaving nothing in his path as he continued to the chamber at the end of the maze-like corridors.

"Elena–!" He called out as his deep voice echoed off of the clammy walls.

Though as he reached her, expecting to find a damsel in distress, all he found was the verdant-haired woman, surrounded by a pile of eviscerated lacyrie, wiping blood from her cheek as her crimson eyes moved to him.

"What're you yelling for?" Elena asked, wiping her shortsword against one of the bodies of the bisected lacyrie, cleaning the fresh blood from its silver-and-black steel.

"I thought…" Akanni started, but was at a loss for words.

There wasn't a scratch on her pale skin, not on her russet-brown pants, nor a tear of her black cloak, and not even a nick on the basic, steel-armoring that padded her shins, knees, and boots.

I underestimated her. Though…I am glad my impression was wrong, he smiled to himself small.

He watched as she finished wiping her shortsword down, sliding it into the sheath stationed against her lower back as only the ivory, bone-like handle was left shown.

"Anyway, there were a lot more, too much for me actually, but after a lot of commotion, they ran down the halls," Elena told him, glancing past him at the corridor he came from, "...but, looks like you took care of that."

"...I did," he confirmed with a nod after glancing back, feeling a tad bit bashful of the destruction he laid to the halls.

"Nice work, big guy," Elena said, lightly tapping his shoulder with the knuckles of her light gauntlets, sounding somewhat sarcastic as she kicked one of the lifeless lacyrie, "these bastards tried to put their sooty hands on me–that wasn't happening. Anyway…where are the other two? Goggles and Iris?"

He watched as Elena continued to lightly kick the body of the lacyrie though it was long since dead, laying in a pool of the coalesced blood of the fallen group.

"Fighting an entire horde," Akanni told her with a serious tone, "they gave me an opening to pass, and are holding the horde back so I could come rescue you…but it seemed you didn't need saving."

"Damn right," Elena said, though she fiddled with the verdant locks on her shoulder, bringing a tuft of her green hair meekly by her mouth, "...but, thanks. I appreciate it."

He didn't know how to accept her gratitude as he stood there blankly for a few moments before a sense of urgency rushed through him.