Elysium's Multiverse
Chapter 333

Chapter 333

Chapter 333

[Floor 49: The City of Wandering Souls: Congratulations on making it to the second to last floor of the Abyssal Descent. On this and the next floor, you are unable to do damage to anyone else present - and Elysium will strike down anyone who tries. While on Floor 49, you will have access to unique vendors only found here; along with their extremely valuable E-grade growth items of immense power, godlike traits, otherwise forbidden abilities, taboo artifacts, and upgrades that you won’t be able to find anywhere else as long as you have the necessary performance credits. This opportunity will never come again, choose wisely on what you wish to purchase.

• You may only spend performance credits while here, though you may trade performance credits or items with other individuals who managed to arrive on Floor 49. All of Athela’s, Genua’s, Azmoth’s, Narg’s, and Fay’s performance credits have been given to you, their master.

• Total performance credits earned: 1,309,700

You may choose to move on to Floor 50, the Seat of Abyssal Power, at your leisure with but a thought after you spend at least 1 entire week on Floor 49. There you will find an ultimate source of abyssal energy, and will be granted a single opportunity to build your soul lattice under some of the most potent dark energies available to any F-grade. These energies are specifically cultivated to help F-grades ascend into the E-grade while building soul lattices. How you perform while finishing your soul lattice on the last floor, paired with how you performed on the way down, will determine your overall score and any additional prizes that the Abyssal Descent provides before ascending to E-grade.

Lillith of the Black Skies will be freed from imprisonment upon arriving on Floor 50.

Concerning your Chalgathi trial: Successfully completing The Abyssal Descent will result in 50 points. Completing in the top 100 contenders will result in 300 points. Completing this event in the top 5 contenders will result in 1000 points. Finishing first will result in 3000 points.]

Riven materialized alongside all of his minions, ALL of them, on a long, glowing, pale-blue and ethereal road leading to a city made from spiritual plasma. Ghostly spires with souls dancing as distant lights illuminated the darkness, and there was no one else in sight beyond the ghosts and phantoms intermingling with the smaller specks of illumination.

His attention flitted to Narg, who he hadn’t seen in many weeks now. The green skin of the beholder demon looked sickly, wrinkled, and pale compared to what it usually was - and the orange central eye was dilated while all the others on stalks were closed. He drooled through razor teeth onto the glowing road beneath them, and was unresponsive when Azmoth poked him with a foot.

“I will carry.” Azmoth said, shrinking down and picking up the smaller demon in two clawed hands before coming over to stand next to Genua. “Lillith will know what do.”

Riven frowned at the state of his 4th, previously unreachable minion, but nodded in agreement. He didn’t know what was wrong with the beholder but it was very obvious that whatever bloodline curse that afflicted Narg still wasn’t completely dealt with. “Yeah, Lillith will probably know what to do. Let’s go.”

Briefly walking over to Genua in turn and nuzzling his nose up against his daughter Iris’s face, he tickled the child and got her to laugh before moving on ahead while the elf thrall smiled behind him at a slow trot. There was no reason to rush anymore, and it would be down to how Riven performed in the very last floor while creating his soul lattice that really solidified whether or not he’d make the top spot.

Luckily for Riven, he kind of had a cheat. Gluttony would be helping him along the way - and Riven was curious about what kind of second class he’d get.

Kara Blackbow took in a sharp breath, coming out of Fay’s pocket ream prison at the succubus’s prodding, and the drow’s fingers tightened into fists while her eyes went wide underneath her ranger’s hood. “I can’t believe I’m actually standing here right now.”

Athela aggressively slapped her ass, producing a yelp, and then prodded her forward with a wink. “You can not-believe-it all you want, just keep walking! We have credits to spend!”

“Speaking of which, how many did you get?” Fay asked curiously, stepping in beside the other women and behind Riven as the warlock led the way up front.

Kara hopefully glanced down at a system notification and then dismissed it a moment later. “22,200 Performance Credits in total. Is that good?”

Fay winced a bit and adjusted her witch’s hat after shrinking her horns down to the smaller versions that only protruded out two inches from her forehead. “Well Riven has over a million by a good chunk, but he’s also not the norm here and has a combined pool between all his minions. So that’s like, 6 people total all pooled into his pocket for spending.”

“It’ll probably be enough to buy SOMETHING! We just won’t know what that is until we find the vendors.” Athela exclaimed, leaning into the drow and pulling her close around the waist while shooting the elder lich nearby a raised eyebrow. “Yo, bag of bones - how many performance credits did you get?”

Retesh didn’t bother looking their way, clicking his staff against the ethereal road with every other step he took. “110,500 Performance Credits, but as you said - we don’t know if that’s bad or good yet. It is to be determined based on what is available and at what prices.”

The lich’s skull flared with neon teal flame from the eye sockets, and he began to pick up the pace to catch up with Riven in front. “I’m quite excited to find out. I’ve never heard of a vendor being able to sell traits, which implies that this will be a rather unique experience.”

***

Inside the ghostly city was far, FAR more lively than anyone had anticipated. And it was full of a lot more than just ghosts and souls, even by the local denizen standards. Various demons and other undead that called this place home were also present - with a fair share of other mortal races oriented towards the Unholy Foundational Pillar. Surprisingly enough there were a couple hundred other delvers there that were partying to their heart’s content while being under the direct protection of Elysium, and Riven certainly couldn’t blame them after what it’d taken to get to this point. After talking with a few of the unusually happy drunkards, it appeared that you could stay here for as long as you wanted to up to a point of 5 years - and many people from the last cycle of the descent’s opening were actually still here for it. Many of them had refused to ascend into E-grade in order to escape the reach of their faction elders or parents, and it became a very common theme to find that most of them were prestigious scions that hailed from great powers of the multiverse. Here though, with an absolute protection guarantee, they could do whatever they wanted until they were forcefully kicked out or they ran out of Performance Credits to spend - as it was the only thing the local vendors would take unless people wanted to trade amongst themselves. Performance Credits drove the entire economy here, which became clear to Riven almost instantly as the locals threw themselves at delvers to offer services of many varieties.

The City of Wandering Souls had thus become a place of absolute debauchery. Drinking halls, bars, swinger clubs, drug dens, gambling rings, and whore houses were in abundance outside the normal markets and were maintained by the locals. And given the fact that Riven was exhausted from his own trek down, he carelessly indulged himself in much of it that very first day - but made it very clear to everyone that they’d be out of here as soon as the mandatory week’s stay inside the city was over with. He needed to free Lillith, build his soul lattice up, and win Chalgathi’s trials if at all possible given the months he’d spent here and the likely massive lead his counterparts in the Chalgathi trials had on him now.

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Nevertheless he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter and had some time to burn, and the first day was a lot of fun. He got incredibly drunk, lost a few games of cards to some cheating skresh bloke by the name of Steve, and rented a room in one of the strange ethereal hotel buildings creating the cityscape. Ordering room service, he was even able to let out the soon-to-be volunteer thralls from Fay’s prison realm - which was a first. Fay had been unable to do so before now, and they weren’t technically his minions yet, but the yellow-and-purple merwoman witch, along with the white scaled draconian warrior and the half-ogre barbarian all joined him at the dinner table as extravagant amounts of high quality food were ordered with extremely minimal expense on the credit side of things. It appeared that Elysium wanted to reward those that made it this far, and the entire feast along with a side of alcohol and powdered amphetamine-like drugs were only 8 credits in total. They then went to the equivalent of a theater play, turned up at a dance club, and made friends with a few of the other delvers from some obscure shrouded-in-shadows origin empire that Riven’s party didn’t push on for further information. s̩

The group went back to their rented space for even more food, drugs, and alcohol before he passed out early when Fay and an extremely drunk Genua had basically force fed him some green cider that smelled like oranges. It was great stuff, but damn did it kick hard - and he couldn’t handle staying awake soon after that.

The next day was another story entirely though, and he woke up with a killer headache that throbbed like the dickens. He didn’t know how many hours had passed, but he felt like it’d been at least twelve.

“Jesus Christ…” He groaned, rubbing at his forehead and blinking the dreariness from his eyes before pushing himself off of the large bed where someone had tucked him in. Softly smiling at that fact and noticing that no one else was there, he carefully extracted himself from the room while shutting the door softly behind him.

The girls were nowhere to be seen, and Retesh was long gone too - though he’d left his staff in one corner of the room nearby where Narg’s body was still shuddering and unresponsive. Otherwise it was just his daughter Iris, and Azmoth - there in the center of the main room.

Iris was currently watching the equivalent of television with Azmoth on a large fluffy couch, giggling and making baby-talk while entranced with the screen on the wall.

“How’s she doing?” Riven asked, plopping down next to the brutalisk babysitter with a slight bounce. “Oh you are just so dang cute, Iris! I can’t believe you’re so adorable! Yes you are!”

Patting her head and taking the baby from Azmoth to hold in his own lap, he received a fist bump from the brutalisk who stood up and went over to a large counter full of various foodstuffs on trays.

“Iris doing well, she very curious. About everything.” Azmoth said, picking up four large steaks and inhaling the meat before moving on to a jug full of sparkling liquid. “Very happy baby. How you sleep?”

“I slept great but I feel like I was punched in the head a few times.”

Azmoth snickered. “Genua is funny drunk. I like her. She nice, but makes everyone drink more just like Athela, and she called Len three times. After you pass out, Fay puke in bathroom and Kara fell asleep on floor while I babysit Iris - but I like babysit Iris.”

The large demon chugged the jug of liquid, wiped his face, and stole a large cake off the counter before sitting back down next to Riven and Iris on the couch. He gave a small piece of torn off cake to the baby girl who ravenously reached out and chomped down on the desert, before the brutalisk pulled back into a relaxed position. “Even Retesh get drunk.”

“I didn’t realize an elder lich could get drunk.”

“It was a spiritual brew. That what he say.”

Riven smiled down at his daughter when her tiny hands grasped one of his fingers, and began to play with her as she giggled in his lap. “Huh. Interesting. Well we learn something new every day lately, that’s for sure. Where are the others by the way? They obviously got up before I did.”

“You sleep long time, yes. They all very hungover and went to find potions before looking in market. They try to find vendors the notification talk about, where traits and treasures sold.”

Riven bobbed his throbbing head, staring at the mounted TV where nothing less than some kind of kid’s show was being aired. His jaw dropped when he saw that it was about a little ghoul kid growing up in an Unholy society of some kind here in the abyss, where his death-priest parents were teaching him how to sacrifice people to The Scythe.

This probably wasn’t the greatest material for his daughter to watch at the prime age of only a few weeks old, but he didn’t know how to change the channel and didn’t want to look stupid asking.

A knock at the door sounded, and when Azmoth told them to come in - Riven saw his three soon-to-be thrall volunteers enter in a single-file line. The draconian warrior, merwoman witch, and half-ogre barbarian stood staring his way after lining up against the wall.

“You guys have a good time last night?” Riven asked, putting his feet up on a nearby coffee table to lean back and tickling Iris relentlessly. “I hope so, I had a great time.”

The draconian nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, master Riven. None of us have had even an inkling of freedom for until millenia, so participating in the festivities was certainly a boon to be cherished. Thank you for allowing us out of the prison so that we could participate.”

The draconian bowed low at the waist, and the merwoman with yellow skin, gills along her neck, and purple hair clasped her hands in front of her before speaking in turn.

“It is truly appreciated, master. Thank you for your supreme generosity.”

She too bowed low, and the half-ogre just grunted his acknowledgement - but nothing more.

Riven raised an eyebrow. “Is Zefima still inside Fay’s dungeon?”

“Yes, master.” The draconian said, straightening his posture. “The drow prisoner is still undergoing her ascension into thrallhood and is strung up with chains from the ceiling inside Fay’s realm. Because she is fighting the process, it is taking far longer than we who are willing.”

“Is Fay still delivering my venom to you regularly then?”

“Yes.” The merwoman said, cutting off the draconian and stepping forward with an eager-to-please and ass-kissing smile. “We take it regularly, and the transition for each of us is going well. I will most likely be the first to officially enter into your service as a thrall, likely because I am the most powerful of us three, and I can already feel the changes overcoming my body as the vampiric virus empowers me.”

The ogre snorted at her words but didn’t appear to care much that the witch thought she was strongest. The draconian warrior, however, hissed in her direction with a barely concealed snarl.

“Fay said it was you who was captured first, therefore you certainly cannot be the strongest!

The witch seemed taken aback. “She said no such thing! How dare you try to make me look badly in front of our savior and master!”

“How dare you assume to be the best of us three when we’ve not even sparred a single time!” The draconian retorted with folded clawed arms.

The two started bickering like an old married couple, and Riven was thoroughly amused that these weaklings would care about arguing on who was more powerful or who was captured by Fay first. Then again, ‘weakling’ was a relative term. They were each level 200 and would soon be flooded with power from his own bloodline in creating the thralls, and level 200 even by itself wasn’t anything to scoff at back on Panu. When the average combat level was somewhere around 60 for anyone with a combat class - Panu was still quite new. These three would doubtless be considered powerhouses back home.

Eventually it started to spiral out of control though when the draconian shoved the merwoman after she’d conjured an orb of basic Unholy mana, and Riven flexed his aura in warning before the two could come to outright blows. “Did any of you three get performance credits?”

The three soon-to-be thralls quickly stepped into line.

“No, master!” The merwoman replied with a sickly sweet singsong voice - dismissing her spell. “We didn’t get any! I don’t think the Abyssal Descent considered us as participants in the event, and probably for good reason.”

The ogre acknowledged this statement with a confirmatory grunt.

Riven yawned and handed Iris over to Azmoth when the eager brutalisk gestured to hold the little girl again, and he smiled at how cute it was to see Azmoth - a child in his own right - being so gentle and protective of the baby.

“Well do you three have names?” Riven eventually asked after a long silence where the three people stood against the wall without moving an inch. “Any names at all?”

The three glanced at one another, but none of them had an answer.

Riven sighed. “I’m assuming that’s a resounding NO? As in, NO you do NOT have actual names?”

“We can’t remember them.” The draconian replied nonchalantly, shrugging. “We were trapped in that blood sea realm for eons, without bodies or people to communicate with. We have no idea what our names were back then.

“Perhaps you’d do us the favor of naming us yourself?” The merwoman asked, eyes wide with excitement and gills flaring. “I’ve been wanting a name for myself ever since I came out of that dreadful place!”

Riven didn’t think that was a bad idea. “Yeah I can’t do that. But are you sure you’d not want to name yourselves?”

The half-ogre cleared his throat, leaning against the wall. “We have already discussed this between ourselves and wish it to be you that names us. Please, proceed.”

“Are you sure?” Riven pressed.

He got three simultaneous nods.

“I’m pretty bad at naming.”

Not a peep from the three ahead of him.

“And you’re A-OK with that?”

Each of them nodded yet again.

Clicking his tongue and not putting more than a minute’s worth of brainstorming into the effort, Riven nonchalantly named the three after each of their races. He pointed to the draconian: “Your name is LIZARD.”

He pointed to the merwoman. “Your name is FISH.”

Lastly, he pointed to the half-ogre. “Your name is BRUTE.”

He threw up his hands in mock celebration. “There! The three of you have names, congratulations! Now if you don’t like them please let me know now. It’s otherwise what I’ll be calling each of you from now on, so if you don’t mind them - better get used to it."

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