Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 20: Encounter with Chemach

Narinder strode confidently through the realm of Anchordeep, his steady steps accompanied by the metallic sound of his staff striking the ground. The enemies exploding around him posed no challenge; with simple, calculated strikes of his staff, he kept them at bay before they could detonate. The creatures in this realm seemed to act within their own ecosystem, paying him little attention beyond their hostile instincts.

From time to time, Narinder invoked his powerful relic to clear the more crowded chambers of enemies. However, despite his power, the slow recharge left him slightly frustrated. He yearned to advance more quickly, to annihilate any threat more efficiently, but he knew that patience was part of the process.

As he walked, he encountered large stones containing the crystals he sought. His scythe, sharpened after the encounter with Kudaai, cut through the stones with ease, releasing the fragments that he stored in his crown along with the other valuable items. These crystals were unique to Anchordeep, and he knew his search wasn't complete until he gathered at least ten of them.

After several encounters, he arrived at a special chamber. As he halted before the entrance, Narinder felt a chill run down his spine. He knew whose chamber it was but forced himself to gather the courage to enter.

There, in the center, stood Chemach, the sister of Clauneck and Kudaai. Unlike her brothers, her appearance was even more disturbing. She had the same dark plumage, but her aura, instead of being serene like Clauneck's or solemn like Kudaai's, was blue and filled with unsettling details. Her body was surrounded by thick ropes that seemed to bind her, and she wore metal hooks that clinked incessantly with every slight movement. The sound of the hooks made Narinder feel a knot in his stomach; it reminded him of the chains that had imprisoned him for so long, though he did not show it.

With all the calm he could muster, Narinder approached her, his face neutral, hiding the fear he felt upon seeing her. Despite her madness and threatening appearance, he knew that Chemach was the expert in relic creation, and he had questions to ask.

"Greetings, Chemach," Narinder said, his voice firm and controlled as he stepped closer to the imposing figure.

It was worth noting that Chemach was completely insane; discussing anything other than relics was impossible for her, and Narinder used that to his advantage.

"I would like to enhance my relic," he said directly, showing her his claw.

Chemach approached, moving erratically, and began to examine it. Meanwhile, Narinder observed Chemach's corrupted crown. If it weren't for her evident corruption, he would have tried to acquire it; after all, he liked the idea of having a pair of living crowns stored for his future plans. However, he knew that crown was not worth it if its bearer succumbed to madness, like her.

After a while, Chemach completed her analysis and returned the claw to Narinder, moving even more wildly in her bindings. She was visibly excited. Although her movements were confusing, products of her insanity, Narinder could understand them.

"Oh, hohohoho! It is undoubtedly the most powerful relic I've seen! I even want to trade for it."

Narinder was surprised. He knew Chemach wasn't exaggerating when it came to relics, nor was she lying... because she was mad.

"It's worth much more than the four relics of Laplace, the ancient god of luck," Chemach continued, playing with the three dice and the coin of that ancient god.

"Even its strength surpasses the three fangs of Ala. They don't compare!"

Laughing a little, she asked, "Why do you wish for this relic to change its nature?"

"Its recharge is too slow," Narinder replied. "Just that."

Chemach thought for a moment and then said, "It is so powerful that it could affect other relics, forcing their power to emerge... though that could damage them. If what you seek is absolute power, I cannot provide it."

Narinder paused, surprised by the possibility that his claw could influence other relics. However, frustration washed over him, knowing Chemach couldn't enhance it.

Then, she interrupted his thoughts: "But you can enhance your claw. Try to tie it to some ritual of yours, something personal. That claw is like you: it reacts only to important events, to things that truly affect you."

Narinder felt as though Chemach had read his mind. He had been thinking of tying his claw to the sacrifice ritual, but he knew that ritual was too common. The value of a mere cultist's life meant nothing to him, and his claw wouldn't react to something so insignificant.

Chemach spoke again, excited: "Personally, I haven't seen this much power in a relic for a long time. And I've seen great wonders! The relics of Warracka, the exorcist's fingers, your brothers' relics, Turua's tentacle..."

Narinder, almost filled with hope, interrupted her: "Do my brothers have relics?!"

Covering his face with one hand, emotion for the power filled his features. He breathed quickly as a dark, low laugh escaped his lips.

"Of course," Chemach replied playfully. "Their relics are interesting: Leshy's eye, Heket's throat, Kallamar's ear, and Shamura's skull."

Narinder let out a sinister laugh, his three red eyes widening more than ever as his words dripped with pure malice.

"I should have suspected it! They are the parts of their bodies that suffered my attacks when they sealed me."

His eyes sparkled with a dangerous intensity as he stared at Chemach.

"Give me those relics," he demanded, his deep voice laden with desire.

Chemach sensed the dark, murderous intent radiating from Narinder and quickly responded, "Oh! Let's not get too excited, kitty. Although I've seen them, I'm afraid each bishop has hidden them very well."

Narinder calmed down, inclining his head in a gesture of apology toward Chemach. She wasn't to blame and had provided him with a lot of useful information.

"Don't worry, I understand that part. I appreciate this chat. Have a good day."

Without bothering to listen to Chemach's farewell, Narinder returned to the grounds of Anchordeep. Once alone, something dark began to rise from the depths of his being.

A small laugh escaped his throat, followed by a louder one, then another, until he erupted into a maniacal laugh that resonated in the empty air, reverberating like an echo of pure evil. Every fiber of his body trembled with the vibration of his own laughter, and his eyes, burning with an intense red, shone with an uncontrolled fury and euphoria.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" The laughter grew darker, deeper. "THERE ARE STILL TRACES OF POWER FROM THOSE FOUR!"

He paused for a moment, looking up at the sky as if the universe itself were a witness to his proclamation.

"EVEN THOUGH THE LAMB ABSORBED THEIR HEARTS... THEIR RELICS STILL RESONATE WITH THE POWER OF GODS!"

His words, now more grave and filled with indescribable hatred, thundered like a storm in the vast solitude of Anchordeep. The air seemed to cool around him, as if the very atmosphere had sensed the magnitude of his dark revelation.

"AND THAT POWER WILL BELONG TO ME!"

The echo of his declaration slowly faded, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Narinder took a deep breath, his chest still vibrating from the intensity of his own words, a mix of satisfaction and anticipation coursing through him. The desire for power shone in his eyes.

Though he had only collected eight shards of crystal, he teleported back to the cult. He had someone to talk to, and an increasing anxiety about his daily sacrifice.