Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 76: Overshadowed Sadness

The next morning, Narinder woke up before the rooster crowed, the first rays of light filtering timidly through the window. He felt overwhelmed and dejected, as if a heavy slab had settled on his chest. Through sheer force of will, he got up and combed his fur with automatic movements, trying to dispel the fog of discouragement that enveloped him.

He left his house with slow steps, without warning anyone, like a spectre slipping through the darkness. Without further delay, he headed to Anchordeep, determined to put an end to the pending matter that tormented him.

Upon arriving at Anchordeep, the atmosphere was dense and tense. Narinder, with the relic in hand, felt the dark energy pulsating around him, as if the place itself was in tune with his contained anger. The decision was made; there would be no room for doubt, nor for compassion.

He began to wipe out every life form in his path, a whirlwind of devastation and destruction. Every blow, every swing of his sickle, was an outlet for his frustration and rage. He didn't care about the cost, he didn't care about the waste of energy; all he wanted was to free his soul from the chains that bound him to his past.

Seaweed fell like feathers, creatures tried to flee, but their efforts were in vain. Narinder would not stop, there would be no mercy. Rage consumed him, and for a brief moment, he felt freed from the bonds of guilt and regret. It was as if the power of the relic was pushing him to move forward, to annihilate everything he considered a threat to his new reality.

The echo of his fury resonated in the corners of the place, a cry of defiance against everything he had suffered. Yet deep within him, a whispering voice reminded him of what he was leaving behind. But that voice was drowned in the clamor of his destruction, and Narinder continued on his way, a relentless warrior seeking vengeance.

Narinder found himself standing in front of the Plague Temple, the place covered in oppressive darkness. Amidst the blackness, the corrupted figure of Witness Astaroth emerged, his grotesque, jellyfish-like form floating slowly. Three of his four eyes watched Narinder, as tentacles wavered around him, dripping black ichor that trailed across the floor. He was an abomination, a shadow of what he had once been.

Without a word, Witness Astaroth launched his first attack. Projectiles emanated from his central eye, shooting out in all directions, forming a deadly radial pattern. Narinder, with his innate agility, dodged the shots with precision, sliding across the battlefield while tightly gripping his sickle. Each projectile that passed close by whizzed with a terrifying hiss, but Narinder advanced relentlessly.

With a quick twist of his sickle, Narinder slashed straight at one of the tentacles, cutting off part of the slimy mass. Astaroth shrieked in response, a sharp sound echoing off the temple walls, and in response began his second attack: continuous shots that pursued the warrior. Narinder deftly zigzagged, his heart hammering with adrenaline, but never giving ground. With each dodge and each blow he delivered, he felt the heavy influence of the relic in his pocket, urging him to continue fighting.

The wounded Witness teleported out of range, leaving a void on the battlefield. From the shadows, misshapen creatures of Anchordeep emerged, moving towards Narinder with speed and fury. Without hesitation, Narinder spun around, using his sickle in wide arcs that decimated his enemies. The ground began to stain with the creatures' blood, but Narinder did not stop. His blows were precise, fueled by his rage and his need to end the threat.

Astaroth reappeared, vulnerable for a brief moment. Narinder took the opportunity, launching himself towards it and landing a direct blow to its central eye. The creature screamed again, louder this time, and in response summoned a new wave of enemies, two mini-bosses that roared with fury when summoned. They were formidable, but Narinder did not hesitate. With dizzying speed, he dispatched the first with several precise blows, while the second tried to corner it.

Witness Astaroth, realizing the situation, launched his radial attacks again, but Narinder easily dodged them as he finished off the last of the enemies. The battlefield was littered with debris, blood, and the fallen forms of his enemies, but Narinder, exhausted, stood firm.

The Witness, now gravely wounded, floated weakly, his body shaking as the black goo dripped more intensely. Narinder gave him no time to recover. In one last move, he leapt at him, slicing cleanly through the remaining tentacles, and dealing the final blow to his central eye.

Witness Astaroth fell with a shuddering scream, his form crumbling into a puddle of black ichor. With his last breath, Witness released the "Tear of God," the item Narinder needed.

Narinder, panting, picked up the tear and one eye of the witness. He slowly stood up, his body and mind exhausted by the intensity of the battle.

Narinder paused for a moment in front of the plague temple, the vestiges of the battle still weighing on his mind and body. He was exhausted. Not just by the fight, but by everything around him: the decisions he had made, the repressed emotions, the betrayal and the sacrifice. His gaze, fixed on the stones of the temple, reflected that emptiness he felt, as if his will was slowly crumbling. He breathed with difficulty, each step he took felt like a monumental effort.

The crowning of his victory brought him no satisfaction, only one more burden on his shoulders.

Remembering Kallamar's words, he began to walk towards the cave where the crystals were. His mind relived the recent moments, but something inside him was breaking. He felt like he was marching towards a destiny that he himself had sealed, a kind of condemnation.

He finally reached the cave, and with a single blow, shattered the glass blocking the entrance. The sound of the glass breaking reverberated through the cave, echoing the cracks he felt in his own soul. The darkness within the cave did not bother him; in fact, he felt at home in it. He walked inside, knowing exactly what he was going to find.

There, in the center of the cave, was the relic Kallamar had mentioned to him: Kallamar's Ear. Its form was intact, a physical representation of betrayal. Touching it, the crown Narinder wore revealed its description.

Name: Kallamar's Ear

Legend: Hear no evil.

Description: Summons an undead follower to aid you in your crusade.

Narinder watched it for a moment before storing it away in his crown. But there was no time to ponder too much, his mission was not over.

He returned to the plague temple, but this time he had no intention of simply leaving it behind. He knew that the ancient faith had to be completely eradicated. Instead of burning down the temple, which would be useless underwater, Narinder decided to use a different tactic. He invoked a darker, more powerful curse, sending black ichor mixed with acidic green all over the place. The substance clung to the walls, ceilings, and floors, and began to corrode everything.

It took longer than using fire, but the once imposing temple began to crumble before his eyes. The acid ate away at the structure, and each drop seemed to consume a little more of what was once sacred. Narinder watched in silence, no emotion on his face. The damage was absolute, the temple was turning into ruins, and soon there would be nothing recognizable left. The ground beneath his feet began to give way, the walls melting like wax under an invisible sun, and the place that had once been a symbol of power became a pile of irreparable rubble.

Only then, when there was nothing left, Narinder, exhausted and empty, teleported back to the cult, leaving behind another fragment of his tormented past.