Requiem Of A Failed Hero

The journey down has been a long one, Raith couldn't tell how long it has been; hours, days, or maybe months. The constant darkness of the abyss kept the time flow of its plane a mystery.

Raith was making progress but it was getting harder, his palm was covered in callouses and the tattered socks that barely protected his feet had torn off and were drenched in the clotting blood from each time he slipped his legs but held on so tightly that he wouldn't fall.

The scratch marks on his head and arms told the story of how he had kept climbing painstakingly.

After a few more climbs downwards he fell on a flat surface. His heart rejoiced as he fell on his butt, he happily stood up and almost fell off the edge which was right off his back. He staggered back and stared into the wide view of several mountains that were as high as the one he was climbing down from.

He turned to the other side and walked further inside, it was a carved-out space in the mountain, and it didn't even go deep. He sat on the floor and dropped his head as he stared at his palms which were so unfamiliar.

He had even wept as he was climbing down at some point, thinking that if he had decided not to take the trial maybe he wouldn't have encountered so much hardship.

At another point, he thought of letting it go and just giving up on living. But how could he do that with that huge amount of money in his inventory?

He hadn't even started to enjoy his life.

He hadn't paid back his father and brother for the ruthlessness.

He hadn't paid back the world for how they tagged him as a taboo in the blink of an eye.

And he hadn't got to enjoy Felfhiem, there are many things he wanted to see in this world. The kind of people—demons that existed in this place.

Their relation to strangers, their food, their clothes, and their cultures.

Dying was just not a choice.

And so was sitting around here.

"I have to get moving if I don't want to be back where I started."

He stood up, unable to clench his fist even when he wanted to, he slowly got down the edge and continued his journey downwards.

...

How long has it been, the old man couldn't tell. As an Akte'z fiend, Volmak was resistant to states like sleep and stuns he also had an internal structure that allowed him to be able to survive for years without feeding himself, although he would need a large amount of food to make up for the time of starvation. And should the starvation continue, he would lose his stamina and he wouldn't be able to keep using the magic he was using to keep on his human appearance.

But the greatest thing about an Akte'z fiend is their unbending loyalty and discipline. It was in-bourne in the DNA of every akte'z fiend just like the demon fiend's DNA is imbued with pride due to them being the closest to the abyss and automatically the strongest race in Felfhiem, they are also considered royalty.

Most times you would find Akte'z fiend being the general of an army or a butler, or an assistant to a great demon.

It was because of their sense of loyalty and discipline. It was that sense of discipline that played out as Old man Volmak stayed in the same position regardless of the brightness of the day or the darkness of the night, not paying attention to the number of times day turned into night and night into day.

Not for a second did he think of looking up to the abyss because he wanted to stand up, it was empty and any stranger that mistakenly entered the cabin would think he was worshipping his bed but as long as he could the presence of the abyss with every fiber of his veins and senses.

He couldn't even if he wanted to. Akte'z fiends were conditionally loyal to their masters but to the abyss, it was unconditionally, with or without their choices, their senses force them to pay obeisance to its presence.

...

Raith was getting further and further, he had even gone farther than he could imagine but the passage of time had numbed his senses, he almost couldn't feel his hands but would still tightly hold on. His hands left prints of blood as he descended and it has been like that for a while now.

His fingers were peeling, and even his nails suffered the force of having to hold on tightly to something, they were ragged and bloodied.

His lips were dry and his eyes were hollow as if he was a native of the land of the dead. He couldn't make a sound even if he wanted to, his throat was dehydrated and it would take additional strength to force his voice out his throat, so he just focused on expending his strength on climbing alone while spending few moments in his thoughts, whether it was creating an imagination where he was the strongest in the world and he defeated his father and brother in a duel and was respected by kings, presidents, and even the archons woke up from their slumber to thank him for saving the world, –then he was awarded the strongest and bravest hero in the entire world, he would later go on to marry the unblazing sun and together they gave birth to two sons and one daughter, the daughter took her mother's beauty but her father's hair but the sons took after him and he took care of them very well whether they were strong or weak.

Different imaginations played, the next one would play after he was done with one but the tearing pain of his shivering wrist every time he is hanging on to find a place to move his feet distracted him every time like it was again as he moved his leg endlessly but there were just too many places to put his legs.

His eyes widened after a long time.

'Flat surface!'

He released his hand and fell on the ground not caring how stony it was, he lay helplessly on the ground sinking into a blank consciousness as his eyes got dimmer.

He could barely pull the strength to open his eyes and all his body parts were numb, except his ears of course.

[You have failed the second Trial Of Death]

[You shall restart the trial]

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