Garden Of The Abyss

It was similar to hail; small chunks of frosted material raining down on his position and leaving little room for him to weave through--however, it wasn't quite comparable to the somewhat inconvenient weather.

He could hear it each time a piece of the half-foot long icicles zoomed past his head; the air contorted, hissed, and howled like a bullet curving by his ear.

Attempting to draw close to the giant air-breathing squid was a difficult task as he found himself having to run circles on the field of snow as the rapid, sharp ice prevented him from reaching close to its body.

If a single one of those hits, it's going to hurt, he thought.

This time he didn't try to use 'Dusk Waltz', and there was a simple reason for it: precision.

While it granted him an immense boost in speed, it didn't allow for small adjustments or clean turns--at least not at the mastery he possessed of it, or lack thereof.

I could try a 'Piercer and Detonation combo' but the problem is those icicles...it'll probably shoot the spears right out of the air or block it outright with ice. 'Ultima Darkness' would be complete overkill--not only that, but I'd run myself dry.

Guess we're doing this 'that' way, he decided.

Sprinting forward as he bobbed-and-weaved through an assortment of lethal hail, he stomped his foot down to break from his gathered speed before swinging his blade with a strengthened tug.

"Dunkel: Slicer!"

Emitting from the edge of Belus, an extension of its sharpness left as the slice of shadowy energy hurled towards the giant, snow-dwelling creature.

A shield of ice erupted from the snow in a storm of white frost, rapidly rising up as it shielded the spear-headed squid from the visceral edge of darkness. Though the shield of magically-conjured ice was shattered by the collision, the squid remained unharmed, seeming to celebrate with a weird churdle-laughter.

As expected, he thought.

In the moment that it halted its assault to protect itself, he was able to draw closer with a swift dash, holding a ball of condensed shadows in his palm.

"Araphel: Blackout!"

With a toss that he summoned his inner baseball pitcher to bolster, the shadowy orb was flung in front of the perplexed squid before bursting into a flash of utter darkness.

I thought about using the snow to take away your vision, but you work off of sound, don't you? If that's the case, let's see how you handle having all of your senses robbed! He thought.

A whistle-like howl emerged from the circular maw of the squid that was filled with razor-sharp teeth, pelting against his ears like a chime from hell; even with his ears being attacked so brutally, he pushed forward while wincing.

Desperate, are we? It won't work! He resolved.

With one, final stomp into the ground, he launched himself with a powerful dash as he felt his entire skeleton being attacked by the assault of sound from the compromised squid.

In his hands, the handle of his blade was squeezed so fervently that his hands reignited with a fiery warmth; swinging his hips back, he flung them forth for an attack that left no effort spared.

It's time to turn into takoyaki---! He thought.

"Dunkel: Slicer! Times Seven!" He yelled out.

A single cleave of his blade, once more.

A single strike brought with it seven, malicious edges of darkness that diced right through the tentacle-bearing magician with ease.

The ear-piercing whistling stopped without a trace, replaced by fleeting stratifications that cut the sound from the wind momentarily.

The flurry of strikes decimated the squid right before him as he managed to dash right past the position it stood as its body crumbled into a half-dozen pieces onto the snow.

A moment had to be taken for the brutal finisher to be processed before the temple of black flesh exploded onto the snow, raining down purple, oozing blood onto the once pure white.

"...Phew," he released a tired breath.

After taking a few breaths while watching the remains of the gargantuan squid crumble onto the snow like a desecrated building, he realized just how far the coldness of the snow had embedded itself into his flesh.

"I'm going to get hypothermia at this rate...hopefully that building is warmer inside," he shuddered, sheathing his blade as he began to move towards the stone structure.

The only reason the cold didn't overtake his body before was the adrenaline warming his body with the heat of battle, pumping blood rapidly through his veins that now calmed, allowing the frost to be felt in its entirety.

What made it worse was the seeming impossibility of warmth: he had no further garments to wear, and creating a fire would make a herculean task in the current, wild storm of snow.

I can hardly feel my fingers, toes, or nose anymore...just great, he thought.

Though the only respite was that the hill-inhabiting, stone structure was now only a few minutes away.

Trudging through the sea of snow, he climbed the rocky, natural staircase that led up the snow-carpeted, oversized rock. Beginning as a normal, almost relieving hike up rock-carved steps transformed into an arduous, rock climbing journey as it grew steeper and steeper.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths'¦" he told himself.

Using his freezing, numb fingers as an anchor for the weight of his body was almost a comical task from the frosten-laden hillside, but he had to oblige.

Even the tiniest landslides of loose sediment falling against his hands and face made him flinch and quiver as his cold-sapped strength was tested.

Clinging close to the side of the white-coated hillside, he found himself lucky by the amount of finger holds embedded into the natural formation, climbing up at a steady pace.

"Hyup!"

--He took a risk, lunging from his position that solely relied on the strength of his fingers and toes as he managed to latch onto a protruding piece of the hill that was just out of reach previously.

"...Gotcha!" He celebrated through a quick breath.

Looking back momentarily, a cold, waking wind brushed against him as he realized the height he had reached without realizing.

Though heights were hardly a problem in the realm of magic, it was still a primal feeling in his gut that churned enough to make him return his gaze up, and only up.

His destination loomed over him; the mossy, yet frosted structure formed of gray, solemn stone was all that inhabited the singular hill that stood out in the snow-filled clearing.

If it ends up being safe, it'll make a good rest stop, he thought.

Huffing through his lips, he summoned the strength in his body as he did his best to reserve his mana by omitting the usage of reinforcement. One movement after another; repetitions of him moving one leg to a spot higher, and one hand to a hold slightly higher. Monotonous and painful in the blistering cold, these repetitions had to become natural, otherwise he would have surrendered to the climb.

"...Come on'¦!" He gritted his teeth.

Utilizing his only natural physical prowess, he reached the summit after what felt like an eternity of climbing, digging his fingernails past the layer of snow above and clawing into the dirt below for stability.

It was when the goal was reached that it seemed the hardest to end his rock-climbing adventure with one last pull of his weight, dragging himself onto the summit of the walled hill.

"Phew...screw this place," he laid on his back while regaining his breath.

Looking up, the abyssal sky almost looked ordinary as coalesced clouds of snow hung up above, looming over him.

...Alright. Let's move--I'd prefer not to get frostbitten out here, he thought.

Bringing himself back to his feet, he was face-to-face with the entrance of the enigmatic, stone tower; the entrance wasn't secured by a door, but by a tunnel of melded trees that could only have been forcefully bent over to form such a way.

The peculiarity of it made him stop for a moment; though it was an awe-striking sight, such things were dulled behind his sense of caution.

Slowly walking into the tunnel walled by gray oak and frosty leaves, he moved carefully as the fallings of the trees crunched beneath his boots. It felt as if the moment he entered the new, claustrophobic scenery, the air shifted away from the gnawing cold to a more subtle, cool wind that breathed silently.

Lightly, he knocked his knuckles against the melded oak that made up the tunnelway, feeling a sturdy response that resonated to him with rock-solid stability.

Careful now...we know how Purgatory goes, he remembered.

With that cautionary reminder to himself, he kept his hand stationed near the handle of his sheathed weapon while walking through the quiet, liminal tunnel of pale nature.

Ahead of him, a door didn't sit at the end of the tunnel, only leading directly into the innards of the enigmatic structure.

As tiny, pale leaves glided over his head like snowflakes, he approached the unsealed doorway, stepping into it before stopping to look around.

The tired soles of his boots stood on the mossy stone as he felt a change in temperature.

"It's warmer, at least'¦" He muttered

It was a singular, mainly empty room shaped like a cylinder; only a few, cobweb-covered boxes alongside torn fabric resided on the stone floor--except for one other thing inhabiting the room.

A staircase leading downward, shown only by the subtle light given from the flickering, orange lantern clinging to the far wall.

"....Talk about sketchy," he whispered to himself.