Andrea, the Viper. Of all the people in this world he had to come across, he came across the very definition of death.
The bishop laid lifeless on the floor as Andrea looked intently at Yeonho, who watched in horror, shivering in fear. In the blink of an eye, a kick connected to his side, sending him flying against the wall, knocking out the air in his lungs. His left row of ribs had been completely shattered.
He looked on in pain as Andrea planted her feet back to the marble floor, smiling at him sweetly.
"I'd like to know why it is that you were faking your fear. The entire time our poor dear bishop began screaming in such passionate agony, you remained unbothered by all this, not only that, but you also decided to snatch my short sword from my waist when I kicked you." Andrea now walked towards him.
His vision was now blurry as though he was losing consciousness. A very loud noise could be heard in the background, the sound of bells ringing once again.
He was alone once again, Andrea and her men nowhere in sight, coughing up blood. To his horror, his shattered ribs, after inspecting them, bled internally, leaving a purple-like hue on his skin.
He laid back, catching his breath. He had to awaken his forte, or he'd die, he thought to himself, a thought that was broken by a snarl looking in its direction; he saw the corpse of the bishop that Andrea had killed as it began to move towards him.
Forcing himself up, he had to move, or he'd die. He could only use his legs to move slightly backwards till felt another corpse behind him screaming. He turned around to see his body lying in the middle of the altar with a long, thin, slightly curved blade embedded in his heart.
He couldn't believe it; it was his original body on earth, and it laid at the feet of a single statue, the blade that pierced its heart gleamed in a purple moonlight glow that shone through the stained glass.
This was the statue of the tenth god. It stood alone at the altar, the other statues now gone from sight. Why was it here? Yeonho wondered, the statue of the god responsible for granting humanity the ability, powered by their individuality, their Forte.
The corpse now charged Yeonho, clawing at his back, biting into his neck as he crawled towards the blade that remained embedded in his body.
Slowly and painfully breathing in and out, he reached the blade, slowly climbing to his knees while the corpse continued to tear at his neck, he gripped the lacquered tsuki covered in a purple moonlit silk, drawing the tachi from his corpse, a smile on his face as he plunged it into his chest, stabbing the corpse behind him through himself.
"Beyond the gates into the embrace of the dark abyss lay the greatest mercy," he spoke as the corpse fell backward, oozing a purple liquid that slipped into Yeonho.
The words flashed in his mind. "Holder of the abyssal gaze." In this moment, gave Yeonho an understanding of the strange occurrence that had happened before.
A being, rejected by the gods, had no place in the world they governed; all the malice, all the hatred, despair, contempt, emptiness, and loneliness had become an awareness that sought to devour everything.
An awareness that had now become him, this was his forte, with a now glowing purple gaze, that had a sense of darkness behind them, looked at the purple moon that loomed above him.
As good as it was having awakened his forte; he had died in this world once already at the graveyard. Claiming the soul of the bishop restored a life, and now his leg was healed as well as his shattered ribs.
With all this in mind, the fact remained that Andrea would claim his life if he returned to the other world as easily as the bishop, he'd die. The awakening of his forte would play no part in saving him.
He had to think of a way, though, since he did not fully understand his abilities, which limited how much creativity could be applied to the situation. He had the tachi, but from his understanding of belonging to this decrepit world, the gods for sure didn't really care for him, and he had a few hours left to figure things out.
To his knowledge, given the consistent transfer of movement between the two worlds, it held importance to understand that the two worlds were connected closely. The question remained on how much he would be able to influence the main world.
To test this, he'd have to revert the soul of the bishop, returning him to a weakened state. A gateway of sorts would be needed. Closing his eyes, he felt an odd sensation, becoming aware of his own soul, he became aware of another soul that was somewhere close.
Following the trail of lingering consciousness, he came back to face his lifeless body, the one he had before all this began. Looking down at his body, memories flooded his mind, a remembrance of sorts.
Yes, he was indeed a truly tragic man. He wasn't bullied or picked on or anything; he wasn't hit or beaten, as a matter of fact, nothing really happened to him; he lived his life, he craved family, friends, connections, and love.
It felt as though he lived separately from others, where he was by himself, looking at people getting together and celebrating, smiling, laughing, and dancing. He always stood outside looking in.
Yes, truly tragic indeed, and yet, drawing his blade, he severed his own head, his blood staining the sculpture of the god that stood by itself. Turning his back on it, he walked out of the altar. The cathedral looked the same as it did in the other world, though it was run down, dark, and bleak. Walking down the reception hall, parts of the walls had been destroyed.
Turning to his right, leading to a stairwell, which he climbed, he turned to a room. Pushing open a dusty wooden door, he walked into what looked like a little office: a desk sat in the middle, on the left a little closet, which he opened, spotting a black leather suitcase at the corner.
Grabbing it, he laid the tachi on the desk before opening the case, spotting a dress shirt and dark pants. Stripping himself of his clothes that smelled of death, he put on only the dress shirt before leaving the office, walking down the steps. Everything around him felt silent. His bare feet patting on the floor, he walked until he found a bath in the priest's quarters. Taking off the dress shirt, he stepped into the cold water, which swallowed him whole; up to his shoulders. The bath was an open-air one, as the ceilings had already been reduced to rubble.
The moon above him shone purple with the same intensity and brilliance as his eyes, its reflection cast against the dark water that surrounded him, and the wind blew coldly, making him shiver a bit, but it was fine.
A few minutes later, he had already left the bath. He got ready in a white, ironed dress shirt, black pants, and a long, dark coat, with dark, gloved hands gripping a walking stick with a crow's head. He walked to the desk, and on it laid the tachi. Laying the walking stick against the desk, he lifted the blade, his right hand held the tsuki, resting against his left palm was the blade itself.
The Tachi was a blade that predated the katana. Even in his hands, it felt heavy; regardless, it was highly impractical to wield as it would shatter after making contact with an aura master's sword. To be able to use it properly, he'd have to train even more to wield it. Placing it back on the desk, he returned to the altar, reaching into his pocket as the watch ticked.
The abyssal world around him shattered like glass, stepping into the other one, he found himself back in the altar, surrounded by the 9 god statues. This time, it was midnight. Looking around, he saw the men cloaked in black were gone, the body of the bishop as well, had vanished, and the pool of blood absent, as though it had never been. He slowly walked towards the door.
"I'm guessing that is an ability of your forte?" Andrea stood behind him, her eyes gleaming. She smiled with excitement. Instantly, Yeonho went flying against the wall once more. He couldn't believe it. Why was she so damn strong?
"My, my, are you okay? It seems like your ribs didn't break this time," she spoke, walking calmly towards him.
"The Cauldron of Serpents and Snakes, it's an honor," Yeonho said, clutching his side, slowly getting up. "I'd give a bow, but as you can see, you have me in a predicament."
"Aww, no, it's fine, your gesture is one I've already received, and I appreciate you being a gentleman," she spoke quietly, placing her palm where she had kicked him previously.
"Huh? It seems to have healed up perfectly, plus your irises seems to have changed color. I have a question, however. Why did it seem as though my men had completely forgotten what you looked like?" she spoke directly into his ear.
"I'm not sure, as I only recently awakened it," Yeonho replied nervously.
A second not passing, Andrea rammed her short sword into his chest, a sultry smile on her face as she drew it back out. Yeonho fell forward at her feet, she had pierced his heart coldly.
She uttered not a word as she left the altar, and Yeonho laid back in his own blood as his breath slowed down, his vision blurry, and he bled out clutching his heart.
Yes indeed, Yeonho Lee was a very tragic and unfortunate man.