Chapter 1145: A Toll for Safe Passage

When you entertain the possibility of love, or something that might be love, a dream begins.

And the fruits of that dream are shyness, excitement, and a strange, inexplicable anticipation.

This was the truth Isilra discovered in her heart moments after agreeing to the alliance. And with it, a name took root there: Orion Stoneheart. Her fiancé. For politics.

And yet, just as a faint flutter began in her chest, the chorus of demonic roars from beyond Staghelm City’s walls and the demigod-wrought storms raging across the sky ripped the fragile dream to shreds.

In the face of annihilation, what the hell was a crush?

“Do not worry. Our allies are on their way.”

The Moonwell demigod’s voice washed over Isilra, soothing the edges of her panic.

“Mother, are you sure they’re coming?” Isilra asked, her voice small. “Will… will Orion be with them?”

***

The Abyss, Third Level.

Here, there was only darkness, a howling wind thick with Abyssal energy, and the stench of rot and death.

“Invader from the lower worlds,” a guttural voice boomed. “You are not welcome in Ashlock Canyon.”

The arch lord of the Bone-gnawer race, Balarun, hovered in the air opposite Orion. With the body of a massive demon and the leathery wings of a dragon, he was the very picture of a predator you didn’t mess with.

“I’m aware,” Orion’s voice replied, flat and cold from behind the Deathly Soul-Reaper’s helm. He held his scythe in a low guard, his cloak whipping in the wind. “And frankly, I have no interest in your dilapidated canyon.”

Behind him, Eparus and Holrivus strained to keep the spatial rift stable while Thronlis and Ashreign stood guard, locked in a tense standoff with seven or eight other Legendary-level Bone-gnawer Beasts.

“This is not my destination,” Orion continued. “The higher planes of the Abyss are my home.”

Orion wasn’t being chatty for his health. The being before him was powerful enough to demand a conversation. The first exchange of blows between them had ended in a stalemate, which meant Balarun was, at minimum, a peak arch lord. That gave him the right to stand on equal footing with Orion.

More importantly, Orion’s followers were surrounded. He had to compromise, to de-escalate and negotiate.

“The higher planes?” Balarun’s tone softened slightly. The agitated twitching of his long scorpion tail slowed. The massive, bone-like pincers on his arms lowered a fraction.

Just as Orion found Balarun to be a problem, Balarun found Orion to be a catastrophe. He recognized the terrifying power of the Deathly Soul-Reaper, but more than that, he recognized the legendary Scourge Wardens—Eparus, Holrivus, and Thronlis.

“You know that coordinates are randomized when you tear open a rift,” Orion said. “We didn’t target you. We intended no offense. My name is Orion. If you stand down, perhaps we can even be friends.” He could see the hesitation in Balarun’s posture and pressed the advantage. A full-blown fight would be a disaster. He himself would survive, might even go on a rampage. But his followers would be slaughtered. He couldn’t let that happen.

“I am Balarun, lord of the Bone-gnawer race and ruler of the great Ashlock Canyon,” the beast declared, his voice dripping with pride. “Others call me the Holy Bone-Gnawing King, the most powerful being below a demigod on the third level of the Abyss.”

Orion studied him. The creature was as large as an ancient dragon, his entire body covered in a dense network of black and red sigils that seemed to writhe with captive fire. He was a natural-born killer, more terrifying than any dragon Orion had ever seen.

“Lord Balarun, there’s no need for us to be at each other’s throats,” Orion said, his tone reasonable but firm. “I have no desire to see my subordinates mobbed, nor do I wish to slaughter your innocent people.”

It was a perfectly rational statement, but Balarun didn’t miss the threat coiled beneath it. If you don’t back down, I will unleash hell.

“You speak the truth, Orion,” Balarun conceded. “There is no need for bloodshed. Assuming, of course, that you have no designs on our territory or our race.” He gave a slight flick of his giant pincer. The Bone-gnawer lords surrounding the rift immediately disengaged, retreating to flank their leader.

Orion breathed a silent sigh of relief. So that’s how it is. In the Abyss, ‘reason’ is just another word for overwhelming force. His understanding of this realm deepened.

Just as he was about to speak, a wild voice erupted from the portal. “Hulk! I’m here to help!”

Makareth, having activated some kind of berserker technique that transformed him into a massive demon, burst through the rift trailing a storm of raw Abyssal energy, ready for a fight.

ROOAAR!

Enraged by the newcomer’s belligerence, Balarun’s lords roared back, focusing their collective malice and killing intent on Makareth.

Being targeted by a pack of Legendary-level powerhouses was enough to stop even a prodigy like Makareth cold. He froze, his battle rage evaporating as he finally took in the scene.

“Hulk, did they ambush you?” he hissed. “Give the word. I can’t take the big one, but I’ll butcher the rest of these trashes for you.” As a demon, he might have been a monster, but as an ally, he was ride-or-die.

“It’s fine,” Orion said, shaking his head and signaling for Makareth to shut up. “It was a misunderstanding.” He shot Balarun an exasperated look, then paused. After a moment’s thought, he produced a storage pouch and tossed it to the Bone-gnawer king.

“Lord Balarun,” he said. “Could you point us toward a place where we might make a temporary camp? My followers and I need a place to rest.”

The pouch was filled with crystal cores and magic gems they had plundered from the Demondrake territory. It was, in essence, a toll for safe passage. In the Abyss, crystals were a universal currency.

Balarun glanced into the pouch. The amount wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t insignificant either.