Vol. 2 Ch. 40: Twisting of events, calling of favours

Author's note:

Recurring Characters:

Peter: The protagonist of this novel.
Deathknell: An eldritch spirit of chaos that has a contract with Peter and is his summoned creature. It has a class called Master of Shadows. (right?)
Avaris: Goddess of healing, fertility, etc.
Aldemar: Knight commander of holy knights in Rosefall.
Mariah: Peter's mother.
Elena: Mariah's mother.
Gregor: Mariah's father.

Recap:

“I was careless,” Avaris said, her voice sounding remorseful, but firm. Then, her gaze sharpened into steel. “Yet thou shalt not have this one.”

…End of Author's note...

...

Avaris gritted her teeth, her silver hair lifting with the surge of divine power gathering beneath her feet. The floor cracked softly, dust flying away as she began to rise above it.

She had taken only a few feet into the air before the shadows struck. They rushed from every corner, attacking in a frenzy. Lashing around her legs like serpents made of pure darkness, they stopped her ascent. More Shadows shot from the walls and ceiling, turning into clawed hands, each one grabbing at her ankles, calves, and wrists.

With her ascent halted abruptly, the divine glow surrounding her body sputtered where it met the shadowy tendrils. The shadows tightened their grip, dragging her back down with a force that elicited a grunt out of the goddess. The impact as her feet hit the ground sent a shudder through the weakened floorboards, cracks spiderwebbing outward.

She raised one hand to strike them away, but the shadows moved faster, twisting around her arm and yanking it to her side. Dozens of them piled over each other, writhing and constricting, until she was half-entombed in a cage of living darkness.

Just then, a sharp, piercing bird cry split the air, so clear and resonant it felt as though it came from the very heavens. The ceiling above blazed with sudden gold as the sun flared unnaturally bright, its rays pouring through every crack and gap. The light struck the shadows like molten metal against ice, burning them away in curling wisps of black smoke.

The cage shattered, tendrils writhing and retreating into the corners of the room. For a moment, warmth flooded back into the air, and with it came a sense of overwhelming purity that clashed violently with the abyssal presence.

The reprieve lasted just enough that Avaris could breathe a sigh of relief.

The darkness surged back with renewed fury, thicker and more suffocating than before, as though the Abyss had been angered by the interruptions. Outside, the sky dimmed, clouds rolling in to smother every celestial light. Inside, shadows flooded the floor in relentless waves, swallowing the last traces of warmth until the room lay buried beneath an ocean of night. The air grew heavy and oppressive, making each breath that Avaris took feel like dragging icy needles into her lungs.

Deathknell straightened, its form swelling with this resurgence. Under its guidance, the shadows rose higher, swirling into sharp spikes that lunged at Avaris from every direction.

She lifted her hand to summon another burst of light, but the oppressive weight of the Abyss pressed down on her like a mountain, slowing her movements. A flicker of defiance burned in her crimson eyes. She thrust her palm downward, releasing a flare of golden radiance that shattered the spikes into nothingness.

More shadows surged in to take their place, coiling and twisting with unprecedented speed. Each clash between them rattled the building, and with every moment that passed, Avaris lost some ground against the joint assault of abyssal presence and Deathknell.

When it looked like Deathknell would succeed in consuming the mortal shell of the goddess, something unexpected happened.

…

When Avaris fixed her gaze on the statue, Abyss turned her attention to the goddess, and the pressure on Peter eased. The hold on him finally broke when the celestial objects moved to shield Avaris’s mortal shell from falling into Abyss’s grasp, forcing Abyss to clash with multiple divine beings at once.

…

Peter woke to a cascade of system notifications flashing in his mind’s eye.

[

Note: The Abyssal influence is weakening.

Note: The resonance between Title: True Cultist and Abyss has ended.

Note: The resonance between Title: The Walking Calamity and Abyss has ended.

Note: Deathknell’s empowerment has ended.

Note: Temporarily lifted system restrictions on Deathknell are being re-imposed.

Note: Restrictions are successfully imposed.

Note: Skill: Spirit of Fortitude has successfully resisted the residual influence.

Note: Skill: Eternal Ward has successfully re-established a protective layer.

Note: Skill: Undying Vitality has stabilised your mental domain.

Note: Skill: Undying Vitality has repaired accumulated damage.

Note: You have sustained severe mental and soul strain. Temporary penalties applied to mana regeneration.

]

Peter grew angrier with each passing moment as he watched Deathknell continue to move his body like a puppet, striking relentlessly at the young woman. Every blow that missed or was deflected only seemed to make the spirit more vicious, its shadowy claws lashing out with murderous intent.

That anger finally reached a boiling point and burst forth. Peter lashed out, forcing his will against the suffocating darkness to reclaim his body. The world around them seemed to shiver, the air tightening as if drawn inward. Reality itself compressed under the weight of his defiance, and his soul surged outward from his body, expanding in a wave of raw, unyielding force.

Deathknell roared inside his mind, a sound like tearing metal and crushing stone, but Peter didn’t flinch. He pushed harder, his will digging into the shadow’s hold like iron claws of his own. Tendrils lashed against him, cold and suffocating, but each one that struck was shattered into fragments of black mist, dissolving into nothing.

The shadows that had been crawling across the floor toward Avaris froze mid-lunge, their jagged tips only inches from her form. Peter’s presence flared brighter within the darkness, flooding every inch of his body with control that was his and his alone.

With a guttural snarl, he wrenched Deathknell’s claws back, the entire mass of writhing shadow halting as though chained in place. The darkness shuddered, fought, and writhed in protest—but this time, it moved only when Peter allowed it.

Avaris looked up, her eyes seeming to recognise something in Peter’s soul as it spilt out of his body and into the world, clashing against Deathknell.

“A debt mustn’t be left unpaid,” she said as if announcing to the world. “A favour must be repaid with favour.” She added, her voice carrying more confidence.

Her words seemed to have the desired effect. Peter started to receive more system notifications.

[

Note: Avaris has invoked contract magic.

Note: Checking…

Note: Conditions met. A life saved shall be repaid in kind.

Note: You’ve gained a new contract: A favour for a favour. Until the contract is fulfilled, you’re unable to harm the Saintess of Avaris.

]

Peter blinked as the final line seared itself into his awareness, carrying with it a subtle yet undeniable force that wrapped around his very being. It was not a physical chain, yet he could feel its presence in his soul, an invisible oath binding him tighter than steel.

Deathknell hissed in outrage, the shadows around them writhing violently, but when they twitched toward Avaris, they stopped mid-air, frozen as if the air itself had turned into stone.

Peter felt the abyssal presence lingering over the building withdraw, sinking back into the depths below.

Avaris’s expression softened, but before she could speak, her eyes rolled back and her body collapsed to the floor. The divine aura surrounding her rose like pale vapour, drifting upward toward the dimmed moon above.

Letting out a weary breath, Peter released his transformation. His face reflected the deep exhaustion gnawing at him, but he pushed through it, kneeling beside the young woman. Gently, he turned her so she lay on her back, checking for signs of life. Relief eased his shoulders when he found her breathing steadily—only unconscious.

Satisfied, he rose and headed upstairs. The wizard’s study had to be somewhere above; the ground floor had held nothing of the sort. It took only minutes to find what he was after.

Tucking a couple of books under his clothes, Peter left the building without a backwards glance. The chaos from earlier would draw plenty of unwanted attention soon enough. The authorities would be swarming the place before long.

He kept to the shadows, slipping through narrow alleys and hugging the dark corners as he made his way out of the slums and back toward Guild Street.

…

The slum street was filled with uneasy silence, its residents keeping themselves behind closed doors and lowered windows. Everyone heard the commotion from the Thorns gang hideout, and plenty of them saw the burning lance descend on the building from the sky.

The sounds of the clash coming from it were loud and terrifying for the residents. Now the building stood dark and damaged, its walls cracked, the windows letting out faint wisps of something that quickly faded.

Outside it, the first boots hit the cobblestones. A squad of holy knights, personally led by the knight commander, approached the building upon terror birds and rushed inside it.

The moment Aldemar entered inside, his gaze swept the place, sharp and searching.

“Secure the upper floor. Check for survivors—or bodies,” he ordered, his eyes stuck on the dead bodies lying around the corridor.

Pairs of knights broke away, their steps echoing faintly on the ruined floor.

Aldemar surged forward, walking deeper into the corridor. As soon as he found the lying figure of the Saintess, he ran to her side and checked on her condition. Her breathing was steady, though her pulse was faint. Relief flickered across Aldemar’s face, quickly buried beneath a mask of discipline.

“Found her,” he called out, his voice firm but edged with urgency. “She’s alive. Fetch the healers—now.”

A knight sprinted back toward the entrance to call for aid.

As he picked her up to move her, Aldemar’s eyes lingered on the lingering traces of the battle: the scorched stone, the deep claw marks etched into the walls, and the unsettling patches of shadow that refused to vanish, clinging to corners as though afraid of the light.

…

The sun had crossed toward the other side when Peter pushed the door open and entered the Inn. His eyes scanned the diner and found his mother sitting in a chair, and everyone huddling around her.

He had waited for an hour or so, walking in the crowd to make sure that no one was following him, before he made his way to the Inn. Trailing after him was the only way to find him later on, as Peter’s resistance skill and defensive skill both were capable of hiding him from divination-based skills. Not just that, tracking skills that relied on smell or residual mana would also have no success, as he had prepared consistency for such scenarios, too.

“Peter!” Mariah said, getting up from the chair as soon as she spotted him. She rushed to him and enveloped him in a tight hug, her hands caressing his head and back. She broke into a chorus of sobs.

“Thank the gods that you’re back,” she said, cupping his face and kissing his forehead in relief.

“We told you that he’ll be back, dear,” Elena said from the side, a gentle smile on her face. “Where could he have gone?”

“What happened?” Peter asked, looking at his grandparents with questioning eyes. “Why is she crying?”

Gregor gave a soft smile. “Congratulations, Peter. Your mother has regained her memories.”

Peter’s eyes widened with shock before his lips curled into a joyful smile. “Really? But how?” he asked before turning his gaze toward Mariah.

“Mom? Is that true? Y-You remember everything? Even me?” Peter said, shaking her shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I remember everything, my child.”

“Really?”

Mariah nodded, a bittersweet smile on her face. Hot tears continued to flow from her reddened eyes. She leaned forward again, kissed his forehead, and caged him in an affectionate hug.

“I’m sorry, my sweetheart,” she whispered. “Please stop blaming yourself now. None of it was your fault, my child. Let go of this burden.”

Peter remained silent, just burying his face deeper in her shoulder and closing his eyes.

Her warmth and the faint, familiar scent of her clothes washed over him, as if pulling him back to a time before all the pain and uncertainty. His hands trembled as they clutched at her back, afraid that if he loosened his grip, she might fade away like a dream.

Mariah stroked his hair gently, her own body shaking with quiet sobs.

“You’ve endured far more than you should have,” she said.

Peter’s throat tightened. He wanted to speak, to tell her everything he’d wanted to say during those lonely nights, but the words stuck, tangled in his chest. All he could manage was a small nod against her shoulder.

…End of Chapter…