Spirit World… Dark Sea area where the Abyssal Mountain situated…
The dark sea stretched endlessly before Phillip Quinn and his demon army, its surface a writhing mass of black waves and abyssal mist.
The distant outline of Abyssal Mountain loomed like a jagged shadow in the far reaches of the sea, wrapped in perpetual storms.
No demon emperor before had dared approach it after the failed attempt centuries ago. Yet Phillip stood at the edge of his bone-carved warship, eyes alight with ambition, the skeletal crown of the former emperor glimmering faintly atop his head.
Behind him, the demon fleet sailed silently, thousands of war vessels shaped from black obsidian and bones of fallen beasts, manned by ghoul-faced mariners and soul-consuming vultures. Dark and red banners fluttered across every ship, their fabric humming with forbidden spells.
Phillip’s voice echoed across the fleet.
“Today, we carve our names into the heart of the abyss! We do what the former emperors feared to finish. The nectar that lies within Abyssal Mountain will raise us beyond the limits of mortality!” Phillip’s crimson eyes blazed as he addressed the demon captains gathered on their ships.
Murmurs rippled through the fleet, for they all remembered the tale of the last emperor who attempted this feat, whose life was devoured by the abyssal poison that guarded the mountain. But none dared question Phillip’s resolve.
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“Commander Varok! Bring forth the serpent ropes!”
Varok, the three-headed general, emerged from the frontmost ship, guiding massive scaled serpents, each joined by runed chains. Their coiled bodies shimmered with dark energy, and their forked tongues hissed with the echoes of abyssal curses.
These serpents were tied together like ropes and were going to use for mountain churning.
“Wrap the mountain! Coil their bodies around its base!” Phillip commanded, his voice reverberating through the thick, foggy air.
The serpent rope slithered forward. As the demons approached the mountain, the air grew heavier.
Abyssal mountain guardians began to emerge from the deep – massive beasts with stone armor and eyes like molten pits. They roared in defiance, but Phillip raised his skeletal crown. A wave of black fire burst from its tip, searing across the guardians, forcing them to retreat into the depths with anguished cries.
“None shall stand in our way! If the abyss resists, we will break it!” Phillip’s voice thundered once more.
As the serpents coiled around the mountain, demon soldiers leaped across the anchored warships, carrying enchanted serpant chains carved from abyssal ore.
They secured the serpents tightly against the mountain’s rocky surface, hammering massive stakes into the crags to hold them in place.
A dozen formations of warlocks gathered at the base, chanting forbidden incantations to tether the serpents to the material world, preventing them from slipping into the mountain surface.
The churning began.
“Pull! Twist the mountain from its base! Let the nectar rise!” Phillip raised his hand, and the serpent chains glowed with pulsating energy. The very ocean trembled as the creatures tightened their grip and began to stirr the mountain.
Dark clouds swirled above as the entire sea seemed to heave and groan. The mountain, once immovable, began to crackle, emitting low, guttural sounds as though it resented being disturbed. The serpents hissed as fissures of glowing blue light spread across the mountain’s surface, marking the rise of abyssal nectar within.
Phillip watched with narrowed eyes, his grip tightening around the crown.
“More pressure. We cannot stop halfway!”
The demon soldiers, their muscles taut and sweat glistening on their charred skin, continued to pull. Some burst into black flames under the immense strain, their essence feeding into the formation. Yet none ceased their effort.
From atop his warship, Phillip could feel the mountain’s resistance weakening and slowly moving. A single droplet from within could elevate him beyond the limits of a half-sovereign.
–
Shrine of Eternal Sands…
The golden feather stuck in between Kent’s fingertips. Jean, Gunji Zing, and Aran Lam crowded around him, their eyes fixed on the delicate object as if the answers would suddenly manifest from its golden veins.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jean whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But it’s beautiful. Almost… alive.”
Gunji Zing squinted. “Dragon Bloom… That’s what it says, right?” She leaned closer, trying to read the tiny, glowing script along the feather’s spine. “It has to mean something. Maybe we just need to plant it somewhere? Like a seed?”
Aran Lam crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Planting a feather? That’s absurd, Gunji. Feathers don’t grow.” He stepped forward, his gaze sharp and analytical. “What if it’s meant to be burned? Maybe the fire will activate it, like a phoenix rebirth.”
“Burn it?” Gunji gasped, horrified. “No way. That could destroy it!”
Jean nodded in agreement. “I have to side with Gunji on this. It looks too precious to just toss into flames and hope for the best.”
A faint growl interrupted their discussion. Kent’s serpent beast, Jabil, lifted its head, golden eyes narrowing at the feather. “Master… the aura of that feather feels… divine. Perhaps it needs to be used during a celestial event? A full moon, perhaps?”
Phoenix lady Ruby, resting nearby with her fiery wings half-spread, scoffed lightly. “You serpents and your obsession with the stars. Not everything needs the moon’s blessing, Jabil.” She stretched her talons forward, sparks of flame dancing between her feathers. “I say we let Sparky hold it. He’s the one meant to evolve, after all.”
The baby dragon, Sparky, flapped his tiny wings excitedly at the sound of his name. He scampered forward, snorting out a puff of smoke.
“No.” Kent’s firm voice cut through the chatter. “We’re not guessing. This feather is too rare to gamble with.” He gently slipped the feather into his inner robe pocket, sealing it away. “I won’t risk wasting something that could change Sparky’s entire future.”
Silence fell among the group, but the tension lingered in the air.
Gunji shifted uncomfortably. “Then what do we do? Just keep it hidden forever?”
Kent’s gaze hardened, and he glanced toward the dark horizon. “No. I know someone who can help.” His tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt.
Jean stepped forward. “Who? Who could possibly know how to use a feather like this?”
Kent’s eyes flickered with a rare glint of emotion. “Storm-god.”