Mystery: The Stranger

Chapter 3 Sacrificial Ritual

The demon's claws were only inches away from Snow's brow, and the violent aura they carried almost tore his thin linen robe apart.

That was the unique sulfurous stench of Sequence 6 of the Abyss Path, mixed with the scorching heat of pale blue poisonous flames—the signature aura of the "demons" that mortals feared in the Fourth Age—but to Snow's perception, it was nothing more than a filthy energy several times milder than the fel energy of Azeroth.

The moment the claws touched his skin, the unstoppable force of the impact vanished abruptly, like a tide crashing against an invisible reef.

The demon projection's eerie green eyes widened suddenly. What came into view was no longer the dilapidated altar and the pervasive mist, but an absolute void devoid of light, sound, and even the flow of time.

Floating all around were tiny fragments of souls, like the remnants of stars, each emanating a chilling, ethereal aura—the lingering, foul essence of ancient gods, the echoes of sacrificial rituals from the height of the Dark Empire's power, causing even this visitor from the abyss to feel a tremor originating from its very soul.

"Where...is this place?" The demon's roar was filled with disbelief and fear, and its originally violent aura instantly weakened by more than half.

It tried to flap its bat wings to break free, but even the bat-like wings on its back couldn't stir a wisp of wind; it attempted to condense a sulfur fireball to counterattack, but the pale blue flames were instantly swallowed by the power of the void as soon as they ignited in its palm. Its limbs seemed to be bound by invisible chains, a cage woven from shadow energy, the Soul Binding spell most proficient in Azerothian shadow priests, which now, thanks to the high rank of the dark dagger, unleashed power far beyond the ordinary.

Xal'atath's languid yet cruel whisper, like a murmur from the deepest recesses of the void, echoed through the space, carrying a chilling pleasure: "Welcome to the Endless Void, little fellow." The phantom of the dagger flashed in Snow's palm. "This blade was once a sacrificial relic of the Dark Empire, forged from fragments of Y'Shaarj's Claw. It is a great honor for a projection like you to set foot here."

Snow slowly stood up, brushed the dust off his knees, and his face was no longer filled with the unease and fear he had just shown, only a cold calm remained.

He looked up at the demonic projection trapped in the void, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he were looking at a piece of cargo about to be dismantled—in Azeroth, he had seen pit lords a hundred times more powerful than this, and dealing with this kind of Sequence 6 projection was nothing more than practice makes perfect.

"You promised to resurrect my family," he said calmly, yet with an undeniable certainty. "Now, it's time to fulfill that promise."

"Absurd!" the demon roared, attempting to unleash the magma sword, only to find that the power within him vanished like a stone sinking into the sea, swallowed up by the surrounding void power the moment it surged forth. "That's a miracle only the Angel King or the ancient sun god could accomplish! You damned mortal, you have no idea of ​​the limits of extraordinary power, you're toying with me!"

"You're toying with me." A faint grayish-purple light emanated from Snow's fingertips, a harbinger of gathering shadow energy. "If you can't do it, why did you agree in the first place?"

He was well aware of the flaws in the Fourth Age's incomplete summoning magic—it could neither restrain demons nor protect the summoner.

However, he had already modified the spell using the demon summoning logic of Azeroth: with the high position of Xal'atath as the anchor point of the contract, this dagger, which carries the sacrificial rules of the Dark Empire, is itself the most solid certificate of the contract.

The contract takes effect the moment the demon voluntarily responds to the call and makes a promise.

In Azeroth, making promises to shadow lords or servants of the Old Gods is tantamount to offering one's soul. Here, this ignorant abyssal demon committed the same fatal error.

"Since you've abandoned fulfilling the contract, I can only take what you've pledged as collateral." Snow raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers.

In the void, pale purple flames suddenly ignited, not the abyssal poison of the mysterious world, but the sacrificial fire of the shadow priests of Azeroth.

Although strictly speaking, this is something warlocks like to do, it doesn't matter. That's how the original, unorthodox shadow priests were; they knew a little bit about everything.

This flame does not touch the flesh, but only scorches the soul; it is Xalatas's favorite "nourishment".

Flames licked the demon's projection, instantly spreading to the soul thread connecting it to its original form in the abyss—the Sequence 6 demon, having descended upon the projection with the power of the abyss, already had a deep bond with its original form, and now this connection had become a deadly chain.

"No! The abyss will protect me!"

The demon let out a piercing scream, attempting to beg for mercy with filthy words, but those corrupt words from the abyss had no effect within the void prison of the Dark Empire. It did not know that the abyss never sheltered failed sacrifices, especially when the sacrificer held relics of a higher order.

Following the mystical connections, the sacrificial fire ignited the demon's true form, which lay far away in the abyss.

Snow did not exert any effort; the power to burn the demon's flesh came from the energy released by burning the demon's soul. This was the core rule of the Dark Empire's sacrificial ritual, an instinct etched into Xal'atath's very being, and also the professional training of early, unorthodox shadow priests.

In just a few breaths, a faint wail came from the abyss, then fell silent—the nearly three-meter-tall, dark-skinned, and sinister demonic body had been reduced to ashes in the flames.

Above the altar, the void cage quietly dissipated, and the mist returned. A black, horn-shaped object, covered in eerie patterns and soft in texture, floated silently in the center, its surface still faintly emanating abyssal energy fluctuations.

Snow reached out and picked it up, feeling a cool, slippery touch on his fingertips. This wasn't some abyssal gift; he knew it all too well—it was an extraordinary characteristic of the Mysterious World, the core power carrier of a Sequence 6 "Demon," like a fragment of Azeroth's soul, the key to the advancement of extraordinary beings.

However, this characteristic is mixed with the filth of the abyss and the aura of the Dark Empire, forming a peculiar balance that is more suitable for him, a stranger, than the pure characteristics of the abyss.

"It tastes awful," Xalatas murmured, a hint of disgust mixed with satisfaction. "But it's better than nothing; this soul has restored some of my strength."

The black lines on Snow's palm glowed, and Xalatas's consciousness surged into this extraordinary crystal like a tidal wave, his tone now tinged with a rare curiosity: "This is somewhat similar to the Shadow Crystal you used before. Let me see... Malice Perception, Demonization, Filthy Language..."

As she whispered, the ability imprints and fragmented knowledge contained within the extraordinary characteristic, under the erosion and sorting of the void energy, appeared in Snow's perception like an unfurled scroll. He did not absorb or digest this characteristic, but the void's greatest strength lies in stripping away appearances and outlining the contours and boundaries of order; even the secrets hidden deep within the extraordinary characteristic could not escape its sight.

Just then, Xalatas's whisper abruptly stopped, his previously languid tone now sharper and more intrigued, even harboring a hint of instinctive excitement for forbidden things: "Huh? What's this...?"

"Deep within this characteristic lies a spiritual imprint." Her voice slowed, tinged with the excitement of exploration. "The erosion of the void has no effect on it—even fragments of the will of the ancient gods would decay and twist in the endless void, but this imprint... is as solid as an eternal monument."