Chapter 295: The Ritual of Unbinding (1).

“What is it?” Nero asked cautiously.

Rummel Abellion was silent for a moment. Then its fingers formed a strange shape,

“You could call it along lost friend of mine. Or an eternal companion, depending on how much longer this seal is kept on me… But it should be of no bother to you. Just do not look upon it. That is if, you value your sanity.”

Nero’s blood ran cold.

After hearing that, he figured it would be best to stop asking questions.

Rummel Abellion clasped its four hands together.

“Now then. Do we have an agreement? Three tasks for three boons. One boon already claimed—waking your friend, one boon held in reserve for later, and one boon yet to be specified, though I suspect you’ll want a way out of here once everything is done.”

Nero looked back at Arthur and Jacob one more time.

Then at the pool with its impossible depths and the thing that slumbered within.

Then at the creature with its white mask and its four arms and its promises that very well could be lies.

He was trapped between horror and horror, with no good choices.

Only choices that could lead him to survival.

“We have an agreement,” he said.

Rummel Abellion nodded then gave a slight theatrical bow.

“Excellent. Then let’s begin. Place your hand over your friend’s chest. I shall handle the rest.”

Nero slowly knelt beside Arthur’s unconscious form, his hand hovering over the noble’s chest. The broken ribs sent fresh spikes of pain through him as he lowered himself down, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.

“Just place it there,” the creature said, standing a few feet away. “Spread your palms out flat. Do not move until you are told otherwise.”

Nero complied, his hand settling on Arthur’s sternum. Through the fabric of Arthur’s shirt, he could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. At least that was still strong, meaning the noble was not dead yet.

The creature began to move.

It circled Arthur’s body once, practically floating through the air twice, its four arms weaving patterns in the air that left faint blue trails behind them. The trails lingered for some time, hanging in the air like threads of luminescent spider silk.

Then it began to hum.

The sound was unlike anything Nero had ever heard. Like some strange, archaic melody. A vibration that seemed to resonate with the very soul. He could feel it in his bones and in his marrow.

The blue fungi covering the chamber floor began to pulse in rhythm with the humming.

Slowly at first, then faster.

The creature’s four arms moved faster now, drawing more complex patterns. The blue trails they left behind began to connect, forming geometric shapes that hung suspended in the air around Arthur’s body, all rotating slowly on invisible axes.

Nero’s hand grew warm where it touched Arthur’s chest.

Then hot.

“Don’t move,” Rummel Abellion said, though its voice seemed to come from everywhere at once now, reverberating off the fungus-covered walls.

The heat intensified. Nero could feel sweat beading on his forehead, could feel his palm beginning to burn. But he kept it pressed against Arthur’s chest, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

The geometric shapes hanging in the air began to collapse inward, spiraling down toward Arthur’s body like water circling a drain. They passed through Nero’s hand without resistance, as if he were made of air, and disappeared into Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s body convulsed a few times as his back arched off the ground. His muscles strained viciously, large veins standing out in sharp webs along his neck and face.

Then he gasped, his eyes flying open.

Nero flew backward in shock, but made sure not to pull his hand away from his chest.

“What—” Arthur’s voice was confused. His eyes darted around wildly, taking in the blue-lit chamber, the fungus.

Then there was Nero kneeling beside him. “Where—”

“You can take off your hand now.” A voice came from behind Nero.

Nero huffed then turned to him,

“Easy,” he said, removing his hand from Arthur’s chest. The skin of his palm was red, angry-looking, but not burned.

Arthur looked rather distraught as he looked at Nero with glazed over eyes,

“Are… Are we dead?”

Nero would have laughed if their situation was humorous,

“No. We aren’t dead. We are still in the ruins. We fell through the ground. Do you remember?”

Arthur’s breathing was ragged, but his eyes were beginning to focus. “Yes, yes. That’s right. The floor… We fell through the floor, and then—” He tried to sit up and immediately gasped in pain, his hand going to his broken leg.

“Don’t move,” Nero said.

Arthur groaned back a curse. Then his gaze wandered, eventually finding the creature standing nearby, and his entire body went rigid.

The curse that had been held back earlier spewed forth from his lips like a surging river.

Arthur’s hand immediately went to his waist to draw his sword. The enchanted silver metal glowed with a faint ethereal blue glow,

“Foul creature!”

Nero let out a sigh.

’This is not good.’

Now, he had to find a way to convince Arthur not to attack this thing.

Rummel Abellion on the other hand, remained quiet. It seemed to be enjoying the ordeal playing out.

Nero let out a sigh. Then his eyes steeled over as he forcibly gripped Arthur by the shoulders.

“Sir Arthur. I know we have not known one another for a long time. I know I have no right to ask you to trust me. But still, I must insist… Our current situation is complicated. ” Nero said quickly.

Arthur threw him a vicious glare,

“What in the Seven Hells are you saying?!”

Nero did not budge,

“Please, trust me.”

Arthur was speechless. Then he turned his gaze back to the Abomination before him.

Seeing the tension slowly fade from his grip around his sword, Nero breathed a sigh of relief,

“It won’t attack us. Do not worry.”

Rummel Abellion tilted its masked head in what might have been a greeting. “Welcome back to consciousness, young human. How does it feel to be among the living again?”

“Nero,” Nero said slowly, his eyes never leaving the creature. “Are you soliciting with Demons?”

“I made a deal,” Nero said. “There are things I need to do if we are to get out of this mess alive.”

“You made a deal with that thing?” Arthur’s gaze became dangerous and sinister.

Nero nodded,

“Yes. Either that, or we fail the test. If we fail the test, we all might as well give up any dreams of becoming Templars. Unlike you both, I have everything to lose. I cannot afford to take my chances.”

Arthur was silent for a while.

Then he sighed,

“What do we need to do?”

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