Chapter 81: Obtaining the Second Key!

The first black Key of Seraphyne pulsed faintly in Albedo’s palm. The flicker along its edges made it seem to exist slightly out of step with the world, warping the air where it touched.

Ember’s mane burned softer now, her breathing steady but deliberate. She gave the Key a long look, ears flicking once, then turned her attention toward the dais’s rear wall.

Albedo followed her gaze. A narrow archway had opened silently behind where the Death Knight had fallen, runes faintly glowing on its frame, a way out.

He slid the Key into his System Inventory and walked back through the archway without glancing backwards.

The catacombs gave him no ceremony in departure. One moment, he walked through the carved arch; the next, he was standing at the foot of Vandral’s Spine again.

Ember stepped beside him, her flames dimming to embers to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

“One down,” Albedo murmured, eyes narrowing as he took in the way the Spine’s shadow fell across the land, “Two to go.”

A short walk brought them to a guarded clearing where a teleportation circle waited, carved into the ground with concentric rings of silver, its grooves filled with molten-crimson gemstone powder.

A robed demon attendant stood nearby, their horns adorned with gold chains, glancing up as Albedo approached.

“Destination?” the demon asked flatly.

Albedo drew out the payment from his coat and flipped it toward them, “Bloody Maiden.”

The attendant caught it with gloved fingers, their eyes narrowing briefly before stepping aside and gesturing to the circle, “Step in when ready. Arrival point is the southern plaza.”

Albedo stepped onto the silver rings, Ember pacing in beside him. The runes flared, heat rushing up his legs, then.

~CRACK!~

They were standing in Bloody Maiden.

If Vandral’s Spine was a barren fortress of rock, then this city was a crimson jewel draped in shadows.

High spires rose into a permanent twilight, their gothic shapes stabbing at the cloud-choked sky. Streets glistened with dark rain, lamps casting a deep red glow in pools across cobblestones.

Everywhere, the faint smell of roses clung to the air, mingled with the coppery tang of fresh blood.

Tall figures in flowing coats or gowns moved between the buildings, their skin pale as moonlight, their eyes glowing faintly in shades of scarlet and violet.

Some turned to glance at him, their vampiric fangs showing as if they sensed the sweetness of his blood, but they all eventually turned away.

Albedo didn’t care however, quickly moving through the streets, following the directions of what was said in the Novel.

It was said William obtained the second key within the City’s Library. It was the easiest key out of the three to obtain, as there was no actual combat needed.

Instead, the key was left unguarded, hidden in a book, but the retrieval would detail a mental & spiritual trial that tested the power of his soul and his morals.

The library loomed soon enough, a monolith of black stone framed by twisted ironwork. Massive stained-glass windows depicted scenes of battle, court intrigue, and blood rites in deep scarlet hues.

Inside, the air was still and cool.

Bookshelves rose like trees into darkness above, ladders stretching along their flanks. Candlelight flickered in sconces, casting slow-moving shadows across the aisles.

A librarian, or something passing for one, stood behind a long desk. She was tall, her hair black as spilled ink, her skin luminous. Her eyes glowed faint crimson as she regarded him.

“Non Vampire, and Non Demon,” She said as she saw him.

“I’m just a traveler,” Albedo just replied simply.

The librarian handed him a chit with the number 42567 on it, “Here’s your current code,”

Albedo took it and nodded while the librarian just turned away, leaving him to his own devices.

He quickly walked to the top floor where the key was said to be located. There were no windows or a visible ceiling, just an aisle stretching into shadow, lined with books.

He walked through the hallways, looking for the book. It wasn’t stated which exact shelf or region it was after all, no Novel was that precise with its information.

He noticed the occasional Vampire sitting at a table and reading, but they all ignored him, not bothered by whatever he was doing.

This left the environment utterly quiet, a silence that weighed on the air like a shroud, as if every sound would echo forever.

Albedo’s boots were completely silent against black stone tiles as he moved down the aisle, pulling out the first key of Seraphyne from his storage space and watching as it pulsed once in the palm of his hand.

This was reportedly how William had found the second key. The key’s would pulse constantly, sharper and sharper, like the beat of a heart, pulling and guiding the wielder like a compass towards the others once they’re in range.

He adjusted his direction slightly, weaving between towering cases as he followed the pulses, which also grew faster with each step until it was a steady, insistent rhythm.

The shelves ended abruptly. Before him sat a lone pedestal, black marble shot through with veins of gold. Upon it, there was around 20 books, but after shifting through all of them, he found the book they key was leading him towards.

It was ancient. The spine cracked with the weight of centuries, the cover bearing no title, only the same angular crown and skeletal hand that marked the banners in the catacombs.

The book held no magical aura either, it was like it didn’t exist. If Albedo wasn’t literally holding it and seeing it, he would’ve doubted himself.

The Key in his other was all but hammering against his palm now.

Albedo reached out, his gloved fingers brushing the cover,

~WHUMP!~

His spirit was yanked out of his body, the air collapsing inward as his vision bled away into shadow. Gravity lost all meaning and once his sight returned, he was no longer in the library.

He stood in a vast, endless expanse of pale mist. The ground beneath was glassy and black, reflecting his every movement in perfect detail. Above, there was no sky, only a void in which faint motes of light swam, like stars submerged in ink.

A voice, deep and resonant, rolled through the space without coming from any single direction.

“You have touched the Second Key. To claim it, you will endure the Trial of Spirit. Your will shall be flayed. Your truths laid bare. If your soul falters… you will not return.”

The mist swirled. Something unseen pressed against his mind like cold fingers prying at a locked door.

Then the attack began.

Invisible force slammed into him, not against flesh, but deeper, cutting through the armor of his mind. His vision fractured. Whispers, hundreds of them, flooded his thoughts in overlapping tones.

“The Abyss will take you… you cannot stop it… you were never strong enough…”

Albedo didn’t budge. His Soul Power had been continuously improving due to the Soul Lamp, and at this point, these kind of attacks were not strong enough to hurt him.

These trials would adapt to the rank of those taking them, but Albedo’s power was so much higher than his rank would say.

Most Peak Silver ranks might be in danger of these spiritual attacks, as treasures that enhanced the Soul were rare, but not him, he was confident.

The pressure increased, tearing open memories unbidden. The screams of those lost to Abyssal corruption. The stench of rotting worlds. The flash of his own hands, stained with the black blood of things that should not exist.

Another voice slithered in, closer now, venom-soft, “You despise the Abyss, yet you are born from its shadow. You wear its stain from your past,”

Flames kindled in Albedo’s chest, not the comforting heat of Ember’s fire, but a cold, cutting blaze of rage.

“I hate the Abyss,” he said, voice low and absolute. “I hate what it makes of people. I hate what it took from me. And I will burn it to the last screaming fragment.”

The mist recoiled as if struck. The attacks changed. Now came visions, illusions meant to erode.

He saw himself, kneeling before an Abyssal throne, guns lowered in surrender. He saw Ember consumed in black fire, her light extinguished. He saw the Keys in his hands crumbling into ash.

Every vision pressed with the same unspoken demand: Submit. Accept futility.

Albedo answered with movement. His body blurred, Havoc and Ruin manifesting in his hands, not as physical weapons, but as anchors of will.

~BANG~BANG!~

He pulled the triggers and the shots shattered the false images. When the final vision broke, the mist thinned.

From it stepped a figure, tall, hooded, its face hidden, but in its hands rested the Second Key of Seraphyne.

Unlike the first, this one was silver-white, edged in faint violet light, the glow steady and unwavering.

The figure’s voice was the last echo of the trial.

“Your spirit endures. The Abyss does not own you.”

The Key drifted forward into his palm. The moment he closed his fingers around it.

~THUMP!~

The library returned in a single breath, as if he had never left. All the other Vampires still sat reading as if nothing had changed, not even glancing his way.

Albedo glanced down at his hand. Both Keys rested in his grip now, black and silver, pulsing faintly in unison before he tucked them away.

“Two down,” he murmured. “One to go.”

Without another glance at the pedestal, he turned and began walking back toward the stairs. The Trial of Spirit was over.

Now there was one more to go.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep