Chapter 82: Nocturna!

Albedo walked back out of the library, the two keys of Seraphyne, black & silver sat in his palm, releasing a pulsing rhythmic aura. The closer the keys got to each-other, Albedo could sense it, the keys were reacting to each-other, vibrating more and more.

Once Albedo exited the library, he noticed the streets were showered in a bloody rain, thin droplets of crimson splattering onto the pavements which created a drainage of blood all around him.

However, it seemed like no-one around him was surprised, the pedestrians just kept walking, some taking out parasols but most ignoring it as though it was no more inconvenient than light fog.

’This world keeps getting weirder and weirder,’ Albedo muttered to himself as he noticed the situation.

He ducked into a side streets which gave him protection from the rain and eventually checked into an inn, booking a private room so he could further explore the keys.

In the Novel, the exact location of the final key wasn’t stated. All that was said was once William found the first two keys, the location of the 3rd one would be revealed to him.

“Let’s see it,” he muttered.

The Keys reappeared in his hands. Their pulses quickened the moment they were brought side by side.

The black and silver lights intensified as time went on, before eventually binding together into a thin thread that shot forward, turning through the air like its following an invisible path.

The thread in the air tugged toward the door initially, and it pulsed constantly, as if telling him to hurry along.

“Well,” Albedo murmured, slipping the keys into his coat while keeping them in his grip. “Lead the way, then.”

He followed the thread through the inn’s narrow hallway, its dim candlelight giving way to the bloody haze outside.

The rain had eased into a mist, a fine crimson spray drifting down in lazy spirals. His boots clicked against the wet stone as he stepped into the street.

The thread tugged harder as he walked, moving towards the City’s heart once more, past the crooked alleyways and lamplights.

Finally, the thread angled sharply to the right, toward a circular plaza.

In the plaza’s center sat a massive Teleportation Circle, carved into black marble and inlaid with silver that pulsed faintly.

A ring of crimson energy revolved above it, each rotation sending out a faint thrum that rattled in his chest. Four cloaked attendants stood at the circle’s edges, each with masks shaped like fanged beasts.

The thread darted straight into the circle, vanishing into its center.

Albedo stepped forward, the attendants watching silently. One raised a clawed hand.

“Destination?” the figure rasped, voice distorted by the mask as it handed him a booklet with all of the destinations on it.

Albedo tightened his grip on the keys, ’The thread will decide.’ he thought to himself, looking through the booklet.

For a moment, there was no reaction. Then the thread moved and landed on one city in particular, the city that was in the dead center of the booklet.

“Capital City of Nocturna please,” Albedo muttered, and then the attendant nodded, gesturing toward the circle.

Once he stepped on it, the crimson ring flared white for an instant, and then his vision fractured into shards of light before he was teleported away.

He appeared in the Capital and looked around. It was incredibly luxurious, as one would expect the Capital to be.

Towering high-rises lined the streets, each with arcane constructs that shifted and moved on their own.

Luxury was everywhere.

Street after street hosted sprawling markets, each stall and boutique meticulously decorated, glittering jewelry, enchanted silks, weaponry crafted from rare materials that pulsed faintly with magic.

Entertainment was equally extravagant. In one open plaza, a sprawling gladiator pit roared with noise, the crowds leaning over enchanted railings as combatants, some humanoid, some monstrous, fought under rings of floating flame.

Further on, Albedo could see the towering silhouette of the Demon Academy that Celeste and Lilian attended.

Twelve spires spiraling upward like talons toward the sky, each etched with runes so massive they could be seen from streets away. Its walls shimmered faintly, warded against both scrying and attack.

And at the very heart of the Capital, dominating the skyline, was the Royal Castle.

After taking in the luxury, he looked back at the keys, and the thread remained steady as it tugged towards the capital’s edge.

He moved through the streets, drawing occasional glances but no questions. The thread eventually led him to the outside of the city, beyond the outermost walls where he spotted the vast silhouette of a forest in the distance.

Even from here, the trees looked wrong. Their trunks were too tall, their canopies too dense, and their leaves shimmered with an oil-slick sheen. The shadows beneath them seemed thicker than night, a darkness that swallowed the dim moonlight whole.

The thread strained toward it.

Albedo stopped at the edge of the road where the city met the wilds. He stared into the treeline, the black and silver keys warm in his grip.

As he exited the City, he summoned Ember once more and mounted her, riding her towards the forest where the final key was supposedly located.

They rode quickly, and as soon as they arrived, the forest seemed to swallow them whole.

The moment Ember’s hooves crossed from open road into the treeline, the world behind Albedo seemed to vanish.

The faint silver glow of Nocturna’s distant spires seemingly blinked out of existence. When he turned back, there was nothing, it was as if a curtain had been drawn over the lights, now it was just pitch-black darkness.

The canopy above was an unbroken wall, blotting out even the suggestion of a sky. The air was damp, heavy, and quiet, so quiet that even the faint sound of Ember’s breathing seemed too loud.

Albedo didn’t bother lighting a torch; in a place like this, light would only make him a beacon, and no-one wanted to a beacon in a dangerous foreign space like this.

Instead, he slowed Ember’s pace, letting her hooves tread soft against the mulch, his senses sharpening. Every creak of old bark, every faint shift of damp leaves under unseen feet, every breath of wind filtering between trunks, he tracked it all.

Occasionally, his senses would pick up on a monster nearby, and he’d quietly dispatch it, not wanting to use his Crimson Apocalypse Flames to draw more attention, just using his advanced mana control to take them down.

The forest floor was uneven, gnarled with roots as thick as a man’s torso. Strange vines curled upward like skeletal fingers, brushing at his coat as he passed.

He caught the faint scent of stagnant water, but no streams could be heard. It was as if the forest had devoured all motion.

The keys in his palm were warm now, their pulses rhythmic, steady, guiding him deeper. He let them lead, adjusting Ember’s steps whenever the tug in his grip shifted slightly.

Occasionally, they would flare brighter in his hand, revealing the brief outlines of twisted trees before sinking the world back into black.

The deeper they went, the less the forest felt natural. The trees leaned toward him, their warped shapes bending in impossible ways, branches arching low as though trying to block his passage.

Time blurred. He couldn’t tell if he had been riding for minutes or hours when the keys suddenly flared with a brilliance that hurt the eyes.

Before him, in the middle of a clearing that hadn’t been there a heartbeat ago, stood a single tree.

Unlike the rest of the forest’s gnarled monstrosities, this one was smooth and elegant, its bark the color of pale bone.

Veins of faint gold ran through it, glowing brighter as the keys’ light touched it. Its leaves shimmered like polished crystal, refracting the keys’ black-and-silver glow in fractured patterns across the ground.

The pulse in Albedo’s grip was almost frantic now, each throb resonating in his bones. He dismounted, boots sinking slightly into the damp earth, and approached the tree.

The glow intensified the closer he came to the tree, until the golden veins in the bark were blazing like molten rivers.

He didn’t know how, but Albedo seemed to instinctually know exactly what to do now that he was in this scenario. He took the black and silver keys and pressed them against the tree’s trunk.

For an instant, nothing happened, but he was still calm. Then, the world around him disappeared.

The bark beneath his hands turned liquid, rippling outward in perfect circles. The clearing around him fractured like glass, shards of the forest twisting away into a blinding, infinite void.

A force gripped him, not pulling with hooks or chains, but simply erasing the space between him and somewhere else.

Ember vanished into the light with him, her form dissolving in perfect sync to his own.

The black and silver glow of the keys consumed everything.

And then Albedo was gone.

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