Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 312: The Four Pillars of Hell—Necrobix (1)

On the far edge of the continent, there lay a mountain that the world had abandoned. The only living things that moved upon its slopes were wild beasts that knew nothing of nations or wars. No human foot had pressed this earth for thousands of years, and even the great struggle between evil and the Mortal Realm had washed past without touching it. The place was quiet in a way that felt older than speech.

Midway up that mountain, calamity arrived.

A sound like glass under strain rang through the thin air as space cracked. Beyond the fracture, something that writhed with a rhythm older than the world itself pushed through and began to take form upon the ground. It lowered weight that had not touched soil since the Divine–Demonic War, and in the moment its presence settled, every animal upon the mountain folded as if a cord had been cut. Eyes glazed, chests stilled, and the life that had animated leaf and limb ran out of plants as if a season had passed in a breath.

Its arrival alone killed what was too weak to stand in its shadow. The pressure of that existence reached past the mountain and groped toward the world itself, as if eager to let all things know that their old master had returned.

“No, that will not do,” said a voice like a knot of snakes sliding over stone. “At the very least, I cannot permit this place to be discovered.”

A thin, shrilling note rose as magic suffused with demonic energy took shape, and an intricate working spun around the mountain like a web of dark glass. The surge of rank, colossal power contracted and vanished under a veil so perfect that even if the Saintess of the Sun God herself had stood upon that slope, she would not have sensed that anything had come. The control was absolute.

“It has been a long time since I stood upon the Mortal Realm,” Necrobix murmured, and the words carried a real, almost fond recognition. It had been ages indeed. Not since the days that followed the Divine–Demonic War had this being crossed the threshold, and now it had come not as an avatar but as itself.

“Listen, world,” Necrobix said, and the tone neither rose nor fell. “This realm was made for demons in the beginning, and I am one of the Four Pillars of Hell. Once, a quarter of the Mortal Realm belonged to me.”

The words were not shouted. If Necrobix had allowed its tier to ring freely, the world’s crust would have trembled to bear it.

“There is much to do,” it continued, almost absent-mindedly. “It would be best to adopt a suitable shape.”

The writhing mass drew in upon itself and pressed into an outline that pleased human eyes. A figure the color of deep pitch, tall and slender, stepped forward on two legs.

“Good,” Necrobix said, and made an idle gesture with long, black fingers.

The night above its hand filled with sigils. Demonic energy dove through patterns so complex that even other demons would find no purchase in them. The workings spread outward, a skein thrown over the world.

“There are many who still follow me,” Necrobix said, and satisfaction flashed like a tooth. “I will bestow favor upon them.”

Dark magic swept away from the mountain, and a vast, coherent evil raced along the bones of the earth.

***

At that hour, Elfo Sagrado lay in a calm that felt like a long and even breath. In truth, the mood was brighter than calm. News had come that Karin had returned, and no elf in the sacred ground failed to smile at the sight of her. She accepted each greeting, laughed quietly, and at last pushed open the door to her own rooms.

“Oh. Karin, you are back,” said a familiar voice.

Karin’s eyes widened. A woman with hair the color of new-forged copper sat on the sofa and lifted a hand in an unapologetic wave.

“Ignisia,” Karin said. “Why are you here? I thought you still had work.”

“Someone cut in and finished quickly,” Ignisia replied. “I came to hear a few things and to visit.”

“The guards did not tell me you had arrived,” Karin said, narrowing her eyes. “Did you slip in without permission?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Ignisia said, with a face that said she would do it again.

Karin tried to look stern and failed. The look melted into a smile as she took the seat opposite. “Welcome, Ignisia.”

The two were old friends. Ignisia let her gaze wander with interest.

“Where is Arkemis?” she asked Karin.

Ignisia knew Arkemis as well, or rather, she had chosen to treat the aloof elf as a friend, whether Arkemis liked it or not. An elf who refused spirits fascinated a dragon, and Ignisia had never been shy about starting conversations.

“She still has work,” Karin said. “She is finishing it now.”

“Shame,” Ignisia said, and she clicked her tongue. “I wanted to talk. It has been too long.”

Karin flicked her fingers, and spirits glided forward to pour tea that steamed. Ignisia’s eyes lit.

“Elven tea,” she said. “It has been too long since I tasted it.”

“How have you been?” Karin asked her, and the concern in the question was not perfunctory.

“In a world like this,” Ignisia said, “very busy. I nearly died.”

“That sounds more than a little dangerous,” Karin said softly.

“It is all right,” Ignisia said. “I received help.”

“You?” Karin said, and the single syllable held honest astonishment. Ignisia was an Elder Dragon, and she usually helped others rather than asking for aid.

“It was Ketal,” Ignisia said.

“Ah, I see,” Karin answered, and understanding rose like a small light behind her eyes.

“Parco told me he had come here,” Karin said. “He said he got information about the South. I assume he went there to help you, then.”

“He helped me, though he had his own reasons,” Ignisia said. “We have a strange sort of bond. You know him as well, do you not?”

“He saved our sacred ground,” Karin said, and the line of her mouth turned wry. “While being a resident of the Demon Realms.”

“You know about that, too?” Ignisia said. “He is a curious being.”

Those who came out of the Demon Realms stood against the Mortal Realm by nature. Since the seal had cracked, there had been clashes more than once. The story of Nano that devoured a kingdom was a matter of public knowledge among those who listened. Even so, Ketal had helped them again and again.

“Since he stands on our side, I have nothing to say against him,” Karin said.

Ignisia weighed a question on her tongue. She had intended to ask what Ketal had done inside Elfo Sagrado when he visited, but the moment she opened her mouth, the world changed.

A pressure slammed down like a mountain falling through air. Karin and Ignisia froze, every part of them turning to steel.

“Ugh,” Karin breathed.

Even among elves, she stood as one of the strongest who walked the Mortal Realm, and she needed to force her lungs to move. Ignisia, an Elder Dragon. who had defeated calamity more than once, wore the same cold mask.

“Wait,” Ignisia said. “This is...”

It was not an attack. It was the bare unveiling of a presence that did not deign to hide. That alone tightened their bodies and sharpened their senses until they felt their edges again. Something had come. It was monstrous in a way that stripped the word of metaphor.

***

Across the sacred ground, those who stood guard upon the perimeter bent under the same pressure. The strongest tensed and reached for their strengths. Those below shivered and stared.

Some could not breathe. Knees knocked despite their orders. A few, unable to master the instinct that told them to live and flee, turned and ran. Their duty to the World Tree shrank before the terror.

“This is... this is...,” Parco stammered. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

When Ketal had come to them, the aura that accompanied him had felt similar in one narrow way. The difference was simple and terrible. This presence did not bother to hide its malice.

The barrier that wrapped the sacred ground buckled. With a final groan, the weave collapsed. The intruder stepped through the shattering light and stood before the elves.

A shape like a human stood there, black from crown to sole, and where it paused, the world seemed to forget a color it had known. The thing spoke.

[It is good to meet you, elves,] it said.

Every guard who heard that voice collapsed. The voice alone killed. Parco survived, but he knew at once that he would not last long. He wanted to look away, but could not. His gaze stuck to the thing, and he could feel his spirit bunching to flee his body.

Then, a gale struck the intruder like a hammer and at the same time swept the fallen elves up as gently as a mother’s forearms, carrying them inward and away. Karin arrived with hair that streamed like a banner and shouted in a voice that cracked the paralysis holding those who could still hear.

“All elves, stand at the World Tree’s side!” she ordered. “Do not step outside!”

At the same time, Ignisia used her Dragon Tongue to create a crimson pillar of light toward the enemy. The two Heroes attacked, and nothing in the Mortal Realm should have remained unscathed.

“Hm,” the intruder said.

The air cleared just enough for sight to bear it, and the thing stood there without a mark. Ignisia’s eyes widened and then narrowed as if she were waking from a dream into a nightmare she remembered from childhood.

“Necrobix...!” she said.

Karin swore, and the oath sounded rusty with disuse.

The Four Pillars of Hell ruled their realm in all but name. Materia, the Mother of All Demons. Caliste, the Demon of the Sword. Abyss, the Living Engine of the Ruin. Necrobix, the founder of all dark magic. They were equal to gods in any useful measure, and in many ways, they were worse. Before the Demon King descended, four of them together had stood against the combined assault of more than a hundred gods.

Now, one of them stood here.

“It feels like I am having a bad dream,” Karin said, and the effort she made to keep her voice steady turned each word into a weight.

Necrobix ignored shock the way a knife ignores water. It cocked its head as if surprised to find a particular bird on a branch.

“You are the dragon who fought Raphael,” it said to Ignisia. “I assumed you had returned to your nest. Your presence inconveniences my plan.”

“Come, Minerva!” Karin cried.

Wind took shape and stood, the Spirit King of Wind wearing a form that the eye could hold. The spirit’s face was set.

“Minerva. I am sorry,” Karin said.

“Do not apologize,” Minerva replied. “Do it.”

“Spirit of wind, carve your path!” Karin intoned.

Minerva compressed, again and again, until the spirit was nothing but a single arrow. That arrow leaped toward Necrobix with a trembling speed. It was a technique that turned a spirit into a bullet and pressed the relationship with that spirit to the edge of breaking.

It was ugly and costly, and its power was precisely the point. Born of a compact and fired as a weapon, it could rival any attack a Hero might make. In this case, the bullet was the Spirit King of Wind. The force behind it was tremendous, and though Karin stood among the lower ranks of the Hero class, this one strike could climb much higher.

Ignisia did not hold back. She had prepared destruction from the first breath and drove it into the same point, a twin line meeting Minerva’s flight. The count-ranked Raphael had had to give everything he had to block that kind of power in the mines. Now, two Heroes’ strengths braided and lunged for Necrobix. No one in the Mortal Realm ought to have been able to receive them without a wound.

“I thought only the High Elf Queen would be here...,” Necrobix said mildly. “This was not in my expectation.”

It lifted one hand and pointed with an index finger. A small round darkness gathered there, barely the size of a child’s marble. It swelled, billowed like a curtain, and dropped to cover the world between the attacks and its bearer.

The twin blows met the veil. The sound that followed was small and wrong. Karin and Ignisia felt their expressions set like wet clay exposed to frost. They understood at once. Their power was not being blocked. It was dying.

Necrobix’s darkness did not devour, and it did not cancel. It killed the idea of force where the two touched. The strength they had gathered lost life and fell apart into an absence that left no echo. In moments, the attacks were wholly dead, and no ripple, residue, or scar remained to show that anything had been there.

Necrobix smiled, and the expression looked like a cut that did not bleed.

“Good,” it said. “I had not used this in a true fight. It is worth the time I spent upon it during those thousands of years in Hell.”

That was all the commentary it spared two Hero-class forces that it had killed in the air. It turned its finger toward Ignisia.

“Piercing Round,” it said, and demonic energy tightened to a point and flew.

Ignisia just stood there. She could not spare the time to use the Dragon Tongue, and she could not carve a proper spell in the air. She did the single thing that remained. She hauled mana in and packed it around her midriff as if she were holding a shield that weighed as much as a small building. The defense was crude, but it was sure.

However, it did not matter.

The protection died like paper falling into a bowl of water. The dark round punched a hole where Ignisia’s abdomen should have been. She folded with a sound that was half cough and half torn breath.

“Ignisia!” Karin shouted, and she drove wind into the wound to stanch the flow and buy heartbeats.

Blackness crept from the hole as if death itself had dipped a fingertip and was painting the edges. The dragon ground her teeth and forced a healing spell to answer. The art suppressed the thing that wanted to kill her, but no matter how the magic swelled, the torn flesh did not knit. The darkness had weight and direction, and it pulled her toward a domain where bodies did not rise again.

Ignisia coughed, and red sprayed bright in the air. She swallowed and coughed again.

“I didn’t expect an Elder Dragon to be here,” it said. “This is inconvenient. I will finish quickly.”

Demonic energy rose until it dimmed the sun. Necrobix lifted its hand, and the sky above the sacred ground turned the color of old bruises.

“The rain of darkness shall dampen my path,” it said.

Death descended upon the Mortal Realm. Ignisia and Karin moved at once.

“Karin!” Ignisia said, and her voice shook and still held iron.

“Wind!” Karin called.

The rain fell along drawn lines. Ignisia and Karin threw up their defenses to intercept what they could. However, it was not enough.

The elven sacred ground shuddered under the fall.