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[FT: O King of the Fairies] Chapter 57
🕑 Added 2025-03-31 13:14:28 +0000 UTCThe doors groaned as they parted, ancient stone grinding against itself, revealing a swirling void of abyssal energy. The oppressive aura intensified, pressing down like an invisible weight.
And then, they emerged.
Shadowy figures, humanoid but twisted—elongated limbs, jagged mouths filled with writhing teeth, eyes like black voids leaking dark mist. They moved unnaturally, flickering between spaces, shifting erratically as if reality itself struggled to hold them in place.
Alma’s breath hitched. “I—I can’t even scan them. My Archive keeps glitching out.”
“Then don’t bother.” I rolled my shoulders, fingers twitching as I called forth my armory.
The air behind me rippled.
A golden portal yawned open, and from its depths, an arsenal emerged. Blades. Spears. Chains. Axes. Firearms. They gleamed with an eerie light, suspended midair, waiting for my command.
One of the creatures lunged—too fast for a normal person to react.
But I wasn’t normal.
A golden halberd shot forward, impaling the monster mid-air before it could reach me. The creature shrieked, its form distorting, trying to reform—
CRACK!
The weapon shattered.
I frowned. “Huh. That’s annoying.”
Another monster lashed out, claws extending into black tendrils. I flicked my wrist, sending a wave of floating swords slicing through the appendages—only for them to melt before making contact.
Alma’s eyes darted around, calculating. “They’re phasing through solid matter—most normal weapons won’t work!”
“Right. Good thing I’m not using normal weapons.”
I focused, pushing my will into the Celestial Inventory. The golden portals shifted, their glow intensifying. The armory changed.
Gone were the basic weapons.
Now, what emerged were legends.
A golden drill spear, crackling with untamed spiral energy
A red, spiraled spear radiating cursed power
A massive, black-bladed greatsword humming with eldritch might
A trident glowing with divine energy, crackling with lightning
A chainsaw sword, revving with unholy power
And that was just the beginning.
One of the creatures leapt, mouth splitting open vertically into a grotesque maw. I didn’t even blink.
I willed a weapon forward—Gáe Bolg shot through its chest, rewriting causality. The creature died before it could even be struck, dissolving into mist.
Another lunged. I caught the Giga Drill Lance midair and thrust. Spiraling energy tore through the beast, reducing it to atoms.
Two more phased behind me. A flash of movement—Dragonslayer swung in an arc, cleaving them both in half.
Alma whistled. “Now you’re just showing off.”
I grinned. “Always.”
The remaining creatures hesitated. Even through their grotesque forms, I could feel it—fear.
One of them shuddered, then let out an ear-piercing screech. The walls trembled. The runes on the monoliths glowed brighter.
Then, the real nightmare stepped forward.
The ground cracked. A towering figure rose, its form shifting between humanoid and abyssal horror. Unlike the others, it was solid.
Its voice was a guttural rasp, thick with something between reverence and contempt.
Its voice was a guttural rasp, thick with something between reverence and contempt.
“Oberon… Master of the Celestial Inventory… a thief wearing a king’s crown.”
I tensed.
Alma shot me a sharp glance. It knows too much.
The creature’s multiple eyes flared, burning with something ancient and absolute.
“The Inventory was never meant for you. It is power beyond mortal hands, beyond your fragile existence.”
The cavern trembled as its limbs coiled, muscles shifting beneath obsidian flesh.
“You are unworthy. An anomaly. A flaw that must be corrected.”
A low hum filled the space—a sickening vibration in my bones.
“Surrender it… or be erased from the weave of fate.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Without taking my eyes off the creature, I spoke, my voice low and firm. “Alma. Go.”
She didn’t move. “Aiden—”
“Now.”
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken arguments. But she knew. This wasn’t a fight she could be near. Not this time.
I heard her steps retreat, swift but reluctant. Only then did I let my focus sharpen completely.
The creature lunged.
Faster than the others. Stronger. A blur of claws, fangs, and shadows.
I reacted instantly, yanking the Necrosword into my grip. The cavern shook as eldritch steel met raw, seething darkness in a collision that sent shockwaves through the battlefield.
Power crackled. The walls groaned.
The air itself twisted under the sheer force of our clash.
They hadn’t come to test me.
They had come to take what was mine..
The force of our clash sent a shockwave through the cavern, the impact splitting the ground beneath my feet. The abyssal horror twisted, its shifting form resisting definition—like a living void forcing itself into reality.
I gritted my teeth, muscles straining against the weight of its presence. This thing wasn’t just powerful. It was wrong.
But the part that unsettled me the most?
It knew me.
Not just my title. Not just my power.
It knew about the Celestial Inventory.
That wasn’t normal. No one was supposed to know. Not unless I told them. And I sure as hell never mentioned it to some eldritch freak buried in a ruin.
Where did this thing come from?
Dark guilds? No. This wasn’t something Zeref’s leftovers would summon. This was older. Deeper. Other.
I dodged a strike, barely, the jagged limb warping through space like it had skipped the distance between us. My grip on the Necrosword tightened.
The horror's eyes burned into me, its voice seeping into my bones.
“You do not belong.”
I exhaled sharply. "Yeah? Get in line."
I surged forward, blade swinging in a lethal arc. It moved to block—too slow. The Necrosword bit deep into its shifting mass, tearing through the blackened void of its form.
A wretched screech echoed through the cavern. The walls fractured.
And yet… it didn’t fall.
It didn’t even bleed.
Instead, its wound closed, the darkness knitting itself back together, like I had cut through smoke instead of flesh.
I clenched my jaw. "Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy."
The horror loomed closer, its voice twisting with something between mockery and finality.
“You were never meant to wield the Inventory. You are an accident. A mistake in the grand design.”
Something cold coiled in my gut.
This thing wasn’t just repeating vague threats. It spoke like it knew. Like it understood why I had this power—why I was here.
My heart pounded. How?
Alma was far from the battlefield now—somewhere safe. She had listened to me. But if she were here, she'd tell me to focus, not to let this thing get in my head.
But I couldn't shake it.
How does it know?
A sudden shift—too fast.
The horror lunged again. I barely had time to parry, Necrosword locking against its crushing force.
The cavern trembled.
I had questions.
The horror struck again, a mass of writhing darkness flickering across the battlefield in an erratic blur. I met it head-on, the Necrosword cleaving through the abyss, eldritch steel carving deep. But no matter how precise my strikes were, the damn thing wouldn’t fall.
Because it wasn’t just attacking.
It was studying me.
Testing. Probing.
Mocking.
“You wield a power beyond comprehension… yet you fight like a man with a sword.”
I barely caught its next strike, my blade locking against the shifting mass of its claws. Sparks of raw energy crackled from the impact, sending fractures through the stone beneath us.
The thing didn’t flinch.
“Do you not see? You hold an arsenal that could unmake existence… and yet, you restrain yourself. You cling to limitations that do not exist.”
I stayed silent, pushing back against the weight pressing down on me.
It wasn’t wrong.
I had everything. Blades that could sever fate. Cannons that could shatter mountains. Relics of impossible power—all waiting within my grasp.
And yet, I hadn’t summoned them.
Not because I couldn’t.
But because I hadn’t needed to.
Not until now.
The horror lunged again. This time, I didn’t just block.
I let go.
A pulse of golden light erupted behind me, weapons tearing free from the void—blades, chains, lances, all shimmering with power. The air thrummed as they surrounded me, responding to my will, poised to strike.
The creature stilled.
For the first time, it hesitated.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders.
The cavern trembled as I reached deeper into the Celestial Inventory.
If this thing was some eldritch horror beyond mortal comprehension, then it was time to fight with weapons meant for slaying the impossible.
A golden light pulsed behind me as the very air seemed to split apart.
I reached out, and reality obeyed.
The Gate of Babylon flared open—only this time, it wasn’t just a treasury of legend.
I had linked it directly to my Celestial Inventory.
Something I found out was possible, a few months ago, so instead of me transferring items from the Celestial Inventory manually, I could now do this.
An infinite arsenal, now unleashed without restriction.
The battlefield changed.
Blades of divinity, spears forged to pierce gods, cannons crafted to erase the very concept of existence—all hovered in the air, humming with unbearable power.
And among them, the Cosmic Weapons emerged.
The Godbreaker Lance, burning with the fury of a collapsing star.
The Voidfang Scythe, a blade that did not cut—it erased.
The Celestial Harbinger, a cannon that did not fire energy—it unleashed oblivion.
Weapons meant not for mortals. Not even for gods.
These were meant for things like this.
For the first time, the horror hesitated.
Its many eyes flickered wildly, its grotesque form shifting—uncertain, wary.
It had spoken of my limitations. Of how I was bound by my mortal understanding.
But now, it felt it.
The weight of my existence. The true scale of what I could wield.
For the first time, I saw it.
Fear.
I leveled the Celestial Harbinger at its core, the cannon already thrumming with power.
"You said I wasn’t worthy." My voice was steady, quiet—deadly. "Let’s put that to the test."
The horror lunged.
Desperate. Terrified.
It didn’t matter.
I pulled the trigger.
The cavern vanished.
A pillar of pure annihilation erupted from the cannon, swallowing everything in its path. There was no impact. No resistance.
It simply erased.
The very space around us twisted and screamed. The cavern walls weren’t just destroyed—they ceased to exist. I could feel the blast tearing through dimensions, unraveling whatever corruption had given birth to this abomination.
And still, I wasn’t done.
As the detonation faded, I reached for the Godbreaker Lance.
The horror was still there—barely. Flickering. Desperate to reform.
I launched forward, my grip tightening around the weapon. The lance shimmered, cutting through the aftershock like a blade through mist.
The cavern was a ruin of broken stone and searing energy. Cracks of golden light split through the darkness as reality itself groaned under the weight of the battle.
Aiden exhaled slowly, his breath steady despite the devastation around him. The air was thick with an unnatural presence, the remnants of something that should never have existed in this world. And yet, it had known him. It had known the Celestial Inventory.
The eldritch horror twitched, its shifting form refusing to stay in one shape. Its eyes—those endless, watching voids—focused on him with something between hatred and hunger.
"You are nothing but a fleeting mistake," it rasped, voice warping through layers of space and time. "A mockery of true power. You wield the Celestial Inventory, yet you lack the will to transcend mortality."
Aiden didn’t answer. He simply raised his hand.
The Gate of Babylon flared to life, merged seamlessly with his Celestial Inventory.
Golden portals snapped open in the air behind him—hundreds, then thousands, a sea of shimmering light that bathed the battlefield in divine radiance. But these were not the weapons of heroes and kings. No, this time, he called forth something far worse.
The Cosmic Arsenal.
Blades crafted to slay gods. Cannons designed to erase worlds. Spears forged from collapsing stars. Each weapon hovered, thrumming with raw destruction, held back only by Aiden’s will.
The creature hesitated. It feared.
Aiden stepped forward, his voice low, final.
"You were right about one thing," he said. "I never used my full power. Not because I couldn’t—because I never needed to."
He snapped his fingers.
The sky shattered.
The weapons fired simultaneously—a blinding cascade of celestial devastation. The cavern ceased to exist. Space itself folded, and the creature let out a final, warped scream as it was torn apart on a fundamental level. No remains. No lingering corruption. Nothing.
Or so he thought.
As the last fragments of its existence unraveled, its voice echoed—distorted, stretched beyond the veil of reality.
"He will come to reclaim what is his."
Aiden’s breath caught.
Then, silence.
The light faded, leaving only the ruins of what once was. The battlefield was empty now, save for Aiden, standing amidst the wreckage. His shoulders rose and fell with each slow breath. His hands curled, then unclenched. It was over.
But that final warning...
Who was he? And what did he mean by reclaim what is his?
Aiden turned.
Alma stood in the distance, her expression unreadable. He had told her to go somewhere safe—but she had still been watching.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, she took a step forward.
"That," she said quietly, "was not normal."
Aiden exhaled, the weight of the battle settling. He gave a tired smirk, but there was no humor in it.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I know."
—
The battlefield was a ruin. What was once an ancient cavern was now a wasteland of shattered stone and scorched earth. The air was thick with dust, the faint glow of cosmic energy still lingering in the cracks of reality where my weapons had torn through. The only sound was my own breathing—steady, measured—but my mind was anything but.
Who was ‘he’?
The creature’s final words gnawed at me. "He will come to reclaim what is his."
I exhaled slowly, forcing my heartbeat to settle. But deep down, I knew—this wasn’t over. This thing, whatever it was, hadn't just stumbled into Earthland. It had come here because of me.
Because of the Celestial Inventory.
And that meant... I wasn’t the first.
That thought hit me harder than the battle itself. For years, I had assumed the Inventory was mine. That it had always been meant for me. But if someone was coming to reclaim it, then it had belonged to someone else before me.
What happened to them?
The Celestial Inventory wasn’t just some overpowered storage ability—it was infinite. A limitless armory capable of granting omnipotence to whoever wielded it.
So if someone else had it before me…
Where the hell did they go?
My fingers twitched as I clenched my fists. Did they die? Were they erased? Did they lose it?
The idea sent a chill down my spine. If someone had the power to strip the Inventory from its previous master… what did that mean for me?
A faint sound behind me—footsteps, cautious but deliberate.
Alma.
I turned as she approached, her gaze flicking over the wreckage before settling on me. Her expression was unreadable.
"You’re hurt."
I barely glanced down. My coat was torn, my arm had a deep gash, and dried blood caked my face. I hadn’t even noticed. It was weird. I should be healing.
The Fountain of Youth flowed through my veins—wounds like this should’ve closed instantly, yet the pain still lingered, the cut still raw. My body felt... sluggish, like something was interfering with my regeneration. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
Perhaps it was due to the monster.
Its attacks had felt different, laced with something unnatural. A cursed effect? A poison? Whatever it was, it was keeping me from regenerating properly. That realization sent a flicker of unease through me, but I shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time for doubts.
"I'm fine," I muttered, shaking off the thought.
She didn’t look convinced. Her eyes flickered to my injury, then back to my face, searching for a lie I hadn’t even meant to tell. And for once, I had none.
Her eyes swept over the battlefield again, lingering on the spot where the creature had stood. "That thing… it knew you."
I didn’t answer right away. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, some eldritch abomination apparently knows my name, my title, and—oh yeah—thinks I stole something I’ve had since day one.
Alma took a slow breath. "Aiden. What did it mean?"
I looked away. "...I don’t know."
The lie sat heavy on my tongue.
Because that was the problem. I didn’t know.
For years, I had treated the Celestial Inventory as an extension of myself. My power. My weapon. But now…
Was it?
I forced the thought down. Now wasn’t the time. I needed answers, but standing here wasn’t going to give me any.
"Let’s go," I said, turning away.
Alma hesitated, but didn’t push. "Fine. But you’re explaining everything when we get back."
I let out a tired smirk. "Yeah, yeah."
But even as we left the ruins behind, the words wouldn’t leave me.
"He will come to reclaim what is his."
Who the hell was coming?
----
Here is an extra chapter to thank you guys for your support :))
Comments
GCrimson
Well this is not darkness its more, something that will be explained in future arcs
GCrimson
What things?
Joshy Vindicta
Also, not sure I’m a fan of adding things like that.
Joshy Vindicta
Oh I don’t know. Maybe use the strongest Holy weapon to counter the darkness?
