Lord Blade

by Jex

Chapter the First: Ascension

The light slowly faded in, grey and dank. I waited for my eyes to adjust and examined my wounds. My arms had multiple gashes and bruises, and my broken ribs seemed to stab me with my every move. My entire body throbbed. The scythe lay next to me. Its fiendish eye stared me down, unblinking.

As I grew accustomed to the pain searing through my body, I became aware of a rancid stench wafting through the air. I couldn’t quite tell, but it vaguely reminded me of something I’d smelled before...

A vision passed through my head. A bloodcurdling scream, a sizzle. A disobedient imp drowning in the Ash Lake. That stench was burned flesh.

I straightened up slowly, careful not to jar my ribs too much, and got my first good look at the Fifth. Greed was this level’s patron sin, and the level where my mother was from. It only took a glance to see that this level bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to the Sixth, but it took considerably longer to soak it all in.

All around me where mountains of gold and silver and various precious gems, broken only by rivers of liquid silver snaking between them. I happened to be standing on one of the few places where the bedrock poked through. It appeared I was right in the middle of all of the splendor. All around me, faded souls shambled about. They were mostly vaguely shaped wisps of smoke, their faces seemingly charred away, barely resembling their original forms.

I remained standing on the rock as best I could, surveying the scene around me. If there was anything that could be said about it, it was beautiful. The whole place seemed to get its light from the metal itself, and it glittered and radiated throughout the cavern with more light than I had ever seen before. Then again, it really wasn’t all that much. The lighting was warm and friendly, the way I imagined a nice home in the living world would be.

At this point, I was beginning to wonder how this could possibly be any level of hell, let alone the Fifth. A mountain of gold towered on my right, and a river of silver lazily lapped against the crystal beach on my left. The cavern spread out around me, inviting me. All of it could be mine, I thought. Every single piece. I stretched my hand toward the ground, where a particularly beautiful ruby winked up at me.

My fingers were tantalizingly close to it. I could see my own battered reflection in its shiny surface. Time slowed down as I reached for it. I was so close. I could have it all. It was mine. All mine.

I nearly fell over as the scream behind me shattered my euphoria. I stood up and turned around to face the noise, along with the other faceless beings nearby. A soul, presumably a new arrival, had apparently not wasted a moment collecting its prize. It appeared to be human, standing on a strange mixture of smoke and rotten flesh, faceless like the rest of the souls around me. I couldn’t even tell where the scream was coming from, as a wisp of smoke made up most of its torso. It appeared it came from the entirety of the figure, engulfing it and shattering the warmth and serenity I had observed upon entering the level.

It was only then that I noticed its hand was on fire, and it was frantically stamping on it, trying to put the flames out. This only served to spread the fire to its legs, and eventually to the rest of its body. So that was where the stench of burned flesh that permeated the place came from. Gross. I counted myself more than lucky that that particular soul had chosen to touch something when it did, or I would have been the one burning to death. Or maybe I would have keeled over from the sheer irony of a demon dying by fire.

Of course, it was loads better compared to carrying the ashes of disintegrated souls up cliffs while disintegrating themselves, only to later become a part of the massive infrastructure of the Sixth. I certainly didn’t want to be back there.

However, I had still only been here a few moments and the atmosphere was already sickening me. I had to get out, now. I quickly retrieved the scythe, casting one more sad look around me at the pain, before beating my wings heavily and slicing my way to the next level.

*****

Envy was the theme of the Fourth. I found myself standing on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a scene of utter chaos. War cries and explosions riddled the air and echoed through the cavern. Gargantuan cave formations stretched from floor to ceiling, tottering on blasted-away remnants. Smoke clouded the air, so thick I could hardly see, let alone breathe. I spread my wings despite my throbbing ribs and floated down off the cliff, in search of a closer look at what was going on.

I descended through the smoke that hung in a thick cloud over the screams and clangs. It was an unusual smoke, a mixture of burnt wood, molten metal and an infusion of singed hair and flesh. As I approached the ground, faint outlines of shadows that seemed to be mobs on the move peeked through the smog, roughly crafted swords and clubs and pikes hoisted high.

There seemed to be a swarm of wraiths pouring in from tunnels dug into the cliffs behind me. They came in waves, almost in teams. Each wave seemed to have a leader, a guide, who showed them through the maze of stalagmites. I landed at the back of one of the waves and joined the pack.

None of them noticed me, despite the fact that I was toting a large, glowing, sentient scythe. They all seemed bent on their destination. Wherever it was, they seemed to know where they were going. Their weapons were sharp. Apparently the smell of molten metal meant there was a smith somewhere, hidden within the cliffs. I could almost hear the squeal of the metal on the grindstone, carving the edges the souls wielded.

I marched around corner after corner, zigzagging left and right until I grew completely disoriented. We turned in and out of tunnels, slogged over hills and through rivers, winding through a crazy maze of rock. Eventually the wraiths entered a long, twisting tunnel, shrouding the brigade in darkness. The only light came from the scythe. Its scarlet wires cast sinister glints on the edges of iron blades and shadows in the empty eye sockets of the dead souls. This was getting creepy, even by the standards I was used to.

The march of souls rounded one last corner, and we burst out into a bonafide warzone. Arrows whizzed and zipped by my head, giant balls of flame crashed down into the ranks of souls, and up on a nearby hill was a dark palace. It looked much like home I had just left, save for the fact it was much more elegantly built, with tall spires and high walls.

I watched as the lost souls charged to their doom on the slopes of the hill, desperately trying to reach the closed gates. That was the punishment of the envious. To constantly battle and fight for something they desired, and to constantly fail and have to try again when they were reborn in the caverns behind us.

I sighed and turned away. At least you got to stick around a little bit longer than in the Fifth. There was still too much destruction here, too much pain. Once again, I raised the scythe and moved on, leaving the booms and screams behind me.

*****

Next came Lust. To put it simply, it was a giant brothel. Except instead of being pleasurable, it was excruciatingly painful. And my ribs hurt bad enough already. I’ll just leave it at that and let your mind fill in the rest. Spoiler alert, it involved teeth. And claws. Still better than the Fourth. If you were lucky, you didn’t quite get ripped to shreds. Moving on now.

A rip and a flash later and I was in the Second. Gluttony’s territory. This level was basically one giant hall filled with tables surrounding a great roaring fire in the middle. The tables were piled high with delicious foods of every kind imaginable. The souls gorged themselves until they literally exploded. Wrong on so many levels. At least the explosion part was over fast. Needless to say, I left as soon as I could. Didn’t want to get covered in the remains of souls who literally become so fat that they blew up.

Slice, rip, light, you know the drill by now.

Last up was the First, ironically. Sloth. At first, I didn’t see anything. No souls, no crying wraiths. Just solid lead flooring. Then I looked behind me. A gargantuan lead castle, bigger than any I’d seen before, stretched high toward the ceiling of the circular cavern. Nothing moved. Nothing, that is, except the floor. It trembled. I turned around again, and saw a small cliff perhaps twenty yards away from me. Despite the pain that proliferated through my chest at this point, I knelt down and peeked my head over the edge. There they were. The souls had to hold up this platform. If they stopped, it would crush them. A new incarnation appeared, and the platform expanded to accommodate it. Within seconds, it was straining. I stood up, looked up, and stared at the ceiling of the last level of Hell.

I backed up, turned around and sprinted toward the edge of the cliff, completely ignoring my ribs this time. I jumped. I felt the last of the hot air rushing through my hair and swung the scythe with all my might, one last time.

This time, the light didn’t fade from the rip in the air. I heard the rustle of tree branches, and the smell of the wind again. Equestria.

Author's Note:

Well, I don't exactly like the way this chapter came out, but it seemed way to jarring for him to magically be in Equestria. Call this filler if you must; the true meat of the story comes next chapter.

I'm also in the market for a cover pic. If anyone has some ideas, just let me know in the comments or PM me a link.

Thank you for the support you've shown so far, and I'll se you next time. TO BE CONTINUED!