First Demonic Dragon - Chapter 1070: Lesson Learned

Chapter 1070: Lesson Learned

Abaddon had finished the puzzle after a long and cumbersome effort on his part.

He stared at the tapestry of himself that spanned several yards in length.

In the frame, he was depicted holding his own golden soul with both hands and staring into it listlessly.

It was a nice photograph, but Abaddon hoped it had some purpose other than appealing to a sense of vanity he didn’t really have.

Abaddon paid closer attention to his new face.

It looked… funny.

He just hoped that neither Belloc, nor any of the guys would make cracks about his appearance, or else his house was going to become very vacant very fast.

Abaddon lifted a clawed foot and tapped it against the completed puzzle.

After everything that had happened so far, he was expecting for something grand to happen at the end of his exercise.

But there was nothing. Only silence, and a completed portrait.

Now, he was stuck.

“…” He sat down on the ground cross-legged and stared at the frame like he was expecting it to get up and dance.

Now, he almost wished that the other versions of him were still around. Maybe then he would have some idea about what to do next, instead of sitting here, mere seconds away from strangling himself with his own tail.

He scanned his eyes over every inch of the portrait. Even paid closer attention to the dark background surrounding his likeness.

There was nothing. Just dark on top of dark.

When he couldn’t figure things out, Abaddon stood up again and walked around on the surface of the portrait.

As he did so, he silently goaded the photo into showing him something extraordinary.

‘Come on, just do something…’

Abaddon’s eyes settled on the crown of his head. The area just between his horns.

It was barely noticeable, but for some reason the paint over his head was just a hair bit darker than the rest of the portrait.

After checking the whole thing twice over, he was absolutely sure of it.

Getting down onto his knees, he loomed over the point of interest and inspected it more closely.

He brought his hand to the portrait and plunged it through. At the same time, he could feel something like a scalpel plunging into his own mind.

His instincts almost made him recoil, but he could feel that he was on the verge of something, and thus pressed forward.

The other side of the portrait felt like chilling, viscous water.

He closed his hand around it and grabbed hold of something by accident.

Summoning his strength, he endeavored to pull out whatever had taken root in him.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience. As he pulled, Abaddon ripped a scream from his own mouth without realizing.

It felt like he was pulling out his brain through a tiny pore of his skin. Everything inside of him seemed to be screaming for him to stop, but he kept going despite it.

When his hand emerged from the other side, he could see that he was holding onto what appeared to be a writhing mass of black tentacles.

Or at least, that was how it seemed in the first moment.

In the next second, he thought he was holding the ass end of a snail. Then a serpent’s tail.

He only needed to see it a few more times before it finally dawned on him what he was witnessing.

With a renewed desire to see this thing removed, Abaddon wrapped both hands around the shifting mass and pulled with all of his inborn might.

He ripped free the changing mass, and his vision temporarily went white from the pain.

His mind and soul were screaming audibly to voice their confusion. A part of them that had always been present from the beginning was no longer there. Like a Jenga tower with the wrong block pulled- it was all coming down.

But at some point between total soul collapse and exploring the great beyond, Abaddon felt the missing pieces of himself become ‘filled in’ with something else.

It was like a cool river had run through his body, quelling the rampage within.

His labored breathing subsided. His eyes regained their vision.

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing that he did was look at the portrait.

Abaddon didn’t shed tears easily, but what he saw had admittedly put a lump in his throat.

In the portrait, he was still standing and holding his soul, but the look on his face was much brighter and more focused.

The background was completely transformed.

Sunlight poured into the dining room from the terrace windows. The table behind Abaddon was filled with people he knew and cared for. Everyone from his children to his grandparents, to his best friends and sisters.

Even people who did not live in the house were there, like Shiva, Ares, and… Demeter. And it made him realize that it had been quite a long time since he had talked to some of them. Maybe too long.

The picture was completed with each of his wives by his side. Their brightness put the sun behind them to shame.

Abaddon was moved.

What a wonderful thing it was to love and be loved. Abaddon knew that for better or worse, he was staring at his salvation.

These were the keys to his humanity. The unsung heroes of his story, and the ones who filled arduous days with levity.

He had never grown tired of them. And after thousands of years, they had never run out of things to laugh about.

Abaddon was nothing without his family. That seemed to be what the puzzle seemed to be telling him.

And with a new threat coming with a name that he did not know, his commitment to keeping them close had become stronger.

Shouldering things by himself would not save him going forward. Only by relying on others could he continue to see bright days.

… Or at least, that’s what he believed the message to be. Abaddon had to admit that he wasn’t very good at reading between the lines sometimes.

“Wait…”

Abaddon’s blood ran cold as he looked over his shoulder.

A dark liquid had started to stain the bottom of the portrait once again, turning his bright world dark.

Abaddon recognized the voice, or more specifically, the voices that were speaking to him.

He heard the same whispers every time he tread near the door beneath the house, or spent too much time alone in a dark room.

Abaddon came face to face with a mass of inky liquid taking on his shape.

The only identifiable feature it possessed where it’s glowing red eyes that were like two colored lightbulbs. But Abaddon knew he was being mimicked by the feeling alone.

The mimic continued to infect the painting.

Abaddon opened his mouth and spewed a wall of black and red flames at the corruption, staving it off and returning the puzzle to it’s former glory.

The mimic hissed hatefully as if it was insulted that Abaddon would try to keep it away.

“You…. need… us..! Part of you..!” It insisted.

Abaddon felt his powers slowly returning to him.

The landscape shifted once again, and a field of blades sprang up from the ground.

Abaddon turned his head to the side and cracked his neck.

He used his tail to grab the sword and spear that were closest to him and brought them to his hands.

“…All I need is three minutes.”

A chorus of hisses and gurgles were flung at him from the mimic.

The essence of Azathoth rose up on a tidal wave of black water.

From the waves, numerous grubby hands reached out to grab any and every weapon in their immediate vicinity.

The creature must have made itself over one hundred and fifty meters tall by the end.

“…Maybe four.”

–

While Abaddon was fighting for his soul, Izanami was struggling not to show how nervous she was.

Problems started when Karliah was seen bringing her pets into the house.

They continued when Darius came outside, in his shortest swim trunks, asking if he and Igrat could privately use the pool for a few hours.

In the end, when pouring tea, Izanami couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, so she had to leave the task to Sif.

Her parents were surprised to see someone so large and menacing perform such an elegant and demure task, and their faces didn’t hide their shock.

Sif took offense to that, so she froze their tea, then unfroze it when she felt Izanami panic inside. But by then, it was too late. The tea had gone cold.

Now, everyone was eating in silence with their heads down. The tension was thick enough to be in a music video on MTV.

After a while, Omodaru put his chopsticks down, wiped his face, and spoke for the first time in twenty minutes.

“I must confess that my wife and I did not come here simply to sightsee…”

‘You don’t say…’ All of the wies thought at once.

“Does Abaddon find our daughter unsuitable?” Kashiko-ne asked.

All three of the wives let their utensils fall from their hands.

“””…What?”””

“We’re asking if he’s dissatisfied with our daughter. Or if the marriage has hit a rough patch.”