Prince of The Abyss

He was the black sheep of his family. He has always been, and will continue to be one. He wasn’t like any of them, and he didn’t want to be similar to them in any way.

His family was well known, especially by those with dark secrets. It was composed of people who knew how to wield the blade with great precision, people who could kill another without looking at the blood-stained on their hands. They were mercenaries.

But he... was different.

He hated the blade. He thought that it was dishonorable to use anything else than your hands and fists whenever fighting someone. He would watch as people killed with their swords, making his heart ache.

This, however, had proven to be quite inconvenient. With just his fist and legs, it was hard to fight someone with something like a spear or bow, as he couldn’t get close or deflect their attacks like he would have done with a sword.

His family had tried to make him use the blade, but to no avail. He respected his enemy; he could never grant them any other fight than one with only your hands.

Though as the world came fell, coming to a stop, all of a sudden. In the midst of chaos, with people panicking and trying to find a way to get time back. His family decided that he had no place in this frozen world, not with them.

But he did not grieve, no, he was excited.

He was finally free.

... However, he would soon realize that his actions had consequences. If he wanted to stay true to his word, he would have to sacrifice others.

After the world fell, he had found some people who actually accepted him, who didn’t judge him or try to make him change. But they were obsessed with the idea of finding a way to bring time back.

But this doomed their life. As in their endless search for mortality, they had yet to find a way to gain it. But instead, they had released what seemed to be an Abyssal creature. And as much as he didn’t want to say this, he was useless in this battle.

The creature was powerful, having skin so tough you couldn’t cut it even if you tried for ages. But you could pierce through. But he couldn’t do that with just his fists.

And that was how he ended up with their blood on his hands, even if he wasn’t the one who had killed them. Just because he couldn’t bring himself to use the blade.

But why was he against it in the first place again... better question, from whom or what was he doing so. Was it to impress himself, or others? Why did he continue staying true to his word? Why couldn’t he put his hand on the hilt and use it...

But as his feet had to endure the blood of his fallen friends brushing against them. He heard a laugh coming from behind him, instantly turning his head to see what seemed to be a boy, younger than him by some years... back when time was around.

His hair was like a mine of the purest gold; it shone even in darkness, like a ray of light casting itself over the world.

His eyes were like an ocean, one grand and vast, but one that held many secrets.

On his face rested a half mask, one that clung to him as if trying to become one with him. It was unpleasing to look at, becoming even more terrifying as he continued to stare at it. It was supposed to be some sort of clown, a Fool. But it was everything but the childish and colorful that he used to see.

”You’ve got a strong will. But you lack a purpose for it.”

Guliot stared at the ground. He was right; he did not need his unbreakable will, and because of that fact, it was hurting him and others who decided to trust him.

”I can give you one.”

His gaze shot up instantly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. For how long has he been searching for one? The boy had seen his excitement, laughing to himself.

”But first, I want you to answer this question for me. If you had to sacrifice yourself to save others, would you do it? It’s a dumb question, but I wish to see your answer.

He didn’t respond, his eyes widening as he heard the question. It was easy to answer, and most would know what the figure considered the right answer and chose it. But was it so simple?

And would he really give up his life for another, even if he saved many in the process? For what, to be forgotten later on? But could he live with the burden of knowing he could have saved many?

...

”Yes, I would.”

...

”Very well, my name is Aether. I, am the Vessel of Praise.

The Fool.”

He jerked slightly as he heard his words. Had he really said Praise? Was it really real? It wasn’t just part of a fairy tale his mother used to read to him so he would fall asleep. But then... what was Praise’s goal... to get time back?

Aether showed him his hand, staring at him with a wicked smile. He didn’t know why he had offered him his hand. Did he want him to touch it? But for what? It couldn’t just be a greeting or something. So what was the message behind it?

”What? Hesitant? You shouldn’t worry, Praise is wonderful.”

... Why was he talking about Praise again? And he knew it was wonderful, he had read many stories with them. But how were they important...

His eyes widened as he realized, which made Aether laugh at loud at his reaction, emberrising him slightly.

”I am a Child of Praise, but my powers don’t allow me to challenge the Queen alone; that’s where you, and hopefully many others, come in. So, do you accept?”

Guliot bit his lip slightly.

If he accepted, he would finally have something to use his will towards. But more importantly, he could try and get time back, avenging his friends who had fallen in the process. He would also be working with the mighty Praise...

He shook Aether’s hand, feeling something stir up inside of him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It felt as if something was changing, but it didn’t hurt, not at all...

[You have gained a path.]

...

”W-What?”

A path, something awarded to those who achieved the seeker class. But he was just a reader, so how had he done it? Was this the power of a god?... It was wonderful.

[Path]: —The Ace—

>The firstborn, chosen personally by none other than The Fool. The one whose conviction would shape the world to fit his standards.

’The Ace...’

He repeated it over and over again, liking how it sounded. He still couldn’t believe it, to have a path as a reader... he wondered what class The Fool was. He had to be powerful; he wouldn’t be included in his path for nothing.

Speaking of his path, he still had the full description to see.

[The Ace]- The first card, the beginning of every hand, the weight of every oath. The Ace is the root of the legion, chosen for loyalty and honor above all else. He who follows this path wields no steel, for his hands are his blades, and his code is sharper than iron. Each battle begins anew in his grasp, for he does not fight to win; he fights to prove, again and again, the truth of his convictions.

...

...

Aether clenched his head, a bad headache drilling into his skull. He cursed under his breath from the pain, but he couldn’t even focus on it. He had gotten so much information. Information that not only opened up a new view of how he saw everything, but also...

who he was.

The Fool had been the one who built the Children of Praise; that was why he knew all of them and was friends with each... it was valuable information for figuring out his role before he arrived in the story.

But the biggest part of the information was the path of Guliot.

He had gotten one after touching his hand, technically. But more importantly, Praise was able to give him a path. So did that mean it had done the same for him when he came to this world?

But as he was trying to figure out everything. He felt the ground shake beneath his feet. He looked up to see parts of the building falling apart. He had to escape, now! But his foot was broken...

Or at least it was... as when he looked at it again, he saw a glowing light around it, and then it felt like it was brand new.

...

Praise, but... why?

”Consider this a token of my gratitude, and an apology.”