Prince of The Abyss

But... was he not a murderer?

To not be called one, he had to justify each one of his kills, but could he really do that? I mean, you needed actual excuses, and for most, he didn’t have a proper excuse. I mean, what was he supposed to say, that he had done it to feed them to the Sun? What kind of excuse was that?

He had done it for survival; most of his kills were because he wanted to ensure his survival.

But... can this excuse justify killing so many people, since they were talking about one or two people?

Really, he knew it was a stretch, but he just... couldn’t say it.

To admit it.

The fact that he was a murderer.

...

Aether made his way through the town, and he couldn’t help but see how different it was.

Not in layout, streets still followed the same logic of congestion and necessity, but in pace. Everything moved faster than it should have. The Sun traced the sky in a rushed arc, light shifting perceptibly between steps. Morning slid into afternoon without ceremony, shadows crawling along brick and brass like they were being pulled by unseen hands. No one stopped to look. No one reacted. The city had already learned how to live like this.

Merchants filled the streets in layered rows, stalls pressed together beneath iron awnings and pipework. Brass signs clicked as they rotated, flipping prices and advertisements in time with the day’s cycle. Steam vented from grates beneath the cobblestone, rolling low before vanishing, only to be replaced moments later. The air smelled of oil, hot metal, and ink, freshly stamped pamphlets already outdated by the time they were handed over.

Clockwork was everywhere. Not hidden, not ornamental, necessary. Gears were embedded directly into walls, turning with steady indifference. Pistons drove elevators between buildings, platforms rising and falling with people packed shoulder to shoulder, unbothered by the hiss and clank beneath their feet. Streetlamps adjusted themselves automatically as the Sun raced on, lenses rotating, shutters narrowing, light recalibrated without human touch.

Aether walked with the flow, not against it. Stopping would have meant obstruction.

Vendors called out over one another, voices sharpened by urgency. Time here wasn’t scarce; it was aggressive. Transactions were fast, practiced, efficient. Coins changed hands. Devices were tested, sold, replaced. He passed a stall selling mechanical limbs, brass fingers flexing on display stands. Another offered personal chronometers, calibrated not to hours, but to cycles, each engraved with different markings depending on profession.

Above the street, rail-lines crisscrossed the open air. Cargo carts slid along them with rhythmic clacks, carrying crates stamped with heat seals and sigils. Occasionally, a passenger platform followed, suspended by chains and guided by rails, ferrying people across districts without touching the ground. The city expanded upward as much as it spread outward, stacked layers of iron balconies and smoke-stained windows catching and refracting sunlight.

The Sun dipped. Rose. Shifted again.

Bells rang, not to mark time, but to warn of change. A new cycle. A different output ratio. Shops adjusted in response, shutters angling, machines recalibrating. The city didn’t pause. It corrected.

Aether noted it all without stopping, mapping movement, identifying systems. This place didn’t rely on stillness. It thrived on acceleration. On adaptation. On mechanisms compensating faster than people could think.

At the center of a square, a fountain pumped steam instead of water, pressure valves releasing in timed bursts. Children played nearby, darting between clouds of vapor, laughter swallowed and returned by the noise of the city. No one watched them closely. The systems accounted for safety, mostly.

He passed through, another body in motion, another variable the city neither noticed nor needed. Gears turned. Steam rose. The Sun continued its hurried climb.

And the town, unconcerned with anything beyond its own function, carried on.

It was surprising to see how the world had adapted, and how much... different it was. The people have taken two completely different paths. It is crazy to think how different things would have been if he had entered Frozen Crown; time passes faster than it being frozen like he was used to.

Yet something that he saw in both worlds was that same anchor of hope.

In both worlds, the people here hoped that time would be turned back to how it was originally, either by slowing down or just starting again. They wished for things to go back to normal, but they don’t want it.

In the original Frozen Crown, after time was given back, everyone started to fight. Since their anchor was gone, they were hollow; they didn’t know what they lived for, so they chose another anchor, which was fighting.

And he knew the same thing would happen if time was slowed down.

Another perfect reason why Denial had chosen Frozen Crown.

The people here loved denying reality.

...

”Still not showing yourself... then let’s see just how much you can hide.”

Aether walked up to a merchant.

Seeing this, the merchant’s eyes lit up with excitement; he had a customer, he actually had a customer. It was really hard to get one with how many other stands there were, and since they sold the same things, it was almost impossible, but he had done it.

And yet... Aether wasn’t here to buy anything. He raised his blade, but not enough to be seen, hidden by the counter. And when the merchant came closer, he cut his head off.

Voidpiercer was a rapier, but with him being an Echo and a quarter to a Beast, and also an Enlightened Reader, he could easily use it as a normal blade when fighting weak enemies.

And the progress goes to show, since back in Frozen Crown, when he had fought a Reader Fragment, he couldn’t use slashes at all.

...

And maybe another reason why slashes worked was that Voidpiercer was a Seeker-class blade... but it was mostly the power he had gained from the books he had challenged, since they were in no way normal ones.

I mean, seriously, couldn’t he get a break?

A reader Godspawn, followed by a Reader Titan, and now he was literally inside a Seeker Titan.

As the head of the merchant fell to the ground, a long silence followed; no one dared to move; they just stared as the sun slowly fell and came back, marking a new day.

Yet that small silence was followed by chaos. Everyone started running for their lives to survive.

No one dared to challenge him, to try and stop him. Their anchor made them stay alive; fighting was a risk.

And yet in his mind, there was only one question.

What excuse did he have for this one?

And truth be told, he didnt have one. He really didn’t, since he didn’t have to kill the merchant. He didn’t have a reason for why he did it. He didn’t know why he had done it, what it got him.

He was a murderer... and he was done denying that.

Aether looked up, seeing that on one of the many buildings, in the shadows, a white being stood, trying to hide itself, but its glow betrayed it. It didnt seem happy, and that was exactly what it wanted. He was sure that if it had a face, it would be frowning right now.

He laughed in his face, while the being left.

But as he was laughing, he heard a voice calling out to him.

As he turned his head, he saw a small witch and a proud knight standing by her side. He would be dumb if he didn’t remember who they were.

’Avrie and Elpis...’

”Aether, what the heck did you do?”

The small witch said, he could see how concerned she was, the confusion circling inside her eyes. Really, a part of him had wanted to try and be on good terms this time, since in Frozen Crown see wasnt talking to him when she died. So he never had a way to say his goodbyes as he had done with Elpis.

But it seems he wouldn’t be able to do it this time either.

He also saw how Elpis rested his hand on the hilt of his blade; he knew the knight wouldn’t care about their relationship; what he cared about was protecting Avrie. Nothing else.

He wasn’t sure if they were a team in this timeline, after all, he had no way of knowing what the him in this timeline, since he escaped and killed himself instead of watching.

But since he doubted he was intelligent enough to create the sun on his own, he had to have me, Avrie.

Aether looked at the dead body of the merchant, and then at his blade, seeing how the blood flowed down onto the ground, and finally back at Avrie.

”I killed him.”

The witch frowned, clenching her small hands into fists.

”But why?”

...

Aether sighed, not knowing what was going to happen after this.

”I don’t have a reason.”