Lamentus 6

It was of excelsus. A being of ultimate power. Standing between the precipice of Eternity. It was the hero of all people, yet a god with no worshippers. It slayed and hunted down the horrid legions of chaos from the deepest chasms of hell to the fractured cities of heaven, with nothing but its single body and the weapons at its use. With its pale, eldritch armor and the crown of felled eidolons, it struck psychotic trepidation to any foe unfavored enough to witness its presence, and left their skeletons melting and their flesh crushed into pulp.

A soothing experience it was, to say least.

Each set of stairs were carpeted in regal velvet, the mere walls had more artistic detail than the entirety of the terrific yet dilapidated spires of the old sea kingdom ruins. Nothing could compare to such riches that laced even a corner of a room. Everywhere he stepped was sheeted in marvelous gold and studded with rubies and sapphires. The ceilings were painted in murals of divine dragons and portrayed their primordial power with clashes of vibrant display. Nothing could compare.

Life of such royalty.

Tch, such a waste. All this wealth just to add a little glimmer to a corridor? What insane creatures you humans are.

Laurence walked up to where Kade explained was his room, of sorts. He creaked open the door and stepped a single foot in. The room was quite simplistic compared to what he had just witnessed—a large window with a wrought iron frame, and curtains with shining starlight patterning. Walls were covered in a labyrinth of decals, transforming from swirling spirals to golden roses to repeating gemstones. At the cent was a large bed, draped with a canopy of thin, iridescent cloth.

He peeled away the canopy drapes and sat on the bed and animal fur blanket. Near the edge of the bed was a neatly folded piece of clothing, cloth dyed a dark, royal blue. He grabbed the clothing a rustled it out, revealing a trench coat lined with gold foil from the collar to the lengthy ends that stretched to his knees. The foil lining grew to polygonal designs from every edge, and a large hood sacked around the neck.

Slowly putting on the new coat, he spoke to Cthulhu.

What do I do now? The magic mirror is left in the caver in the abyss, how do we get back?

The deepest magicks that have been lost throughout history, Only I have the remains of those spells. A phantasmal summoning that provides the means to warp freely throughout time and space, a greater version of the standard mirror, to say.

So, how do I do it?

Find a pen or anything that can draw an alchemical circle, I'll enchant it. This circle is beyond anything you have learned or remembered, unfathomable.

Laurence rummaged through the wooden desks and drawers and found a small bottle of ink pushed to the side. He popped open the bottle and pulled up a space under the rug. Cthulhu explained the circle in great detail. Two inner circles, triangular base, runes of r'lyehian inscribed across every rune, damned arms raging across the perimeter. He tried to emulate it with every finger dipped into the in and roughly drawn on the wooden floor, the result scuffed but good enough.

Careful, you do not know the extent of this spell. Your body is still part human, and it will not take the transdimensional movements well, so expect some serious side effects.

Sure, I can't throw up anyway, haven't eaten anything in months.

Hup bottom ot soth ng h' vafh't n'ghft, l' tharanak gored vulgtmoth l' seize fahf shuggog ng rip h' mgahnnn. Uaaah path l' bugagll ot ya will, mgepogg.

Ten monstrous and disfigured arms burst out of the planked floor, surrounding the circle. They move down, jittering through descent, and dug their fingers into the center. A black mist shrouded the room, as the very fabric of reality was torn open by the hands from within the circle, a gateway to a sea of darkness. They stretched it bigger and bigger until it filled the entire circle.

Hop right in.

Laurence loosened his new clothes and clenched the furicus pitchfork. With a steady hop, he jumped into the gateway. A bone-chilling sensation like being dunked into a barrel of ice ran through him, and before he could blink he was breaking across a space of pure emptiness. His body folded in on itself and turned inside-out through several dimensions as all around him could be heard the sounds of ineffable bellowing. Deadlights filled the gaping existences of coagulated monstrosities lurking within the shadows, watching him with thousands of eyes.

Suddenly, he began to fall away. An infinite fall, until a storm of swirling gas encapsulated him and sent him flying into the Abyss cavern, slamming him into the dense stones.

"Owww...AUGHHH..."

Yes... too much to handle...that migraine isn't going to cease for some time.

Uhg...god...where did I put it...I definitely haven't missed this place...

He trudged to the crevice betwixt the rocks and feeled out the Necronomicon. Pulling it open, he dusted away the debris and flipped to the next page. The strange black frog from before hopped from inside the kelp and jumped onto his shoulder. He was surprised it didn't starve.

Back to where we left off.

So, what now?

To extract the presence of mana concentration from a body requires a bodily sample from which the presence houses in. It serves as a celestial magnet of sorts, to drive out the other divisions of me.

Wait, what? What do you mean by that?

Grab your pitchfork and make yourself bleed.

Are you telling me to cut myself? How much blood?

Enough to draw a circle on the tome.

I-I can't d-do that...how do you purposefully hurt yourself?

Laurence, do you believe this is the maximum of self harm you must do? This is only the beginning. Now, take the pitchfork and do what you must.

I-

Do it.

He shivered and quickly shut up. He slowly reached for the furicus pitchfork and clenched it with a quivering palm. laying the tip of the prongs against his other wrist, he grit his teeth and tried calming his mind.

Its just a cut. I've broken several bones before. Its just a cut. Just a cut.

Closing his eyes and looking away, Laurence quickly slid the prongs across his wrist and dropped the weapon onto the stone. There was no pain, no sting for he couldn't feel pain like regular beings. Yet a single tear dropped onto his thigh.

Cthulhu told him what to draw with his blood, which he did so. Cthulhu chanted and a thousand voices rung across the cavern. His chant began to dim from his head as the blood across his body and on the tome pulsed a blue-purple swirl. Eventually, Cthulhu's voice completely vanished from his head.

My mind and connection now resides within this tome. It feels strange, very cold.

So did it work? Are you no longer in my head?

Some remnants remain, yes. Memories and dreams. Unfortunately, I can only communicate through a short radius around this tome.

...wow...

Weapons: Void-forged Lacerates (not an item just magic), Furicus Pitchfork, Abyss Shocker, Blood Thorn, Black Anurian

Tools: Magic mirror, Necronomicon stage: 1

Armor: (no armor)

Accessories: (no acc)