Chapter 45: Voice of the mad.
On the forty-sixth day of his imprisonment within the abyssal chamber, the ancient restraints that bound Liam's soul-entity finally fractured like brittle jade under the hammer of an immortal smith. The figure who had long since lost all interest in this insignificant prisoner stirred at last, drawn by a single, unyielding question that echoed through the void between them.
Liam's laughter rose first, a low, resonant sound that carried the weight of countless lifetimes, as if the very heavens themselves were mocking the torturer's futile efforts. "Old One," he spoke, his voice a silken thread woven through the storm of demonic aura swirling in the air, "do you know the Law of Swallow?"
The figure's head snapped toward him. Eyes that had witnessed the fall of empires and the birth of demon realms widened in shock, twin abysses of crimson flame flickering with disbelief. The aura around Liam shifted then, a subtle ripple in the fabric of the chamber's oppressive law. It was not mere defiance. It was the first stirring of a primordial law, ancient and untamed, like the first breath of chaos before the worlds were forged.
"The art to swallow something, whether it be nectar that fills the soul with ecstasy or poison flames that sear the meridians to ash," Liam continued, his words carrying the cadence of a scripture being recited in the halls of a forgotten demon god.
The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of blood lotus and scorched bone.
"To devour the unknown, to consume the unconsumable… this is the foundation upon which all true power rests."
The figure's voice emerged like grinding thunder from a mountain's core. "Do you speak of the Sudarian Law of Devourers? The forbidden Law that even the Great Demon Lords of Old dared not fully grasp?"
But Liam only smiled, soft giggles slipping from his lips like the first cracks in a glacier before it collapses into the sea. "Call it what you will, Old One. Names are but leaves on the wind. The law remains eternal."
He turned his face fully upon the figure now, his empty sockets gleaming with the quiet madness of one who had peered into the maw of oblivion itself.
"To attain this law… one must first know what it means to be swallowed. Not merely to eat, but to be eaten whole, body, soul, and Mind shattered and reformed in the belly of nothingness."
The figure's eyes slanted like a predator's, narrowed in desperate hunger, the way a starving cat stalks the shadow of a mouse. "And how does one attain such a state?" The question dripped with raw need, the torturer's composure fracturing for the first time.
Liam's only reply was laughter, deeper now, richer, a sound that reverberated through the chains and the very stones of the chamber. He spoke no more.
Enraged, the figure unleashed the full weight of its infernal torture arts: blades of soul-piercing aura, rivers of molten demonic flame that scorched the aura points, illusions of endless death and rebirth designed to break his will.
Yet Liam laughed through it all. Each wave of agony only fueled the fire in his core, his aura core spinning like a black hole devouring the torment itself. The figure, driven to the brink of crazed madness, finally withdrew, its form trembling with unquenchable fury.
"This one… he knows something too ancient," the figure hissed to the empty shadows. "I must dig it from his bones before his time i."
On the fiftieth night, the figure returned. Its eyes burned with a deep, velvet temptation, the kind that had toppled kingdoms and seduced gods. "Tell me, foolish one," it purred, voice laced with the promise of forbidden power, "what do you want?"
Liam let out soft giggles that danced like moonlight on a bloodied blade. "I, who once reigned as Lord of the Demon Blade, who forged an entire foundation of demons beneath my feet… I hold the foundational secrets to countless legendary battle arts. The Ninefold Demon Palm, the Void-blade Scripture, the Eternal Demon Soul Sutra, they can all be passed down to you, should you beg."
The figure's aura surged, tempted, yet Liam's laughter only grew deeper, louder, a thunderous cascade that shook the chamber's foundations. He did not mind the offer. Not in the slightest.
"All I ask," Liam said, his voice suddenly calm as still water, "is the way to attain the state of being swallowed."
"You still hold me pinned to the ground," Liam added, almost conversationally, "even though you know I cannot escape you."
Immediately, the oppressive weight law that had crushed him for fifty days dissolved like mist before the dawn. Liam slowly sat up, the sound of his broken neck cracking back into place echoing like the snap of a divine whip. "Argh… much better," he murmured, rolling his shoulders with a satisfied smile.
"So tell me," the figure demanded, "how do you attain that state?"
Liam simply rested both hands behind his head, leaning back almost playfully, as though they were two old comrades sharing wine beneath the stars rather than captor and captive.
"I don't even know your name," Liam said lightly. "You claim to be some lord of the Demon Blade, yet that is no name at all."
Veins bulged across the figure's forehead like coiling dragons. "Is that really important right now?" it roared, rage boiling in its demonic aura.
Liam's face remained turned toward the ceiling, serene. "From the times of the Demon God Oberon himself, I have been known as the Great Demon Blade Zoran of Babel."
Liam cut in smoothly, "I cannot trust you with just that, Zaroon." The mispronunciation, Zaroon, made the figure's head twitch violently, a spark of irritation igniting in its ancient eyes.
"What if I give you my secrets and you still end up killing me?" Liam continued, his tone carrying the sly edge of a fox who had already seen the trap.
The figure's rage flared like a volcano awakening. "I see what game you play, you fool!"
But Liam did not retreat. For a fleeting moment, his contained madness surfaced, a cunning glint in his eyes, sharp as a freshly forged demonic blade. "But do I lie? At least if I die… let me take your secrets with me."
The figure could endure no more.
Two fingers shot forward like lightning, piercing straight into Liam's forehead. A torrent of Zoran's own energy flooded his mind, vast oceans of battle arts and ritualistic sutras, each one a mountain of knowledge forged in the fires of the Babel Tower. Demonic techniques that could shatter realms, secret methods to refine the soul into an indestructible weapon, forbidden arrays that could summon Demons.
Unknown to the Great Demon Blade, however, Liam did not merely receive. He studied. Every thread of energy, every pulse of aura, every subtle shift in the flow of Zoran's breath and intent, he traced it all with the precision of a master artisan examining the flaws in a peerless sword. He mapped the meridians of the technique, the hidden nodes, the way the demonic law coiled and uncoiled.
When the transfer was complete, Liam forcefully pushed himself back into a lotus position, his broken body humming with newfound power. "Fucking amazing," he breathed, laughter bubbling up once more. "Such demonic technique… truly worthy of someone from the era of old."
Zoran's voice cut through the celebration like a guillotine.
"So tell me, how do you achieve that state? Do not waste my time, foolish child."
Liam raised a single finger, taking a deep, deliberate breath that seemed to draw the very essence of the chamber into his lungs. "There is only one way to attain the Law of Swallow."
Zoran's patience frayed. "Speak!"
"Through death," Liam said simply.
Rage twisted across Zoran's face like storm clouds devouring the sky. "You dare,"
"See, everyone who has truly experienced a state of death," Liam continued, his voice now carrying the weight of ancient scripture, "has gained the chance to learn the Tale of Devouring.
For death is the ultimate swallowing, the moment when the self is consumed by the great void, when the law of existence is devoured by the Law of non-existence.
Only then can one comprehend the reversal: how to become the devourer instead of the devoured. It is the cycle of annihilation and rebirth, the primordial truth hidden within every living thing. The body perishes, the soul scatters, the meridians collapse… and in that absolute emptiness, the Law of Swallow reveals itself.
Those who return from such a state do not merely survive. They transcend."
Zoran stared at him in shock, the weight of the words striking like a heavenly tribulation. "So… I have to die to learn this art?"
Liam only laughed again, the sound rich and nostalgic, remembering the cataclysmic battle between himself, Zion, and Yunku, the one who had savored the exquisite comprehension that came only through the embrace of death itself.
Then, before Zoran's disbelieving eyes, Liam's flesh began to heal visibly. Torn skin knit together with threads of dark red aura . Shattered bones realigned with audible cracks. His aura surged, no longer that of a broken prisoner, but of a demon awakening from slumber.
"I can help you comprehend it," Liam said, rising to his feet with fluid grace. His blade, his eternal companion, shot across the chamber of its own accord, flying straight into his grasp with a resonant clang that shook the walls of reality itself.
The air between them crackled with the promise of death.