The Genesis Game

Notification: An ability of the Black Seraph has been unlocked, "Blood L.u.s.t"

Notification: Unlocked Ability "Blood L.u.s.t"

Details: When fighting against any enemies, the user of this ability is granted a 10% increase to all base stats, and a 25% increase to melee damage after first blood.

Automatically dismissing the notification, while passing through hardened dirt and thick granite, Seraph fell through the fissure in the ground. Seraph had been brought down by the ability, Judgement, wielded by the Hierophant Barbados, the leader of the guild "Inquisition of the Blind  Eye" and the current possessor of the Halls of Light. A man whom had been killed during the tutorial for his ego, and a man whom Seraph had humiliated after the man had attacked him.

Dragged through the Earth by the demonic hands that seized hold of him by the ankles.  Seraph only had one thought on his mind as he screamed in anger and frustration, losing all of his composure as he was drug down to whatever hell awaited him. A burning need for vengeance in his thoughts, and the constant cruel realization that he had failed in his mission, humanity would not survive the coming years in his absence.  Wormwood would destroy humanity and render the Earth incapable of supporting within decades,  

Notification: Now Entering "Perdition's Oubliette"

Details: Perdition's Oubliette has existed in one form or another for eons.  The final resting place of the damned and condemned. Tended by a titan, this forgotten place has no escape, only the torment of silence and an eternity alone.

After travelling through miles of dirt, an opening appeared under him, swallowing him whole as he entered a small room, the opening sealing itself behind him, leaving him alone in complete darkness.   With only his thoughts as company.

Seraph landed with a hard thud on cold stone,  The hard surface slick with a layer of permafrost. The force of the fall breaking the bones in his legs with a wet snapping sound. Seraph screamed as anguish welled up deep within him. Cursing the humans, cursing the elves and cursing the few allies that he had for their weakness and inability to help him.  He cursed them all and collapsed on the ground, his injuries not healing.

From within the darkness a light blue glow began to shine, drawing his attention away from his misery as it began to wiggle and move across the floor towards him like  a snake. Striking out at him even as he tried to protect himself from it, the blow glow attaching itself to his wrists, revealing what they were. Shackles. The man who had once been known as the Angel of Genocide was to be shackled and imprisoned for a thousand years, in the deepest part of the dungeon. 

Once the shackles were attached, Seraph felt pressure exerted, as they began to pull him off the floor towards the wall.  His legs buckling, struggling to support his weight. It would seem he would find no rest and no respite as the chains went slack once his back was to the wall, but as soon as he attempted to sit or rest, the process would repeat itself.  Screaming and gritting his teeth in pain as he was forced to put weight on still mending bones. 

Unable to move around, Seraph noticed a deep cold beginning to set in, a cold he had never felt before, sub zero if not more so.  With every ragged painful breath he took, Seraph could see a thick cloud of mist by the dim light if the enchanted shackles.

Time passed deep within the bowels of the World Dungeon, Seraph languished in the dark; Shackled by his wrists with cursed steel cuffs, bound on a short chain to a wall of greywacke. Even with eyes that allowed him vision in the dark, Seraph could make out only a few details of his prison. 

Beyond the light of the shackles, it was too dark for him to see even where the walls that marked the boundary of his imprisonment.  The cold worsened, a deep chill that dug into his flesh, freezing his outer layers and setting into his bones, continually sapping his strength and his stamina, forcing his body and his magic to focus on constantly healing the damage done by the everfrost, leaving him without strength to break free. Even as he knew there was no option but to escape  no matter how long it took the matter how impossible. 

Hours passed into days, as days seemed to stretch into eternity. Of his cell, Seraph had been able to explore sparingly.   The chains gave him more slack than he realized but the effort left him completely exhausted. 

There were no guards to this prison, there was no need, the prisoners did not need to be taken care of, their nourishment came direct from the dungeon, once a day a plate of stale bread and moldy cheese would appear next to a pitcher of water, and whatever reservations Seraph may have had about eating it in the past was gone, his body hungered, and though he would not die of starvation while in the dungeon, he could still feel the effects of hunger on him.  

With no way to keep track of days and nights, he had lost track of time, resorting to generalizations and guesses, but he knew it had already been at least a week since he first was first dragged through the many layers of the dungeon, doomed to a cell for a millenium. Of cell mates, he had none, and if he shared his prison with others, there was no way to tell, the cell was sound proof, or nearly so, the hellish cold dampening all sound. 

Condemned to a thousand years in the cell, Seraph had but one choice, he needed to escape.  He had not forgotten his mission and the needs of humanity, even if it appeared that they had forgotten him, as had the spirit of the World Dungeon that gave him this chance to begin with.  If he was to escape, Seraph knew he would need to keep up his strength and gain whatever power he could in the process, while watching over his health and always looking for some means to get free. 

After three weeks in the dungeon, Seraph received his first notification.

Notification: Global Announcement - "Guild Formation" 

 A new Guild has been formed.  "Arcadians" They have seized for themselves The Forested Halls.   All members gain the wood golem ability.

 It was a reminder that in his absence things progressed and others got stronger as they seized the limited resources available and the world dungeon.  There were no guarantees that anyone in his absence would use the resources available for the enrichment of humanity. 

With nothing else to do but hang his head in defeat, Seraph used his shallow mana pool to summon an ethereal arm to probe around.  Hopeful that mana exhaustion and fever dreams might give him a way to at least be gone from this place, but even as he slumped over unconscious, no dreams came. 

Shortly after waking up, unknowing if it has been minutes or hours, Seraph received another notification.  One thing he had attempted to do was make requests, but even asking time elapsed or current time was ignored.

Notification: Global Announcement - "Guild Formation" 

 A new Guild has been formed.  "Legends"" They have seized for themselves The Flowing Halls.   All members gain the "Swift Movement" ability.

Briefly Seraph wondered how the rest of his small group was doing, hoping that Jack has survived and recovered from ghost touch or that his father had recovered enough to hell lead the guild in his absence. But no notices or messengers came for him, not even the spirit of the world dungeon, from them he heard no word, none came to find him, none except for the demon.

At the one month mark, from in the dark, Seraph heard a voice calling  to him. "You owe me a soul little brother."