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Chapter 233 - TFF
🕑 Added 2024-10-20 23:23:20 +0000 UTC“Are you certain you’re all right?” Mayra asked with concern.
Is it something in the way I look?
“Yes,” Alan said. “You should worry about yourself. Staying in this place for too long is not… healthy.”
Maybe I should lock up someone in here, and see what it does to them? Too cruel, I guess.
“What would it do? Where are we anyways?”
Alan didn’t respond but didn’t deflect either. The episode with Enid had left him wondering if he could truly trust any of the people around him. The most obvious choice was Rosalyn, who couldn’t lie, but was he certain there were no ways around that? She had that in common with the strange spirit, and he didn’t feel quite safe after making the deal with it.
Emerson was something of a wild card. Alan liked him and considered him a friend, but his volatility and trauma made him unpredictable. The rest he didn’t know as well now. People changed under the rule of the System constantly. Alan himself was a prime example of that, and so was Emerson. The man had suffered a lot, and it had altered him in ways that were still unclear.
Then there was Ashlyn, who had disappeared somewhere doing who knows what, and Xil, who was a literal demon. And there was also Mayra. His fellow [warlock] was a strange bird, and her bond with a patron made her all that much unpredictable and dangerous. But she had made an oath. Out of fear, or some twisted desire to use him as salvation from the powers that held her leash was of no matter. The oath spoke of itself and ensured she wouldn’t betray him, at least willingly.
Who would sacrifice all the System gave just to spite another? She couldn’t hate him all that much, could she? There were no signs of it at least, but… There had been no signs before Florence flipped. Then again, the situations were very different.
Fucking paranoia.
“I’ll tell you sometime. Now, we have a job to do.”
Mayra nodded. She seemed eager to reclaim the abilities she had lost, but also nervous. Who could blame her? Alan threw one last glance toward his domain, resolving to bring about many changes the next time he visited, and stepped through the doorway. They appeared just outside the Sanctuary and Mayra gasped as the tattoos that had been merely pale marks burst with light.
Alan took a step back as he felt heat coming from the girl, and watched with concern as her tattoos burned away her dress, leaving her dressed in rags and char. Even the straps of her sack of scrolls didn’t survive the short but intense show of power. The burn marks remained red and painful, and the girl gasped on the ground, clutching her backpack of scrolls.
“Is it punishing you?” he asked, frowning.
Alan could feel the presence around them. How long had it been? Few days at best by his estimate. He was back at full power, and he could sense each change of the mana surrounding them. There was no immediate danger. The fools of the Sanctuary were actually not stupid enough to leave the spot without observers.
“N-not quite… also… returning my… power,” Mayra gasped.
Alan handed her his last good clothes and noted that he needed more. Those from the fractal had been quite decent, but that was not an option. Perhaps he could browse the World Temple for some? There was one very close, and he just needed to take it. Now that was an idea.
More than a few dozen people were already standing around them, all letting mana churn wildly inside them at the tell-tale sign of prepared skills. Alan hoped no one would be stupid enough to attack, or he would truly lose all sorts of restraint.
“Is King Rust with you?” a familiar voice called.
The woman—guard one—was approaching quickly, followed by a large crowd of all sorts of people—most of the Sanctuary, really. Some looked like proper fighters, others like farmers on the wrong side of the fence.
“You should know he’s dead. After all the Sanctuary needs a leader, does it not?” Alan replied with a cold tone.
She paused, and her eyes narrowed. There were murmurs in the crowd. A few skills brushed against Alan’s mind and he frowned. They did not prod deep enough to suffer backlash, unfortunately. More likely a quick scan, or an attempt to evaluate his strength.
Mayra rose next to him, dressed in his clothes and hugging her backpack. At least she looked better even if exhausted once again. He hated how much she had suffered because of him now that he knew her more.
“I’m not hurt anymore,” Alan began slowly, letting his voice carry far. Something seemed to aid it. Shadows unfurled from beneath his feet and slowly stretched in all directions. Part of them remained near Mayra, just in case. She was of the first tier after all, and she was vulnerable, especially now.
“I-Is that so?” the woman smiled, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “Good.”
“Is it? Last I remember you folk were trying to make use of my injury and end me as well as your so-called King. Who, by the way, is probably suffering a fate many times worse than death. Or perhaps, better? I might need a few others to share it soon enough...”
“I assure you, the ones responsible—” the woman began.
“Oh, shut up.”
A dark spear pierced through her chest and her mana signature went darker almost instantly. Whatever energy permeated her body, whatever skills protected her, stood no chance against the hunger of the shadows. She still struggled as blood poured out of her mouth. It was no killing blow, and Alan had made sure she would survive a while longer even after the attack. It would take a single push for her to die a gruesome death. A single thought.
If he was not satisfied, then he would just let loose. Playing the hero and being a good person could wait for another day. There was too much to learn, and too vast of a universe to explore, and he was frankly, quite pissed off with everything. The questions had only grown now.
“You all must take me for a fool. One thing about stepping on a higher tier of existence is that my memory is quite decent. I remember the faces of those who prepared their attacks and aimed them in our direction. I remember the excited words you shared, and I can practically taste the thoughts running through your ungrateful little minds. Perhaps you take me for a tyrant just like Rust, but I do not need to rule over scum like you, and I also won’t keep an open wound at my side. I’ve no aspirations to be king or anything of the sort. However, your Sanctuary will be taken, and it’s up to your attitude to follow the lead of the ones who will come, or die.”
Alan couldn’t do all that much from memory alone, but they didn’t know it, and his irritation was high enough to shroud any sort of awkwardness or self-depreciation sneaking into his voice by sheer force of habit. As he finished speaking, he heard his voice echo and noticed a scroll floating next to him.
Mayra gave him a sneaky smile. She stood tall, all traces of pain and worry forgotten, or hidden. The witch he had feared and knew was back, and she almost looked regal. His shirt barely ruined her appearance.
A bit of acting, then? Or should I just…
The shadows around him rose like waves and fell back down. They crawled upon the world and their hunger was only made more apparent by the raging will inside them that sought to break and destroy. Everything felt… better now. The connections, the flow, the sensations of his mana taking shape and changing under the guidance of [Shadow Creation]. Maybe there was a chance to improve this skill as well? What lay beyond?
“We beg—” the woman coughed and a man rushed out to support her. Alan remembered him—guard two. “We beg for mercy. We simply—we simply wanted—”
“Heal her,” Alan ordered, finding his voice oddly steely.
No one moved for a few tense moments until the man turned and screamed. “What are you waiting for idiots?!”
Few people rushed out and soon various colors of mana started treating the woman’s wound. Alan had made sure to not leave any traces of his own mana inside, otherwise, that wouldn’t have been possible. Perhaps seeking permanence outside the bounds of curses was a smart way forward. To use his mana as poison, just like the golden sagird bastards had tried to do.
A lot of them were about to die anyway, so studying their ways was a given. He just needed to find them. A minute later the woman was fine. Her mana was still turbulent and uneasy, almost as if it was scared stiff by Alan’s own. Another curiosity.
“We simply wanted to rid ourselves of tyrants,” the woman finally said, her voice somber. It seemed like most of the Sanctuary was out and around them. Alan almost wanted them to act. He wanted to test himself. To lose himself in slaughter… Xil would have appreciated something like that, and so would the shadows. It would be underwhelming, however. There were too few dangerous individuals, and even they were oddly weak. For all his ego, Rust had achieved little in the way of creating his desired army. The competent ones had died without having the opportunity to showcase their prowess.
Ruling with fear of being surpassed… how pathetic.
“I’ll be honest, guard one. I’ve decided to call you that, I hope that’s fine. It’s not too sexist or demeaning, I hope? Whatever. I assume you have a name, but if I wasn’t interested in it before, I definitely don’t give two shits now. Mayra will take control for the time being, then she’ll relinquish it and give it to another. What happens from there is absolutely not my fucking business,” Alan said.
He sighed and let the shadows swirl around him like flames with will of their own. They were dark and cold, and so pleasant as they shrouded the world and yet seemed to reveal it as well. He quite enjoyed the spectacle and imagined himself back in school, watching all the plays of those able to participate in them.
Ah, to be a kid again. What would I be capable of with the imagination of a child, unruined by society’s standards?
“I was trying to be a good person, you know?” he continued after a moment, “I wanted to help a bit, save some people, do a good deed here and there. Perhaps the System would’ve reflected my efforts in my development. In the choices, I’m offered. After all, I’m quite destructive as it is, I don’t need to do more of the same. It’s all about proper growth and balance, you know? Otherwise, we’ll all go insane.”
There was confusion, but no one left or laughed. Alan was well aware he was finally letting himself vent a little, and in front of a bunch of strangers no less, but he didn’t care. The ordeal in the spirit world had left him shaken.
“I do think it does that. I do think that if I do good, I’ll be offered the opportunity to attain a skill or a trait that will help that cause. But frankly?” he leaned forward. “I just want to fucking murder a bunch of you as a warning not to do any of this shit again. To remove the plague Rust has left in your minds. The scheming. The cowardice. I barely stopped myself from killing you just now, guard one. You know? It would’ve been so easy.”
The tense silence that followed was almost pleasant, and Alan allowed himself to revel in it for once. He could almost feel the anticipations of the shadowy whispers in his ears, and the readiness of his skills to bring death and carnage.
Why was it so? Was he not a leader now? One who sought those broken by fate and by others, and showed them the right path? He suddenly realized that in a way it was what he was trying to do right now. It hadn’t been his aim, but… Sure it was all veiled with threats and violence, but those were the best tools in the new world.
Were parts of him opposing his class? His new nature?
Alan gritted his teeth and chased away all the complicated thoughts. Figuring out the influence all the pieces of the puzzle were exerting on him was impossible for the time being.
“Relax. If you listen to me and don’t do anything stupid, you’ll be fine. Rosalyn will love having more decent people to work with, and she’s quite nice. Not like me,” Alan smiled. “Now, dear Mayra, it seems it’s time for you to play king.”
The girl nodded, and Alan barely noticed the agony behind her dark eyes and steely face. His hatred for the beings above, be they kings, patrons, or gods, only grew.
