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Chapter 133 - TFF
🕑 Added 2024-03-08 13:23:15 +0000 UTCAlan was lost in thought as they began walking toward the insides of the fragmented temple. He was taking it easy, letting some of his mana regenerate, while he thought things through.
The shadows and their whispers were his ever-present companion. He somewhat missed the demon because of them, but he didn’t dare to take him out amidst all the strange classes and skills. The last thing he needed was another psycho going after him.
The whole situation with Bonez was turning stranger by the minute. Whether it was the man’s own mental issues talking or his actual patron was equally crazy didn’t really matter. Alan wanted nothing to do with them. However, the insane man was scary strong despite the somewhat dumb nickname and how weird he was. Alan had seen it first hand and he was not sure if his fellow [Warlock] had even taken the fight seriously. The bone construct would’ve probably been too much of a challenge for Alan himself, considering that it kept up with the named doll in physical combat.
It was a scary thought – like facing a pissed-off less pretty and much creepier Kalyntha. Maybe the ritual that had changed his skeleton was attracting unwanted attention, or maybe any patronless [Warlock] was treated as a prize to be won. But what did the patrons get out of it? That was a thought that had stopped him from taking [pact] a few times now. What could he possibly offer? Was it a belief thing, like the Gods, or would he be a tool to be cultivated for future use?
Monsters sprung in waves as they walked through the remains of what had once been a glorious temple. He paid more attention now that he wasn’t busy fighting and leveling. Depictions of a tree with planets circling it could be seen carved on ruined walls or murals that had long lost any luster or color.
There were not many statues to be seen, and the rare pieces they passed were strange things that made no sense on their own. He wondered what the temple looks in its prime when the Void Tree had been whole and well.
Alan cast the lesser version of his new skill from time to time, boosting its range with the staff and getting a contribution for the kills. The skill was good. Plus, stopping the monsters in place for a time allowed whoever was after them to end the fight and move on quickly. He got quite a few thumbs up and grateful nods.
Another thing he thought about was the Tome he had gotten from the spirit. It was a great item, but a few things ticked him off about it. One was that while the item was obviously valuable and allowed him to basically have a lifeline if he charged it with the right skills, it had a long cooldown. Even now, the item simply refused to respond to his calls and Alan started to worry he had been cheated somehow. What if it was broken now that he had used it once? That would suck. Not that the loss was large, as he wouldn’t have picked the option he traded either way. Spirits, as far as he had heard, were not a very liked bunch for some reason.
The cooldown also made putting skills such as the [shadow slash] redundant. He highly doubted that whatever changes the tome brought upon the skill would be worth the time between casts. The most logical thing he could do would be to find someone very strong and convince them to instill a really powerful skill in the Tome. Something tiers above what he was capable of. Then the item would be a true lifeline. An ace he could call upon in a desperate situation. That he understood.
The Transient Bazaar was one place where he thought he might find a being willing to do so. However, he didn’t have anything to offer as payment. Maybe the piece of strange bark he was holding? Although that could also help him if he decided to experiment on his skeleton and further piss off the bone bastards.
Another issue was that growing the Tome required skill crystals – one of the most valuable things in the universe. While the item was great, the value of a skill was much greater. Supposedly there were dynasties or groups rich enough to be able to afford cultivating it, but Alan was far from even dreaming of it. If he got skill crystals, he’d either use them or trade them.
He decided that testing the changes to [Shadow Slash] and his [Curse: Stolen life] came first. [Hateful Sea Cut] was also on his list as it was possibly the most powerful skill he had at his disposal. While [Mountainbreaker Waves] had been nice, he didn’t particularly feel that it fit him. It was slow, attention-grabbing, and next to worthless against strong and mobile enemies. Using it together with his new restricting skills could make it better, however, it was still questionable whether it was worth it.
The idea of putting an insanely strong skill into the Tome seemed to be the best one so far.
He casually bound a few dolls and watched as they were bombarded with slow but powerful skills of all varieties. Those who had similar skills seemed to be doing the same, and the group tore through the lessening waves of monsters. They had run into only one more portal and after dealing with it the trek became much easier. He earned a few more levels bringing him to 84, which was still great but much slower than his initial speed. It was only to be expected though.
The nest of the dragon he had observed was nowhere to be found, which confused him. Space was acting weird though and gaps of simply missing space were everywhere. Maybe they had simply passed by without it catching his attention again. Things were weird and bendy so deep in the temple. No matter.
What he cared about was that the world ended before them.
It looked almost as if something had taken a bite out of the space. Debris and giant rocks floated into the nothingness that was on the other side. There were no stars or planets or anything. Just featureless nothing. His brain started hurting from the effort to compute what he was staring at. There were even some monster corpses and dolls there, seemingly frozen in space. It was a strange sight, oddly bizarre yet somehow still peaceful.
[First Pathfinder] was singing in Alan’s mind and he tried to ignore the feeling of discomfort in his bones. Faint flashes of the formation surrounding the fractal could be seen appearing and patching things up. He had seen it at work before when the dragon had torn the space above him.
Just the end of the temple was a weirdly preserved square. Five distinct dolls sat as if expecting them, while many others were grouped to the sides.
Their group stopped too as Kalyntha signaled. The five dolls felt weird and different. Especially the one in the middle. The wooden covered only about half of its body and face. The other half was true flesh. Squishy wrinkled human skin. Weathered by time and the strange union with the wood.
What is this? A boss?
“Take care,” Kalyntha’s voice echoed from her metal orbs, her voice serious. “This will be a tough one.”
The five dolls stood up. Each but the middle was like the named one Alan and the Arduo had fought. However, they looked even stronger and he noticed that all had remnants of flesh clinging to their wooden bodies.
Zirida spoke next to him. He hadn’t sensed her returning as she had gone to help the front line. “To last against the corruption for so long, what tenacity.”
“A feat worthy of respect,” Ardou’s voice came from somewhere behind.
Alan frowned, suddenly aware of something, and looked around carefully. There was no sign of Byrr, Feyrith, or any of the other guards for that matter.
When did they leave? How did I not notice?
The aura that washed over the battlefield made his mind go blank and the shadows around him explode in action, as if trying to protect him from what was to come. They twisted and seemed to struggle.
Alan felt his mind drift away and saw a tree floating in space. Its roots were pillars of worlds and its branches gave life to myriad races. A majestic, overwhelming tree. A God.
In the next moments, its roots and branches were torn away by dark beings, by evil beings. He felt hatred for them, and he felt pity for the tree. Tears streamed down his face.
The anger rose inside of him like a tidal wave and told him to fight against those who would do such a thing. The enemies were not the dolls or the parasites, but those around him. Descendants of the hateful sinners who had torn apart a God only to pretend they were something more. Thrones? Rulers? There was no place for such beings in the universe!
The urge met something else, however. Shadows faced the anger and wrapped around it, stifling it in their cold intangible embrace. They poured water on the heat and chased away the invasive visions and the strange thoughts.
Alan opened his eyes. The aura was still assaulting his senses but the shadows fought against it, allowing him to remain himself. The one thing he hated most was someone trying to influence him. The anger that followed was his own, not something artificial.
Zirida grabbed his arm, “You alright?”
“Yeah. What’s happening?”
“It’s those dolls or the one in the middle. Their resentment and feelings are seeping out. The effect of an unleashed and berserk will. If it was focused, I doubt anyone could’ve resisted.”
As she answered someone screamed and attacked the person next to them. This scene repeated a few times until all who had succumbed were immobilized or restored to their normal state. The action was swift, and no one got hurt, which was a welcome surprise.
The effect of the aura seemed to be lessening too.
“Die?” a voice echoed everywhere and the will assaulting them fluctuated. “Die? Die! Die! Die!”
The voice boomed from the doll in the middle. It repeated the word over and over and over again. And then they burst into motion.
Zirida quickly pulled out her sickles. “Back! Support us!”
Alan listened to her and fled backward. This was not an opponent he could face with his usual style. This was a truly dangerous enemy.
He saw the form of Kalyntha fly to meet the half-human doll. The clash shook the temple and made space shudder. Surprisingly, Kalyntha lost out and was sent crashing to the ground.
Alan’s stomach sank, but the girl rose up soon after and flew up with a smile.
The five dolls attack the group on their own, without using the others who stood around for reinforcements. They were much stronger than the one Ardou and Alan had faced with the help of Bonez.
Alan prepared to grab at the curse connection and fuel his new [Chains of the Dark Servants]. It took a few moments for the skill to truly work.
He heard Zirida scream something as she turned and looked at him with unconcealed confusion and a bit of fear.
Just as he felt the life energy of the large parasite, something took him out of balance. A body popped beneath his boots and he felt a strong hand grab at his ankle. The shadows assaulted the offending limb but achieved nothing.
What the fuck?!
He was about to scream when the world shifted and the battlefield disappeared. He almost puked as he hit the earth in front of the room in the Outpost.
Bonez smugly stood above him with a wild look in his eyes. The aura coming from the [Warlock] was suffocating in a different way than the one from the dolls. It was otherworldly, strong, and chilling.
“Now, you will speak with the Lord, boy!”
The door opened despite Alan not doing anything to force it to do so. Bonez’s hand grabbed him by the shirt and threw him inside as if he were a feather. Alan barely had time to turn around when he almost screamed.
Bonez’s skin was melting, and so was the whole room. Alan tried to call upon his skills, take a breath, and move, but nothing seemed to work.
All else was gone, and he found himself sat amid a world of bone.
