k
patreon
Chapter 123 - TFF
🕑 Added 2024-02-13 13:13:37 +0000 UTCStepping into the temple was like stepping into a different world. The silence suffocated the group, hanging like a guillotine above them. Passing through the dark door revealed a scenery much different than the fractal itself—a memory of something much more beautiful.
Stone buildings stood broken and taken over by roots and branches that seemingly came out of the ground, like the tentacles of a sea monster. They wrapped around the remains of civilization, but they were calcified and lifeless. A large broken square stretched beyond them and into the distance.
Space fractures covered the edges of the space and the ceiling, which was just a dark mess. A blacked-out sky. On one side, in the distance, stood a mountain that was cleaved into two as if a primordial beast had taken a large bite out of it without care. Space twisted there and Alan felt the pull of the void.
His bones ached like never before, making him worry even more that the ritual, or draining the large parasite, had done something irreparable to him. The pulsing the void around was like a thousand knives trying to bore their way through his skeleton.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just some dizziness,” he lied. He had used the same excuse almost daily during his life. It made people feel better and believe you, when you shared only a small part of the problem, rather than deny all of it.
“There’s a lot of void around. It can affect some people’s mana.” Zirida whispered. Even she was careful to not break the eerie silence of the ruined temple too much.
Alan nodded in thanks. He summoned his staff just in case. If there were dolls here then things were going to get bad real soon. The deafening silence only made him more tense.
Soon all of them were on the square. Wilbis was gone once again, and Alan briefly wondered what his role was going to be in all of this. If he was as strong, why were they needed? Why mobilize the whole outpost?
The different groups kept a large distance from one another, making Alan feel like he was not part of a ‘raid’ but just a bystander who had been caught up in the action. Which was not that far from the truth.
Kalyntha rejoined them, and suddenly the four of them were the center of attention. The large woman Kalyntha had threatened was seething in a far corner, but as soon as Alan caught her eyes she turned away.
“Some of the dumb dolls will be coming out soon, I guess,” Kalyntha said. She sounded almost bored.
“I’ll be ready this time,” Zirida responded.
Alan remembered the last time. He had managed to kill a few only by using [Sacrificial Attack] and relying on the energy coming from the curse. It was a strong combo. Maybe the tome from the spirit would allow him to skirt by without doing anything similar this time around. Or his newly manifesting will, which was still quite underwhelming.
The groups moved together, yet separated by large swats of empty space. There were some mages preparing spells, while others in robes were kneeling and praying or drawing ritual circles. The flow of mana was confusing and overwhelming and Alan had to stop paying attention to it.
The first attack was underwhelming, yet devastating too. The earth beneath one of the groups on the very edge of their loose formation broke and a warrior in heavy armor sank up to the waste. The screaming that followed echoed throughout the space, while his supposed teammates struggled to pull him up. When they did all that was left of his legs were bloody torn stubs. The man took it all in silence though and even unleashed a few of his own skills at the enemy, which was commendable.
A doll with red streaks splitting the wood came out of there. It was glowing and the violent energy around it made Alan prepare to cast [Monochrome Armor], just in case. The skill had behaved strangely the last few times, and he was hoping it was a matter of time until it evolved. [Synaptic Failure] was beginning to fail more often than not with the higher-level enemies, but it was not a priority for the time being.
The doll was quickly barraged with skills, however it managed to reach the few who were closer and sent them flying despite all the defensive skills they utilized.
Soon after it had too little of its body left to do any damage, but it still struggled until its core was wiped clean of any will.
“Those are scarier than the ones we fought,” Alan noted, watching healers descent upon the group and start casting.
“Red Dolls. Supposedly higher ranked members of the Void Tree Temple,” Zirida explained.
“Members?” It was Solorim who asked the question.
“The dolls are what’s left of those who dedicated their life to cultivating and supporting the Void Tree. There are many such places throughout the universe, but this used to be one of the major ones according to the records I’ve seen. The Void Tree was a powerful being, a God in the making. However, void is an unstable and strange element, and combining the tree’s almost endless vitality with it turned out to not be such a good thing. Void eats mana and destroys space. It might make the mind focus on the concept of ‘emptiness’ but it is more accurate to describe it as ‘nothingness’. Balance is possible, but the higher the power the higher the price. Some have theorized that spatial magic is capable of working together with void magic, however, the only ones known to successfully harness its power were the very few born with a natural affinity.”
“Like the dragon?” Alan suggested.
“Like the dragon.” Zirida nodded. “The point is that while it is a path that can offer a lot, it’s almost certain to lead to madness and corruption. That happened to the Void Tree, so it had to be destroyed. As for its followers, those who were not destroyed or completely obliterated became what you see today and what the System calls dolls. During their lives, they were powerful users of the void, holders of classes that have long been lost in the depths of the system. It is said that the Void Tree was responsible for allowing them to hold unto that power, and in turn, they gave their worship, protected it, grew its influence in the Realm and beyond, and did everything else a devotee would do for their God.”
“Where does that information come from?” Alan asked.
“The records held in the Temple. I was quite reluctant to share so much before, as it is not freely available. However, now is a different matter.” For a second she looked almost guilty as she looked at Alan, and he grinned in turn.
“Thanks.” Solorim nodded.
Alan was about to ask a question, when an explosion destroyed one of the buildings ahead, distracting them from the conversation.
One of the ruined buildings – a square marble structure with a rounded dome above – went flying into multiple pieces. There were screams and Alan prepared himself.
Nothing happened for a few moments. Some people up front started arguing. The front liners had moved ahead while those capable of ranged attacks stood behind. Zirida seemed to hesitate but ultimately remained in place. Kalyntha wore a bored expression.
From the corner of his eye, Alan saw someone approach them and he felt a shiver in his very bones.
“Hello, hello! Fellow [Warlock], I saw you and decided that you will find it in your heart to accept his little weirdo among your ranks. I don’t wanna die yet and you got some strong ladies taking care of you. I bear gifts, if that will help. Heh?”
Bonez, in all his rattling glory, gave them all a wide toothy smile that made him look like a rotting jack-o-lantern.
“Who’s this prick?” Kalyntha asked, squinting her eyes.
“Oh, allow me, fellow [Warlock], allow me. First, anyone wants a drink? It’s fucking depressing in here.” He held up a white bottle that looked more like a hollowed-out bone than a regular bottle and took a few long gulps before he offered it to the group.
There was another explosion up ahead, but Alan decided whatever was going on was more dangerous.
“I didn’t see you in the crowd earlier.”
“You know me, friend, you know me. You left in a hurry last time but we developed a bond, I can tell. Two fellow [Warlocks] lost in space. Ah. Have you thought about my offer? I’m sure you have. Anyways, your bones hurt, don’t they?”
Alan furrowed his brows and the grip on his staff tightened.
“And what would you know about that?”
“When a bone mourns, I can feel it in my soul. If you ever want to torture me, just put me in a room among mortals with arthritis and more years of life under their belt than their bones could handle.” His yellowed and bloodshot eyes grew wider as if he was recollecting a terrible traumatic experience. “So, what is it? Want little Bonez to make the aching go away?”
Everyone’s faces twisted in disgust and Kalyntha pretended to puke. Even the silent Solorim took a few steps away.
“Alan, please tell me this guy is not a friend of yours,” Zirida pleaded.
“No. We met one time.”
“Ah! But we developed a bond, you see. My patron has grown more interested in you and this time, he will be up for a chat, I assure you. Nothing more, just a chat! After all of this is over. It will be useful, even if you don’t take the offer He makes.” Bonez said. He was sounding… sleazy.
Just in time there was shouting and the sound of skills going off. A few dolls had appeared at the front of the group and the fighting was picking up speed.
Kalyntha pointed at bones with a hand as orbs started swirling in the air around her. “Stay away, creep. I don’t like you, and I will put you down if you so much as breath in my vicinity! Alan is nice, he doesn’t need you.”
“Yes, yes, my lady. It shall be so. Think about it… Alan.”
Bonez walked away whistling.
Not that was unpleasant. He briefly considered if he should’ve returned the ‘lucky charm’ he had received from Bonez, but understanding what it was would be a useful thing if he decided to meet with the so-called patron. He was feeling less inclined to do so now though.
The wave of bloodthirsty Dolls that attacked the front lines made him mercifully forget his second and hopefully last meeting with his fellow [Warlock].
Alan stood safely away, spamming [Shadow Slashes] only when it was safe to do so and when one of the dolls got through the ranks. He wondered if leveling would be made harder by the amount of people attacking. It’s probably how things worked.
No matter how many the dolls were, they fell all the same. It was a pure numerical advantage. Only the ones with red grooves on their bodies held on for longer, but there were only a few of them.
Like this, the group proceeded until they passed the large open plaza and started moving among dead trees and ruined buildings, following twisting paths that reminded him of the scenery outside. The fighting turned into small skirmishes that gave the dolls more opportunity to inflict damage.
Alan snagged a few levels on the way, and felt quite undeserving of them as most of the work was done by Zirida or Kalyntha. The latter seemed to bear a grudge against the dolls and she mercilessly exterminated each, after allowing Alan to land a hit or two. He felt as if he was being carried.
Soon the cries for help grew and the numbers did as well. The dolls came in constant waves. It reminded him of fighting the purespawn back in the Sanctuary.
Finally, while Kalyntha was busy taking on a whole group of Red Dolls by herself, and Solorim was creating barriers of runes that protected those who needed time to recuperate, four dolls reached him and Zirida.
“You got this? I’ll take three.” Zirida said.
“I’ll be fine. I want to test myself anyways.” Alan replied. His staff was put away and exchanged for his daggers. Writhing shadows coalesced and covered the weapons, stronger than ever.
[Monochrome Armor] covered him like the hug of an old friend, and Alan could swear he heard whispers coming from the shadows. He exhaled in satisfaction. With his much higher attributes, the speed the skill gave him would be amazing.
With a grin, and battle lust that he hadn’t been able to unleash against the predictable parasites, he rushed toward the doll. There was time for experimenting, and there was time for sticking to what he was good at.
