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Chapter 273 - Jurassic Valley (XXX)
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 00:00:05 +0000 UTCSLASH!
The scythe cuts clean through the neck.
Behind it—those reptilian, dark eyes stare at me from the shadows.
I shift my gaze.
And then I see it again.
A head, drifting slowly through the sky—detached, spinning.
The eyes are still open.
Still watching me.
Heavy. Judging. Disappointed.
“You made a promise.”
I…
“Where are you?”
I…
“No matter what…”
Don’t die without me.
The voice twists in my gut. The head turns mid-air—
It’s not Ixchel anymore.
It’s…
Ayu.
I jolt awake.
Eyes wide. Breathing sharp.
All around me—green fields, gentle wind, pine trees swaying in the distance.
The virtual space.
I reach up and touch my head.
Another dream.
“Are you okay?”
Huh?
I turn to my left and see Darius, reclined against a tree. Calm. Still. Like he’s been there the whole time.
“Glad to see you back,” I say, forcing a smile as I push myself to my feet.
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me.
Then, without a word, he materializes a sword and tosses it my way.
I catch it by reflex.
It’s not the old, plain-guard one.
It’s shorter, double-edged—a replica of the Twin Fang the Ajnal gave me.
I grip the hilt. The weight feels right.
I raise my eyes and meet his.
He says nothing. He doesn’t have to.
We walk a few paces into the open clearing. Pine needles crunch underfoot. The grass is slightly wet.
I duplicate the blade—another appears in my left hand.
Darius draws his own.
No words. We just… start.
The swords clash—once, then again.
Simple strikes.
The clang of steel, an occasional breeze, the twitch of grass under my feet—each one grounding me.
I empty my mind.
Nothing but the sword.
Nothing but the next move.
And we continue… on and on.
Time slips by—minutes, maybe hours.
Until I stop.
My arms lower. My stance softens.
I stare up at the blue sky above.
I close my eyes for a moment.
The swords vanish from my hands.
I exhale—slow, long. The tension leaves with it.
Then I open my eyes.
“Thanks.”
Darius glances at me, then shrugs lightly as his own blades vanish.
“It’s always hard getting up, isn’t it?”
I nod slowly. “It is.”
Darius walks a few steps, hands behind his back.
“So…”
He glances over his shoulder.
“You got your ass handed to you by two lizard freaks with bladed limbs.”
“You could say that.”
“You really need to fix that footwork on your left.”
I stare at him and shake my head with a laugh. “Right, of course. Should’ve thrown in a spin, maybe a little shoulder shimmy—really confuse their EM field with some interpretive dance.”
Darius smirks. “Perhaps. You can always try next time.”
“Next time, huh?” I murmur, eyes drifting, focus lost in a single blade of grass.
Will there be a next time?
“How’s Houston?” I ask.
“Busy patching you up and recharging the nodes.”
Yeah… right. How much time has it been?
I sync with the internal clock of the virtual space.
Still ten hours left…
I’m not sure what to do. I’ve been trying to focus—trying to refine the release model—but my mind hasn’t been in the right place I guess.
Maybe…
Maybe I should give it another go now?
“Why don’t you take a break?” Darius says, just as the thought crosses my mind—like he plucked it straight out of my skull.
A break? Now?
I chuckle, then throw myself back into the grass.
It feels oddly real for a fake world.
“Why not?”
I close my eyes.
And I let time pass…
I remember that night—clear, like it’s right in front of me.
“I know asking you not to risk yourself for me is pointless—you’d never agree. So instead, I’ll ask this: promise me you’ll always fight to live. And no matter what… don’t die without me.”
And I promised.
Not out of hope.
Not because I was sure I could keep it.
But because in that moment, looking into her eyes…
I had to.
Then I go back.
Back through every moment that led me here.
Every time I hesitated.
Every time I pushed forward anyway.
Every blow I took.
Every strike I landed.
The times I should’ve died.
The times I wished I had.
And the ones I survived—for no reason I could explain.
All the forks in the path.
All the decisions that felt small—until they weren’t.
The weight of them all presses against my chest, like a second heartbeat.
I breathe in.
And open my eyes.
Darius is there, watching me.
I smile.
“I’ll disconnect for a while,” I say. “Bring me back when everything’s ready.”
He nods.
All fades.
And then—
Light returns.
I’m standing again, with Houston and Darius in front of me.
Darius looks calm. Houston… tries to.
I stretch my back.
“So this is it, huh.”
I stare at Houston. “How are we gonna do this?”
He takes a deep breath.
Then, with a flick of his hand, a glowing projection materializes in the air—a full 3D render of my body embedded in dense layers of rock. The image slowly rotates, showing me curled slightly, limbs pinned, compressed from all sides.
I narrow my eyes.
Doesn’t look… too good.
“Here’s your current position,” Houston begins. “Roughly two hundred meters underground, surrounded by compacted rock from the fault collapse. You are stuck in a crevice between two converging rock layers—narrowest at your back, widest near your legs.”
He gestures, and the model rotates. The angles around my lower back light up in yellow.
“See this zone along your lumbar region? That’s where the pressure’s weakest—still crushing, but fractured. I’ve mapped stress vectors radiating from your spine down into the rock bed beneath.”
The hologram zooms, highlighting tiny microfractures and uneven lines spreading downward like roots.
“We're going to activate the whole node system—everything we have—and force a synchronized discharge through your lumbar nodes. From there, the energy will travel down your legs, stabilize at the heels, and punch into this fault seam.”
The model pulses as the imagined blast follows the path. The yellow turns to flashing orange.
“We’re not trying to break the rock. We’re trying to bend it—cause a progressive shear failure. If we get it right, the lower layer should collapse away from you, not onto you.”
I study the projection in silence, watching my own outline suspended between stress points.
“…That actually sounds better than I expected,” I say. “Anything else I need to know?”
Houston doesn't answer right away. He stares at the projection, then at me.
“There’s one more thing,” he says quietly. “Your senses.”
“What about them?”
“When I bring your awareness back online, you’ll feel everything,” Houston says, gesturing toward the projection. “The pressure. The compression. The claustrophobia. The way your ribs are folded in. The weight on your chest. All of it.”
I watch his expression. He’s composed, but I can see it—the hesitation, the worry.
“There’s no oxygen, Alonso. No space. You’re fully immobilized. And once you’re aware of that… it might be hard to stay calm.”
He pauses.
“I can dull it. Filter the inputs. Cut the feed so it’s just technical—clean.”
I stay silent for a moment. “The fact that you’re even mentioning this and not just doing it means there’s some kind of trade-off.”
I study his expression. There it is…
“I’m guessing the sensory feedback helps track the fracture evolution better than just relying on EM data and structural stress readings,” I say, then shake my head. “Keep the senses active, Houston. It’s not the worst thing I’ve been through in the Tower.”
Houston exhales.
“Then that’s it.”
The projection vanishes from the air.
Ok…
I close my eyes.
This is just like that moment right before a needle injection.
Just a bit more dangerous. Yeah… just a bit.
I smile.
I inhale deeply.
Exhale slowly.
Alright…
“I’m ready.”
I open my eyes and meet Houston’s.
“Let’s go.”
He nods.
“Node circuits charged. On my mark, I’ll bring your awareness back fully. You need to stay calm. After that, I’ll send the signal. You just ride it—don’t fight. Let the energy move through, and your body will handle the rest.”
“Okay.”
A timer appears on a holographic screen.
“Three…”
It’s gonna be fine.
“Two…”
I can do this.
“One.”
Remember the promise.
And then—
It slams into me.
The pain.
The weight.
The silence.
My chest can’t rise.
My arms won’t move.
My ribs feel like they’re caving in, stone pressing from every angle—like I’m trapped in a coffin the size of my own skin.
I try to inhale—and nothing comes.
My heartbeat spikes.
Panic surges—
—but I hold.
I hold.
I focus on the rhythm. The pressure. The limits.
Not as an enemy. Just as data.
My jaw tightens. My fingers twitch. The instinct to thrash, to claw, to scream…
I swallow it down.
Inhale—mentally.
Exhale—mentally.
I find stillness.
Just enough.
I shift my focus inward.
“Houston.”
“Ready?”
“Houston, we have a problem.”
“What?! Stay calm—”
“Just kidding.”
“Fuck you—never mind. Are you ready?”
“Yep. Start it.”
I feel the EM pulse.
The world convulses.
Every nerve lights up in one violent instant.
The nodes activate.
And… the weight returns.
Real.
Crushing.
My ribs groan under pressure. My chest locks.
I can’t breathe. Fuck!
Dense heat and fractured stone pressese me from all angles.
Pain bursts along my collarbone. My legs—numb. My shoulder—pinned. My left foot—twisted tight between something jagged.
Dammit.
The hum of energy builds in my spine—rising, syncing. I feel the tension accumulating through every muscle, every joint.
I can’t hold much more…
“Now, Houston!”
“Discharge in—five!”
The stress map overlays in red.
“Four!”
I grit my teeth.
Don’t think. Don’t fight. Let it flow.
“Three!”
A tremor. A shift in the stone around my ribs.
“Two!”
A high-pitched whine starts—deeper than sound. Pressure cracks through the fault.
“One!”
“NOW!”
BAM!!!
My body twists—every node discharges at once, slamming energy into the rock.
A quake rips downward.
The pain. My broken bones—
I scream.
The entire rock bed beneath me buckles.
A sickening crack tears through the earth.
Then comes the collapse.
The floor gives.
Stone falls away beneath me—sliding, folding, crumbling in waves. A thunder of grinding debris fills the air.
I drop—half a meter—then stop. Jagged rock hooks my waist and leg.
Can't breathe—
The dust floods the narrow space. Dust particles coat my tongue, blind my eyes.
I cough—or try to. Nothing comes out. My throat is locked. My lungs ache.
You promised—
The world squeezes tighter. I feel it in my skull, my teeth, every tendon screaming.
Then—a shift.
Movement.
My right arm jerks—free.
There—take it—MOVE!
I wedge my palm against the stone and activate full Overdrive.
A surge shoots down the limb.
Muscles contract.
Then I punch.
Stone shatters.
Another punch—I dig.
It bleeds. It hurts. But I keep going.
Another. Another. Another—
The rocks splinter outward, dust flying.
My torso shifts—slides sideways—a gap!
I push, twist, shove with my shoulder.
Almost—there—!
My head breaks through first.
Then my chest.
I fall into the widened gap—still cramped, but open enough to move.
I try to breathe.
The air is thin, but it’s there. Just barely.
Good.
I cough, dust grinding against my throat.
I try to move my legs, but they won’t budge.
It’s pitch black, but I send out a low EM pulse—scanning the cavity around me.
Small. Uneven. A narrow compression pocket, maybe two meters long, barely half a meter wide. Cracks in three directions—none passable yet.
But at least I can move my upper body and arms.
And most importantly—however small—there’s airflow.
“Houston, any brilliant ideas for the follow-up?”
There’s a pause—longer than usual.
Then his voice comes through.
“Okay. You’re in a micro-shear cavity, most likely formed along a pre-fractured bedding plane. I’m reading minor stress relief on the lower right flank. That means there’s a secondary fault line below your legs—shifting slowly.”
“That sounds pretty good.”
“Yes, there’s potential there,” Houston continues, “but your nodes are completely drained. And for our next move… we need to recharge them.”
“So we wait?”
“We wait. We’ll need at least forty minutes to recharge and a couple of hours to regenerate the damage. I’ll isolate the damaged links and reroute around the fractures in your nervous mesh. Meanwhile, your muscle tissue is already regenerating. Now that we have oxygen, our main concern is over.”
“Good. Good, but… makes me wonder, why do we have oxygen this low?”
“Eh… not sure. Perhaps we connected to a collapsed air pocket—part of a dormant cave system or an old mining shaft. Maybe even erosion-formed limestone voids. Also, it’s not exactly fresh, but it’s better than nothing.”
A mining shaft? Two hundred meters deep? Am I that fucking lucky?
Well… at least the worst has passed.
I close my eyes and take shallow breaths.
I’m fighting, Ayu. I’m fighting.
Comments
Silver Beard
Surely the lack of comment is no shock. lack of progress relates to less comment. And this one sides maybe well...no wonder!
Silver Beard
Of course it will be a couple chapters- thanks for sharing
