ME Cuartas
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Chapter 167 - Pangea (XLVI)
🕑 Added 2025-01-07 01:00:06 +0000 UTCMy senses pick up a subtle shift in the air—faint, far, fast.
I dig my heels in and twist, rolling forward.
BOOM!
The sound slams into me, rattling my core, hitting after the tendril slices past.
I hit the ground, and I know. Another is coming. And another. And another.
BOOM! BOOM!
Thin or thick. Faster or slower. Over and over.
One mistake. That’s all it would take. The slightest delay, a break in rhythm—dead. Game over.
But…
BOOM!
I don’t make mistakes.
I magnetize my gauntlets, pushing, syncing with every movement, accelerating again and again.
Two seconds.
Chiara should send it soon.
I could do it myself, but… I need to stay focused. If I can use her, I will.
BOOM! BOOM!
I rush out of range, a tendril slicing air, skimming my mask and neck, leaving shallow gashes.
Three seconds.
Then I receive it.
A 3D image floods my mind—sharp, precise. Every dimension clear. The orbit of the last orb mapped, its trajectory marked to perfection, each fixed point drawn with timings accurate to the fraction of a millisecond.
Less than 0.007 seconds. That’s how long the orb lingers on a point before shifting.
The thin tendrils—just as I expected—are asymmetrically distributed. With their positions, I can map both the body’s orientation and its full movement.
But the real issue? The invisible defensive tentacles. How do I bypass them?
My thoughts race. The boss keeps attacking, relentless. My body moves on instinct now, dodging by inertia, tracking its patterns.
I let go of conscious thought. Feel it. Its outline, its rhythm. The orbit’s locations.
Each attack sharpens the image. Clearer. Clearer.
Until I have it.
But with every shift, I have to recalibrate. Knowing its position now isn’t enough. I need to predict where it’ll be.
Seconds pass.
The creature attacks relentlessly, and I dodge again and again. I’m learning, but… even if I know its patterns, how can I ensure my attack lands? I can’t coordinate with Ayu unless she can map it all and predict like I do. And we’d have to do that for four straight throws with barely any time in between.
No.
That won’t work.
I have to do it myself.
I leap out of range again, narrowly avoiding a thin tentacle. It doesn’t hit me, but the air pressure slices my wooden mask and leaves a shallow cut across my lips.
I check the 3D image burned into my mind, memorizing every detail. I have a plan—a risky one—but it could work.
I close my eyes.
My body moves on instinct, dodging, tracking shifts in the ground and air.
I know it now. Its habits, its attack patterns. But… it’s not enough. I can’t predict it fully—not while only part of its focus is on me.
I need its full attention.
If I’m going to bet my life on this plan, I can’t afford a single error. Not one.
Yet… I try to think of another way, something safer. But nothing comes.
Time slips away. The deafening booms keep coming, but I’ve grown used to them.
I make my decision.
I send a wave to Ayu, telling her to retreat. That I need its full focus. That I’ll finish it. I show her my plan… well, most of it.
She doesn’t respond for a while.
I send another wave.
It’s an image of me placing a hand on her shoulder, like I did before the duel with Siddharth. Trust me, Ayu.
Seconds pass.
Finally, I receive an image.
It’s her nodding, and then… a clock with a question mark.
The timing to disengage?
Indeed.
I take a deep breath.
“Darius… are you there?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the maximum Overdrive percentage I can reach while staying fully conscious for at least 10 seconds?”
“… Give me a moment.”
I sidestep a thin tentacle and roll under a thick one.
“128%, according to Houston’s latest notes.”
“Alright. That’ll do. As soon as I give the signal, put it on.”
“… Done.”
I dodge another attack and send a wave to Ayu.
It’s a clock, counting down from three.
She responds with a thumbs-up.
Alright.
Time to lock in.
I take a deep breath, still dodging, still moving.
3, 2, 1…
“NOW!”
And it hits me.
Everything… slows.
The dirt sprays outward as my boots dig into the ground. Vibrations ripple through the earth.
The tendrils are coming. Two left. One right. One from above.
I stare ahead.
It’s not visible, but I see it. I feel it.
My body pivots hard to the right. I leap, just barely clearing the swiping arc.
The wind grazes my skin, every molecule pressing, every sound wave bending, colliding, vibrating.
The smell—it’s sharp, metallic, choking.
My gauntlets slam down, channeling my waves.
I hit the ground. Roll. Twist. Bend. Leap left. Leap right.
It’s all clear in my mind.
Every movement. Every shift. It sharpens with every moment.
I predict its next move… sooner, faster, more precisely each time.
I know it now.
The 3D image in my head aligns perfectly with its form. I see the swirling orb, the ten tentacles, the three raised ones.
I see everything. Even with my eyes closed.
I reach into my bag, grip one javelin, and toss the rest away.
Dead weight. I don’t need them.
I step to the side, then lean back. Milliseconds later, the tendrils lash past, missing me entirely.
Not enough.
I need more.
I need to feel it more.
I need… to become it.
The tentacles. Thirteen arms. The swirling, shifting mass. Rotating. Striking. Advancing.
The air ripples around its frame—I feel every distortion, every subtle shift.
I feel its intent, its rage, its calculation.
No… my frame, my intent.
I time my attacks. I aim to crush this fly. I sense the shift of every limb, the stretch of every one of my tendrils.
I am the force behind the strike, the weight driving it down. The air bends as I lash out—I feel its resistance, its recoil.
I am its hunger, its unrelenting will.
I see the human’s openings. He is avoiding me. He is a coward who can do nothing but dodge.
And I… I am the sovereign of this place. The leader of thousands. Invincible.
I am… death.
I send a tentacle crushing down. He avoids it. Annoying. And then…
He leaps back. He lands on the tentacle.
Fury erupts over me.
I lash upward, lifting the human into the air, where he can no longer dodge me.
I can feel it. He is rising. He flies higher and higher.
But I know it. He cannot truly fly.
He is at my mercy.
As he soars far above, I lash out with a thinner tentacle. I will cleave him in half. This insect. It will die…
My strike comes closer and closer. The hit will land.
This battle... is over…
I open my eyes.
There is nothing there. Nothing at all.
Yet.
I see it all.
I retract my legs and arms. My body aligns into a straight line.
I magnetize my gauntlets and burst right in a flash of movement.
Then, I extend my left arm. A needed sacrifice.
And then it hits—square on the gauntlet. The tentacle strikes.
For a moment, I feel no pain. But I know—my left arm is gone, completely dislocated.
My body spins through the air, accelerated by the hit.
I spin at insane speeds, faster as I narrow my form. But all I see is the timer in my mind. Ticking. Slowly. So very slowly.
The world blurs: the ground, the glowing Lurkers, my blood suspended midair.
Spinning. Faster.
I am a vortex, a black hole, a singularity.
I smile.
The pain hasn’t even reached me yet.
I extend my right arm suddenly. The rotation slows, just slightly. Still fast enough. Still enough momentum.
The power I need. The speed I need.
The javelin leaves my hand.
I keep spinning, much slower now, all the energy drained into the javelin.
I am alone. In the air.
The pain finally registers.
It’s not that bad.
I smile.
I… won.
Amazing.
Ayu’s eyes stayed fixed on him, faintly glittering, her fist clenched tight.
So this was his true skill. His true power.
A smile spread across her face, filled with admiration—both as a woman gazing at the man she loved, and as a warrior in awe of another.
Strength. Reflexes. Timing. Mastery of space. Exploiting vulnerability. Pre-acting on an opponent’s move. It was all there, executed to an absolute level.
And attacking from above, at the blind spot at the top where the tentacles couldn’t defend—it had never crossed her mind. Yet, he saw it and devised a plan to exploit it.
When he had extended his arm mid-air, she had frozen.
Her heart had skipped. Shock had gripped her as she had watched him deliberately offer his arm.
Idiot. What had he been doing? For a moment, worry had consumed her. Had he been acting out of desperation? Recklessness?
But then it had clicked. The movement hadn’t been random. It hadn’t been reckless.
It had been calculated. Perfectly executed.
Every move he made… it was just… awesome.
The realization hit her like a wave, and her shock gave way to something else entirely.
Her heart raced, and her body buzzed with excitement. Using the enemy’s strength against itself and sacrificing his arm for the power to win—it was insane, risky, and yet brilliant.
But it also lit a fire of realization.
She remembered her father: "Every warrior’s greatest battle, Ayu, is with themselves. Mastery is refusing to stop at good enough, refusing to accept limits, and fighting until the impossible becomes reality."
She still had so far to go...
She took a deep breath and ran toward him. He was falling slowly, which meant he was still conscious.
And then he hit the ground with a heavy thud. He trembled, nearly collapsing, but… he didn’t.
His left arm was gone, torn at the shoulder. Flesh hung in shredded ribbons, jagged bone jutting through raw, bloodied muscle. Blood poured in violent bursts, pooling beneath him.
The part of his face visible through the broken pieces of his mask was pale, his body swaying, barely holding against the shock.
She stepped in and caught him, steadying his balance. His blood soaked her, but she didn’t care.
He looked at her, his gaze soft, and smiled, blinking his left eye.
She smiled back.
Enough of this. The red orbs. He needed one. Fast.
Without a word, she helped him forward. Together, they reached one of the red orbs. She knelt beside him, guiding his trembling hand to touch it.
And then, all of a sudden, without the slightest visible effect, he changed. Completely.
He stood up. His armor and mask remained the same, but his body… It radiated strength, more than ever before. His missing arm was back, perfectly restored, bare and raw, every vein and taut muscle visible as if freshly forged.
But what truly caught her breath was what appeared on his back. At first glance, it looked like a cape—a swirling black cape. But as she focused, she saw it wasn’t fabric. It was made of seven long, sleek filaments, each ending in sharp, metallic-like edges. It was… beautiful.
Alonso stood there, towering, imposing. The cape shifted and swirled behind him, alive with its own energy.
He looked like… like a hero.
And then, out of nowhere, he started laughing. Loud and unrestrained. She could hear the immense joy in it, maybe even relief. It wasn’t the laugh of victory over the boss—it was something deeper. Something she couldn’t place.
His gaze seemed distant, lost in his own thoughts, as if the world around him didn’t matter. He looked… genuinely happy.
Before she could even attempt to understand, his eyes locked onto hers, brimming with joy. It was intoxicating.
She caught his smile through the broken mask, warm and confident. Then, she noticed one of the filaments from his cape move. It separated smoothly, extending toward one of the orbs on the ground. The motion was fluid, almost alive, as it slipped beneath the orb, lifting it into the air with effortless grace.
It stopped, just in front of her.
Her face flushed, heart pounding. She froze for a moment, staring at him. There he stood, so self-assured, handing her the orb as if… as if…
Luckily, her face was hidden behind her mask. Why did he do things like this? Here, in front of… of everyone.
She quickly grabbed the orb, her hands trembling slightly as she felt its energy. The surge of power, the warmth, and… a subtle sensation in her back.
He retracted the filament and extended his fist toward her.
She grinned, her heart still racing, and bumped her fist into his.
Their first fight together… she was happy. So very happy.
