Chapter 121 - Heightened Reinforcement

Sinking into an ethereal plane, away from the grasps of time, life, or death, he soon surfaced from the all-too-familiar fountain of blood, slowly dragging himself out with his reformed body before falling into the ground below.

As quick as he met with the solid surface below, the memories of his previous life sprang to his mind, memories of the dozens of ravenous teeth tearing him apart. Remembering this, bile spit out from his mouth before he wept without an ounce of restraint.

"Dammit…!"

Even as it felt like his throat was being eviscerated, he screamed out as loud as he could to the unmoving depths of blood and darkness.

Louder and shaper, as much as he screamed, he couldn't rid the sound of the incisors chattering, the squelching of his own flesh--it replayed in his head without stoppage. Even if the pain was no longer present, the phantom presence and pressure of the man-eating beings still crawled over his skin. Safety was lost within his own mind, as even thoughts of conceding could earn him a permanent spot within this grave of adventurers.

--I need to find her...I need her. I need her by my side, before I lose it, before I give in to this hell. Iris, where are you? Where are you?

Slamming his knuckles against the unmoving stone below, the pain didn't even register as the surface layer of flesh had peeled away from the repeated impact.

"Stand up right now, you pathetic bastard…"

Even as he commanded himself, his body didn't listen, quivering at the vivid memories of the black-furred beasts that had a liking for flesh and the looming man-beast that ruled over the endless, curving halls.

"I mean it...Get up."

Droplets of the emotions he attempted to bottle fell onto the ground below, pelting against his bloodied fist.

--A trial that doesn't even allow solace within your own mind...It really is a place only capable of being created by inhuman entities that scorn the existence of mortals. Death is a salvation that they won't even grant you. It's a thought I can't focus on too much, or the gods will likely condemn me to this realm--but, is anything worth this? Promises of strength, riches, fame--none of it matches the value of my own sanity.

All I want is to make it out of here.

Looking down at the slight puddle formed of his own bitter digestive juices, the primary hue of yellow tainted with streaks of black and red, all he could do was wipe the straggling remnants of this substance from his chin before forcing himself to stand.

In truth, what he found was the true essence of will. A propelling force not fueled by grandiose motives or unachievable dreams, but diverting all of his brainpower solely to moving each foot in front of the other.

--If I'm going to cry, scream, or scorn the world for its cruelty--I can only do so while moving forward. If I want to give up, only can I express that while doing the opposite with my body? This place doesn't make any sense. It doesn't want to make sense.

Leaving the boundaries of what Ren nicknamed the "spawn-room", his fears were confirmed as the next corridor was completely different than the one previously connected to the room. Like the rest of the floor, upon death, the labyrinth had shifted itself.

Matching the pace of an elderly man with arthritis, Ren carried himself down the vast passageway that opened up like a cone, becoming wider the farther down he got. The stench that had always been present almost seemed new with how it began to affect him, having to hold himself back from gagging and heaving. Each inhale brought this aroma of lingering blood closer to him as he dragged his boots forward across the muck-lathered stone.

Statues made of weathered, tainted metal lined the walls, their design obscured by the side-effects of time. Upon a slightly closer look, they seemed to represent human soldiers of a distant civilization of that from Mastorn--wearing a cuirass over their torso and armored skirts.

There was no tact in his mindless step, bringing his boot down as the stone tile beneath sank down under his step, resounding with a click that snapped him back into focus. A sharp hiss of the air-filled each ear, the hairs on his body standing up as he raised his guard.

Falling from the ceiling, a blade surpassing both the length and width of his body came swinging down, attached to a rope. Its trajectory was set directly on a path to butcher him, launching himself forward with a less than graceful fall against the stone--managing to evade the trap.

Missing its target, the gargantuan blade collided with the sturdy wall, bouncing off of it and continuing back and forth into a swing.

The wind howled once more as another circular blade dived down, aiming its deathly existence towards Ren who rolled to the side, earning a nick on his arm.

It seemed he was one of the lucky ones to step into this booby-trapped chamber as the recently introduced blade was coated in old blood.

"—This place is relentless. A feint with a trap..."

Before he lifted himself from the ground, he chose this time to check his surroundings for any more stealthy blades hidden away in the crevices of the ancient room. Just as he pushed his body up from the ground, the tile his left hand pressed down on gave in under his weight--releasing another harrowing click.

"Shit."

All senses were driven to two-hundred-percent as he quickly scanned the room for where the activated trap was--noticing a previously unseen gaping hole that sat in the center of the statues.

"Dunkel: Shadowstep!"

Using the incantation, he readied his body to be launched forward to avoid whatever attack was incoming--only for nothing to activate. He might as well have yelled out gibberish, looking down to make sure he really was in the same spot.

"What the…"

There wasn't any time to waste questioning the absence of the spell, pushing himself back as a projectile launched from one of the statues, colliding with the wall.

He had never seen an arrow pierce stone, but that was what his eyes presented to him. A black substance coated the length of the projectile, dripping down onto the floor, bubbling up.

--I don't want to know what that would've done if it landed.

One more arrow attempted to pierce him, then two more came--this time shot as a double. It was clear it wasn't just the statues as the angles the projectiles came from didn't add up.

--Another diversion.

That's when he finally noticed the holes planted within the walls, almost unnoticeable by the way the shadows rested against the stone. As he dodged, he stepped on another false tile--bringing upon himself a higher-intensity barrage of poisoned arrows.

--I've got to do something about this damn room and fast…!

Being pressured by the rapid firing arrows that seemed to now dissipate just after making contact with a solid surface, Ren slid himself back and slammed his palm against the stone below.

"--Araphel: Particle Shade…!"

Once again, nothing of a spell had shown itself in response to his call. It wasn't a lack of mana, that much he was sure of as he could feel the vibrant mystical energy flowing through his body the same as always. Another push, repeating the incantation, led to the same outcome--nothing.

It was up to pure physical prowess with the help of his reinforcement--only his own body and reflexes to carry him through the room of seen and unseen dangers.

--I guess it's time to try out "that".

Stopping in place for a moment, Ren diverted the flow of his reinforcement, altering its properties as the magical armor-clad itself over his eyes with an unseen mysticism. A thin layer of the standard form of reinforcement stretched over his body, running parallel against him as if creating another layer of nerves.

"Heighten."

As the aggressive arrows resumed their volley, Ren woke Belus from its leathery slumber, swiping it across the air to deflect the arrow--with success.

While using this alternate reinforcement, Ren was forced to stay completely silent and mostly still in his step, as a heavy amount of focus was required for this ability. Heightening his senses to their maximum potential, it wasn't as if his perception of time was altered or his body moved faster, but his brain processed incoming information at a highly exceeded rate.

Each time an arrow carved its path towards him in the air, it felt as if his brain sent a subtle shock through his body, almost causing his sword-wielding arm to move autonomously. After slicing away the incoming arrows for a minute, releasing the heightened reinforcement felt as if he had stretched every muscle in his body at once.

The fallen projectiles lost their form, breaking down into dust as Ren carefully moved towards the left-most corridor.

--What's going on with me?

Looking at his hand and clenching it shut, nothing except the pain he had just gifted himself drove through his body. Moving forward was already an act of forced will, now that his magic had seemingly stopped working for whatever reason--he felt naked in a cage of lions.

"Was it this…?"

Running his hand over his arm, he found the spot which he had been cut by one of the falling blades. A quick inspection didn't tell him much, the consequence of not being much of a medical connoisseur.

"...I don't see anything odd. Never heard of magic-nullifying poison either…"

Even if it was a madman like Goldheve, he wanted nothing more than a companion by his side right now.

--Unknown, unseen, unforgiving--this is what made up the labyrinth of Asterius. I'm beginning to ask myself if Goldheve was even real, or just another trial was thrown my way. There is no solace here, it is simply hell.

Sinking into his own thoughts, Ren looked up only to realize he was now walking amongst a newly mist that occupied the domain. It didn't take long for the mist to become thick enough to obscure his sight entirely, reducing his vision to only what was directly in front of him.

--It's just one thing after another, no breaks at all.