Chapter 200: Bro, Can You Even Bench the World’s Largest Land Mammal?

Chapter 200: Bro, Can You Even Bench the World’s Largest Land Mammal?

Heavy.

That was the only thought I could muster for the first few seconds after I regained consciousness. I was face down on the ground, a mess of blurry lights filling my vision from the runes beneath me. I tried to pick myself up, but my limbs only twitched.

My body felt like it weighed as much as an elephant, which may have been an accurate guess. My Strength allowed me to lift about half of an elephant. So, given my current inability to lift myself, there was a good chance my body weight was somewhere in the upper four figures.

Alright, I could probably lift half of a small elephant. Really, it depended on the species. Half of an Asian elephant that had spent the last six months on a strict diet, sure. Half of an African bush elephant, probably not.

Let’s call it one-third of a standard, species-agnostic elephant.

While I didn’t know the precise fraction of any given type of elephant I could lift, I did know that I wasn’t Paralyzed. There was no Paralyzed notification or dulling numbness. I could feel my muscles flex and struggle, painfully aware of every bone, muscle, and organ struggling to keep from settling into a very messy pancake shape.

I started running down my self-evaluation checklist. My health was 386, which was... alarmingly low. My HP wasn’t actively dropping, though, which–

My ribs creaked and my health dropped by one.

My regen ticked, bringing my health back up by one.

...

My HP was remaining stable, which I was glad to see.

Stamina and mana were in good enough shape. I still had 5 minutes left on my immunity to mind shenanigans, so I hadn’t been unconscious for long. Potentially only a handful of seconds. That had still been enough time for Hysteria and their goons to lock me down inside the weave they’d been trying to ensnare me with.

I didn’t have any debuffs that were sticking, just the constant march of mental attacks being resisted. All my limbs felt like they were still attached, and I was still wearing my gear. All of that was good.

My eyeballs felt like they were going to drip out of my skull, my head pounded as my heart fought to maintain blood flow, and my diaphragm could barely expand to allow air into my lungs. Each breath felt like sucking down a nest of angry wasps, given the hole in my trachea, and my struggle to move also alerted me that my manhood had not been spared the 40 times multiplier to body weight. All of that was less good.

Fortunately, my undies provided heroic levels of support–to protect against unexpected g-forces, among other things. Otherwise, my junk would be getting crushed against my armor. Someone had also yanked the arrow out of my neck. Small blessings.

My vision was less than stellar, possibly because my peepers were deforming, but I could make out five people standing nearby, each illuminated by their own spotlight. The details were fuzzy, but my Soul-Sight was unaffected. I could get a better read on their relative power than I’d been able to while they hid in the dark.

They were a full party of Level 20s. Three of their number had nothing but Gold Delves under their belts, while the other two had half their levels from Platinum. That made me feel a little better about losing, especially since an avatar was actively giving them an assist.

The group looked like a diverse crew, and given the disparity in their Delve histories, it might be a fusion of two different parties. If I squinted in just the right way, I could make out enough to tell that the big boy wielding a very big-boy sword was a Hyrachon, the thickest of the Eschen races. A series of granite horns crested his skull, casting shadows over his wide, scowling features.

Next to him was an even bigger boy with blue skin and intricate tattoos covering their mostly naked form. He looked to be a member of the Mittan race aptly called Giants. He wasn’t quite large enough to justify sieging his lands via beanstalk, but he was head-and-shoulders the largest of the party. He didn’t have any weapons, but he was floating, not that defying gravity told me much. Could have been a spell, technique, passive skill, evolution, or blue man group magic. The jury was out on his role, but after looking everyone else over, I figured he was probably the person who’d been throwing around the magic bola spell.

The veils covering the rune mage made it even tougher to discern their race, but the dark and leathery wings hinted that they were one of the bat-like Chovali.

The Mittan Yeti stood before the winged runeworker, arms crossed and looking like a grumpy bouncer for the Chovali’s lower half. He wore a light cuirass and open-face helm, but his extremities were all exposed.

Finally, there was the archer who was responsible for half of my upper respiratory problems. He was a man with translucent skin and... blurry edges? I blinked and worked my eyebrows, trying to bring him into focus. No, it wasn’t my eyeballs, his skin just sort of faded away and merged with his soul, as though they were one and the same. It may have been an ability, but the look of him reminded me of another ephemeral person I knew–Xim’s dad, Drel’gethed.

Loosely then, we had a blade-wielding bruiser, a lockdown spell slinger, a rune-tossing caster, a tiny pugilist, and a dreamy ranger.

I wondered who was in charge of the heals. I’d need to plot their demise, for when I got loose.

While I busily planned for success, I rolled my bouldery eyes around, searching through the magical darkness to try and spot any other unexpected surprises (which are, in fact, just surprises). My view was limited, so I strained my neck and dragged my head to a new angle. My warped bascinet screeched across the metal. After a few degrees of movement, I found Hysteria.

They were doing a handstand, the sexy circus ringleader outfit exchanged for a sequin leotard. The sequins formed the image of a large feline predator, which wrapped all the way around Hysteria’s body. I was still uncertain whether the avatar was trying to embody a certain gender, so I scanned for bulges.

I didn’t find any. They were as smooth as an androgynous angel.

Hysteria’s eyebrows shot up (down?) when they saw me awake and lifted a hand off the ground to give me an enthusiastic wave. I valiantly twitched a finger in response. Hysteria put their hand over their mouth to hide a giggle, but they didn’t make a sound.

Ignoring the avatar, I confirmed that I could still access my inventory. I also tugged on my soul connection with Grotto. He was behind me, but Soul-Sight was 360 these days. He was on the ground, not dead, and there was a tingling sense of discomfort coming from Shared Fate. No major warning signs, though.

“You still with me?” I thought to him.

[I am deeply unhappy with our predicament.]

“Gravity hijinks bringing you down?” I sent him a psychic wink and a nudge.

[My chassis is more than capable of mitigating the force it is under. My c’thonic meat suit, less so. I am also trapped beneath one of my shields, which is a hazard I did not foresee.]

“At least you aren’t mind-controlled.”

[How would you know?]

“Woman’s intuition.”

[Yes, I have read that men of breeding age sometimes internalize feminine characteristics through bonding rituals as a precursor to mating.]

“It’s the secret to my power.”

[However, I was unaware that you were engaged in any such dalliances. Your claim to have made contact with your inner woman is thus dubious.]

“Damn. Did you just say I had no game?”

[No. Determining your skill is impossible with so little data.]

“Hrk! You shot me right in the heart, bro.”

While Grotto eviscerated my reproductive qualifications, I utilized my upgraded multitasking ability to dedicate a part of my mind toward breathing manually and clenching my core to try and keep blood supplied to my brain.

I was a little impressed I could stay conscious at all, but Body of Theseus was probably helping, and Just a Flesh Wound kept the blood inside my delicate veins. Many of the old blood tubes certainly should have ruptured by now.

Hysteria dropped the hand from their mouth and ran it down (up?) their body suggestively, then spread their legs and held the hand out to one side for balance. They looked up (down?) at their other hand, bit their lip, and pushed until they were supported only by their fingers.

While the silent acrobatics show went on, I flicked across some inventory items I thought might be helpful, pausing to read one very closely.

A slick of jelly spattered my face, and the scent of fruit and copper wafted over me. I blinked away some of the jam, then refocused on the image. It was back to its original pose, unmoving.

I checked my notifications again.

Two minutes and thirty seconds left on the Holy Water.

It was illusions, probably.

“You’re kind of fun,” said Hysteria, settling their chin on a palm. Their body language was persistent in its belief that gravity was going the wrong direction. “This go-around I’ve tried to limit myself to really influential figures, you know? People who can make a difference.”

“Thanks?”

“Which is why my first instinct was to kill you,” they continued. “Sure, you’ve done a couple of things people have noticed, but you’re not important in a classic sense.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t run a country, you don’t have an army, you’re not the governor of a major province, you’re not a staggeringly wealthy entrepreneur.”

“These are all true.”

“You’re a nobody! Barely better than a dirt farmer.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I grumbled. “And farmers are the backbone of society. Those people put dirt on your table.”

“However, you’re an up-and-comer,” said Hysteria. “Meetings with kings and Zenithars, a looming brunch with the Littan empress, the blessings of the gods raining down upon you!” Hysteria eyed me and sucked in their bottom lip. “It’s... titillating.”

The avatar flipped over and a golden cloak billowed out from their shoulders, sweeping across their form and revealing a gold and violet spandex costume. They landed gracefully on one foot, arms akimbo, and a domino mask began to spray out sparkles from either side of their face.

Hysteria dropped their voice and projected. “I haven’t done an up-and-comer run in ages!” There was even a bit of echo and reverb added in. “You, sir, are an opportunity! An opening number with endless possibilities! You aren’t beholden to anyone. No one relies on you to do things.”

“Not true at all.”

“You barely have any responsibilities, and yet you’re this close–” They held up their finger and thumb, only a centimeter separating them. “–to becoming someone of note.” Hysteria took a breath and cocked their hip. “I think I’ll steal all that.”

“Is that why you wanted the king? To steal his identity?”

“Maybe,” said Hysteria, glancing over their shoulder towards the group chilling in the fake lounge. “I hadn’t really nailed it down. I’d probably become one of them and then set up the other to come into conflict with me.”

Hysteria’s cloak rose up and formed a mouth like a sock puppet. “War ensues, global mayhem, yadda, yadda, yadda,” said the cloak in a nasal voice that was clearly also Hysteria. I could still see their damn lips moving. “It’s all so exhausting,” the cloak continued. “The same thing over and over. Kill me no–”

“Shut up, Cloaky,” said Hysteria. The cloak flinched like an abused animal. “I love it, I really do, but a change of pace would be nice.”

“What happens to the people whose identities you steal?” I asked.

“I put them into a giant blender and drink them up like a milkshake!”

“Is that a metaphor or...”

“No.”

“Hmm, I’d prefer that didn’t happen.”

Hysteria dropped to their knees in front of me.

“Will you beg?” they asked.

“Will you plead?” asked Cloaky.

“Will you gnash and moan and scream?!” they asked together.

“Probably not.”

Hysteria’s eyes narrowed, then they smiled. “Okay, whatever,” they said. “Be that way, it’s half the fun.”

“So what does this have to do with Unity?” I tossed the name of the original avatar out there as a gamble. I didn’t know if Hysteria had anything to do with Unity or even Brae’ach, but there were only so many avatars and some of them were working with the Davahns.

Hysteria stiffened. “Are you trying to bait me into revealing our master plan?”

“Mostly I want to grab my friends and leave. If you want to tell me about your master plan, I’d appreciate it.”

“Fiend!” Hysteria shouted, making a religious-looking gesture in the air. “You’ll not seduce me, foul temptress!”

“Yeah!” shouted Cloaky. “Beat us all you want, we’ll never talk!”

“Shut the fuck up, Cloaky,” said Hysteria, batting at the cloak... sock puppet... thingy. It dodged the strike and snapped down on Hysteria’s wrist like a snake. “Gah! Dammit!”

I was then treated to a brief wrestling match between the avatar Hysteria and their surprisingly violent cloak.

I was fairly convinced the cloak wasn’t a separate entity, but it was entirely possible that Hysteria didn’t realize they’d made the character up, and was therefore fighting themself.

I used the opportunity to open my inventory and drop a vial of Holy Water into my mouth. I could barely maneuver it around with my tongue but managed to bite down on the glass before the timer on the first one ran out.

“Is this avatar... kind of stupid?” I thought to Grotto while I tried and failed to spit out the glass. It was mostly burrowing into my cheek and gums.

[I believe most avatars hold within them a fierce dichotomy of preternatural talent and gross ignorance. Due to their nature, they lack many of the intuitive social and physical senses developed by mortals. Further, they dominate their environment through incredible aptitude within their areas of competence, leaving them little reason to develop additional skills. This is compounded by the overriding desire to pursue their governing concept. Thus, they represent a precarious balance of extreme stupidity in certain areas, and inhuman brilliance in others.]

Hysteria squealed and rolled, putting Cloaky into a headlock. The cloak immediately broke free by not having a head, unraveling itself and leaving Hysteria staring blankly at their empty arms. Cloaky came around to strangle them from behind, eliciting another shriek.

[This one, perhaps, leans more heavily toward the stupid side of things.]