Chapter 142 The Endless Factory

Quelling his fear was only a temporary countermeasure as the very essence of the gloomy air seemed interlaced with horror. He began seeing silhouettes out of the corner of his eye, hearing steps in addition to his own whenever he moved, causing him to look around constantly.

Something was severely different in the center of the desolate city; reality felt completely twisted by the whim of the Unending Nightmare.

I have to keep moving…I have to find Roan, or anybody, he thought.

As he slowly moved through the alley, he jumped as a blood-curdling scream resonated through the city. It was a feminine scream, one of bloody milder, no doubt. It was likely a few blocks away, but as he glanced back, the shadows of abhorrent entities racing towards the source of the scream prevented him from moving towards it himself.

I can’t…He thought.

If it wasn’t outright fear, it was total dread that took hold of his body; an empty cold that left him paranoid and overwhelmed with an ominous outlook as he treaded carefully.

As he silently shuffled through the dark, cramped space between buildings, a draw out, inhuman groan forced him to look back.

Something was stalking him; the darkness of the area made it difficult to make out its appearance past its silhouette. It was tall and lanky, walking on all fours but with its torso facing upward and its limbs contorted backward.

It wasn’t a quadrupedal creature by the looks of it, but a bipedal humanoid forcing itself to walk in a horrific way.

“—” He was frozen in fear.

Each movement it made caused its bones to crack as its joints were twisted around.

As his heart pounded in tandem with his building fear, the mangled horror approached faster. With it finally coming into view, seeing its deathly, lifeless complexion and eyelid-less eyes that stared at him through its hanging, black hair, he finally forced himself to move in the opposite direction.

Driving into his primal fears, he ran without even considering fighting back–in ‘fight or flight’–he chose flight.

Beelining for the first door he saw, attached to the side of the grimy, brick building, he slammed it open and entered without a second thought as the sounds of bones twisting and cracking from the entity’s chase was heard behind him.

But, he came to immediately regret his choice.

As he entered through the doors, he didn’t find himself in the interior of a ‘normal’ building, but a vast, fever dreamish factory that seemed to stretch upwards infinitely with the sound of heavy machinery pounding away.

Steam blew out from pipes and gears turned; metal grating and slammed, filling his ears with an overpowering orchestra of the rustic, steel workshop.

He was standing on a suspended bridge that hung over an abyss; all that was below seemed to be an infinitely expanding world of machinery.

It was an unnatural sight in the medieval world of fantasy, but after a moment of being breathless in the sudden shift in scenery, he began to figure out what was going on.

I entered a door…I wasn’t even thinking! I entered an alternate space–but, this doesn’t even make sense for this world, he thought, could it be pulling from my own experiences or something else entirely?

Either way, he felt overwhelmed by the scale of the colossal factory before he began moving, only glancing back once to confirm the doorway he entered no longer existed.

It seemed that the area was filled with a maze of bridges that ran alongside gargantuan, rustic pipes that periodically exuded steam.

…Just keep moving…He thought.

The only reprieve for the moment was that it seemed the entity was unable to follow him through, and that for the time being, he was alone.

He began walking across the bridge built of rusty, metal cage, keeping close to the rails as he found himself already sweating. The temperature inside of the otherworldly factory was high; it was like the inside of an oven, beating any summer day by a mile.

I’m so tired, he thought.

It was the combination of the humidity within the infinite factory and the accumulated stress from the entire Larundog predicament that he found his body feeling heavy, though he continued marching on. Still, he found himself leaning on the rail as he went on, having to duck down to avoid the steam that blew out from the array of pipes every so often.

Where could a doorway be…? This place is huge, he thought.

Coming across a ladder leading to a higher bridge, he sheathed his staff on his back before climbing up, though he immediately withdrew his hand once touching the steel hold.

“Gah…!”

It was incredibly hot to the touch, though it wasn’t anything terrible. After mentally preparing himself and looking side-to-side to find no other alternate paths in the infinite factory, he quickly climbed up, pulling himself onto the next bridge.

Walking along the bridges was daunting; the loose, unrefined structure of the narrow platforms allowed for the chasm below to be seen beneath his boots; it seemed to stretch on forever downwards as the echo of heavy machinery bounced off the walls.

“…Huff…”

The boiling temperature continued to wear him down, but as he came to a crossroads of bridges, not yet finding a doorway in the maze of pipes and steaming machinery, a loud, grating sound scraped against his ears.

As he looked forward, he found himself no longer alone in the endless factory; something stood on the bridge directly to his north.

It was a man, or at least had the body of a man; chiseled in muscle but covered in scars and dried blood, it was freakishly tall, likely around three meters in height. What put into question the humanity of the entity was its head: it wore a cube-shaped, metal box on its head that was bolted closed. There were no features on its oversized, cube helmet except for more stained blood.

“–” He looked forward, gulping.

The cube-head was wielding a giant weapon that could hardly be called a sword, but rather a hunk of steel that it dragged behind it, continuing to emit the grating sound as it slowly approached.

He wasn’t waiting to figure out what the cube-head wanted, instead finding himself choosing the left bridge purely out of desperation.

What is that…?! He questioned.

As he glanced back, he could see the tall, cube-headed man still walking slowly, dragging the massive blade behind it as it was a good hundred meters back.

He continued running as the metal bridge echoed beneath each step he made, finding himself nearing the end of the bridge.

Though what he found at the end made his heart sink into the depths of his gut: it was simply a wall waiting at the end of the path he’d chosen.

As he looked at the wall, hoping his eyes would reveal to him something he didn’t see initially, the squeal of metal dragging across metal resonated in his ears.

“No, no. no…!” He repeated, louder.

There was no alternate path; jumping over the rails would only lead to a descent into the unknown depths of the endless factory.

The only way as back where he came, but there was an obstacle in his path–

Appearing in sight now, blocking his way, ‘Cube Head’, as he deemed it, was approaching. The freakish man wore no shoes, walking barefoot on the heated wire of the bridge, wordless in his malignant approach.

“Ghh…!”

Though he was hesitant to expend more mana from his exhausted body, he wasn’t left with a choice as he wielded his catalyst, launching multiple, high-speed fireballs at Cube Head.

“…What…?”

The bleak word left his lips as he watched the spells he launched simply dissipate upon reaching Cube Head’s body.

Again, he tried another attack, this time using the opposing element: water.

“Water Blade.”

The spell of reinforced, highly-pressurized water that he sent off as bladed projectiles was launched with full-intent to kill, but once again, his magecraft had no effect on the ever-approaching Cube Head.

Nothing…? He thought.

The futility of magic–that which he cultivated and relied on for years–left his veins full of despair as the rusted Cube Head was now within a meter of him. Put so close, the size of Cube Head was all too real; the being towered over Emilio two times over.

…Why didn’t my magic do anything? Is it that strong? No. It has to be immune to magic, right?…He thought.

Caught in his own rationalizations, he looked up as a shadow loomed over him, finding the apron-wearing, butcher-like Cube Head lifting its massive, rusted sword overhead, preparing to split him in half with it.

“Grgh…!”

Forcing himself to move, he ducked and rolled forward just as the blade crashed down, finding himself managing to dodge past Cube Head as the entire bridge trembled from the weight of the sword’s impact.

As he stumbled from the bridge’s sway, he only looked back once before running with everything he had.

With the cube-headed butcher on his tail, the sounds of machinery amplified, blaring in his ears as he could no longer hear his own thoughts nor his breathing; it muffled out the sound of Cube Head’s own steps behind him.

As he glanced back again, he found Cube Head walking at a faster pace, only a few meters behind as the bleak orchestra of machinery and whistle of steam grew louder once more.

Shit…! He thought.