Chapter 157: The Stolen Spear

Chapter 157: The Stolen Spear

A thought-hiss pulled my head up, allowing me to take note of the mists around me unhindered for what felt like the first time since we had fallen from the bridge. Every so often, a cluster of spores tried to push their way through my mouth or nostrils; more often than not, they failed to take root entirely.

The few times that they did manage something hardly went better for them. Led by my persistent thought-hisses and [Spore Puppeteer], any attempts at growth by the encroaching spores were crushed mercilessly.

It was an oddly freeing sensation; odd in that I was both free of the Lesser Cores influence and the most physically constricted I had ever been simultaneously. Even if I wanted it to, my scale-flesh would no longer coil without my spores influence. It made all my movements just a little bit slower, a little unsteadier, as I tried to adjust to the change.

With the vigor-infused spores infecting my body, it was almost like when I lost myself within the [Little Guardians Totem] of one of my Spore Puppets. Physical reflexes became nonexistent. No more did I absent-mindedly adjust my coils to maintain a grip, or automatically flick out a tongue to taste the air. Everything took more thought - or, more accurately, a thought-hiss.

Now that I was no longer focused on protecting myself from the Lesser Cores corruption, I noted that The Grateful One had traveled through the mists at a decent pace. If it hadnt been for my awareness of the [Little Guardians Totem] she was closing in on, I might not have noticed even that. The spore-mist was thick and cloying around us, forebodingly so.

Even if I hadnt been able to simply taste it in the air, it would have been easy to see that this section of the many-nest was steeped in the Lesser Cores power.

I dove into the refuge that was my mind-nest, leaving a few more thought-hisses for the spores that infested my body. From there, it was a simple matter to find the particular thread that I needed, tracing it from end to end.

My vision shifted.

I was walking through the mists, limping. Shambling. One of my legs - again, proving their inferiority to a proper tail - wasnt working right. Injured, I supposed. My vision bobbled about as it nearly buckled time and time again. Still, it seemed to be getting better; the [Little Guardians Focus] was still healing the Coreless, though the process was slower than normal. Slowed by the innumerable spore-roots infesting the body.

The constant shards of [PAIN] that appeared with every new step was a good indication that it hadnt been entirely fixed. I did my best to ignore the [RAGE] and [HELPLESSNESS] as well. I couldnt fix those; not right now. Still, it was good to see that the Great Cores disciples were only lost in body and not in mind. Their faith held firm.

One hand was held before me, clinging to a long rod of darkwood that ended with a tip clad in ore-flesh. Mana-light spread from that tip, filtering through the mote-like spores and creating a corona of bluish green around itself. The rod moved forward again, skidding across the ground and planting itself down heavily.

That was enough to know the perspective I was riding, the one that The Grateful One was moving towards.

Even so, the sheer rage was getting to him. Rowan didnt like the feeling of helplessness, of having his autonomy stolen whole - not one bit.

His equally traitorous hand moved forward, planting the butt of his spear securely against the ground. It was surprising how securely it was planted; like his body remembered how to hold a spear, even when it wasnt Rowan himself that was controlling it.

He would have preferred that it didnt. Yet another pulse of pain, followed by another of warmth, sent him forward again.

His head turned, view shifting with the motion, and he caught sight of his captor. It sat on the edge of a deep fountain, one that had seen far better days. It was hard to say what the sculpture that burst from the center was meant to represent; between the everpresent spores and general degradation, it could have been anything.

His captor pulsed, sending another wave of enslaving spores and water vapor into the air. Rowans body breathed them in, though it hardly mattered anymore. He hadnt even managed a twitch in minutes, let alone any sort of real resistance.

Still, he tried again, furiously attempting to dash forward, or throw his spear, or just dosomething that he had chosen to do.

He did nothing, just staring blankly at the source of his current nightmare. When the mist swirled and revealed another, his stolen body still did nothing.

It just stood there, one of many guards for his enslaver.

Until, when it eventually swirled again to reveal a determined-looking Elara, it finally moved.

Rowans spear whistled as it cut through the air with surprising speed, the motion almost what it might have been if he had chosen to do it himself. That gap between his own skill and his captive bodys was enough for Elara to turn what might have been a fierce impalement into a near-miss, letting the spear thrust into the space between arm and body.

She clamped her arm down and latched on tight, trying to twist the spear out of his grip before his body could fully retrieve it, but another captive rushed her. The girl let go and danced away, moving with preternatural grace.

Recovered, his spear thrust again, its glowing tip stopping mere inches away from the snake on her shoulder.

The snake hissed, the sound stabbing itself into Rowans ears.