Chapter 162: A Shield In The Snow

Chapter 162: A Shield In The Snow

My jaws opened wide, eager to usher in yet another satisfying mouthful. The soft-flesh tore underneath my fangs, two lines tracing their way down its surface as the newest offering found its way down my gullet.

Level 17 Little Puppeteer Consumed.

Transferred to Core.

Progress Towards Next Upgrade: 8/20.

A hand reached out to scratch against my head-scales; just like the air around us, it was coated in overwhelming hues of green. Yet, moment by moment, both of those began to change. The spores in the air began to die out and, with no new motes of spore-flesh to replace them, the mist began to die.

Even with [Spore Puppeteer] ensuring my safety, there was something reassuring about the way that the air began to clear.

The fingers scratching against me began to slowly become paler, the lines of green and black that crisscrossed its surface beaten back yet again by the healing of [Little Guardians Focus]. Not that it really seemed to matter; The Grateful One was as resistant as ever.

A new thought-hiss sent turned my head around, letting me check the mist around us. It had fallen back many slithers, but I was disappointed to see that there was still a barrier of mist between us and the once-corrupted that had been left behind.

We must have missed one of the Little Puppeteers somewhere; they were fairly hard to find. By the sheer volume of the spore-mist, we might have missed more than one.

I let out a hiss to voice my disappointment, exulting in the way that my tongue touched clean air. That, at least, was a welcome improvement. Even as safe from the spore-mist as I was, it hadnt become any less horrid to feel - like little bits and pieces of a Lesser Cores influence crawling and dragging against my flesh.

Disgusting; I wasnt sure how The Grateful One was keeping herself from vomiting with those things inside of her. She must have had an abnormally strong stomach to withstand it.

She chewed on her lower lip, eyes fixed on the barrier of mist that remained.

...should we go back and try to find the ones we missed or keep going? she murmured, the sound low enough that it could almost be called a hiss if I was being particularly charitable. What do you think?

His legs moved on regardless.

Erik had done what he could, after falling into the mist - held his breath, hoped against hope that he would somehow manage to stumble out before falling under its influence, putting one foot in front of the other until his limbs wouldnt listen anymore.

He hadnt quite made it, but took solace in the fact that he moved far enough that he wasnt an immediate danger when Elara fell. She would have to fight him eventually - or at least clear out the mist around him so that the [Little Guardians Totem] could finally free him - but he hoped that the extra time he managed to buy her helped.

His legs kept moving, pulling him further and further into the snow-like mist. It had been a while since they had turned him around, trudging through the ever-present clusters of dead and dying spores that riddled the ground. That, at least, was okay. The trail that was left behind Erik would make him easier to track.

His hands had long since found their way to his weapon and shield; he had hoped that the spores wouldnt have the intelligence for that, but they forced him to move and react to his surroundings somehow. It probably shouldnt have been surprising that they could do more than that, even if it couldnt exactly manage everything.

The grip was off, hands not finding the exact places they should.

It shouldnt have bothered him. That was a good thing. It meant that Elara, assuming she found him, would have an easier time beating him. The spores that had stolen his body hadnt stolen his skills, even if they tried their best to form a close approximation. Still, it bothered him.

The grip was off, and years of training screamed at him to fix it. It was like an itch that couldnt be scratched, or a thought that wouldnt complete. Unsatisfying. Bothersome. Wrong.

It didnt matter.

The grip stayed off, and his legs kept moving.

And then something slammed into him from behind with a sound of cracking bone, quickly swallowed by the mists. His legs buckled, the intelligence that was controlling them surprised by the impact.

Unfortunately, it didnt do much more than that. It hadnt been his bones that had broken. Eriks armor - and his mana-strengthened body alongside it - were too durable for that. A set of tiny fangs tried to sink into the exposed skin of his neck, struggling to break the surface.

His body reacted.

Violently.