Chapter 1808

Chapter 1808

Randidly’s carefully constructed maelstrom of force melted around him as he stepped off the edge of the cliff and onto the bridge. The wind blade orb dissipated as though it had never existed. The remaining natural energy he had gathered seemed to melt and seep through his fingers. Behind him, the attacks from the consciousness slammed into the mountainside, cutting deep gouges in the stone. However, none of the attacks came close to the moorings of the bridge.

Some strange barrier divided the space, based on the same principles that seemed to animate the ominous grey storm looming above him.

“An actual break?” Randidly muttered as he took several steps forward and no attacks came. But as he proceeded across the creaky structure, he felt the pressure on him steadily growing. From the 20% physical restriction he had felt since leaving the path, it began to steadily edge upward.

Randidly pursed his lips. If it’s really based on the tier, it might go all the way up to 30% in the next area.

A 30% total restriction on his body, especially considering his high Stats. Several more steps forward didn’t change or accelerate the rise in restrictions. Which gave him some freedom to examine the surroundings a bit more closely.

Randidly could feel the consciousness above him, its animosity curiously wiped away, churning within the confines of the rumbling ceiling. Just like Randidly was being steadily restricted, the storm seemed to be going through some changes as well. He strolled forward, inspecting the situation of his body.

Absolute Timing continued to insist that he had only spent a few hours traversing through the upper portion of the second tier, while his growth in already high-Level Skills seemed to hint that the true time was closer to weeks. Clicking his tongue, Randidly continued forward to the middle of the bridge, watching streams of mist pour off the opposite edge and into the gorge like the mournful ghosts of waterfalls.

In the middle of the bridge, there was a small sign that caught Randidly’s eyes. It sat above a miniature square filled with the tiles that supposedly represented the Grand Pattern.

For reaching this point, you have earned a break. In the Third Step, the restriction will advance to 30%, at minimum. However, additional time in the transition stage beyond your allotted break result in a heavier burden moving forward.

Feeling the gradual increase in restrictions across his body, he could understand what the sign was getting at; lingering too long would increase the restrictions in the future. Based on the pace of the tightening grip, an individual had a full six hours to rest before they moved forward to the ‘Third Step’.

Randidly sat down and got into a meditative position in front of the Grand Pattern tiles. I’m not exhausted, but I can feel the first signs of strain. Since I have this chance, I’m not going to miss it. Especially since my Grim Intuition will be restricted in the Third Step... actually understanding the Grand Pattern will become paramount.

...although it is a bit difficult to see how this rhythm game format was developed from this fucked up storm.

*****

There was a buzzing flash as the Dungeon activated in one of the more deserted perimeter asteroids orbiting around the Nexus. Despite the powerful principles at play, no one noticed; there was not a single soul close enough to sense the shift.

Considering the current situation in the Nexus, everyone had their own problems to deal with.

For a brief second, a yawning portal opened between the fabric of the worlds. From that opening, two figures stepped out. The front person was an elfen man with expressive eyes and a somewhat dazed smile on his face. The second individual was slender and streamlined, leading a surly chitinous mount and carrying a lance against his shoulder.

The two walked out of the Dungeon onto the dusty staging area and looked up at a vast sea of brilliant stars.

Lay’mel Tuellethe stretched his arms toward the sky. His shoulder popped and he grinned so widely that his cheeks began to cramp. “We made it out. We fucking did it. Ha. Hahahaha! We did it!”

“By the words of Elhume itself, you little prick.” The leader of the group waved a hand and the soldiers spread out into the surrounding area. “Take him, boys. Kill his friend and make sure he has a more sympathetic attitude for the questioning-”

Vrrrrrhhhhh!

There was another flash and suddenly another group of soldiers appeared. Their leader Lay’mel recognized as Lady Iellaya. But before she stepped forward, she shot a helpless glance at a fiery-haired woman behind her, who simply waved her forward with a cheery smile and spun a small chain in her hand. Yet immediately, the danger sense that Lay’mel developed in the Dungeon began to tingle.

“Lady Iellaya,” Shrak bared his teeth. “So, the dog of Wick dares stick her nose into our business? What do you think we are doing?”

“...apprehending a suspect, at the order of my superior.” Lady Iellaya almost seemed tired as she stepped forward. But when the first group of soldiers raised their weapons, her expression hardened. “Believe me when I say that it’s in your best interest to walk away, Shrak. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee what will happen.”

The two groups of soldiers quietly drew their weapons. Lay’mel’s heart began to pound. They all seemed to be here for him, apparently due to his connection to the Swacc Family, but he could also tell that this wasn’t really about him at this point. The two factions behind the soldiers seemed to have a grudge and they were perfectly willing to use him as a pretext to escalate. His skin tingled with the ambient bloodlust.

The worst part was that he knew that no matter which side one, they seemed serious about detaining him. Had something catastrophic happened to the Swacc Family? Had they really offended Elhume?

Lay’mel took several steps backward to stand next to the Lancer. Everything was developing way too quickly. “When the fighting starts, escape.”

Again, the Lancer shook his head, but the desire to protect his Dungeon companion blazed brightly in Lay’mel’s chest and annihilated the creeping fear that had clogged his thoughts for the past few minutes. “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but they clearly want to capture me. And as an extra piece, if they catch you, they might just kill you, so-”

Crunch.

Shrak lurched backward, blood dripping from his face. More than anything else, Shrak looked aghast; at some point, a rusty metal hook at the end of a long chain had embedded itself in his face. He looked up and that fiery-haired woman was suddenly standing in front of him. Her hands blurred and she whipped forward several other chains.

Spikes drilled through Shrak’s boots and pinned him to the ground. A larger hook seemed to appear in her hand before it sunk into the soft flesh of the soldier’s midsection. The most horrifying part was although the movements of the fiery-haired woman seemed unassuming, everything happened before Lay’mel could even respond.

The unfortunate Shrak, color draining from his face even as the blood drained from his body, realized something as he stared in horror at the woman. “Speculum-”

“Yup,” She grinned even as she produced a third hook and ripped out his throat with it. The body collapsed in front of her, Shrak’s subordinates frozen by this sudden display of power. His torn esophagus bounced across the dusty ground and rolled to a stop.

The woman didn’t seem to use images at all, just overwhelmed their leader.

The fiery-haired woman chuckled and snapped her fingers. A score of rusty hooks at the end of chains condensed in the air behind her. They clinked and twisted like infuriated rattlesnakes, ready to strike. “Honestly, can you really blame me for this? Who would be so foolish as to fight against me? Ah, I’m already being merciful by trying to explain something so basic to you worthless dead bodes.”

The hooks surged forward as she shook her head. Lay’mel blinked and the ground was soaked and blood and covered with bodies. The wet sucking noises of metal being torn from meat echoed in his ears.

While a white-faced Lady Iellaya simply watched, the woman skipped over to Lay’mel and smiled at him. “You are the one who tried to send a message to the Swacc Family, huh? What a naughty boy. We will have to figure out what the appropriate punishment is for someone like you.”