(II) Core

81 (II)Core

"Yes, you too," Adam breathed. He didn't realize how fast his heart was pumping. That was... There really wasn't that much room between the dimensional gateway and the bottom of the obsidian tower. Adam briefly eyed the shimmering surface of the gateway. Dimensional mana briefly parted to reveal a glimpse into what seemed to be a deep, boundless ocean, colored bright orange, the same molten hue that constituted all the rivers running through the bottom of Gate Theborn. And so Adam realized why the platform had to be made from adamantine. Because nothing else would survive in such an environment.

For a moment, the Young Lord remained tense. He expected something to happen now. Something terrible. A new attack. Sniper fire. He summoned more of his clones as the last one faded. But as they arrived, drawing Veilpiercers and looking on toward the horizon, they sensed nothing, and neither did he. They had the core. They had the core, and nothing bad happened at the final moment. He looked up at the sky and let out a sigh. “Thank you, System, you rat bastard. Thank you for giving me just one moment to breathe.”

And then, as if to mock him, Adam heard a loud bang come from within the obsidian tower. As he looked up, he saw the faces—well, more like glowing orbs that constituted the heads of two dimensional golems that were staring out through the reinforced glass lining the bottom walls of the obsidian tower.

And both Valor and Adam shared a mutual breath of frustration.

"Adam," Valor began, exhausted. "It is important never to thank the System. It is a creature that desires strife above..."

"Yes, I know," Adam growled. "Valor, I'm going to shoot an arrow now. Get the Graven Cage through it. I'm going to try to distract these things and..." This update ıs available on novelhall.com

And just then, one of the dimensional golems fired a Pyromancy beam at the Young Lord. A beam that he barely dodged.

Wings of the Starhawk (Adept) > 95

He drew four Veilpiercers at once. Two of them smashed into the faces of the golems, not giving them a chance to press their offensive. He dipped those in corrosive energy too, but the other two arrows he fired created two pathways for the Graven Cage and Valor to escape across.

They were both manifested next to each other, the rifts practically touching. But in the chaos, Adam hoped to confuse the golems, even if they noticed the dimensional pathways.

Just then, a deafening siren began to wail as the mana core went from dull gray to a severe and miserable red. It began to shudder, and the air grew impossibly cold. Adam felt his Magical Resistance shudder as his armor sustained the impact on his behalf. The golems fired again, their beams of flame cleaving through the air. His clones were firing back now, and the golems were being buried alive under a series of Veilpiercers. If there was more distance between him and the golems, he suspected he could have blown them apart immediately, but right now, he was just focusing on delaying action.

"Adam,” Valor cried out, “I'm going back to the anchor. We will store the cage there.”

“Got it,” Adam shouted.

And then the Young Lord paused as he remembered that he had added a spell pattern to the anchor and could teleport there directly with Valor. He fought the urge to slap himself. This wasn’t acceptable. In the heat of battle, sometimes, Young Lord Adam Arrowjust things when he got too caught up, too anxious.

"Never mind that!” Adam dodged another two shots. The golems were shooting out now, their bodies trembling with lightning as they chased him. The sound of booming thunder came thereafter, and the Young Lord grunted as shockwaves shook his armored form. Limbs of surging water coursing with crackling electricity reached out to grip him, but the Young Lord was already casting his next spell.

A shroud of shadow wrapped in spatial distortions swept over him, and before Valor or the cage could cross over either of the dimensional pathways he prepared, Adam shot by them and finished the spell. A moment later, the dimensional shroud gripping the Young Lord folded inward and drew them across space. They surged through the insides of Gate Theborn, going from the bottom of the city to a place even deeper: Guardshead Leu’s special teleportation anchor.

And as they reappeared and landed on the tiled stone floor of Leu’s chambers, Adam coughed and shook his head. He looked at the cage, trying to make sure it wasn't damaged. He let out another breath as it just hovered in the air, crackling Necromancy shrouding its form.

Beside him, Valor observed Adam. "Adam? Are you well?"

"Yes," Adam breathed, "I just, I was," he clenched his teeth a little bit. "I—the extraction… I remember thinking about just teleporting back, but I just responded and—”

"People do hasty things in the heat of combat," Valor said. "You are not stupid; you were just overwhelmed. Some more combat experience will be good for you."

"Some more combat experience, yes," Adam said. He nodded as he fought to keep his breath under control. His hands were bloody shaking. Again. He hated it when they did that after fighting. He sighed. "Bloody System-favored bastard, how does he do it?"

"You know you are System-favored now too, yes, Young Lord?" Valor asked.

Adam eyed the skull and its translucent apparition as he let out a shuddering breath. “Yes, but it's mostly his doing, isn't it? I’m just favored because he is.”

"Perhaps at the start," Valor mused. "But if you continue surviving, then his flame is no longer his flame, for now you burn as well. You’re going to have to face death over and over now, Hero. There is no avoiding it. Not with the path you have chosen.”

Adam did his best not to swallow. "Well, I suppose I'll have a lot more planning to do."

"I suppose you will," Valor replied. "But remember this: You are not Shiv."

Adam gritted his teeth. "Yes, I know."

"This is not an insult or a condemnation. You are not Shiv, and he cannot be you. I see it in your face. I have made that expression before, when I envied someone so much it hurt. In many ways, I was more like you than him by far.”

"You were?" Adam said, surprised at Valor's admission.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"I was. In fact, I don't think there are many like him at all. It is unnatural for someone to be that resilient. And it might be a detriment in certain situations."

"Detriment?" Adam repeated.

“Correct. He fights with nothing held back and gives himself entirely. And if he weren't who he is, wasn’t as skilled, and didn't possess his predatory cunning, then his true death would have come extremely quickly. But still, he dies often. He dies without fear. He dies. are not spared from death. You are not spared from trauma. But you are precise, thorough, and . And there you are again, different from me. I cared little for anyone when I was young. And you care for too many.”

A distant explosion lit up the room through the large, oval window at the center of the hall, replacing the core’s oppressive red light for a short moment. Adam stared at Valor, at the way his ghostly eyes bored into him.

"It is good to envy others. It gives you something to aspire to. But understand that what you did, eliminating the snipers without inflicting any damage, and only being noticed at the end, that is not possible for Shiv. There are times to be blunt, brutal, and unrelenting. And there are times to be careful, precise, and unfailing." Valor turned to regard his Graven Cage. "We are here right now because of all of you. And you did good.”

Adam blinked as his heart finally began to slow. "I, uh, I was..." He trailed off. He just didn't know what to say, at least for a moment. "I… I… Thank you?"

“You have been under an immense amount of stress," Valor said. "I am simply telling you what I wish someone had told me centuries ago. I might not be able to remember most of my long life, but I can still remember what I felt. And I can tell you one thing for certain. Envy another for what they have, Adam, but never forget to be proud of yourself for who you are. And if you continue to strive, someone else will come to envy you at times as well. It is not a bad thing to be admired or to admire. When done properly, it brings us all closer, and it makes us all greater. The want to ascend is the only defense we have against the System and its endless desire for war and death. Aspire to stand tall, to be the one that courts the flames of glory—to be consumed by it and to emerge not burned, but rather reforged.”

As Valor finished, something inside Adam hardened. "Emerge unburned," Adam said. "Right." He looked at the Animancy Core, or at least the cage that held it, and something inside him swelled with triumph.

He stole this. He stole this from Gate Lord Confriga, and the poor bastard didn't even know it. In the middle of a war, he managed to cut through an adamantine shaft with Necromancy, defeat multiple Aviary agents, and steal the Animancy Core. And now, because of him, they were going to finish another Quest. That's who he was, Adam Arrow, Quest finisher. "Keep the core here for now, I think," Adam said. "I'm going to go out again. The others will—”

“They will need you,” Valor said. “And you will need them. Watch over them. You, more than anyone else, are the eyes and pathfinder of the group. So ensure the deed is done, and ensure your companions find the success they need to bring this Quest to an end. Remember you are all burning together, and you need not burn alone."

And just then, Adam noticed something about Valor. The Legendary Pathbearer sounded sad, sentimental.

“Valor,” Adam said.

“Hm?”

“You deserved to hear those words from someone too. When you were young.”

The Legendary Pathbearer went unnaturally still. Then he grunted. “Thank you, Adam. Now, go. And leave the weapon you took from the raven. I know what that is. Can Hu will be interested in examining it.”

Adam blinked as he dropped the long-barreled thing. “What is it?”

“It’s a Legacy Empire Model-Zero Gauss-Gyro Mixed Ordnance Platform. A gun, in simpler terms. It is an old weapon. Leave it. I will tell you about it later. You will likely come to like it.”

The Young Lord eyed the long-barreled weapon and arched an eyebrow. “Alright. I’ll be back later when we go for Confriga. I’ll be back.”

And there it was again.

That pinprick of pain, over and over again.

Something was striking its Magical Resistance.

Something was piercing deep.

Something, or a lot of .

The attacks were coming at all angles, constantly.

So many little needles smashing against its very being.

Its Magical Resistance was beginning to crack ever so slowly.

It lashed out, screaming, striking its food.

It gazed upon them and pulled the prey inside.

So many different kinds of prey.

So many.

Vampires.

Humans.

Elves.

Umbrals.

Machines.

Vulteg.

More.

It came through the when the Sword-Bearer offered a small bit of his soul-blood. And so the Shoggoth was given unto the Sword Bearer as a weapon. A weapon that was meant to consume Pathbearers, to and their skills until nothing was left.

And that it did. Everything it could reach, it consumed, it slaughtered. It turned their skills against them and fed and fed and fed…

But it couldn't find the hidden Psychomancer.

That one that kept hitting it, over and over.

But was it one or so many?

The strings, they were confusing.

Maybe it was many.

The Shoggoth hadn't seen Psychomancy like that before.

It spotted the strings, every now and then, jabbing out, stabbing it from one of its victims.

More and more of the strings struck at its mind. the Shoggoth howled from its many maws.

Its voice shook the world.

It cast its out from its many eyes, consuming more prey. It used their Psychomancy to strike back, burning the skills, but it was not enough. The hidden one attacked in waves and receded far away in irregular patterns. And—they were back, stabbing from everywhere, constantly stabbing over and over from all angles.

the Shoggoth cried.

And above, it could see the displeasure and confusion written upon the Sword-Bearer's eye.

And then there was a notification. A .

has taken notice of the situation.

But the Shoggoth was too distracted to pay attention to that. It just didn't understand. It ate so many Psychomancers. So why couldn’t it get the last one? Why?

The Shoggoth wanted to rage, to boil the unseen one. But it couldn't find them. It couldn’t—

A final string pierced deep, and the Shoggoth’s Magical Resistance cracked wide open.

For the first time, the Shoggoth cried out from someone invading its mind, instead of the other way around.