Chapter 121 - TFF (Patreon)

The next few hours were spent in quiet musings and meditation. In the end, Alan felt as if he was in his prime both in body and mind, despite everything. Nothing strange happened this time around, allowing him to truly take a breather and rest. The days of lugging around a cane were long gone, replaced by constant conversion of mana to stamina and pulling at the curse.

The latter he did only occasionally, but it reinvigorated him in ways [Warlock’s Body Mastery] never could.

Sometime later, while he was busy munching on a piece of fruit and enjoying the silence Byrr and Feyrith appeared before his door and he let them in.

“You look calm,” the large green guard said.

“I feel calm,” Alan replied.

The elf chuckled to the side, nibbling at the food Alan had left out. “No offense friend, but it’s weird. This might be the first time we see you not looking as if there’s a bundle of sticks shoved in your ass.”

“I think I’ve been nothing but calm and collected since we met.”

Byrr grunted and sat on one of Alan’s new chairs. “Shellshocked is the more accurate description. You were going through the motions in survival mode.”

Huh. Am I traumatized? Surely not. My mental fortitude has always been a thing of legend. Then again, the System itself is calling me broken any chance it gets. Alan agreed that he might’ve not been operating at full capacity but things hadn’t been as bad as Byrr implied.

“I might need therapy at some point.”

Feyrith made a strange sound at that. “I wouldn’t let a mind class fiddle with the fucked-up things in my head, thank you very much.”

“Therapists have mind classes?”

“More often than not, yes.”

Well, that’s off the table then.

“So…” Byrr began, “Now that small talk is out of the way… raid or battlefield?”

“Raid,” Alan replied.

The two guards looked at each other and then at him. “Us too with some other guards. We will kind of make sure the rest of you free birds don’t kill yourself. There’s a lot of ego going around. Wanna follow?”

“I think I’m teaming up with Zirida and Kalyntha.”

“Who are they?” Byrr asked.

“A brutal [Red Cleric] and the [Metalmancer] we met while escorting Alan.” The elf replied instead of Alan.

“Well, fuck. That’s some company. You sure don’t waste your time, eh boy?”

Alan grinned. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Kalyntha terrified him, that’s for certain, but Zirida had been nothing but nice even if a bit weird.

“We won’t worry about you then,” Byrr said.

“You were worried about me?”

“You’re squishy and weak and a long way from home. It’d be a shame if you died while you still held on to some semblance of sanity, don’t you think? The universe is a large place. There’s a lot to see and lots to drink.” Feyrith replied with a smile.

Just then someone banged on the door and Alan almost unconsciously willed it open. It was weird how fun commanding the door open and shut with his mind was. He felt like someone important.

The two guards instantly tensed for some reason, while Zirida only nodded at them and then looked toward Alan. He couldn’t understand why they were nervous. She was nice, even if the scarring made her look like an emotionless savage.

“Ready?” she asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go. See you guys around I guess?”

Feyrith clapped him on the shoulder and left without a word, followed by Byrr. Alan felt weird looking at them. He hadn’t imagined anyone would be worried about his well-being so soon after getting to know him. Especially after getting to know him. Although he really hadn’t had time to let his personality shine and chase them away.

Maybe they looked at him like they would at a child? He was a nobody and had no one and they knew that. Was it some sort of parental instinct for those new to the System? Or was it because he was from a newly integrated world? No, he had to shut down the cynism from time to time. Although, the outpost master seemed to favor him because of it. Were they doing Wilbis’ bidding?

Alan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Spiraling down into conspiracy bullshit served no purpose. Not anymore. It was good to protect his back but he needed to learn to trust someone other than Ashlyn. She was not here.

And he had to learn to trust himself and his abilities.

They soon reached a large square near one of the gates. Zirida led him through a crowd of nervous warriors and mages until they joined with Kalyntha, who was busy arguing with a tall woman. The woman was at least two heads taller than Alan and as ripped as two Emersons.

He didn’t pay much attention to the argument as Kalyntha’s current look confused him. She was in a body-tight armor of silver segments that glistened with a strange red hue. Her hair was gray with black streaks running through. Was this another clone or had she just changed her style for the raid?

“Kaly is serious. She’s combined two of her bodies bringing her a step away from tier two,” Zirida whispered in his ear as if reading his mind.

That was a thing? Many Kalynthas would mesh into one to become the ultimate Kalyntha, like some sort of weird Voltron.

“That’s kind of neat,” Alan said. Very neat.

There was a burst of movement and suddenly the giant woman was on her knees, Kalyntha’s metal-clad hand around her neck.

“Listen here, tiny. You WILL answer or you will die. I don’t give a fuck that we’re still in the outpost, you know?”

The giantess's hands were grabbing Kalyntha’s forearm and her veins were bulging from the effort she was exerting, trying to remove the offending limb from her neck.

Alan watched impassively. This was nothing concerning him and he assumed that anyone getting on the [Metalmancer’s] bad side had either a death wish or was too dumb to know better. The woman’s face grew redder and redder. There was shuffling behind her as a bunch of people took a step forward. A metal orb whooshed and stopped in front of each of them, making them freeze.

“Try me.” Kalyntha smiled. The temperature went down a few degrees.

The giantess started tapping on Kalyntha’s forearm, and the girl finally let go, allowing her to draw breath

“What are you?” the giantess asked between ragged gasps and rubbing her neck.

“Just a cute girl. Now where did you get this?” Kalyntha held a piece of something black. Alan squinted. It wasn’t bark like the one he held, although it seemed to corrode the metal glove on her hand. Suddenly, something clicked. It was a scale. A large, void black, scale.

For a second, he felt a sense of greed. An urge to rush in, grab the scale from Kalyntha, and run away to harvest the secrets contained in it.

Zirida stepped forward at this moment.

“What’s going on, Kaly?”

Something whooshed past Alan’s face in the next moment and he saw drops of blood fly before his eyes, evaporating into red steam. He felt heat on his face.

Is this… my blood?

Zirida’s body was sent flying into the crowd, taking the limbs of some of those standing nearby in the process. She crashed into a nearby building with a loud bang and an explosion. The crowd started yelling. Metal orbs, much smaller than the one Alan was used to seeing, shot in all directions and Kalyntha’s voice sounded from all of them.

“Whoever moves, dies.”

The crowd instantly grew still. The orbs circled once then like a cloud of hornets rushed into a particular direction. A second later a body in a black robe was dragged through the air. It was a man. His hands and feet were burning with strange flames. Alan could see the air shimmering around, but the metal orbs were unaffected.

Alan’s hands were gripping his daggers wreathed in shadow. He hadn’t realized he had summoned them. He looked around and rushed toward the place where Zirida had disappeared. His heart was thumping in his chest. Kalyntha was already there, and Alan hadn’t seen her move. She was standing near the ruined wall. Some of the stone was charred black and some of whatever was inside was burning.

There was rumbling and a familiar figure walked out of the ruins, barely moving. Alan sighed in relief, but quickly took a deep breath again. Zirida looked half-dead. No, worse. Her robe was gone and so were most of the clothes beneath. There was a large gaping hole in the middle of her chest, all the flesh around it crumbling into charred chunks.

Kalyntha was upon her in a moment, holding a small glowing vile up to Zirida’s lips. The burned woman drank it all in one gulp.

Alan followed close behind, draping one of his new cloaks around her, careful to avoid the burned wounds. He hesitated but a hand pulled the cloak close and Zirida’s lips moved into something he interpreted as thanks.

What the fuck was that? An assassination attempt?

He tried to speak but burning pain wracked the right side of his face. Kalyntha gave him a vial and he drank it, barely stopping himself from yelling out in pain. How was Zirida not screaming from the pain?

He could feel the energy rush toward his cheek and start mending the flesh. It was painful but not as much as trying to talk.

Zirida’s body was in much worse condition. He saw the flesh move slowly, reconnecting, charred remains of what once was part of her body fall to make way for new ones. How was she even alive? He was glad she was, but it seemed almost impossible.

It took a few moments until she took a ragged breath. The crowd was standing around motionlessly, waiting, watching. Like a mob that was too afraid to move. Alan suddenly realized what had them frozen. It was not desire to help or assist in any way possible, nor was it to make sure the one Kalyntha’s orbs were dragging didn’t escape.

It was a presence. Part Kalyntha’s, and part someone else’s. Master Wilbis Boombelch was standing in the air as if he had always been there. Some strange force was rolling out of him, making everyone and everything look at their feet. Was that the difference between tiers?

Alan could only barely feel it. It was not targeted at him, Kalyntha, or Zirida. But everyone else seemed to be sweating.

The silence stretched on for a few more minutes. Then Zirida stepped forward as Alan supported her. From beginning to end she had stood tall, even though her body was a charred mess and she was suffering untold agony.

“Who are you? Did you kill my sisters?” her voice was barely a raspy whisper, but it carried far.

The man who was struggling against the metal orbs that had become metal shackles didn’t answer. A fiery energy shot from his limbs and his open mouth as he thrashed, trying to free himself.

Alan prepared [Synaptic Failure] just in case.

“Should I?” Kalyntha asked. A thin needle of metal formed from one of the metal orbs and flew near the man’s head. “It’s not the most reliable way to extract information but unless Master Wilbis has anything better…” She threw a questioning glance toward the flying gnome. He shook his head.

“I want to talk to him, but if he refuses just do it,” Zirida said. Despite her posturing, she was leaning on Alan as if his sole presence was keeping her up. She did it in a way that hid how hurt she truly was.

She’s weak, but she’s hiding it.

The man suddenly started laughing. The fire covering his limbs retracted and Alan felt something stir. It was similar to when the parasites charged their skill and reminded him of the large parasite in particular, and its large beam. But this time it was centered in the insides of the man.

He wouldn’t?

“He’s trying to kill himself!” Kalyntha spat, grimacing in a rare show of emotion.

[Synaptic Failure] went off the gathering energy dispersed. The man blinked in confusion and his face went slack for a few moments before he recovered. It was a surprisingly fast recovery. However, the skill didn’t restart.

His searching gaze found Alan.

“What did you do bastard? I’ll burn you!” the man screamed.

Alan shrugged in response. He was not good at torturing people for information. Not that he had tried before.

The metal needle turned and neared the man from the front, stopping millimeters from his eye as another orb became a brace around his neck that stopped his head from moving.

“We might have a way to make him talk, but it will take time. We’re limited in this place,” came Wilbis’ voice. Not from the one in the sky. Another had appeared and was walking through the crowd. There was a significant difference between the two, unlike Kalyntha’s clones who looked all the same just with different styles. As if they were brothers.

Didn’t the other one just deny having a way?

“How long will it take?” Zirida asked.

“Days.”

“We don’t have days. Do it, Kaly.”

The metal needle slowly jabbed into the man’s eye, making him scream. It seemed much slower than the previous time Alan had witnessed it.

Whether it was because she was being more careful, or because she wanted to inflict as much suffering as possible, was irrelevant.