Time-Smith - Chapter 25: The Problem with Time Travel (Patreon)

Rapidly fading mana fizzled through Evan's veins as he leaned against a broken pillar, catching his breath. Lucia, wiping sweat off her brow, sagged towards the floor in exhaustion.

Within the last hour, the trio had faced relentless onslaughts from the animated suits of armour. An hour, delving through the dungeon's depths, evading death and exhaustion with each victory and setback.

Markus had not sustained any life-threatening injuries during Evans's forays into the near future, but a group of dual-wielding armour had managed to blind him, once. A lapse in his concentration and reactions had caused them to find a weakness, and Markus, shrouded in darkness, had covered himself in a thick shell of dense mana to survive. That had been a pain for Evan to heal, as they didn't have the time to wait for his regeneration to do the job. And Markus had complained the whole time. Evan had also died once and Lucia twice more, leading him to make further alterations to their forms when he was forcibly returned to the present by their deaths.

When Lucia died while he time-travelled, Markus refused to proceed. He refused both times she died. Even after Evan told him they were both in a version of the past and nothing they did held consequence or meaning. Markus had simply said “Life has no meaning. It is up to you to give it meaning, and value is nothing but the meaning that we choose. I'm not doing this if one of us dies, Ev. I'm going to do something fun. See you in the present” Before he turned and left Evan in the stillness of the dungeon, alone. Evan had died soon after, unable to face wave after wave of living armour alone.

The second time Lucia died, he tried a different approach to goad Markus into following. He claimed there could be an artifact to revive her. It was not impossible, but it was rare enough to border on myth. Revival artifacts were one-use items, and only a handful had been found in history- in the deepest and most dangerous of dungeons. As they walked and spoke further, Evan made the mistake of mentioning that he was time-travelling at that moment and that an artifact of the gods justified their temporary murders.

At those words, Markus simply scrutinized Evan sharply, before throwing words in frustration as they argued. Evan told him that Lucia wasn't really dead, and that while he time-travelled none of them could truly die. In frustration, Evan said that while trapped in time, the artifacts of the gods was all that mattered. Markus responded with anger, still hurt at the sight of Lucas death. He said “The gods are dead. Gods remain dead. And we killed them. But their shadows still loom. We are Inside their shadow, Ev. That's what this dungeon is. A shadow. How should we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?” he then turned and left Evan alone once more.

Evan struggled to parse the meaning behind his friends words. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that this attempt was a failure. And when they time came, surrounded by blades from all angles, he accepted his temporary death and returned to the present.

That's when he decided to make further changes, to all of them.

Evan had discovered that he couldn't navigate this dungeon safely without them. Each death he'd experienced as he time-travelled had sent Evan rocketing to the present with no gains or information to show for it, besides battle experience and death induced phantom pains. So he was forced to ensure that all three of them were capable of surviving the dungeon’s depths, even as he time travelled.

Due to Markus’s actions each time Lucia died, Evan was forced to ensure that all three of them could delve through time without a single catastrophic failure. Even if it was a temporary one.

He had planned on using his knowledge of the future to keep them alive, but his friends reactions had forced him to change his strategy.

He had increased all three of their synapse speeds, joints, and reaction times to be as fast as his capabilities allowed. When he time-travelled, they had died mainly due to falling victim to the armour’s speed and skill.

So Evan had sought to amend that. And now, they could at least react and defend against the multitudes of enemies.

And so Evan travelled through time again, and they traversed the dungeon once more. Each time he returned to the present a portion of his mama was consumed. He sensed that he only had five more attempts at time travel before he would be depleted. Then they would either have to wait for his mana to replenish, or leave the dungeon entirely.

Another hour passed as the trio delved further. Most of the time was spent replenishing their mana between battles with suits of armour and praying they didn’t encounter another ambush.

They had acclimated to their battles with suits of armour so skilled they would put the city's soldiers to shame. Deep within, they knew they would not have survived without Evans' enhancements, without his ability to travel through time, or without Markus.

Markus’ subskill had been the driving factor of their survival so far.

His ability to alter the density of anything around him, including the air, had saved Evan's life three times already, and Lucia's many more.

But Evan and Lucia had dealt the most damage during the battles, tearing through the hollow monsters' chest plates to siege their vulnerable cores. Evan would often focus, slowing his perception of time, teleporting instantaneously to strike a suit of armour's exposed core once Lucia had torn its metal flesh open. A flash of satisfaction crossed his face at the thought of how much all three of their mana reserves must have increased, their skills’ cores having absorbed a portion of the sentient armour’s mana and making it their own.

"They fight like they've got something to prove, don't they?" Markus said thoughtfully, as he turned from the murals to the scraps of broken armour that littered the ground around them. "Or maybe there’s something they want." He added as an afterthought, his voice soft yet tinged with curiosity.

"I know, right? Do you reckon they were once people? It could explain how they’re so skilled.” Lucia replied as she squinted at the murals on the walls.

Evan considered her question. Whether or not the armour were once knights, they didn’t know, and couldn’t be sure.

Whatever the code or lifestyles the suits once followed had long since faded, and now the only thing that ruled the blue flames beneath their mythril helms was a desire to inflict death. Evan glanced at his bruised fists in thought, feeling the kinetic energy stored within him humming, waiting to be released.

“I guess, but not anymore,” Evan replied, now massaging his hands, the residual vibrations tingling his knuckles. He had always favoured a bow, but any bow durable enough to withstand his enhanced strength was not a bow he could currently afford. I really need to find a weapon I can use, he thought as he rubbed away the soreness. The shockwaves from the constant battles were starting to leave more damage in his hands than his regeneration could keep up with, and the breaks between battles were getting shorter and shorter, almost as if the suits of armour were aware of their intrusion, and communicating somehow. Calling for reinforcements. Each encounter with the suits of armor drained them until the need to replenish their mana had become a pulsing drumbeat throughout their bodies.

"Alright, let's move. We don't want to stick around for round four with another group of suits."

Markus, his eyes still closed as he replenished his mana, exhaled as he rose to his feet.

Lucia flexed her fingers, the air popping with the recoil of her grip. "Lead the way."

The time he’d spent exploring the dungeon had taught Evan a lot about combat, his body, and his mana. His battles with countless suits of armour had taught him the importance of mana conservation. He had run out of mana more than once and during one of the battles he had been severely injured. Running out of mana with dual-wielding suits of living armour closing in on him from all sides had been a nightmare. Lucia had flung shards of metal, stone, and dust, exploded by her [Iron Grip] and flung at high speeds. The shards of metal had impacted Evan as well as the suits, but it was the wide spray of dust and stone that obscured the armour's vision and caused their swings to go wide. Evan had been struck, but not fatally. Lucia’s quick thinking had saved him from certain death.

But having both legs sliced off for the second time in his life was not something he’d ever expected to experience. He’d had to tear through their rations to get the energy needed to regrow his legs, and supplemented his lack of energy with his [Subskill: Create Flesh]. The rest of his limbs had practically shot out, and his mana had dipped prodigiously, causing them to wait and camp in the dungeon while he recovered. But now they had no more food, and soon they would have to leave the dungeon.

But not without getting what they came here for.

Markus whistled a quiet tune as they walked, soaking in their surroundings without a care, or perhaps vigilantly watching for further attacks.

Evan wasn’t quite sure.

The dungeon expanded into an enormous chamber, the ceiling arching high, The vaulted ceiling arched overhead, creating a cathedral-like sense of expansive space, like he’d seen in some of the gods' larger churches. In fact, Evan suspected this was the dungeon's twisted attempt at a cathedral of its own.

They peered forward in unison At the chamber's heart, where wide ominous doors stood, dominating the centre of the vast space. Flanking the path leading to the doors were two demonic statues, monstrous gargoyles armed with spears that seemed to sneer in the dim light. The monstrous gargoyles stood before the giant doors as lifeless works of stone and marble, their wings outstretched as if on the verge of taking flight, and their spears—massive things that could easily impale a man, were towering.

“Nice decor," Markus commented idly.

"Those are disturbingly detailed," Evan said, eyes narrowing at the gargoyles.

Lucia scoffed in response, "Right. Whoever sculpted these had issues," Her eyes followed their gazes and absorbed all the minute detail and artistry carved into the towering figures.

They stood there for a moment, as they sought to recover their breath and mana, soaking in the details of the chamber.

The room stretched in grandeur, vaulted ceilings looming like the heavens. Arched windows, devoid of glass, rustled as the dungeon's winds caressed them. Murals decorated the walls where windows should be, depicting

the image of a man—a being of gargantuan proportions encased in armour, with blue flaming eyes and long streaks of flaming hair beneath the helm. The Intricate details in the mural breathed life into the colossal figure, its flaming armour radiating a soft light through some strange working of dungeon magic, its heat radiating vibrant hues of blue.

“How can it see if its eyes are on fire?” Markus’s gaze followed Evans as he enquired. He suspected this figure to be the same ‘god’ from the hallways.

“Hells if I know. Maybe it sees everything in blue, or maybe it doesn’t even see at all like the armour.” Evan's eyes lingered on the murals as he responded, deciphering another that showed the god-like figure in the act of drawing flames from multiple sources into its palm. It drew from its helm, pulling from what Evan imagined to be its very own lifeforce and that of smaller suits of armour around it.

Another mural portrayed him moulding the flames with a hammer in his hands, surrounded by the empty, lifeless husks of armour. Evan noted that the flames took shape in each mural as they were sculpted by the god's hands, forming the figure of a singular man. A subsequent mural showcased a finished product: a much smaller, human-sized man with blue flaming eyes, flaming eyebrows, and short flaming hair, cradled in the god's hands. Another depicted this man- the god's creation- leading an army of strange, sickly-looking humans with shining blue eyes against the god in war, culminating in a final mural depicting the god battling its creation.

The chamber's arches extended towards a ceiling lost in shadow, supported by pillars twisted into grotesque forms of warriors and beasts. A tangible sense of weight and history permeated the air.

The rows of wooden or stone benches he would have expected from a cathedral were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the sight before them revealed wide floors adorned with intricate geometric patterns and fractals. Candlesticks lined the walls, holding ornate candles that cast a bright, flickering white flame. Unmoving statues of warriors, mages, adventurers, explorers, and even priests, stood along the walls. Some depicted monstrous entities frozen in moments of agony or malevolence.

In the center, large double doors stood before an ominous altar. The altar, made from dark, obsidian-like stone, bore myriad tunes engraved in layers, subtly shifting as if crafted from living darkness. Two objects on the altar captured attention: a chalice containing an unknown elixir and a chained rosary, a corrupted string of beads adorned with small, shackled figures radiating heat.

On the altar before the large doors, two objects caught the eye: a chalice – a vessel that held an unknown elixir – and a chained rosary, a corrupted string of beads adorned with small, shackled figures that seemed to radiate heat.

They had finally found the first of the dungeon's treasures.