Abyssal Road Trip - 123 - Closer (Patreon)

Ebusuku’s PoV - The Maze

Blades dig and slither under my skin, crawling up my legs without a wound visible. Only when the pain reaches, my knees do I remember it. The cold that I’d long ago grown immune to is eating me. The rough stone beneath my feet digs into flesh, and without drawing blood, drinks heat away. Air that tastes foul resounds with another thud, but I recognise the metallic sound of a smith working at an anvil.

The sound’s effect is another sign of things being very wrong. As the darkness clings to me, the sound vibrating across stones reveals nothing. Tremor Sense had aided me since I’d dug my way from a collapsed tunnel at less than a century’s age, and someone had gouged out those extra eyes. Whatever had brought me here has blinded my other eyes. All I have is a narrow view ahead; the changes when I shift direction are weird. Every balance shift digs into my feet, even as my turns reveal more of the passageway in which I stand. I was at a crossroads with no apparent difference in the stonework indicating what may lay ahead. I brush fingers along my scalp and pause when my touch doesn’t encounter horns, and flexing my back brings no motion of wings.

At a flicker of motion, I spin and will a knife out. Options raced through my mind, but my limbs struggle to shift position as if held in mud. The flicker is but a trick of the changing light. My hand remains empty, and it’s clear I’m not in my Demonic flesh. A pulse thuds in my neck and need has me draw another breath to deal with the racing in my chest. The foul taste grows stronger as I try to call my sabre from its sheath. One after another each weapon fails to materialise: punch daggers, throwing knives, short swords, sabres, even the bows that I so rarely use.

The hide of my belt flexes as I unstrap it—the heavy buckle releasing easily—I take care with its leading edge. I go to set it down; paranoia has me flinch back and keep hold instead. So much unknown makes me cautious about releasing anything here; looping it across my shoulders, I undo the first harness from each thigh. Threading the first strap along the belt, I lock it in place and extend it with the second. The air buzzes when I spin it, the large belt buckle leading the way. Makeshift weapon ready, I choose a direction.

The hammer’s beat pulses through my feet as I step. If there were any serious foes it was already a challenge with no weapons and a body that’s mortally slow. A thing within growls and rumbles up my chest. Freezing in disbelief, I hear—and feel—another hunger pang. Food wasn’t something I’d ever considered, and right now hunger calls its importance. I’d only sensed it from reading the thoughts of the rare mortals I dealt with, now it was inside me.

The exit won’t find me, so I start forward. My mind’s speed and learned motions turn a plodding gait into a silent glide. A spell to light the way shines in my mind, and instead of filling with Mana, it remains empty. At least I still have my brain’s quickness and skills, even if my body is mind-numbingly slow.

Hammering sounds, my sight a joke, dim light that I can’t just see through, no spells, a makeshift weapon, and starvation a possibility. Flesh slapping against stone from somewhere ahead sounds in the brief silence between anvil strikes. Something large is in here, and my sight is adjusting with glacial speed.

A challenge of extreme difficulty indeed.

Dim light shows a mass of yellowish-green flesh coming to meet me. The stone club swings forward, slower than my movements. Crouching, I see the club angle to follow my motions, as I work to adjust to the speed of flesh—the fight’s first steps a dance in slow motion. The Ogre’s leer widens as I slip close. His swing too high with me now inside its arc. The yellow-eyed gaze going wide, in time to my belt going slack. The black buckle glistens in the dim light. It falls away in time to the copper spray from beneath the beast’s loincloth. My turn echoes Amdirlain’s dance, my spin pulling the buckle along, adding momentum to the next strike. The sharp edge slides across the Ogre’s throat, and copper deadens the foul stench.

Stone rakes across flesh when I drop and roll beneath its backhand. Flat on my stomach, I lash out again. But the cut across the forearm misses the tendons. His foot lifts, gaze focused on my position, and I tumble across the stone, ignoring it pressing into me. Rising, my flesh grumbles that someone’s had fun with me their whipping bitch, but I stay intent on the lumbering Ogre.

The cut on its neck is dripping blood rather than an arterial spray. A steady stream from its groin is far more promising; the ground becoming slick, it shines in the dim light. Moving in, I aim to loop the belt’s end around his foot and throw myself sideways and forward in the same motion. The belt’s hide digs into my fingers, yanking it free as I come up and hammer a foot into the side of his back knee. The pop slaps the air, its mass going to work. Rock rasps against my skin again as a roll takes me clear and gaining my feet, I turn ready to fight.

My makeshift weapon lays at the edge of the pooling blood, fortunately still here. The Ogre was thrashing in pain, bones jutting from his thigh and knee, his simple mind focused only on his current agony. I risk snatching it from within his reach and shift my grip as I spin about. His arse on the ground puts the artery easily within reach. Knuckles braced on the inside of the buckle, I step into the mess and punch. The hot spray soaks me before I get clear of a fumbling hand and settle in to watch the Ogre die. Dark fluid pulsing between fingers, desperately grasping at his own neck. The death spasms cause the air to reek worse as the corpse vents, the familiar surge of energy from his death as diluted as always by my levels.

Only after his efforts to stay alive have long ended do I move forward again. I already know what I wanted a short sword on one hip balances the sack tied to the other. The blade is the length of my forearm and I quickly claim it and the bag, and get clear of the growing mess.

The sack from its hip—not the one under the loincloth—contains useful items: a nearly empty skin, a sling—too small for him—stones, and a freshly pulped fruit mess. Sweetness mingles with the thick coppery scent, but I bite into it anyway. The memory of Ogre’s blood fermented with rage sliding across my tongue hits me as I gag down the awful taste. Between one bite and the next, a spike of pain rips through my guts and twists hard. One moment there is pain, and the next, I’m spraying the ground with vomit—a new and unpleasant experience, despite not tasting poison.

Acidic bile almost blocks the copper scent, and gagging, I stagger back further from the body. Foul air just tasting worse and worse as I move away and uncork the skin to sniff. The scent is oddly clean water, and a sip doesn’t invoke any sensation associated with poisons. Hoping that Skill is intact, I take a mouthful to see if it will settle the strange sensations in my stomach. The wetness gets rid of some of the foulness and, not threatening a return, I carry the skin with me.

I set off, my path unchanged, though the Ogre had come from this direction. My skin is stinging strangely from rolling across rough stone but I ignore it as I sort things out. Quickly taking apart my makeshift weapon, I restore the belt and harnesses in position before securing the sheath in place. The sack remains held in my off-hand so I can discard it quickly.

* * *

Aggie’s PoV - Eyrarháls (Material Plane)

The guard held out a supportive arm as Aggie staggered in the gateway, swaying unsteadily as a reed in wild wind. Her gaze was distant and strange as the guard stepped closer and others watched on in concern. To the large Norse warrior, the tiny Grecian priestess was a regular sight in Eyrarháls. Her suddenly befuddled state drew a concerned look, and his voice lowered.

“Priestess Aggie.”

The guard’s concern was unheard as Aggie beheld a garden of statues, those she’d rejected previously flowed away from her as new ones shimmered into existence. None of them resembled her, but then, none she’d ever seen had. Like those now further away, they held a promise of transformation, a guide for her travels. Some she dismissed at once, having no desire to travel dark roads inflicting suffering onto those who hurt others, or act as a hidden knife for freedom. Stepping towards an unarmoured figure, the ones wearing leathers and metal armour slide back from the centre.

There were more options than she’d expected and when she stepped towards the first, it was clear why. The sense of the statue wasn’t combining two classes, but all three she’d worked on developing since the Goddess had rescued her. A High Priest Class formed by Priest, Wizard, and Monk. It spoke of an isolated life—a hermit—guiding only those determined enough to seek her out. The next combined the same classes, yet its focus matched the enjoyment she’d found on travelling the road. Not leading a community but moving between them to help those in need, power to help and guide in Amdirlain’s name. A discipline and drive to spread her Lady’s word, always seeking to find the next Soul that she could bring Faith, knowledge and will to aid. The strength left behind her if it continued to flourish would assist her in growing stronger in Amdirlain’s service.

Other figures still stood close, and she stepped between each. A Class that combined only Priest and Monk but gave stronger gains in both. Another offers the primary focus of Wizard, using its power while Priest and Monk played secondary roles—yet it was tempting her with power for herself. After all that Amdirlain had done for her—including this potential path—considering an option that would benefit mainly herself unsettled her. Without her, the wonders of magic and the serenity of the Monk’s path would be unknown. Aggie checked each of them with that in mind and found them lacking in proper focus on Lady Amdirlain and she came back to that second statue.

It was a timeless place, and she hesitated, knowing that there were higher tiers available from her Lady. It was a fleeting consideration given all those in need. Her time in Artemis’ church had shown her the effect of an established church. The knowledge that someone had achieved something allowed those following to aspire to the same or greater service. Her hand clasped around one held out by the statue and she felt the potential of it flow into her, all her classes merging into one in a rush.

The vision didn’t end, but all statues vanished, before more formed from the ground. Three she knew immediately without approaching them, echoing the knowledge already within her. Priest, Wizard, or Monk, but there were other options besides them. Opportunities completely new waited for her to explore, fight, seek, or steal away others’ possessions. Scout, Ranger, Fighter, Thief-Taker, or Thief. None of them appealed, though she’d fulfilled the requirements for them, plus many others now. A dark figure cloaked in the shadow of a tree spoke of teaching violent lessons to those inflicting cruelty on others, and she moved past the Assassin figure.

Some classes had her snarling in barely suppressed rage at being offered them—as she turned on them, they vanished. In the end, she found options she wanted to go with her Prestige Class of High Traveller, Sora Master, Herald of the Divine, and Arcane Paragon.

“Are you alright, Priestess?”

The concern in a stranger’s voice startled her into blinking as Aggie noticed the world around her again. Broad hands cupped her arms as if he’s been holding her in place without gripping tight, she was leaned to one side.

“I am, thank you, just a momentary vision,” Aggie replied. His hands fell away slowly but stayed poised close until she blinked her eyes clearer.

“You’re still dusty from the road. When is the last time you ate, Priestess?”

“It wasn’t a vision from lack of eating,” Aggie insisted, the guard’s hands hurriedly lowering at her tone had her motioning soothingly. “I’ll be fine, but again, thank you.”

* * *

The notifications pushed Amdirlain out of her mind palace and she sat enjoying the feel of the river’s flow washing across her feet as she considered it.

[Achievement: Moving on up!

Condition: Gain a second High Priest (Aggie has selected the Tier 6 Prestige Class: High Traveller

• High Priest variation focused on spreading their Power’s Faith far and wide.
• The base Class selection also made: Sora Master, Herald of the Divine, and Arcane Paragon.

Reward: Faith +5

Additional Condition: High Priest has achieved a High Priest Class of a Tier higher than previous followers.

Reward: Faith +10

Reward to be selected:

• Promote one Petitioner to Outsider
• Evolve the Species of one Outsider that has agreed to your Servant’s Oath. ]

[Arcane Paragon:

This Class is for those seeking to deepen their understanding of Mana and Spells. Pursuit of this Class enables one to gain increasing ability to combine or substitute energies through Spell Forms designed to carry other Mana types. For these individuals, affinities aren’t the beginning and end rather, Mana becomes a pure expression of energy. This Wizard base class is only available after combining Wizard into a Prestige Class and having all Affinities.]

Oh, she opted for that Wizard Class. I do wonder how I could do it straight away. Benefits of an otherworldly education.

[Herald of the Divine:

This Priest base class is for those looking to spread their Power’s teachings among new communities. The continued popularity of shrines, sanctuaries, and other sites they’ve dedicated to their Power’s faith provide ongoing experience. Besides standard combat experience, they progress from those accomplishments. A Herald needs to ensure the sites they establish continue to flourish as initially, they provide only a small degree of their potential. This Class is only available after combining Priest into a High Priest Prestige Class and establishing a new temple.]

The prompt of Aggie’s progress nudged Amdirlain to push herself to her feet. Concealed from sight by glamours, she changed to the Succubus form, and Planar Shift wrapped around her to deliver her right to Jinamizi.

[Planar Shift (Self) [B](12->13)]

It was an ignored notification as the cold red sun reflected off pools of black Demonic blood around her. The oily ponds soaked the ground around body parts as the combatant’s movements splashed the blood about. Overhead, the vulturous Vrocks, Succubi and other fliers battled for the skies as spells burst around them.

Amid the chaos of the battlefield, a flanged mace blindly raced towards her. The flames from the Narauk harmlessly brushed her even as he turned hard into its swing. His motion added to the blow’s brutal force. Amdirlain dropped flat beneath the strike that shattered an uplifted shield behind her and carried through a line of Demons in one motion. Armour, weapons, and body parts blasted outwards by the impact struck down those in their path.

Angelic Aura wrapped her in flames that mingled with the Ki Aura’s whiteness. Around her, a battle raged in full fury, screams of triumph and dying alike. A wavefront of bloodlust rolled across the Narauk and Demons nearby, and the massive Demon glared down at her before it screamed in pain. Destruction Mana burst outwards, air ripped apart with a screaming noise, the eruption flayed the Narauk, and slaughtered the Demons. Equipment and flesh alike became ash that settled to coat black pools.

Maybe I should stick to using a Portal or Gate.

A push with Ki Movement sent her hurtling towards the edge of the cleared space. Her mind felt the foulness in those around her, and flesh transformed. Inspired by a road compactor, Protean drew on the absorbed mass of the Kithangian corpses. Flesh shifted into a ten-meter spiked cylinder that rolled over the foes ahead. Tons of metal crushed those spikes didn’t rip apart first; her momentum unchecked as Ki Movement continued to push faster. Tendrils lashed out from the rolling cylinder’s end. Points drove outwards to lance through foes. Blasts of Spatial Mana and Psi energy alike tore enemies to pieces. Tremor Sense alerted her to a giant form’s sudden arrival.

[Name: Usongo

Species: Balor

Class: Juggernaut / Knight / Commander

Level: 16 / 68 / 68 / 30

Health: 21,014

Defense: 779

Magic: 412

Mana: 8,192

Melee Attack Power: 944

Combat Skills: Bite [M] (2), Claws [M] (6), Great Sword [M] (45), Whip [M] (51) - Various Innate Powers and Spell Forms.

Details: Usongo is the current commander of one of Lady Öluñgcol’s smaller armies as a trial to see if he is ready for greater responsibilities. A native of the city Zelatar, his Home Plane is still Azzagrat, but he’s not been back to that region since swearing to Lady Öluñgcol’s service. Having left Graz’zt’s service after taking a better opportunity with Lady Öluñgcol, he will need to travel that Lord’s Planes with care.

]

The Balor moved to intercept her, but suddenly found himself surrounded by enemies and attacked. His whip dragged soldiers into the blazing aura that covered him. A swing of his massive vorpal blade cleaved his assistant in two. Every call for attention from his troops sounded to him like enemy battle cries, and their armour gained new insignia—Amdirlain’s will and Telepathy created confusion within his mind. He smashed those around him using spells and weapon to butcher any he could reach. His might turned unknowingly against his own troops, and others besides.

Amdirlain kept her mental link to Usongo and provoked him to continued violence. Tempted to kill him, she instead left him to sow confusion behind and focused ahead. Crushed bodies left in her wake, the soil overran with blood and viscera unheeded by Amdirlain in her race through the battlefield.

Amdirlain’s oncoming advance was chaos that went unnoticed by others on the battlefield until it confronted them. The packed battlefield meant those without Flight or Teleport had nowhere to escape, even if her Psi fields hadn’t slowed them. The nine-way grand melee as factions fought over a prize already being destroyed. Her bloody path raced around a city’s edge, crashed through the massed troops and took her through an archway.

Ruined wards showed only fragments of Mana left in them, the supporting Wizard and Artificer runes, cracked and overloaded from the competing forces’ attack. Through the gate, Amdirlain found herself on a city street. Broken buildings slumped inward blasted apart as looters ransacked them. Wagons and more foes alike crushed under her momentum as Protean absorbed more mass into her form. Spells of all sorts chewed against the Angelic Aura, but those that broke through merely gave Energy Drain something to heal.

A multistorey building crashed down to barricade the street. The twenty-storey building sent a spray of dust and debris across those it hadn’t crushed in its fall. Flight threw her skywards, and metal changed into flesh—her Succubus form restored. A Vrock opened its mouth and screamed at her ascending form. Angelic Aura shed the sonic barrage, and her arm became a blade that opened it from the crotch to neck. The rest joined its fall, its flock moving to flee too late. Javelins cast in her direction missed completely as an attraction point created by her Psychoportation pulled them off course.

A rune-crusted spear showing Mortal enchantments drove forward and flesh parted before its blazing power. The Vrock’s eyes widened in disbelief at the smile it received. Its lunge had been unresisted as the perfect bloodless circle had appeared in her torso. Now her flesh clamped back around the haft still extended. Power blazed as she cut its hands away, and the spear vanished into Inventory. Its vulture head spun away before a tendril from her shoulder completed its bladed swing. Feathered wings folded and unsupported the rest of its body plunged straight down. The plunging body bounced off a Succubus who recovered and glanced up in time to receive a spinning drill arm through her brain.

Amdirlain fell with the Succubus’ corpse and teleported—her momentum retained—she plunged silently hundreds of meters above the still frenzied Balor. Her descent ended with her arm bursting through its jaw. The Destruction Mana she’d pulled into Ki Infusion bursting him apart even as the spell unleashed into flesh. Protean protested at the tons of mass she tried to consume, so Amdirlain took what she could. His weapons fell from lifeless hands and his upper body vanished. Wings fluttered to the ground, landing splayed around his slumped remains. A blood-soaked Succubus landed to the disbelief of the troops who’d turned at the sudden silence. Tendrils reached to snatch up the wings and disappeared a moment before the Lightning Storm struck.

The air shuddered as pure Order rained across the battling foes. Air ruptured through their bodies, as the Mana turned molecules into crystalline blades. Perfect monofilament edges descended through their bodies, the converted matter carried energy in opposition to their essence. Corruption became ordered into prisms of reality and shattered apart across the blood-soaked ground—the devastation spread out across the combatants. Precognition’s warning shone through her and Amdirlain instantly teleported away.

A moment after she vanished, Demon Lady Öluñgcol appeared in the circle of death. Bolts of the storm Amdirlain left behind stopped body lengths overhead, and a glance shattered the storm. Her glare took in the shredded remains of troops nearby. The haze of energy that roiled off her melted corpses and those lesser Demons ‘fortunate’ enough to still be alive, holding their minds aware right up to the point of destruction.

Her batlike wings flared outwards as the Lady of Unclean Lusts, Dark Desires, and Pain took control. Minimal clothing accented pale ivory skin that highlighted veins within the flesh that shone with inner energy. Black tresses pulled back from her sharp features fluttered between wings; their tips brushed the backs of her thighs. Cold baby-blue eyes scanned across those still standing, and a dismissive flick of her spiked tail unleashed a spell that ripped apart scores not wearing her insignia.

“Where is my commander?”

Her gaze locked on a Narauk looming among the survivors, and he could only point to the legs melting on the ground nearby.

Amdirlain’s teleport had set her at the hiring camp’s edge, and she stepped into the Portal’s field, willing it to carry her away. Once on the barren Plane, she moved out of the line of sight to consider the combat notification from the butchery she’d unleashed.

[Combat Summary:

Lesser Babau x2482

Babau x128

Greater Babau x1

Balor x 1

Lesser BrÍn x 4,230

BrÍn x234

Least Dretch x3542

Lesser Dretch x346

Dretch x81

Lesser Hymadan x465

Hymadan x23

Narauk x2

Succubus x1

Lesser Vrock x8

Vrock x12

Greater Vrock x1

Total experience gained: 24,888,588

Fallen: +4,977,717

Fallen Levelled Up! x5

Scion: +4,977,717

Scion Levelled Up! x5

Sora Master: +4,977,717

Sora Master Levelled Up! x5

Psion: 4,977,717

Psion Levelled Up! x5

Warrior Monk: +4,977,717

Warrior Monk Leveled Up! x5

Resistance: Abyssal [L](7->12)

Resistance: Acid [I] (61->62)

Resistance: Air (2->8)

Resistance: Electricity (20->26)

Angelic Aura [J](32->35)

Death Strike [M](12->13)

Ki Movement [Ad](41->44)

Mana Critical (11) -> [B] (13)

Protean [M](25->27)

Clairsentience [Ad](4->5)

Psychoportation [J](34->38)

Telekinesis [J](26->28)

]

“Not exactly pushing up a lot of skills that way,” Amdirlain grumbled as she considered Protean’s state. The Power’s net stretched to the brink of bursting, made her skin itch with discomfort. Converted mass sprayed to the ground, and the itch immediately faded. “Ahh, much better.”

She checked through her notifications and, found the one for Usongo’s death.

[Ki Strike, Armour Breach Success: 1,372 Damage - Critical attack.

Energy Drain 2,096 - Willpower Critical Success

Ki Infusion, Armour already breached: 1,123

Ki Infusion, Mana - Destruction: 3,369

Fire Lance (Destruction): 2,096

Death Strike Multiplier for Physical Damage x8

Death Strike Multiplier for non-Physical Damage x6

Total Damage: 63,080 = (1,372 x8) + ((2,096 + 1,123 + 3,369 + 2,096) x 6)

Death Strike [M](12->13)]

* * *

Eivor’s PoV - Memphis (Material Plane)

A sound in the bedroom ahead caught Eivor’s attention as she returned from the infirmary. The strings softened for the children, Moke’s lilting melody ended, and he received a protest.

“One more, please.”

Ipy’s soft request sounded so sleepy she doubted he’d last it out, but Eivor stopped by the door to listen.

Moke’s soft chuckle was all the guidance she needed to know the plea had hit home. “Another, but you’ve already had three, youngster.”

She moved to push the door open but froze at the request that came.

“One about my daddy.”

“Which one would you like? How about when he saved the princess from the manticore?” Moke’s question was soft, but she caught the pain he’d hid far longer than she’d known. It wasn’t until Ipy was born that she realised how much he hid behind his exterior. The days when grief and emotions wanted to break her, and he’d helped her find the will to carry on.

“Mother’s not a princess, and she told me daddy saved her with that arrow.” Ipy’s sleepy argument draws a smile from Eivor.

“He saved her, and the ladies in your life should always be treated like your princess or queen.”

“Does that mean Julia’s a princess?” mumbled Ipy, his sleepy words coming around a yawn.

“Most certainly,” Moke said, his tone far too pleased.

“How is Julia my half-sister? She looks whole and not missing any limbs. She just makes weird sounds, cries, and farts. Is she missing a brain? Does someone need a brain?”

The sleepy ramble tumbled from Ipy, and Eivor had to hold back the laughter.

“What tale did you want?”

“I don’t know, any tale, so I can learn about him,” huffed Ipy.

“I’ll make sure you never forget,” reassured Moke. “He gave his life to save us.”

Ipy’s broken form danced within memory, the Maedar’s snarl blending with the hissing of the Medusa’s snakes. Biting back the pain, she moved away, walking the corridor as if strewn with the autumn leaves he’d used to teach her to step silently. Her hand clasped in his to keep her pace steady and low. Her drifting speed washed against the lead weight in her stomach as Moke started the tune. The absence of any noise from Julia is a relief as Ipy’s entertainment continues.