Chapter 156. Escape (Patreon)

When I come to, I’m standing in the bungalow. Disoriented, I nearly trip on a side table, catching myself before I fall on my face.

The first thing I notice aside from the fact that I’m nude is the immediate lack of pain. I have far more experience than I’d like working past pain, and while I recognize that enduring pain has pushed me toward mastery of my practice, that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. And just now, facing down the ascendant...the pain was real and unforgiving, suffocating my brain like a smog.

But I can’t waste time appreciating the pain-free moment: The clock is ticking, my constructs only able to remain operational for a tens of seconds after my death.

I look down and see a small, round object: the compass. I sigh in relief. It’s the only tool I have to find the way out of here.

Holiday knew I’d need this, I realize. For all his flaws...his gift might be the deciding factor between capture and escape.

I propel myself through an open window. Thankfully the jungle is warm, because I’m not wearing anything–turns out those boxer briefs weren’t special, after all. As I begin shaping leaves into makeshift clothes, I locate the bone-studded vine I created earlier while flying through the jungle on the wyrm, its length snaking from the bungalow toward the North. It’s not a real vine, but rather a pressed amalgamation of desiccated and rotten plant matter with shards of bone periodically mixed in.

At least I know what way not to go, I think bitterly to myself; Messeras pointed out that the veil vulnerability to the North is too far away. But if going North is futile, and the South is occupied by the enemy...

I peer down at the compass, noting how the needle vacillates between three directions, one in the direction of my bone-studded vine North, one the opposite way to the South, and another to the East.

I can try going East, I finally conclude, dissatisfied with the available options. But first, I need to try and recover whatever power I can before setting off.

I reach out for the thin tendril of plant matter studded with bone from where it drapes down from a tree, nestled in a copse of flowers. I’ve never tried controlling a contiguous tool that’s so long, the vine’s reach dwarfing even the lengthy bone whip I used to confront the Selejan defenders.

There are probably only a few seconds remaining before all my constructs in the South fall apart, bone wyrm and bats alike. If the vine led South, instead of North, I might be able to use it to reestablish control over my constructs and keep them active. Alas...

Stop whining about how the plan went wrong, I chide myself. Even if the vine is facing the wrong way, I might be able to use it differently than how I originally intended. After devouring Woeshiv’s soul, I grew familiar with investing energy in whips and using them as extensions of myself. While I can’t use the bone-studded vine to regain control of my constructs after death, I can use it to take in the energy of the jungle along its length, greatly increasing my ability to draw energy.

I grasp the pseudo-vine with my right hand and try extending my perception out along its length. My sense of the world immediately extends out for an unfathomable distance, further than I’ve ever sensed before. A bead of sweat falls down my temple as I try to process the whip’s interface with the environment. I feel so much vitality, every single tree the vine touches a source of energy.

Here goes. I begin to drain trees along the vine’s length, withering them and converting their vitality into Death energy. It flows through the vine to myself, the flux uncomfortably large, but I grit my teeth and condense the energy down into soul gems. Gems materializing in the air around me like black dewdrops, their faceted surfaces glinting in the crimson light of dusk.

I split my focus between creating gems and accumulating dead matter, dredging up corpses and old bones I missed on my first pass of the forest.

Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way, I think to myself. I envision another encounter where I came at the enemy ascendant with an army of undead minions, the swarm attacking him from all sides, promising violence.

I shake my head. That’s wishful thinking. An army wouldn’t be enough if a few blasts from the ascendant could wipe out my minions at a distance. No: The time for fighting back, if there ever was one, is over; the only way to win is to escape.

I release the vine, cutting off the deluge of energy. I take in a deep breath and shape the bones, turning some into armor, crafting others into a three-layer bone shield around me, and using the rest to create my third bone wyrm of the day.

I don’t have bones left over for minions. While I direct the wyrm East, I extend out the pseudo-vine of plant matter and bone to cover the new territory. I also dredge up a motley mix of plant matter and corpses for my craft, socketing soul gems into three bat minions. I command them to go South and find my belongings, returning as soon as they find the riftbeast soul gem, my void storage, or Messeras’ ring. Even beyond my range, they should be able to find my location; it’s one of many uncanny abilities my constructs have.

The bat corpses naturally become flying constructs: They’re able to move swiftly, flying through the trees rather than roaming over ground. While they might not be faster than the wyrm, they shouldn’t be much slower. If I take a roundabout way to my destination, the veil’s eastern weak point, they should be able to catch up.

Of course, this entire plan revolves around Messeras keeping the ascendant occupied and off my tail. It also assumes that the eastern exit isn’t particularly far away, else I would have no chance of reaching it and escaping before I’m found again.

But you have no other options.

And so I continue forward, warily eyeing the compass’ spinning needle.

—

Five minutes later, there’s no sign of the ascendant. My small constructs are still out retrieving my belongings, so it’s just me and the wyrm winding through the trees, following the point of the compass.

I suddenly sense someone approaching from above. My stomach drops, my mind racing as I contemplate what to do next. The wyrm senses my thoughts and halts, stretching itself vertically behind to a tree. It doesn’t exactly blend in with pinkish light emanating from its bones, but I appreciate the attempt.

“Messeras?” I whisper, hoping that the ascendant is nearby. Perhaps he’ll have a plan; maybe he’ll even have my belongings.

No response. But the figure above me races on by, passing clean over my position. Did they miss me?

If the enemy ascendant is looking for me in the East, then I’ll take advantage of the situation to go South and rendez-vous with my constructs. Ideally I’ll get my items back and I’ll be able to cut a path into a new plane from the southern weak point.

I wait for a solid minute before sending the wyrm approximately South, assuming that the direction that the compass is pointing is perfectly East. As I’m snaking through the trees, I hear a thunderclap behind me. A massive plume of fiery lava erupts from the tree line, a scythe of wind promptly slicing it in half, chunks of cooled magma tumbling to the earth.

Silently offering Messeras thanks, I continue forward, knuckles white and jaw clenched in anticipation. The needle eventually changes its orientation, pointing toward the southern veil vulnerability.

Finally one of the bat constructs I sent comes within my range, bearing the limp corpse of a previously-animated construct. Two other bats come soon after with another bat in tow.

They only found two bats, I note, frowning. It only takes a second before the bat constructs join me on the wyrm, perching awkwardly on their wings and stubby legs. I reanimate the two lifeless bat corpses and command them to spit up the contents of their stomachs.

One retches up Messeras’ ring and a few soul gems. The other tries to vomit up the egg-shaped riftbeast soul gem, only to get it stuck in its esophagus. I tear the gem free and assess what to do next.

I’m willing to abandon my still-missing void storage; I might be forgetting something, but I can’t think of anything particularly valuable within it that’s worth risking several minutes of searching. If I have the riftbeast soul gem and Messeras’ ring, I should be able to make do.

And so I decide to continue following the compass needle South.

Every second of travel feels like a small eternity, but eventually the needle on the compass twirls backward, indicating that I’ve gone too far. I bring the wyrm back around and form a whip out of excess bones. When I think I’m just about at the spot where the needle changes direction, I slash out with the whip. I don’t have the mental capacity to worry about whether I’ll be able to use ascendant energy properly, I just have to trust myself. The whip tears through the sky as though it’s wet paper. But it’s a thin slash, not nearly wide enough for the wyrm, or even myself.

We’ve drilled through worse, I tell myself. Understanding my intent, the wyrm’s maw begins to rotate. I grip onto its skull with shaking hands and its snout glows blue. When the wyrm hits the gash in the veil, it widens the gash, but not by enough: the drill is meant for piercing, not enlarging. The wyrm bones begin to disintegrate as they pass along the veil’s edges.

I narrow my eyes. If I want to keep my bone shield and constructs intact, I need to act. My mind recalls the image of Achemiss’ lizard raking the sky. I hold out my hands like claws, oily Death energy and blue ascendant energy condensing around them like wicked talons. My fingers slice the sky like ribbons, but I angle them and tear out to widen the veil’s opening.

I brace myself and shoot through the veil. I let out a cry of triumph and turn to see the gash melting in on itself, sealing the way behind.

I’m not sure if it’s because I passed through the veil while already several feet above ground, but I find myself in open air, a blue sky with small clouds around me. Pink streaks of energy crackle beyond the clouds, far-off nebulae beyond my reach. I peer down and don’t see anything, the world consumed in white mist.

I take stock of what I’m working with. My bone shield is fully intact, the constructs all accounted for, hanging onto the wyrm with their wing claws. I’m wearing scratchy leaf clothes under bone armor and no shoes.

Can’t stop here to rest. Once the still-unnamed ascendant realizes I’ve escaped South, he’s going to follow.

I look down at the compass and note that the needle hangs limp. No weak points in the veil nearby. That...is bad news. But going back isn’t an option.

Or is it? The enemy ascendant doesn’t seem particularly good at tracking. If he’s a Sun practitioner, I’d expect him to be able to sense heat signatures, but I’m starting to think he might just be a Light practitioner, his Light affinity granting him fire elementalism.

If he follows me onto this plane, he’ll have to guess my next move. I could either stay and hide, or try escaping to another plane.

If he guesses my decision wrong, he’ll lose his shot at finding me. I try to imagine what the ascendant would think I would do, though it’s frustrating because I know very little about him.

He knows I have a form of swift transportation. He also knows that I have a compass that can lead me to veil vulnerabilities. Would that be enough for him to think that I’ll try escaping to another plane?

I sigh in frustration. There’s just no way to be sure.

I lead the wyrm down into the mist to hide.