Savage Awakening 77. Winter Underworld (II) (Patreon)

A/N:

Sorry for missed chapter yesterday, y'all. Was traveling all day and hit some snags. >.>

Changed Vanessa's Faction to 'North Star' Faction

(1/1)

Will still be trying to hit 2 chapters/day most days for the next few months!

//

Zane had a theory.

…Maybe "theory" was giving himself a little too much credit. Really it was more of a hope.

If he poured in enough power, he could throw all logic out the window.

He had a lot of essence. Even he wasn't sure how much. He'd never come close to truly exhausting himself. These Orcas kept hitting him, spinning him around and bowling him over—but that was it. They were annoying, but they couldn't actually hurt him.

He had more strength in an arm than these things had in their whole bodies. If he wanted to make a Cyclone, could any of them stop him?

Time to find out.

His Axes began to spin. Essence gushed through him, coursing with Laws of Fire.

His Chains wound their way into motion. Sparks began to fly.

Ice Laws smothered his Chains, smothered his Axes. It felt like he was trying to force them through mud. They sparked and sparked—but they couldn't take flame.

One. One horribly slow, frozen revolution.

The Orcas could tell he was up to something. They rammed harder into him, started sinking their teeth into his arms, huge tails flapping ferociously, making whirlpools, straining with all the might of those giant heaving bodies. He roared soundlessly, bubbles leaking from his lips, and wrenched his arms on. Just brute-forced the stupid thing through.

Still too slow.

He had to give it more. His Cyclones burned on his essence. His fires lit on his essence. He shoved more in—as much as he could bear at once. His head was getting light.

Two. Flames sputtered down the Chains, sputtered up the Axe-head; barely there, tiny against the vastness of the cold, but they were there. The edges of the Axes started glowing, going deep red to bright yellow, verging on white. His whole body screamed with the brunt of it. He forced another cycle through.

Three! Now things were really heating up. The water around the flames started to warm, started to boil as Zane's Laws poured out, burning away those Ice Laws, burning out the dark blue cold. His Chains caught a smattering of Orcas as they swept through, branding trails of sizzling crimson on sleek black skin. They screeched, flailed away.

Four. And now he was really picking up momentum. He could feel his Cyclone getting off the ground. He felt a stab of fierce joy. It spurred him on.

But he was fighting the world. He was fighting a whole school of Orcas, trying to pummel him into dust. Fighting this whole lake laden with brutal Ice Laws, mired with essence—made perfectly to counter him. Fighting the dungeon itself, feeding this death trap its powers…

And all he had was his body and his essence.

He had to believe he could win.

Five. He started screaming with the effort; every muscle ran taut; all over his body veins bulged with the effort. The Chains were swirling fast now, slapping whales all over the place. The ones unlucky enough to get in the way of the Axes made quick, brutal, bloody ends. Like hot knives through huge lumps of butter. A few of the Beasts still got through, screeching those nail-on-glass screeches. They tried ramming him, all desperation.

But they bounced right off.

Zane didn't care about kicking to the surface anymore. His body was one giant chunk of Spirit Steel, held up by two giant Chains just as heavy. He was in motion now. If they couldn't stop him earlier…

Another revolution and they were sucked screeching into those boiling, fuming currents. They vanished. Those blooms of red—was that their blood or just more fire, raging faster, brighter, climbing to a fever pitch?

Zane lit up the lake bottom. And now the light could not be denied. It was exhilarating.

Seven. Eight.

He stumbled. Blinked.

…There seemed to be black spots dotting his vision. He was getting lightheaded. And not just from a severe lack of air. The power rushing out of him was breathtaking. In a lot of ways.

Nine. And the Cyclone broached the surface. He felt it hit air. He felt Scorched Wrath Laws seeping down the length of the lake, burning up every inch of it. And the whole thing began to steam, began to swirl in on itself, bending to the shape of his Cylcone…

The whole chamber began to shake.

Ten!

Everything was blinding now. There was a huge hissing, a huge whooshing as great masses of water turned to steam. All at once. Hundreds of tons of water swirled above him, held aloft…

Eleven.

He felt drained. He was shocked—a sudden, cloying fatigue was spreading down his limbs, tugging at his eyes, making his thoughts go slow and sluggish. And he realized—with some shock—for the first time, he was feeling his limit.

He was getting low on essence.

Twelve, and he couldn't see anymore. The world was a mass of steam. He felt the massive load growing lighter, lighter, lighter still…

…Where had all those whales gone? All the water? All the ice?

He couldn't think. He just had to keep going. Had to—

Thirteen, and something snapped.

It was him.

He dropped, and his head cracked against hard, dry ice.

For a few seconds, he just lay there. He couldn't even think. He was just dragging in huge lungfuls of air, trying to blink the black spots out of his eyes. He was so bone-tired there was nothing he could do but lay there, face down, spread out, whole body heaving massively, just trying to breathe. He felt scraped raw from the inside. Utterly wrung out. He had nothing left. He felt he could pass out at any moment.

Monster House cleared!

He got such a burst of simple joy from seeing that message it almost sent him over the edge.

He smiled.

It took a few minutes before he was ready to sit back up and assess the damage.

He blinked at an empty, rounded chamber—a chamber much bigger, much deeper than he'd thought. The ceiling must be a few hundred feet in the air. And it just went on and on all around him…

It was big enough for a school of giant Orcas to live in. He hadn't really appreciated that fact until now. It was like seeing an iceberg once you drained away the water.

It had been full of liquid. And ice. And bodies—flesh and bone. Now… nothing.

It was like he'd done some kind of weird physics experiment. He'd converted everything in this giant room to gas. Including all the monsters in it.

Level Up!

Inferno Cylcone III -> IV

Neat.

He hobbled to his feet. So. His body did have limits. He blinked at the size of the room. He wasn't sure how much essence he'd just used, but…

Yeah. It'd make what that Vanessa girl used to kill the Basilisk look like a cantrip in comparison.

It was good to know. Unless he planned on evaporating another Arctic Ocean in one go, he probably didn't have to worry about hitting his limits.

He scratched his head. Why was his essence pool so abnormally big anyway? His soul was the other thing about him that was abnormally big, physical traits aside—he wondered if they were connected somehow…

He got the feeling Avery also had an unusually large soul—though nothing like his. And she could spew essence at her mirages like no tomorrow.

Then he got another notification and forgot what he was thinking.

Selecting treasure reward…

A crystal popped up before him, spinning slowly, shimmering in a halo of warm white light.

Recording of the sermon on Pseudo-Stormfire, given by Master Lucian to assorted Elders during the short-lived Fire-Lightning Alliance circa 7th Megannum (B+)

In which the Master expounds on Pseudo-Stormfire, his new breakthrough discovery. A carefully guarded secret that made Alliance cultivators who could master it nigh-unbeatable at power levels under Foundation—until the discovery of other such Pseudo-Fusions hundreds of millennia later.

Due to its uniquely synergistic properties, Pseudo-Stormfire is one of very few Fusions that can be performed even without full basic Mastery of their respective Elemental Laws.

A B+ treasure? It was the highest-grade treasure he'd ever seen. He assumed it meant 'Treasure between B and A', just like C+ Dungeon meant 'Dungeon between C and B'. He was a little shocked he got it in a C+-ranked Dungeon. Had he just gotten lucky with the System's draw or something?

And it was tailored just to him, apparently—looking at the Laws, that made sense.

He read it over again. It sounded pretty darn cool, though the terms themselves didn't mean a lot to him.

Too bad he was too burnt out to use it. He pocketed it for later.

He drank in a few lower-grade Vials of Essence.

When he fully recovered about an hour later, he made his way over to the exit tunnel some fifty-odd feet off the ground, hopped to it, and kept on moving.

The next chamber was studded with yellows—a big treasure area? He poked his way through.

Whale Bone Sanctuary (C)

A supernaturally powerful flash freeze swept up a lake on the Planet of Thousand Trenches, instantaneously killing everything that lived within. The most powerful of the beasts there became relics, preserved forever in the ice.

He emerged at what looked like some half-finished archaeological dig.

A set of pale white bones, each big as canoes, lay frozen in the ice, close enough to touch.

Spine Shard of the Colossus Whale (B)

A rare bone containing the condensed remnants of the essence of a Colossus Whale.

They lay scattered across the ice. When he touched them, he could draw out their essence. There were three or four in total. Not enough for a level, but they got him fairly close.

There were some other knickknacks. A few C-grade frozen eyeballs that promised to help comprehend Ice Laws. He burned those out of the walls and took them for safekeeping. It was shaping up to be a pretty good haul, even if he couldn't use all of it.

What really intrigued him, though, was a black pearl as big as his fist, shining softly in the low light. Spiderwebs of frost smothered its surface.

Permafrost Oyster's Pearl (C)

Condensed over 300 years by the Permafrost Oyster. The wisdom of the oceans lies within this treasure. Helps heal soul wounds, nourishing and invigorating the spirit.

He burned it out and grabbed hold of it. There was a certain dewy, milky essence hidden in this thing. When he drew it out, he felt a sudden burst of clarity, of energy—it was like he'd taken some kind of caffeine shot for the soul.

It didn't heal his weariness. He could still feel it dragging at him under the surface. But for just this brief moment, he felt… normal. Better than normal. He dragged more of it in until his head was filled to bursting with it. He felt sharp, clear as a freshwater lake in spring.

He couldn't waste this.

Instantly, he sat down and grabbed for the recording. He went into it excited.

The world around him dissolved, fading out, losing definition…

A new world filled in. New colors—rich greens and warm browns—all soaked in a layer of fuzzy white mist. He was looking at a mountain rising out of the mists, one of many quaint, calm peaks flowing into the vague distance. It was picturesque, beautifully simple, like something out of an old Japanese painting. It was early morning. Birds chirped softly.

There was a lake at the peak of this mountain, from which waterfalls trickled gently all the way down.

And at this peak was the gathering of white-haired folk, most of them sported long, flowing beards. They all wore these silky robes woven of faintly luminous threads. Some were shades of red, some of blue, some of white. The red ones seemed to smolder a little as they moved; the blues and whites crackled softly, like distant lightning. Each was carefully embroidered, sporting a little crest. If you looked at them they seemed to move subtly over the fabric. A bird with an elephant in its claws, flapping its wings. A slowly shifting cloud. A sun rising over the mountains…

An Elder stood at their fore on a little wood dais by the lake. He was utterly plain-looking, insignificant except for his eyes, which shone with a burning intensity. He cleared his throat.