Chapter 272 - Blood Wraith (Patreon)

Zeke strained against his uncooperative muscles, pushing as hard as he’d ever pushed before. But it was useless. The cloud of red energy was too oppressive. It wrapped around his body, squeezing until his mana began to seep from his very skin. And the ephemeral creature readily absorbed it. Nearby, Zeke heard Jasper’s weak, muffled screams, but he could do nothing to help his own situation, much less save the dark elf.

Defiantly, Zeke gritted his teeth and swung his fist, but it was like attacking smoke.

But Zeke had other tricks up his sleeve, didn’t he? He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. So, he shoved his mana into the rune that governed [Weight of Two Worlds] and activated the skill. Immediately, gravity increased a hundredfold, pushing down on everything in the area with undeniable force. Zeke’s bones creaked under his own weight until he used his racial ability to lighten his own load.

But the cloud of red energy was unaffected, save to shudder in what appeared to be pleasure as it absorbed the increasingly dense ambient mana. Then, an eerie, ethereal laugh echoed through the tunnel, sending a chill up Zeke’s spine. He had fought a host of powerful creatures, many far stronger than him, but there was something about the sound of laughter that made him feel like prey. If he hadn’t been so thoroughly suppressed by the red mist, he wouldn’t have hesitated to turn and run.

Which wasn’t like him.

Not even a little. But as panic suffused Zeke’s mind, he retained enough rationality to pick through his feelings. And what he found was disturbing. Nothing was messing with his emotions. The panic wasn’t artificial. Instead, it was a reasonable response to encountering something so far out of his league that he couldn’t even begin to process the fear streaking through his mind.

But above all, one thought rose to prominence.

If the owner of that laugh reached him, he was going to die. There would be no fight. No valiant battle. He would be squashed like a bug. Though Zeke could only barely understand the origin of that certainty, he knew it was real. His only hope was escape.

How, though?

Zeke tried activating [Metallurgical Repair], but aside from giving the cloud more mana on which to feast, it did nothing. He suspected that [Unleash Momentum] would be similarly useless. So, he frantically searched for a solution, eventually landing on his other, oft-ignored racial ability. With a flick of thought, he summoned the black lightning that came with his ability to rend souls, then once again swung his fist.

The red mist shuddered, but not in pleasure. More importantly, it retreated a little. The relief was short-lived, because it came crashing back down in only an instant, but it was an encouraging sign. Zeke had no idea if he’d caused any lasting damage, but the attack against its soul was at least painful. So he swung again and again, and the approaching monster’s cackle became a screech that pierced through Zeke’s mind like an ice pick.

Tears of blood streamed down his face as his brain boiled under the creature’s influence; the only reason Zeke pushed through was due to his ability to ignore most levels of pain. However, that wasn’t enough to shield him against the aural attack’s entirety. Instead, that ability could only blunt the damage, barely keeping his brain from turning to mush.

In his desperation to make it stop, Zeke finally embraced his path of force. Verdant light erupted from his entire body, mingling with the soulflaying black lightning. With his rationality being ripped to shreds by the aural attack, Zeke mindlessly swung his fist. And for the first time since the cloud had enveloped him, he felt something solid beneath his fists.

Fleshy red chunks erupted from the point of impact, wetly splattering against the wall. The cloud retreated once again, giving Zeke a moment to gather his shattered thoughts. It wasn’t enough for him to regain the ability to think, but it was just enough to let him embrace his instinctive need to lash out.

Which he did.

With a roar, he punched and kicked, clawed and bit. With his path of force lending its conceptual weight to his every attack, the cloud of red mist was ripped to pieces. It retreated, flowing deeper into the tunnels until, at last, it disappeared altogether.

Zeke fell to all fours, his mind slowly coming back together. Then, he vomited blood upon the rocky ground. Panting, and with tears mingling with the blood on his cheeks, Zeke could barely will himself to move.

But he knew he had to. The red mist might not have been able to stand up to his path, but Zeke wasn’t willing to bet his life that it would be similarly effective against the owner of that cackle. So, Zeke gathered what was left of his thoughts, then pushed himself to his feet.

His entire body was coated in blood, but there were no wounds. It was as if the mist had pulled it from his very pores, just like it had siphoned his mana.

Zeke’s gaze soon found Jasper, who’d fallen unconscious. Not a surprise, given the fact that the dark elf’s pain tolerance was almost assuredly inferior to Zeke’s own. But surprisingly, Jasper was still breathing, if only barely. Perhaps he was much tougher than Zeke had given him credit for.

That shouldn’t have been surprising. Jasper was a native to the Eternal Realm, and as such, he was very likely powerful in his own right. He simply hadn’t been able to show much of it because his skills were still blocked.

Soon, though, that would have to change. If the dark elf was going to continue to accompany Zeke, he would need the entirety of his strength. The only problem was that Zeke wasn’t sure if he could trust Jasper. Even letting him see Zeke’s strength had been a calculated gamble; after all, it would only take a flick of Zeke’s mind to reinstitute the skill-blocking rune of his collar and shackles. Then, even if Jasper told someone about the ability, the dwarves would surely think he’d gone mad. After all, they seemed to consider the bindings unassailable.

Another cackle echoed through the tunnel, reminding Zeke that he needed to act. Normally, he wouldn’t have gotten distracted so easily, but his thoughts were disjointed, and he had difficulty focusing.

With an effort of will, he forced himself to act. Bending down, he grabbed Jasper around the waist and threw the slender elf over his shoulder. Just then, Zeke caught a glimpse of his true assailant.

And he wished he hadn’t.

Not because the creature was horrifying to look at. It wasn’t. Tall – maybe ten feet, at least – and wearing a bloodred robe, it reminded Zeke of the reapers of the undead army. However, this monster was far more powerful. Red mist swirled around its unnaturally thin body, pooling at its feet as the monster seemed to glide, rather than walk. Upon its head was a crown of uncut gems bound together with bone, and its eyes…

Its face was concealed beneath the deep shadows of its robe’s hood, but those eyes shone through, red and piercing in a way Zeke could scarcely comprehend. It felt as if the monster was gazing into his very soul, and his soul – or rather, whatever made Zeke who he was – eroded under its scrutiny.

Zeke maintained the presence of mind to use [Inspect]:

Canoxix, The Blood Wraith – Level ??

That simple line was enough to make Zeke’s heart skip a beat. The only time he’d encountered a creature with an indeterminate level, the warlock who owned that identifier was so strong that, even when it was toying with Zeke, he’d been unable to harm it. It had taken a passage between realms to rip it apart, but even then, its soul had survived.

And this creature – Canoxix – was even more powerful than that warlock had been, Zeke was sure. Which told him in no uncertain terms that he could not, under any circumstances, stand against it. So, without any further hesitation, he turned and sprinted back down the tunnel.

But horrifyingly, the pressure the monster emitted didn’t dissipate, and when Zeke glanced back, it was still the same distance away. Gliding along, unhurried and unperturbed. It constant cackle filled Zeke’s ears, though so long as he continued to concentrate on his path, the resulting pain wasn’t enough to stop him.

He sprinted along, stumbling over loose rocks as his strength continued to fail. A few times, the red mist tried another assault, but he managed to dissuade it with flailing fists imbued with the power of his path.

Hours later, Zeke stumbled from the tunnel and sprinted toward the Rainbow Forest, and when he reached it, he looked back to see that the blood wraith had stopped at the tunnel’s opening. Even its red mist hadn’t pursued any further.

But Zeke didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Even after his legs turned to jelly, and he felt his strength fade to nothing, he continued to sprint through the forest until, finally, he tripped over an exposed root and went sprawling to the moss-covered ground. Jasper bonelessly tumbled away, flopping to a stop after only a few feet.

Zeke cast a furtive glance back the way he’d come, but there was nothing there. Even as he panted in exhaustion, no wraith appeared. No red mists. Just the familiar confines of the multi-colored flora.

He sighed, then collapsed onto the soft moss, his breath coming in ragged pants. He’d never felt so drained in all his life. He could barely muster the strength to think, much less move.

Still, after only a few minutes – during which he channeled [Metallurgical Repair] – he felt a little better. Not good, but still better. It also helped to keep his mind on his path, though he had no idea why that would be. Eventually, Zeke pushed himself to his feet and staggered toward Jasper. Fortunately, the dark elf seemed to have survived, but his breathing was shallow and his pulse was faint. Not knowing what else to do, Zeke summoned his tower and carried his companion inside, where he deposited him in the bed he’d used during the traversal of the Rainbow Forest.

Then, Zeke headed to his own room, where he collapsed on the bed and allowed himself to pass out. It might not have been the best choice – after all, he had no guarantee that the wraith wouldn’t continue its pursuit – but he simply didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

Like that, he remained for almost two days, waking only in fitful starts before, finally regaining something approaching his old form. Zeke knew from experience that it would still be some time before he fully recovered, but for now, the rest would have to be enough. So, after showering and dressing in fresh clothes, he headed to the bedroom he’d assigned to Jasper.

The dark elf was still as Zeke had left him, but his breathing seemed a little less labored. So, Zeke expected that it would only be a matter of time before the elf recovered as well.  At least physically. Who knew if he would recover from the mental strain? Zeke still felt as if his mind had been shattered and put back together, so the jury was still out on whether or not Jasper would make it.

Even so, Zeke wouldn’t abandon the elf now.

So, they remained in place for a further three days, during which Zeke noticed incremental recovery. Jasper’s breathing grew deeper, his heartbeat normalized, and he actually started moving a bit in his sleep. Those were all good signs, but Zeke still had no idea about the elf’s mental state. So, he was on pins and needles until, at last, Zeke returned to the bedroom to find Jasper sitting up and looking around.

“What happened?” Jasper asked, his voice hoarse.

“We were attacked,” Zeke said. “Something called a blood wraith. I don’t know what it was, but –”

“Did you say ‘blood wraith’?” asked Jasper, his voice quivering with terror. “Are you sure?”

“I used my [Inspect] ability,” Zeke said before telling Jasper the creature’s name.

“Gods,” Jasper muttered, his eyes wild. “H-how did we escape? Did we escape? Or is this some nightmare?”

“Once I got free of the mist – do you remember that?” Zeke asked.

“V-vaguely,” was Jasper’s response.

“Well, I pulled us free, then ran,” Zeke explained, simplifying things. He didn’t need Jasper to know about his path of force, which he suspected was rarer than he’d first expected. In the Mortal Realm, martial paths hadn’t seemed uncommon, but Zeke had never really made a point to ask around. His experiences tended to be with the elite, so it was more than likely that he’d gotten the wrong impression about their rarity. And even then, Zeke felt that his path of force was somehow special. He didn’t know what made him feel that way, but the notion was there all the same.

And as much as he wanted to trust Jasper – and he did – Zeke wasn’t willing to reveal all of his secrets. Not yet, at least.

“It didn’t want to follow us into the Rainbow Forest,” Zeke finished. “Wouldn’t come out of the tunnel at all, actually.”

“We were incredibly lucky,” remarked Jasper. “That…creature is…it is the stuff of legends. I thought it a mere myth intended to frighten the newcomers. Now, though…”

“Definitely not a myth,” Zeke said.

“Clearly not.”

Zeke shook his head. He’d made the mistake of overconfidence, and it had nearly cost them. In the Radiant Isles, he’d been conditioned to see himself as the pinnacle of power, a position he’d defended time and time again against incredibly strong enemies. Even the wyrm queen had fallen before him. But here? In the Eternal Realm, he was still weak. Certainly, he had potential – he knew that much – but that would be for naught if he got himself killed by picking a fight with something like that blood wraith.

Sighing, he said, “Well, we made it. I think we need to stick around here for a couple of days as we recover, then set off back toward the mining camp. We’ll turn in enough ore to get plenty of contribution points, then take it from there.”

Jasper nodded, still trembling from finding out the identity of their attacker. Zeke could empathize, because if he let himself think about the blood wraith for more than a couple of seconds, he felt the same way.