Chapter 236 (Patreon)

Chapter 236

Had the tunnel led out of Bernzee, likely saving Allie’s life?

Sure.

But it certainly hadn’t led to safety.  They were traveling deeper into the underdark, and into a tunnel complex of twists and turns that were undocumented concerning the original map she’d been provided to get to the vampiric city - or the map she’d found in the partially destroyed Bloodmare estate.

What was even worse, was that Fimrindle suspected this tunnel actually led directly to the labyrinth these vampires had spoken of.  Why might he think that?  He’d already assassinated 12 of the vampire precursors, and the tunnels were changing by the second.

Caverns were visibly being augmented, adapting to some unknown power’s will, as the rock smoothed out into square and rectangular floors or ceilings.  Stalagmites and stalactites had changed into pillars with ancient languages carved into their bodies, and ziggurats or other odd buildings were created before his very eyes from the natural earth of Panu’s crust.  And the feeling of the stone riddled with millions of diagrams and sigils he’d confirmed to be blasphemous pre-system scripture was tainted with an alien presence.

Better said, the tunnels likely hadn’t originally been connected to the labyrinth.  No, they didn’t lead to the labyrinth at all, but rather the labyrinth had been building itself and expanding itself towards Bernzee; perhaps even in all directions.

The labyrinth of the slumbering vampiric elder god was growing.  Rapidly.

Fimrindle watched from the shadows as another of the hulking, muscular abominations shambled past - the pale blue creature not sensing him at all - but picking up on the scent of his master and her necromancer companions.  Its black eyes narrowed and its mouth full of fangs dripping saliva while it picked up speed, unnatural additional limbs supporting the large monster’s trudging gait.

It was marked for death, and the silently building affliction began to amass power on its soul.

The scarecrow’s metal body didn’t even twitch, the carved X’s for eyes in his metal head not showing any sign he was even observing the lumbering creature until he appeared behind it within the time it took to blink.  Under the Tier 3 Death buff of ‘Stalking Predator’, alongside the affliction ‘Mark Prey’ and his assassination martial art ‘Execution’ flickering through the artifact scythe in his hands - the amount of stacked critical damage his strike would dish out could have killed a fully grown level 200 E-grade garsnapper.

Not that he’d even seen a garsnapper since having left the last planet he’d been quarantined on, but the point still stood.

[Ancient Vampiric Precursor Abomination, Blue Blood Heretic, Level 102]

[You have landed a critical hit.  Max Damage x17.]

His scythe flashed through the higher-leveled monster like a knife through butter, as quiet as a night’s breeze.  There was no resistance in the target’s body, the ancient scythe simply slipped through it from hip to ear - causing ripples of critical energy to silently tear across the beast as its innards splattered across the floor.  One half of the body slid off the other, and a splat echoed through the terraforming room.

The fledgling reaper stared down at his target, not feeling satisfied in his kill - but patience was something he was very good at.  He knew what laid in wait at the end of this road, and getting there was just part of the job.  It was just a shame that he’d had to take a level-cut to bind to Allie, because it was something of a setback being forced to wait for her to catch up.  He’d even intentionally pushed her by holding back in numerous fights, such as the fight at The Blood Moon Requiem’s compound - even at the risk of letting her die.

It wasn’t that he’d wanted her to die, in fact it was quite the opposite.  He had high hopes for the child, but he’d done his part to even the odds and then let her prove her worth.  If she’d been worthy of his contract, she would find a way to persist.  If she was worthy of his contract, she wouldn’t die.  Unfortunately Riven had intervened before she’d been able to truly push past the barrier holding her back… but he had faith it would eventually give in nonetheless.  He also had no intentions of holding her hand the entire way through, and would only give as much help as needed to put her into situations that allowed a hard but winnable fight.  This was the best way to gain insights and leveling, and if she wasn’t up to the task then someone else would be.

Then again she’d also been very lucky he was even able to accept her contract, using the Ritual Bonds of Blood and Soul - a multi-use utility skill that allowed him to artificially decrease his own parameters to trick Elysium into allowing their partnership despite a level gap.

It made Fimrindle wonder just what the other, more advanced reapers of death in the S-grade could do with it; if he was able to create such a massive opportunity such as this with such a low amount of effort on his part.  He was far, far away from understanding the machinations of those ancient beings though, and was unlikely to find out any time soon.

He shut down that train of thought, compartmentalizing it for future meditation, and was just about to report back from his scouting mission when he heard a familiar noise.

His passive buff ‘Anticipate Movements’ activated, and the scarecrow blurred.

Eight whistling throwing stars empowered with discrete bursts of shadow energy were torn out of the air one by one - plucked like cherries from a tree with perfect precision.  His clawed metal hands easily took what little damage the sharp edges dispersed, before the thrown projectiles disappeared into puffs of black.

He stared down at his hand, comprehending the nature of the stamina that’d been used to attack him, remaining completely still as he did so.  Observing the room around him, he couldn’t tell where the opponent was despite the direction of the attack.  With an uncharacteristically slow motion - he brought a single metal claw with remnant power from one of the throwing stars up to his mouth, closing down with dagger-like teeth.

Ah.  How surprising.

It was one of his kin.

Why was there another reaper here, though?

A contracted job, perhaps?

But who would hire them?  No one on Panu would even know of those kinds of merc contracts or the rituals to summon reapers for a long, long time from now.  Even if they did, they’d not be able to afford someone of that caliber without bankrupting entire empires.  Or at least the probability of it was extremely low.  That meant an off-planet entity had likely hired the assassin.

An opposing faction inside The Blood Moon Requiem?

Perhaps.

Someone related to the vampiric elder god?  A descendant?

More likely.  Otherwise the reaper would have targeted Allie and Riven both long before now.

He nodded, it was the only thing that made sense.  There was no other reason another reaper in the F-grade would be here, not on a tiny, remote planet like this.

The thought exhilarated Fimrindle, who’d been rather bored while waiting for Allie to make the building breakthrough he could feel coming, and his metal features instantaneously twisted into one of the most horrendous visages of sadistic glee ever seen upon the face of Panu.  His mouth, which was usually set into a deadpan, interlocking set of metal jaws, had turned upwards at an unnatural angle - teeth elongating to twice their normal length and shifting in sharpness.  The X’s carved into his metallic face had abruptly doubled in size due to his excitement, and a rasping sound escaped his throat - letting out a low, cackling sound like the scratching of two rusty blades.

His stick-thin body stood to its full height - senses now picking up a faint clicking sound at various points around him - and for the first time in centuries he equipped his ceremonial reaper’s cloak.  The shroud literally made from shadows encompassed his body, and he planted both clawed feet out to either side as the clicking sounds stopped.  His malicious gaze settled on the figure before it made itself known, appearing out of thin air like a phantom with two small scythes fluidly dancing between the skeletal fingers of either hand - and swirling black throwing stars circling the figure that stared back at fimrindle through the dead eyes of a skull face.

Just like Fimrindle, the ceremonial shroud was equipped - flowing about his body like a writhing, living thing that merged and reformed from the very shadows around them - encompassing the other reaper’s body in a cloud of black.

[Skullborn, Initiate Reaper of Souls, Level 199.  Elite.]

Fimrindle’s unnatural, excited smile grew even wider.  This was a fight where his limits would truly be pushed to the test given his reduced sub-100 combat level as it stood now; while his opponent was at the peak of F-grade and almost into the E-grade.  It was very likely this particular reaper had been chosen for exactly that reason, as Elysium probably wouldn’t have allowed an outsider E-grade to enter an integration planet this early.  The golden lettering of the enemy reaper’s identification information also didn’t come as a surprise, given that almost all reapers had that signifier at a minimum when they weren’t hiding it like Fimrindle was.

“Brother.” The other reaper bowed low, briefly, his voice coming out like a cold wind.  “It is a fortunate test of fate for us, crossing paths as fellow children of The Scythe.  Yet I must hold to my contract, and will not hold back.  Your soul will be sent to the collector in due time.”

Fimrindle responded with a pleased groan, the Ritual Bonds of Blood and Soul shifting to unlock some of the restraints he’d placed on himself while in this form - originally meant to hide him from Elysium’s gaze.  He felt them snap, one by one, and though his level would need to remain at the poultry level of 91 since he couldn’t go over his contracted master’s own combat level - he still felt a flood of power insert itself into his soul apparatus.

The enlarged X’s across his face burst into neon teal flames, and a cold wave of energy began rising from his position.

[Legendary status marker has been unveiled.  Reaper of Souls Unique Title has been unveiled: Disciple of the Wailing Lake has been unveiled.]

[3 additional skills have been unlocked.  2 additional traits have been unlocked.  709 stat points have been re-applied.]

[You have gained the attention of Elysium.  Beware, my child, for if you push yourself too far the system will recognize your deceit and void your contract with the chosen master you’ve acquired until natural parameters have been met.]

His mentor’s warning voice echoed in his ears, and he lifted his scythe as it flared with the same neon-teal fires of the X’s for eyes underneath his shifting, shadow-crafted hood.  His status page identifiers abruptly changed from the normal lettering Elysium most often used to that of a deep crimson fire, indicating his legendary status when relatively compared to all other beings across the multiverse at his level - and he took a stance while his newfound enemy took a step back in surprise.  To his knowledge, only he and twelve others on this planet had such an indicator - with Athela and Riven being two of the others.

Fimrindle’s head lowered, activating his Tier 3 domain with a brief expanding hand motion and the recited chant.  “Nekarakt Arts, Shadow Realms.”

The terraforming cavern erupted with the howls of lost souls and a raging tidal wave of black shadow energy, encompassing the two combatants in an alternate reality that shattered the fabric of the world around them.  He took a step single step forward as his enemy’s body erupted in a red mist of blood - empowering a swarm of shadow-made throwing stars that ripped out of the enemy reaper’s shroud in all directions.

Fimrindle’s scythe cut through an erected barrier enchantment with a single swipe, an arc piercing through time and space with a snap of noise and a blur of flaming steel.

*WHUMPH*

*BOOM*

*CRASH-CRASH-CRASH-CRASH-CRASH*

The storm of exploding blood-imbued throwing stars reminded Fimrindle very much of Riven's own ‘Bloody Blades’, and he outwardly cackled in an echoing howl as he danced through the waves of oncoming blades before activating ‘Flurry’ and ‘Tear Asunder’.

His body was naturally fast, but the combination of both martial arts ripped space apart in giant tears - causing his very soul to scream and leave an afterimage as the two reapers clashed with the ferocity of apex predators.

***

[You have gained 9 levels.  Congratulations!  Be sure to visit your status page to apply points.]

Allie stumbled to an abrupt stop when she got the notification.  Blinking rapidly and scratching her head, she let out the only thing that came to her in that moment.  “Huh?”

She’d been following the trail of bodies left by Fimrindle, little X marks carved into their chests to signify it was his doing - with other X’s carved into the walls when choosing between splits in the tunnels to sign which way he’d gone.

The notification had appeared just as she’d turned left down another one of the tunnels - which was quickly being terraformed like much of the caverns they’d already traversed, and she failed to understand why or how it’d even happened.

She’d never had an influx of XP that large before.  Not ever.  Not a single time, even after slaughtering hundreds or thousands of people in the war against Prophet, and then again in the war against the conquered Tereen elves.

The amounts of XP she’d been getting from Fimrindle had been coming in time after time as well, with every kill he made concerning these strange vampiric precursors that wandered the underdark.  But that’d only granted her a single level so far, and the XP was split between them, so a 9 level jump just didn’t make any sense.

“What’s wrong?” Mara asked curiously, raising the corpse before them and causing it to stand with a gasp - dead eyes lighting up and adding the creature to her posse before turning to look at her best friend.  “You look stunned.  Did something happen?”

“Yeah…”  Allie replied, shaking herself out of her stupor and taking a look at her status page.  There was no clue there, but she did apply the stat points to Willpower and Intelligence nonetheless.  “I just got a 9 level boost and I don’t know why.”

Mara blinked.  “9 combat levels?”

“Are you sure you’re not seeing things?” Vin asked from the side, skipping to a stop and staring at the strange language written into the smoothing, shaping stone walls around them.  “Hells, I might be seeing things too.  What’s this language?  Anyone know?”

“No idea.” one of the necromancer elites called from the back.  “I’ve been wondering too.”

No one else said anything, but a roar and a scream was heard from the back when the sound of thundering feet caused them all to turn.

Allie’s red eyes narrowed and she equipped her skull mask again, body flaring with death mana as the entire horde of their undead began rushing the backline where dozens of pale, blue-skinned vampiric precursors were crashing into the ground from a steep drop off that Allie had just traversed not long ago.

Unfortunately for the aggressing mob, they didn’t have any ranged casters at the moment - and they were on a slope in a somewhat narrow passage for such a large group.

“FIRE!”

Threads of black and teal, flaming skulls, death balls and green clouds of necrotic curses blasted into the rampaging swarm that was building like an avalanche.  Body parts were torn, melted, and burned off in a violent display of destructive magic that wiped out much of the first wave before more of them surged out of the tunnel above.

The skeletons and zombies made contact, clashing with black-eyed men and women of a lost race from another age.  Weirdly enough not all of the precursors showed signs of absolute lunacy, many of them making smart and calculated decisions without a mob-mentality in their fighting.  Martial arts were seen in some, others simply avoided fighting the undead altogether to go around on the outskirts of the tunnels, while others simply stayed back and watched so they’d not cause a body-plug and crush their comrades; even calling back in an ancient language to make their compatriots slow the charge.

That did not bode well in Allie’s opinion, as the first impression she’d had of these creatures was a mindless swarm - similar to many of the versions of lower tiered undead she often raised up.  It was true that some of the ‘mutant’ variations, large lumbering things that looked like the Hulk on steroids, did maintain that basic mindset - but certainly not so with the others despite their ferocity in battle.

It was almost as if these precursors weren’t necessarily stupid, but instead they were just… desperate?

The thought disturbed her, but upon second evaluation she confirmed her theory.  The looks these people had was one of desperation, without a doubt, and they were doing their utmost to try and bring her down before she entered the labyrinth and headed out towards their fallen god.

“FIRE!”

Another volley of magics tore into the oncoming tide of pale blue, killing dozens more.  She and the other necromancers continually moved back, cutting them down time after time as they came but being pushed by sheer numbers.  They took time raising the dead to send back at the still-living precursors as well, and then would rinse and repeat with more showers of offensive magic while a couple of Mara’s shadow-infused skeletal assassins kept the creatures at bay whenever they broke through the main line.

[You have gained 1 level.  Congratulations!  Be sure to visit your status page to apply points.]

[You have gained 1 level.  Congratulations!  Be sure to visit your status page to apply points.]

The ground thundered.

Hundreds fell.

Allie began to feel her mana waning, and she took numerous vials of blue mana potions to stave off absolute depletion.  Even with all the remnant death mana from the environment acting as a stimulant to fuel her power, she was still struggling to maintain the fight as the swarm grew larger.

It started to get really bad when enemy casters started appearing, wearing odd metal bracelets and feathered ornaments reminding her of Aztec attire from books she’d read as a child.  Enemy scepters flared brightly, and soon she found herself in an even worse pinch as her necromancers were pushed to the brink in an exchange of offensive and defensive magics over the melee battle in the middle.  All she could do was continue to backpedal down the sloping path, following Fimrindle’s markings in a battle of attrition as one, then two, and then three of her elite necromancers fell in battle - stemming the tide of their own minions and causing the brutal melee to sway in favor of the precursors.

When the fourth necromancer fell, the tidal wave broke through the dam of undead shortly after - as even she with her swarm necromancer abilities could not raise the dead as fast as they were being cut down.

She snarled, summoning a storm of ghosts that crashed into her enemies before erecting a wall of bones.  Then, turning heel, she sprinted down the corridors in the opposite direction.  The ghosts only had so much passive mana before they’d be banished back into the nether, and the bone wall wouldn’t hold very long.  “COME ON!  LET’S MOVE!”