249. Steamroll

Zane got one more upgrade before they moved on.

It came after—

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟚𝟡𝟡 -> 𝟛𝟘𝟘

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕓-𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕕!

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕓-𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝. 𝔸𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕩𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕦𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕣.

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕!

𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝔼𝕕𝕘𝕖 [ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖] [𝕄𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕔 (𝔼)]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕩𝕖'𝕤 𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝕒 +𝟚𝟘% 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕪. ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕔𝕖.

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝'𝕤 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕖.

Zane didn't really need even more firepower, but this was a pleasant surprise. He was happy to take it. One could never be too powerful, he felt.

Speaking of—he collected all those Weapon Souls they'd harvested from all those waves of Monsters and Monster Knights he'd slain. It amounted, in total, to over 20 million souls' worth.

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!

𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝟝 -> 𝟟

𝔸𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤' 𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕄𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕔 𝕊𝕜𝕪-𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕝.

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕕!

𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝔼𝕕𝕘𝕖 [𝕄𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕔 (𝔼) -> 𝕄𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕔+ (𝔼)]

Now he was ready for the next floor.

…He had a feeling he was far more than ready.

***

𝔽𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕣 𝟜𝟜

𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕕𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟

Floor 44 was a twilight world strung up with spiderwebs. Infested with countless giant insects—and the Monstrous spiders that preyed on them. Once upon a time it had been a teeming forest. Now it was barren. The pale trees were hollow, leafless, lifeless. Little more than props for the spiders to spin their webs on as they waited impatiently for fresh prey…

A spider with a red stopwatch on its belly hissed. And exploded beneath a boulder of a fist.

"Can't be far now," grunted Nils, Thain's World Rank #3. A giant elephant-kin man with gray rugged skin and floppy ears. He smashed his fists together.

Behind him, a Catkin man licked his lips. "What do you imagine we'll fetch once we're clear of this hellhole?" he purred.

He inspected his claws idly. Nils shrugged.

"They'd be fools to deny you the number one spot, Lord Fennick!" crooned a Snake-eyed lady. She hissed laughter, forked tongue flickering.

"Well," said the Catkin, shrugging. "I'd hate to be accused of false modesty. So I'd have to agree." He smirked.

Nils looked up. Saw light streaking across the sky. "Looks like it's time for more treasure-drops," he said.

"Just one this time?" said the snake-lady, squinting. She giggled. "They haven't forgotten the rest of us, have they?"

But it wasn't a white comet. But a black one. And it made no sound as it streaked across the sky.

It came closer. The thing had no aura at all—stranger and stranger…

It landed at Fennick's feet.

And unraveled to reveal an amulet. Gold-spun wire, linking to cradle a single tear-drop gemstone. It sparkled pale blue and snow-white. A glistening mist flowed off it, staining the air…

A notification popped up before them:

𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕!

??? [???]

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞: ???

"Strange," mused Fennick. He picked it up, holding it up to close inspection. His ears twitched. "I don't—"

The gemstone sank through his skin.

The Catkin shuddered. Staggered. And dropped like a rag doll, eyes rolling back.

The snake-lady let out a cry. "Lord Fennick!"

She knelt down beside him, started shaking him, but he didn't stir.

"Shit," snarled Nils. "What in the Nine Hells was that?!"

"I—I'm not sure—"

She turned Fennick over. And screamed.

Fennick's teeth were locked in a bared smile. His eyes were already open, as wide as they could be, shot through with red cracks. His pupils had changed color. Gone a hollow white.

The snake-lady flinched away, staggering back—

And Fennick's body rose. Looked around slowly, mechanically. Turned his neck side-to-side. Turned the head too far, swiveling behind its back, and a series of CRACK-CRACK-CRACKs rang out—bones breaking.

A pause. Then the head went back to normal.

Fennick inspected himself. His clawed fingers, mouth wide open. He wiggled them about, as though for the first time. Drool leaking from his lips. He gurgled.

Laws flared at those dagger-sharp ends.

Neither of the Thainish there could fathom what they were looking at. They had no way to tell the Law streaming off those claws was a fully-fused Tier-4 Law—as close to Tier 5 as it could possibly be. Loaded with High-Tier Concepts. On the borderline of Ascension.

An Aura erupted from Fennick's body. And the two of them choked.

It felt to them like their whole bodies were drenched in frostbite—a frost that seeped far past the skin, dug deep into the bones, froze even the soul… the water in the air started to freeze. Then the air itself, all around them, making horrible CRACK-CRACK-ing sounds. Frost raced out across the land, raced up the Thainish's skin—and at the epicenter of it was the creature once known as Fennick.

The aura pouring off him contained far more essence than any Core creature should have. More than Nascent, even.

The Thainish fighters sagged to their knees.

Fennick flexed his hands casually. A black ice seethed at his claw-tips, a rotted ice, hissing, steaming at the air. He staggered around. As though unused to moving on two legs. But with every passing second he only gained more and more coordination…

"My lord—" gasped the Snake-lady.

Fennick slashed. The instant his claws made contact her whole body froze stiff. The water in her eyeballs froze in her skull—then the claws sank all the way through. A casual swipe, and the head blew.

There was no blood. It was like decapitating a statue.

Where the claws passed, the world tore open. Voids screaming in long jagged ribbons.

Nils roared. Threw himself forward in a staggering, lumbering charge.

Fennick merely tapped. A pointer finger stabbing at the heart, and the elephant-man froze. Slumped. Shattered into many, many pieces—

Pieces that fell away.

That gentle poke had ripped open a void so wide it sucked in the elephant-man whole. Until there wasn't a trace left—it had gone somewhere even essence couldn't return from…

The Catkin licked his lips.

Then frowned. Inspected his arms again.

The skin there was starting to flake off.

It was too much power for this form to handle. The creature would have to be fast.

Its eyes narrowed.

"Zane Walker…" it hissed. Smiled too-wide.

Then it lunged down the floor. Sprinting for the staircase. Knowing even now that staircase was curving upward, diverting, shortening the path between it and its prey. Its fingers trailed frostbite-black lines over the air, and the wind that rustled by froze there mid-gust, unmoving, as though frozen in time.

***

ᴇᴠᴇʀɢʀᴇᴇɴ ɢʀᴏᴠᴇ

ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ꜰᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

"It is done," intoned Inquisitor Thaele.

Lan let out a tight breath. Massaged his brow. "And you've made certain to take precautions? Made certain you've left no trail?"

Thaele nodded. "Gilgorath blocked off all perception to that realm. Cloaked the drop. It will seem like a stray Malignant Soul breaking into the floor, and possessing the Thainish. Entirely Gilgorath's doing. The other Factions will assume it found another loophole."

Lan set his jaw. "Alright."

Thaele considered his boss in silence.

"Spit it out," said Lan.

"This was unlike you." Thaele's eyes glinted.

"I realize that." Lan's jaw worked. "I would not have taken the risk if I did not believe it was absolutely necessary. If Zane Walker makes it through—and with him, the Mistress Maker… it would be catastrophic. She's dangerous. Cleverer than we'd assume—Make no mistake! If the two of them survive—as they seemed likely to—they could topple the very standing of our House! We are in dire straits, Inquisitor."

Lan caught himself. "Were in dire straits."

He closed his eyes. "Now it is behind us, Fate willing…"

***

ɢᴜɪʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ

ʜᴇᴀᴅQᴜᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ

The Guild of Endless Shadows' headquarters was a castle on the Planet of Endless Shadow—a planet with no light save for one source. A moon that hung full and bright at all hours of the day. The sun never rose here.

In that castle, there was a vast gothic hall. Torches burned white, ghostly, flickering, welded onto brimstone pillars. It was a place void of color save black and white—except for the red carpet leading up to the throne, whose surface seemed to move, flowing sluggishly, like blood pumped from some a diseased heart.

A man sat atop a high throne at the end of it. A throne the color of obsidian and poison and bruises, black-purple. He wore a cape of raven feathers. When you looked at his face it seemed perfectly ordinary. But look away and you wouldn't be able to remember a single feature. You wouldn't be able to describe him if you tried.

He was the Patriarch of the Guild of Endless Shadows. The Nameless King.

At first, there was no movement save for the flickering of the torches and the crackling of the fire… then a thick shadow coalesced on the carpet.

When it vanished, there knelt a figure in a blank obsidian mask. A scout.

"Your highness," rasped the scout. "I have news."

"Speak," said the Nameless King.

"There was an interruption in the Superdungeon's transmission. When it resumed it appears our number prospect, the Thainish Catkin Fennick, was corrupted by a malignant spirit." The figure paused. "A spirit of at least Ascended power. There were no witnesses. All dead. Gone."

The Nameless King cocked his head.

"But with black-matter scrying, we were able to piece together one scene," continued the scout, "Directly after the possession. It appears this Monster was dropped there via cursed treasure. It appears to be the work of the Demon Gilgorath. We know it appears to be racing to hunt down Zane Walker. Gilgorath means to eliminate this Integration's top two candidates—at once."

At last, the Nameless King spoke. In a deep booming voice.

"I was not aware Gilgorath had gained such influence over its prison."

"Circumstances have shifted. The river of Fate flows ever-onward. The Yin forces only waxes as the Chaos Cycle nears its peak—the System only wanes…"

A silence.

"Perhaps," said the King at last. He steepled his spindly fingers, eyes narrowed. "Perhaps."

He had his suspicions. But that was all. "You may go."

The shadows, and the scout, melted away.

The King mulled it over some more.

Then he produced a scrying glass. Tapped the surface. And contacted a very old friend.

"Noughtfire," he said. "You'll want to hear this."

***

Reina was quite close to her third Concept. Evan and Avery were up to Level 280 and 270 respectively.

They were all ready to get going.

Zane and his friends carried on. They descended the wide staircase at the bottom floor of the Citadel, leading down into a tunnel of ash and brimstone and smog. But soon it gave way to softer, loamier stuff—browns, clumps of rich dirt.

Until eventually they were trekking down an earthy tunnel. Giant root networks started running across the ceiling, ribbing the walls. Reina noted how much life she felt here, how dense the Wood and Earth essence here was. She was surprised.

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕: ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕧𝕒𝕝 𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℤ𝕠𝕝

𝔽𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕣 𝟟𝟟

Four layers deeper this time.

The air was thick with humidity. Soon the tunnel started arching off, breaking toward the surface. Things only got muggier and muggier.

They came out above ground.

They saw something out of a prehistoric era. They were surrounded by overgrown forest—trees whose warm brown trunks were double, triple the width they should be, tall as skyscrapers, studded with bark-like armor plates. Even the ferns around them struck up like towers, their fronds blocking out the sky…