Unbound

Chapter Fifty Four - 054

Felix poked his head out of the covered archway, checking on the group.

Everyone had settled into sleep or something like it, and the fire had been banked low. His Manasight easily picked out their forms, and a quick flex proved that green-gold life Mana still flowed through their blurry auras. It was hard to see auras properly, at least at his current Skill level, but it was enough. Pit, meanwhile, was snoring contentedly right next to the door, oblivious to everything that had just happened. Felix smiled wryly. "Some watchdog you are."

He gently pet the tenku on the head, causing him to snort and roll over.

Felix retreated back into the basin room, still considering the Geist's words. If Vvim was trying to tell me something, why not just come out and say it? Why the run around and literal emotional manipulation? It felt needlessly convoluted to Felix, but maybe that's how life was when you were an ancient ermine-person. And was there a connection to the Orit? They both looked like weasel-ish creatures, though the Orit had resembled some sort of mutated hybrid. Vvim was far smaller too, and much more eloquent than the Orit's guttural mumblings. They were similar...but was it in any meaningful way? Or was it like humans and gorillas; common ancestors and divergent evolutionary lines?

He felt his stomach gurgle, almost as if it was reminding him of his purpose that night.

Right. The blood. He held out the two vials, regarding them again. Vvim warned against the hunger, but did that mean my normal sped up hunger? Or something else? Is there a difference?

Felix considered his strange appetite with a new perspective; he had assumed it was an increase in his metabolism due to enhanced stats, and maybe it was. It was also true that Felix had started craving the power these vials could grant him, but that felt like an easy answer. Who wouldn't crave power if they could easily obtain it? In the end, Felix was trying to survive, and as far as he was concerned that outweighed some nebulous, potentially moral danger to himself. Felix knew who he was; some stolen monster Skills weren't going to change that.

Steeling himself, Felix tipped the first vial up and downed it in one.

The hunger pains in his stomach flared violently for a moment, and Felix doubled over in sudden pain. The world stretched, rippling like usual, and Felix saw the world vanish into the void.

Oh right, he panted. This again.

The void was quickly populated by an infinite variety of Ofrenok, their snarling, slobbering visages dominating the horizon in all directions. They undulated, time playing out in physical space, extending outward from Felix's position like ten thousand snakes. It was, in a phrase, the worst.

I thought thirty of them was bad enough. This is a nightmare.

Unwilling to wait for the void to splinter and shear again, Felix reached out and selected one of the many bodies. A sensation of falling consumed him, and an instant later he became something else.

Hunger.

Always hunger.

His slick body wriggled through a river of muddy slop, seeking out noises in the utter dark. He couldn't see, for he had no eyes. But sound shivered and shook all around him, pulsing like waves in the ocean. The small, muddy world beneath the surface was narrow and cramped until it reached the deeper parts, where the wet ran free and pools collected in the tight confines of sloppy stone. Crawl-fish darted, here and there, too many legs, too fast; but he was smarter, quieter. Patient.

Snap! Snap!

Crawl-fish in his belly. Hunger happy, for now. But still, the hunt continued, because the hunger always came back.

Many crawl-fish later, he was in the underneath, where he fought against currents and sluicing muck. There he sensed a big crawl-fish. A huge one, made of something...hard, and shiny. He could not tell how he heard the shine, just that it pushed against his senses, a hundred crawl-fish legs waving in the wet.

Shiny and big and...and old. So old.

Too old. Too big. Too strong. The crawl-fish grabbed his brothers and sisters who swam among the muck, breaking them, snapping them.

Stealing them.

He swam. Swam fast and far. Into the upper dark, out of the wet beneath. Up. Up. Into the sky rock.

Where he will be safe from the Lost.

Felix snapped back to himself, more gently than usual, but with the same disconcerting sense of dislocation. It took him several long moments to reorient to his own senses, especially the confusing jumble of light and Mana that was his sight.

Ooofa. Wish that would improve faster. Felix shook his head, which only resulted in more spinning. Instead he closed his eyes and took deep breaths for thirty seconds. Slowly, everything settled.

Lessons of the Past is level 14!

That was about what I could expect from the Ofrenok. Slimy bastards. Felix felt a ripple of disgust spread from his neck, still able to perfectly envision the scaly, slimy body he had inhabited during the Memory. And what did I learn? Ofrenok eat crawl-fish, which are nightmarish fish/crab hybrids, and something was eating them. No, wait. Stealing them. Ugh. Why?

Felix sighed. Another mention of the Lost. First the Orit, then Vvim, now some nameless Ofrenok. A Memory rose to his attention, a stray thought tugged upon by the word "Lost." It was dim for a moment, before Felix's Born Trait drew sudden clarity.

The Copse Grub, that's right! It experienced something it called the Lost too. Broken. Unmade. Felix pondered. I know its not talking about me.

He shrugged. Who knew how many "Lost" races there were? It wasn't important at the moment, but he made sure to file it away at the top of his questions. What was more immediately concerning was that Felix had not garnered a single Skill from the Memory. Not even a hint of one.

Is mud swimming a Skill? He chuckled to himself. Would I want it if it was?

So that was a bust. His first time garnering a Memory without any Skill use within it. His Gourmand Title didn't activate, so digesting the Mana was also fruitless.

Oh well. Move on. Don't dwell. He tipped the next vial up, gagging as the Ofrehulk blood poured past his tongue. It was thick and sour and black as pitch. He gulped audibly, and screwed up his face in disgust.

Then, again, the world stretched...then rippled, flinging him into the void.

Two hours later, Felix laid on his bedroll contemplating the ceiling.

Well, to be clear, he was laying above his bedroll. Then, with a puff and thump, Felix fell six inches down onto his back.

"OOF!"

Felix felt the breath rush out of him as he hit the hard ground, but he tried to turn it into a quiet wheeze. It was late, and his allies were well and truly asleep. The room was extremely dark, the fire having given up the ghost, though of course that didn't matter to him. The glow of ambient Mana all around was enough, not including the dissipating Mana of his Cloudstep Skill.

Cloudstep is level 5!

Felix had been doing this for about fifteen minutes, each time pushing himself a little higher than before. Turned out, Cloudstep created a platform of Mana that could cushion him, and he could also make it large enough to hold his whole body. The Mana cost was prohibitive, but it was good to know that, were he to have truly outrageous Mana or regen, he could sleep in a comfortable magic hammock.

It's the little things. He sat up and rubbed his face, feeling the long day weigh on him. His Stamina was still ok, and his Mana would regenerate quickly, but Felix had been through a lot in the past twenty four hours. He was mentally exhausted, and like he admitted to Vvim, he was terrified.

Turning his thoughts away, he considered the Skill he had stolen from the Ofrehulk.

Relentless Charge (Uncommon), Level 1!

Lay waste to your enemies by engaging in the ancient art of running real fast into them! Temporarily increases speed and weight when charging in a straight line. Speed and weight increased moderately by Skill level, Stamina use decreases slightly by Skill level, Mana use decreases slightly by Skill level.

He hadn't gained any Memories from the behemoth, for which Felix was grateful. He imagined the experiences of the Ofrehulk to be limited at best. He was still flung into the void, but the whole of it collapsed before he even saw any time displaced strings of monsters. When he became aware of his own body again, his core had already finished digesting the creature's Mana.

The Skill was fueled by both Stamina and Mana, so he wouldn't be able to utilize it as much as his spells, but it was an interesting ability to have in the tank. Felix could imagine escaping an ambush by bashing through an enemy horde, or using it to get up close quickly. He hadn't tried it yet as the space in the tower was extremely limited, so he'd have to test it once they left in the morning.

Admittedly, this would be a lot easier if I had some sort of armor. Though it might be useful to train up Armored Skin and Pain Resistance even more. Felix winced at the thought. As normalized as the pain of combat was becoming, he didn't enjoy it. If only they had some spare armor or something, I could at least protect my chest. Maybe a helmet?

Felix let out a heavy sigh and closed his Skills again. He returned to contemplating the ceiling; the fall had interrupted his thoughts. It was vaulted, which he hadn't bothered to notice before. Delicately designed stone braces arced across like the ribs of some creature, and between them were small hexagonal tiles, almost like scales.

The tiles on the ground are five sided, and the ones on the roof are six. Does that mean anything?The Nymean Temple had six sided tiles on the ground, he recalled. Here there are five. Does that indicate some sort of...subservient status?The way Vvim had spoken of the Nym was almost reverent.

Or am I drawing connections that aren't there?

Perhaps the architecture here was just meant to baffle everyone, he grumbled to himself. It was baffling to him, at the very least. He still hadn't been able to find the hidden door, and a trip up the original staircase only let him to an open area where wind and rain had damaged much of the architecture. No stairs went further up.

How did I get up there? Was it Vvim? The little creature said the Tower belonged to them, the Geist. Felix went over the conversation in his head again, reliving it, picking out bits the Geist said...and didn't say. They said they were old. Centuries old? They looked ancient, for sure. Their fur was white and thin, their face super wrinkly. But they were also powerful, crazy fast, and perceptive. How it watched them at all still eluded Felix, though he suspected the creature had some sort of spying or observation Skill.

Maybe Vvim can melt into the walls or something. He glanced at a nearby wall, solid and impervious in his Manasight, and scooted a few inches away. He knew so little about Vvim, the Geist, or even his companions currently. As the night went on and the dark pressed in closer, Felix felt adrift, just a little.

So many things could go wrong tomorrow. The Guilders are skilled and powerful, and I feel like I can hold my own for at least a little while. But the 'what ifs' concern me. The giants could return, the assassin could attack at the wrong moment, the prisoners could be too hurt to move. Felix felt inundated by the immensity of it all, and almost heard those whispering voices in the acid sea. They scraped against the ship of his mind, tipping it, scratching it, looking to drag him down again.

Felix's breath quickened. He knew he wasn't in that place anymore, but it still hit him like a punch in the dark. His blood felt thick and heavy, yet his pulse raced a thousand miles per hour, and he squeezed his fists so hard his tendons creaked. Haltingly, he re-imagined that castle, the fortress of high walls and impervious gates. His bastion. The water crashed against those walls but couldn't get in, the creatures lashed the stone but found no purchase. Slowly, he firmed his resolve, flaring his Willpower to push his terror away. Felix's mind steadied, solid ground rising beneath his feet, his bastion surrounding him. The scraping of beasts in the dark water receded, the voice of failure pushed down and away.

I can do this.

Then again, maybe I could train a little more...

Felix gave up on the idea before he so much as sat up. He was beat. He might need a few more Skill levels, but he needed sleep too. They had a scant few hours before the assault. Enough time to rest, prepare, and then go. No more training. No more time.

Was he strong enough?

He considered his stats, his Skills. Many were close to Apprentice Tier, which would likely grant him a big stat boost; but he still felt that reluctance in his gut toward using the Iron Essences. It didn't make sense, but it was there, gnawing at him. Grunting and mentally shaking himself, Felix resolved to use them as it was pure stupidity otherwise. The way Harn and the others spoke of Tempering sounded like it was an all new echelon of strength; it should help him more than simply raising a few Skills to Apprentice Tier. His spells were closest to ranking up, he could almost feel it, so he planned to use his Wandering Spirit Essence Draught the moment he crossed the threshold.

Tomorrow they assaulted the giants. Tomorrow they would save the prisoners. Tomorrow they would win.

He closed his eyes, finally letting himself drift off.

In the cold, weeping fog, Illia prowled.

She had taken to following the various Risi patrols as they looped through the city ruins, each one moving stiffly yet untiringly across the large metropolitan area. As far as Illia could suss out, this ancient city was easily larger than Setoria, and undoubtedly filled with precious artifacts. It was enough that she was almost tempted to abandon her contract. Almost. But then, the fog occluded all and even if she had the Skills of a treasure hunter she'd need to be damn close to use it in all this murk.

So she shadowed them, the giants unable to see beyond the fog and her Cowl. Not that they even tried. Someone in camp was puppeting the warriors, moving them with magic strings. They could only stare ahead and report until their patrol ended.

Blood magic. Illia frowned. The Risi are dabbling in dark things indeed.

It did not change her mission however.

She had howled in rage when the Guilders had slipped once more from her grasp. Somehow she had lost them during their latest escape. Illia had known they were in the eastern portion of the city, but those damn wardstones hampered her senses. With the addition of the night-cursed fog, it was only blind luck and her Brightsense Body that let her see Harn slipping through the streets.

The man was fast enough for someone his size, but no match for Illia. She duplicated his pace, stride for stride, watching him scout the giant's encampment. Moreover, she observed him return east, back toward the tall towers that dominated the higher elevated portions of the city.

She had guessed at their plans, but now she knew for certain. They intended to mount a rescue.

Foolish. Even for two Silver Ranks, facing even two dozen of these giants would spell their end. She didn't know their timetable, but with the rate the prisoners were dying, she assumed they would do it soon. She was betting on today.

The sky was still dark as she paced along the crumbling roof top, and she felt herself flagging. The sun was a little over an hour from rising, and the Guilders could show up at any moment. Illia slugged back another cloudy potion and perked right up, feeling the effects immediately. The expensive things improved alertness and bumped up her Perception by 2% for four hours. They had the drawback of being addictive, but that was why she had brought a whole stack of them. They were indispensable on long watches.

Off in the distance, just at the edge of her new Perception, she saw the dull flash of steel armor and a faint, far off crunch.

The Shieldwitch and her charges were coming to her.

This time, she'd be ready.