Siren’s Cry [A LITRPG Adventure]

Chapter 39

A/N: And we're back folks! Sorry for the super long delay, and hate to say it but there will likely be another for the next week or so as my illness has returned TwT. Fortunately, I got this chapter done, and some good progress on another, so this delay shouldn't be NEARLY as long! Anyway, enough yapping, enjoy!

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By the time my vision returns, I'm acutely aware of my entire body feeling as though it has a severe sunburn and several large wounds that weren't there before Berith decided to self-destruct. Trying to move reveals more; several large chunks of stone pin me to the floor, and I can feel my wings broken in several places. My tail is fine, being even more armored than the rest of me, but my ribs are at least cracked, judging from the stabbing agony whenever I try to shift around. Groaning, I push back the pain and slowly push myself to my feet, cycling mana around to boost my strength as stone and crystal crumble to the ground around me. Blinking dust out of my eyes, I can see Keira standing nearby, where she had been frantically digging to try and free me.

Must have dodged the blast, Diving as it happened.

It's about now that I realize I can't hear a word she's saying, and my detached mind vaguely recognizes that I'm probably in shock, since the pain feels distant and my emotions are practically nonexistent. I quickly dig out a healing potion from my bag and chug it. The taste makes me almost gag, like overripe cherries and cough syrup, but it does its job. With a pop, I can hear again, and Keira's still yelling at me.

“-s not dead! Hurry, get your constructs up!”

Though I missed the first half of the sentence, I can infer. The Deceiver, despite the massive blow Berith must have dealt, is still alive. My mana golem thing reforms in front of me, and I quickly discard my now broken cutlass, the blade snapped in half and rune dim and dead. A new one condenses quickly, just a plain cutlass without runes or other ornamentation. A familiar hellish shriek heralds the Deceiver bursting from beneath another pile of rubble, the Court now reduced to little more than ash and ruined stone. The instant it comes into view, a bolt of nearly blinding mana comes from somewhere behind me, slamming into its face in a flash of blue. A hiss fills the hall, more annoyed than hurt from that attack, though it's not in good shape.

Large black burns cover nearly its entire body, left arm missing from the elbow down and molten white cracks spiderwebbing across its wooden skin. Half of its face is just… gone, revealing a writhing mass of dozens of eyes and what looks like rotting flesh, reaching out in tendrils and half-formed hands.

It rushes towards me, obviously much slower than before but still unbelievably quick. My golem readies its weapons as Keira mirrors it, but to both of our shock the Deceiver sprints straight past us, easily dodging my awkward, startled swing. I'm fast enough to turn around, seeing that Angelina is charging another shot from the collapsed doorway. Moonlight streams in the now missing roof, and for the first time I get a look at the world beyond.

It looks… fake.

It's like finding the edge of the map and seeing the skybox in an RPG. It looks normal, sure, but there's just that artificial edge to everything; colors are just a bit too vibrant or dim, shapes have more hard edges than natural curves, etc. For some reason, my pain- and shock-addled mind fixates on this for a moment; did the dungeon actually just recreate the day of the betrayals, or is there a full world out there?

That strange train of thought is quickly and violently derailed as the Deceiver reaches Angelina just as her rifle fires again. The bolt hits the exposed flesh, eliciting a screech of pain, but a flash of claws later and the gun crumples into shiny scrap metal. I push my golem to go, to defend the strange skeleton that I've barely known for a few days, and I see Keira also is fading into her shadow, already on her way there as well. I flood my body with mana, speed and strength increasing dramatically as I outpace my golem almost immediately.

We won't make it.

That's the thought that runs through my head, that breaks through the numbness of being hit with the holy equivalent of a nuke earlier. The horror of what's happening and the pain of my partially healed injuries returns in full force, like a blanket has been pulled away. Between the rubble making footing treacherous, the limited speed I can push my golem or myself to go, and Keira still being far lower level than either me or the Deceiver, none of us can reach Angelina in time.

I watch as those ivory claws split the rifle into four parts, and continue on to do the same for Angelina's torso. Cloth shreds, bandages and shirt tearing away to reveal aged bone beneath that splinters into marrow and shards. Blue pinprick eyes flicker and dim, bones collapse as whatever force bound them dissipates into the ether. The odd undead I had started to think of as maybe a friend clatters to the ground in so many pieces, now nothing more than broken bones and tattered cloth. The Deceiver smiles, wounds slowly closing over from the levels it likely gained from killing my friend.

I see red.

[Siren's Cry] is flooded with mana, my scream of blinding rage a physical force as rubble blasts away from me in a wave. A spark of power, and every shadow in the room responds to my will. Nesuskape twists and warps, gleaming scales becoming smooth silk. Silver edging takes on a sharper tone, shifting into whirling designs reminiscent of tentacles and eyes. I barely notice when a system screen flickers and glitches into existence, the normally bright blue screen replaced by a dead gray with white text.

/===÷===\

Svezether'athoth, Banished Primordial of Grief, is observing you.

Svezether'athoth grants you their blessing.

Nesuskape has evolved.

Rare—>Epic

Shifting Shades has evolved into Call The Void.

Call The Void: Bring forth a remnant of the Banished One, animating nearby shadows with their essence.

Trait Gained: Lesser Blessing of Grief

Effects: Grants alternate skill evolution options. Unlocks alternate classes.

The Banished One awaits your call.

\===÷===/

Countless eyes open in the shadows, Keira flickering back into view as she's forced from her skill. A surge of pressure slams down onto the ruined council chamber, focused on the Deceiver as the air visibly warps. All of the shadows lift from their spots, dozens of inky black tendrils lashing out and grabbing the wooden demon in front of me. For the first time, its smile breaks into an expression of absolute horror.

“NO! HoW?”

I don't grace it with a response, a katana forming in my grip as runes sear themselves into existence along its blade. Something whispers to me, guiding my hand as I forge sigils never meant to be seen by mortal eyes, the blade taking on the silver sheen of freshly quenched steel even as orange cracks splinter across the surface. The guard forms, a pair of tentacles twining together to form the small disc. Black leather wraps the hilt, a pattern of eyes forming on the grip. How I'm making this from mana, I'm not entirely sure, but at the moment it doesn't matter to me. All that matters is I have a blade, the Deceiver has a head, and I intend to rectify that.

The distinct pale gold of divine mana coats the edge of the blade, leaving a faint afterimage as I step forward and slash.

The blade slips through the Deceiver's neck, its panicked expression morphing into one of agony as the gold shifts off of the blade, light eating away at its flesh. The sword vanishes in a blink, exhaustion settling over me as my empty mana stores and the exertion of the prolonged fight take their toll. The Deceiver falls, flesh burning to ashes as I collapse onto my back.

The shadows retreat to their proper positions, my vision dimming as Keira rushes over to me, mouthing something that I can't hear. The last thing I see as I pass out for the second time today is a series of system windows flashing into existence before everything goes dark.