Anamnesis: Queen of the Apocalypse - Chapter 17

When the swaying leaves in the air disappear into the tolls of clashing bells, it is a profoundly empty night. Uneventfully, everyone who knows the answer is washed away to the stars, sleeping.

A single faint light from afar appears into the frame, little by little the shiny orbs ascend towards the sky and reddening, revealing a towering titan with a mass of glowing red muscles.

Evening comes with no peace to bring, you pack all the ammunition and tools into your giant backpack as much as you can. The body becomes heavy, then freezes. You’re engulfed by the pressure and lose your vision in the haze of panic.

You look into the red eyes and you see the face of the titan, the face that embodies anger and bloodlust.

Fear, your mental barricade has decayed once again. It is the time to chant the magic spell if you ever need it, but it’s not the end yet; you only have one chance and the night is still young.

You bite your lower lip and sprint as fast as you can into the forest, trekking into the nature course of razor once again with your adrenaline as the insurance. With both hands on a microgun, you venture as far as you can until the surrounding change and the red sky dyes itself into blue. The moon has gone back to normal, there are many luminescence particles swaying around the forest left and right, as if it had wandered the land with nothing left to discover.

It feels like you’re in another world.

The adrenaline dissipates, leaving fatigue and emptiness into your tired mind.

“Where am I?” Leaves through your lips.

A total 180° change. The night is no longer hateful and unnerving, it is somber and empty now.

Feeding your curiosity, those two little legs of yours have decided to expand its footprint into the unknown land.

“Whoa.” The scenery is reflected on your eyes, glowing mushrooms and the borderline of an iridescent flower field comes into frame. Huge wafting orbs are inhibiting the sacred land, they release glowing substances periodically while illuminating the night.

You feel a gush of mana being converted the very moment you step into the wonderland. The Chrolings do the majority of the conversion while you are surrounded by many warm lights. A comfortable spastic light specs brighter than the bluest sky as it begins to dance around and clouds your senses.

Massive amounts of mana is still surging continuously, to the point that the Chrolings needs to renovate the content of your mana sea to use this benefit to its fullest.

Still in the euphoric state, you walk forward unconsciously in a hazy and numbing feel. You unstrap your backpack unconsciously and your microgun is barely dangling from your loose grip. Each step stimulates the growth of the mana conversion even more. You couldn’t tell on how long you’ve been walking in this eternal plane; your consciousness getting clearer when your eyes stare into a huge mirror, your reflection.

The brooding tired abyss-blue eyes, the pale porcelain-white skin, and your silky straight bluish silver hair, and the little palm you reach out into the other side—mesmerized.

The reason why you’re feeling attracted to the mirror is still a mystery, but you will know soon enough.

It smiles. Your reflection, it smiles.

The eyes and hair redden to those of the Killer Dusk sky. A familiar feeling, the shackling sense of dread.

“You look afraid, has your barricade decayed?” An eloquent and soft speech escapes from the figure’s lips behind the reflection sentiently, her palm pushes further into the mirror and cracks. The mirror corrodes in blue hues, exuding a bright light on its edge before saying farewell into the sky as glowy dust, leaving the eldritch horror behind. She grins, revealing sharp teeth—then taking your hanging hand and the other and putting them together. The microgun falls, you’re in your most vulnerable state.

She shoves her face into yours, truly speaking eye to eye. Both of your lips almost touch, the skin is cold but soft. She then retracts from you as her expression enlivens, “You look promising.”

Her grip on both of your hands is getting tighter. The pressure is escalating to the level of bone-crushing, crippling your palm into a dried flower. Sharp pain runs through your whole body, ten times the amount on the mind. You were almost knocked unconscious and just when you thought that it couldn’t get any worse, she single handedly pulls your wrists with fragmented bones and hurls you into the sky diagonally.

Your blood gushes up from the bottom to the brain, sending agony into every inch of your being. The Chrolings are doing their job of automating the formation for enhancing the natural healing process from your mana sea, barely forcing you to stay conscious as the Chrolings deem the situation on the body owner is too risky to pass away yet with a life-threatening threat nearby. A double-edged coping mechanism to push the owner further by letting them feel every anguish.

3 seconds before impact—you feel someone is grabbing the back of your head. The Chrolings are now extending their own conscious thread, weaving through your whole body ins and outs until they clash with the talisman hanging from your neck, they immediately analyze the mana circuit, revealing it to be a forcefield formation. Without any seconds wasted, they immediately activate the circuit, 1000% overclock!

2 seconds before impact—clash, in a flash, your doppelganger destroys your defensive barrier the moment the forcefield touches her to shove away her grips as she nullifies the mana circuit with only a mere glance. Your talisman shatters, leaving an empty husk hanging from your neck.

The moment before impact, your consciousness is fully rebooted right when the ground is only a finger-length before colliding with your face.