Die. Respawn. Repeat. - Chapter 59: A Classic Interruption

We travel for half a day before we have to stop and take a break.

Not because I’m tired. Rotar’s pushed himself to the edge and beyond, and it’s when he starts panting loudly with his tongue hanging out of his mouth that I decide he’s had enough, and make us stop. I get him some of the water Mari so generously provided, then set up a nice bed of leaves for him to collapse into.

“We need to pace ourselves better,” I tell him out loud. I mostly just mean he needs to pace himself better, but I figure he won’t feel as bad if I say ‘we’. “We’ll get further faster if we pace ourselves. Push too hard and we’ll spend too much time resting.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Rotar looks down and away. “I just…”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to tell me.” I sigh, and sit myself next to the crow. “I can probably carry us both a good distance, if you don’t mind that.”

Rotar looks at me. “Are you that strong?”

“He wasn’t a few days ago!” Ahkelios replies cheerfully for me. I roll my eyes and agree, albeit with an exaggerated sigh.

“I guess the Interface is everything it claims to be, then,” Rotar says, sagging. “Wish I got picked.”

“No, you do not,” I say almost immediately, with a touch of ferocity in my voice that surprises even me. Rotar even flinches away slightly from me when I speak — though he steadies himself again.

“It’d make things easier,” he insists. “If I was like Naru…”

“If you were like Naru,” I say. “Would you be helping him, or helping the village?”

Rotar makes like he’s about to respond, and then falls silent as he actually considers the question. I wonder if he was around early enough that he met Naru before he was picked for the Trials.

In the silence, I make it a point to look around. We’ve made it a fair distance now from the Cliffside Crows, and everything here is… different. The forest is sparser here, with a little more space to see everything around me — not that I recognize anything regardless. The plants here are all unfamiliar to me, with the exception of one that looks a little bit like a giant venus fly trap.

I resolve not to step near that one.

“Ahkelios, can you keep a lookout?” I murmur to the mantis. He wordlessly hops up onto my head, saluting me with a single insect armblade, and I allow myself a small smile at his antics.

Then I close my eyes, and sink into myself.

The Void Inspiration has been surprisingly inactive. Even the one time it spoke, back when I was selecting a new Inspiration, it hasn’t tried to take me over. After the first moment where it hit me with the hunger, and I cowed it with my will, it hasn’t done anything.

Part of it, I think, is that it was sleeping. It feels a little like that now — dormant within me, waiting for something.

Waiting, I think, because I made it a promise.

Its sibling is not nearly so calm. The Accelerator flits around within me, always curious, always excited about every little thing; it would be distracting were it not only noticeable when I focus my attention inward. I haven’t experimented with the Void at all, and the Accelerator is new to me.

I consider that I might be afraid.

It’s not a conscious emotion. The Void to me strikes me as almost… childlike. Consumed by its hunger, yes, but also curious and eager to listen. It’s possible that others only fell to it because the sheer force of its hunger was able to overwhelm its users, but I haven’t felt any of those effects…

Yet, I remind myself. It does me no good to allow myself to become arrogant. I should take an opportunity to test both the Void and the Accelerator soon, to be sure that I can handle them when I need them — and at the thought, I almost swear the Void… shivers.

I narrow my eyes slightly, but I let it go. There’s not much I can do if it’s monitoring my thoughts, and if it’s planning something…

My thoughts trail off, and I glance around again.

It’s strange, now that I think about it, that everything is so silent. That the forest is so empty. There should be wildlife. There should be birds in the trees, insects chirping or flying into my face.

“Why is it so quiet?” I mutter, half to myself. The words capture Rotar’s attention anyway, and he sits up, looking around.

“That’s weird,” he says. There’s a lilt in his voice that makes the statement sound like a question. “There’s usually more animals around here. I remember getting attacked by a bear once.”

“A bear?” I repeat, a tinge of incredulity in my voice. “Is this a translation thing? This has to be a translation thing. You don’t have bears here.”

“Large mammals that can maul you half to death?” Rotar says. “Five eyes, hexapedal, enough Firmament in a claw to tear down a tree?”

“Okay, it’s a translation thing.” I shouldn’t be feeling relieved. This sounds much worse than bears. “Can we call them something else?”

“The village crows call them lightclaws. Because their claws glow when they’re preparing to strike, and because you can use the claws to light fires.”

I remember Tarin telling me about the Integrators’ use of Hestia for their Trial, and how the introduction of monsters into Hestia’s ecosystem has messed things up for them. Possibly permanently, now that I think about it. “Are they… an Integrator thing?”

“Oh, no. They’re a normal Hestian species.” Rotar frowns for a moment, thinking. “The claw thing might have come from the Integrators arriving and doing their thing, though. A lot of local species did change dramatically when Hestia was Integrated.”

Well, that doesn’t bode well for Earth. My mind flashes back to the mantis-monster and the harpy-monsters — both of those are clearly different from the other monsters I’ve encountered, like the Forest Slimes in the Hotspot or the Fractured Guardians in the Fracture.

But more importantly… there are no lightclaws here. And that worries me more than it should.

“Are you feeling better?” I ask abruptly. “We should probably get going.”

“Uh, sure,” Rotar says. He looks around a bit nervously, sensing something about my voice. “Something up?”

“I’ve learned that the absence of something can be as dangerous as the presence of something,” I say dryly. I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to—

Rotar stands up. The act of standing up saves him, because a fraction of a second later, an arrow thuds into the leaves, flying through where his head had been only a moment ago.

Alright. Now’s as good a time as any.

Accelerator. Quicken Mind.

I feel the Inspiration take hold, the buzzing presence within me suddenly expanding and gripping on to the skill that is Quicken Mind. I can almost immediately sense the dizzying Firmament strain as the Accelerator starts sucking up everything it can to power itself, and in turn, Quicken Mind speeds up… and up… and up.

The Void reacts, but in my Accelerated state, even its reaction is slow.

The problem now is that I can’t move nearly as fast as I can think. But that’s fine — I only need a moment to think. To trace back the arrow to where it was fired from.

There’s Firmament embedded in the arrow, but I hadn’t sensed any Firmament while we were walking, which in itself should have been a warning sign. Now that it’s been fired, I can sense a thin trail of leaking Firmament as it traveled through the air, though it’ll dissipate in an instant. That’s more than enough, though, because it draws a clear line for me to follow.

I’m worried about leaving Rotar alone. There’s no guarantee that whoever fired the arrow is the only assailant we have. I also can’t bring him with me, because at the speeds I’ll be going I’m worried I’ll snap his neck. Firmament skills don’t have nearly as many secondary protective effects as they should.

Okay. Plan of action.

Hexfold Shield.

Firmament drains out of me, and I see hexagonal panels unfold around Rotar, a thin barrier of blue Firmament. It drains me less than I’d expected it to — I suppose that’s the whole point of this particular skill. I use Hexfold Shield five more times, feeling the barrier strengthen as it reinforces itself with every additional burst of Firmament.

I have about half my Firmament left, still, even with Accelerator’s drain. It’s so much more to work with than I had before. I turn off the Accelerator, turn towards the line I traced back, and—

Warpstep. Warpstep. Warpstep.

I don’t know exactly where whoever attacked us is, but I need to disorient them so they can’t track me. I flicker towards the source of the arrow, tracing a zigzag pattern and gritting my teeth against the disorienting flash of imagery that bombards me with every teleport. I need to look around for long enough to secure a safe spot to teleport to, but I make sure I’m not looking where I intend to land.

I might be overthinking this, but considering whoever attacked us stayed perfectly hidden, and nearly killed Rotar…

There.

There’s a flash of white up in the trees. It’s well-hidden, so much so that I wouldn’t have spotted it if not for a telltale hint of Firmament. One moment, there’s nothing, and the next there’s just the slightest fragment as it’s nudged into an arrow.

And that’s enough for me.

Warpstep. Amplification Gauntlet.

Purple Firmament wraps itself around my fist, but I don’t give it time to finish forming before I send it crashing into whatever’s hiding in the trees. There’s a time for talking, and that time is long past when you start off by shooting an arrow at my friend — not in the least because, although I hate to admit it to myself, I’m afraid of losing this loop.

There’s a sharp crack. It doesn’t sound like bone. I feel my fist slam into something solid, throwing it out of tree and down into the open; I hop down after it, letting Tough Body absorb the impact and staring at my opponent.

I can’t tell who they are. They’re clad completely a strange metallic alloy that borders on ceramic-white; it’s made of segmented panels that conform perfectly to their body. They’re humanoid, I can say that much, but any features they might have are completely obscured by the helmet they’re wearing.

The panels expand and contract, almost like they’re breathing. Every time they contract, they reveal a thin stream of ominously black Firmament beneath, and it’s the only time I can sense any Firmament from the construct in front of me at all; when they close again, they’re completely dead to my Firmament senses.

What is this?

They’re standing still, one foot stepped half-back in a battle-ready stance. They’re… waiting for me? The bow they’re holding is broken in half — that’s the crack I heard earlier. Either they tried to block with the bow, or I just happened to punch them through the bow.

The armor looks… mostly clean. Untouched. I didn’t crack it, even with the Amplification Gauntlet.

Stay calm, I tell myself.

But for the first time since receiving it, I feel the Void Inspiration within me stirring.

And it is hungry.