Chương 38

Inside the Rift, Kirk sucked in a long breath. All the small noises of humanity- their gossiping and coughs and laughter and snorts- vanished. He stood on the slope, just below the indigo mist layer, with the main sound being the wind. His Bestial Senses I unfolded, cramped after so long surrounded by noise.

"The world is complicated," Kirk muttered.

"Sometimes, the Rift is easier." Shaking off his uneasy feelings about humanity, he looked around. Because the low roar of the wind rose. The energy was even denser than he remembered. Even Kirk could feel that something was building in the Rift. His first goal finding a location to set up a base. Despite being currently encumbered with both his pack and the saber, he crept through the surrounding cracked ground. Kirk wanted to hone himself and improve feats on this stint in the Rift.

Test the limits of that energy core the Ancient Bladed Beast had devoured. Which meant danger. Which meant remaining down here; as the geo-3s concentrated, they wandered shorter distances from the bottom of the slope. If he went up a mist layer, it would be almost impossible to find any enemies. Of course, Kirk grinned to himself as he stepped across a deep crack. At this layer, geos come in larger. And every day, the groups become larger.

This layer was darker, more crowded with stone, but also with fewer large openings in the ground. Rather than any geological formations, this area had been thoroughly scarred by impacts and combat. As he moved, Kirk wondered if geo-4s used to be more common. Eventually, Kirk tensed in the shadow of a small boulder. Nearby, his senses caught the familiar scrape of claws on stone. With no better options, he eased his pack onto the ground and rolled his shoulders. His fingers tightened on his Larian Saber.

He moved forward, peeking around the base of the boulder. To Kirk's delight, three geo-3s skulked around, rubbing the noses of their eyeless heads into the ground. From the blood-stained stones, not long ago this had been the sight of a battle. But for now- What's important is the second cut, Kirk tightened his fingers around the hilt of the weapon. I need to recover between strikes. Pay attention to the balance, don't rush. Once two are down, the last is simple.

Kirk remained still, following the instincts of his Ancient Bladed Beast. Gradually, after the geos confirmed the scent of blood was stale, they wandered in his direction. Kirk's breaths were slow and deep. When the first geo stepped in front of him, he was ready. He chopped, already adjusting, so he could spring into his second attack- The Larian Saber hacked through the geo-3, but even as Kirk ripped the weapon out and prepared to pounce at the nearest foe, he realized something was wrong.

He had cut off the back legs of that geo, but he hadn't killed it. His first strike had been off. Shrieking in pain, that geo flailed out, aiming at Kirk's legs. He hopped lightly over that attack, but that gave the other geos a chance. The first came for his chest. Kirk roared and slammed the flat of the blade into its head. It knocked the geo back, but Kirk staggered-- he had grown much stronger than an average person, but he still couldn't overpower each monster. As he regained his balance, he looked up.

A claw was only a few inches from his eye. His pupils dilated. His Archetype rumbled. Don't flinch. Kirk didn't. He leaned forward into the blow. So instead of a claw raking across his face, he headbutted the chest of a geo, and then was slammed backward as its weight overpowered him. His neck hurt something fierce as Kirk hit the ground, but he shoved the geo off him. He still had a hold of the saber, so he rose with narrowed eyes.

"You first. One chop." He slashed sideways. His shoulders groaned in pain, but as it tried to stand, the geo was bisected. He pivoted around. The second, uninjured geo was rushing toward him.

"At a." Kirk's thighs and abs ached bringing the weight of the saber around, but he leveled the point at the monster. It impaled itself, scratching and wounding its front right leg. As it collapsed, Kirk raised the saber and chopped down. Another geo dead.

"Time." With blazing eyes, Kirk loomed over the geo with its back legs hacked. It growled at him and Kirk drove the saber through its head. As the last geo died, Kirk sagged. He didn't drop the Larian Saber; he respected the weapon too much for that. But it almost fell out of his trembling fingers as he leaned it against a nearby stone boulder. He sat down and took several deep breaths.

"Note to self: first, finish the cut." Kirk sighed. He shook his head, feeling foolish. But he had survived and grown. He checked his copper band. Your Feat Brush with Death has gained a ✷! Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Your Feat Larian Wielder has gained a ✷! Kirk rubbed his cheeks. Yes, that was close. As the shakes from his overstrained arms died away, he pulled out his knife. He cut and extracted three cores.

Then, with a groan, he picked the Larian Saber back up, found his pack, allowed himself a moment to drink some water, and continued. The blood would draw more geos and he needed time to recover. Kirk settled between two boulders. They didn't provide any cover from upslope, but they had just enough of an opening for Kirk to see downslope. For a base in this layer, it would have to do. He settled into a cycle. He would close his eyes, meditate, and absorb the energy from the environment.

When he had reached full capacity, he practiced Rune pronunciations. He started with Flash. He hadn't had much cause to use it, geo-3s weren't visual, but the unfamiliar syllables gave him more to consider. When that was done, he went hunting. After his first experience on this trip, he kept his focus on the initial strike. Better to confidently put down one geo than to possibly put down two. His attempts were successful. He found geos, mostly in groups of four.

But when he found five, Kirk didn't bother with sporting engagement. He relied heavily on Ember I to thin the numbers and then chopped down the remnants. Occasionally, Kirk would pause and raise his head. A few hours after he entered the Rift, he often heard the patter of leather on stone and hushed voices. By the next day, the sounds had intensified; by now, a constant parade of Conduits seemed to be rushing deeper into the Rift. Kirk grimaced, torn between two impulses.

Especially when he heard shouts and explosions. He wanted to help. But right now? He needed to hone his own edge. The sounds of combat became commonplace, almost as loud as the ever-present wind. He hoped the noises he heard weren't too disastrous of engagements. He shaped Runes. He fought geos. Gradually, his Feats improved. Your Feat One Strike Kill has gained a ✷! … Your Feat Brawler has gained a ✷! … Your Feat Larian Wielder has gained a ✷! … Your Feat Solo Kills has gained a ✷!

The Feats were important-- they would allow Kirk to make the next Ascension. But they were just descriptive; having more Feats didn't actually make Kirk stronger. As Kirk crouched and steadied his breathing after another clash with geos, his Ancient Bladed Beast manifested next to him. It didn't bother to look at Kirk at all with its bright eyes- its attention was better served licking blood from its gleaming silver claws. Kirk showed its teeth to the misty slope. I can reliably cast Runes, even while fighting.

I'm learning how to manage my weapon. When the geos lash at me, I don't flinch. After almost 48 hours within the Rift, Kirk prepared to depart. He had improved immensely in execution. And most of all, he would be returning with only a few small scratches; even Healer Michaels wouldn't be able to complain. Kirk's smile faded somewhat. But how has Michaels been alright? All the fighting… Shaking his head, Kirk looked at his information.

Name: Kirkland Albion Archetype: Glimmer Mage (I) -Runes: Ember I, Flash -Manifestations: Runic Battery II, Vengeful Ember I [4/10] -Ascension: Cultivation (Greater Fire 0/1) Archetype: Ancient Bladed Beast (I) -Runes: Tenacity I -Manifestations: Bestial Senses I, Bestial Strength I [3/6] -Ascension: Death Eating (101/500), Greater Hunt (0/1) Feats: -Finality's Admiration ✷✷✷ -One Strike Kill ✷✷✷✷ -Solo Kills ✷✷✷✷ -Alien Taste ✷✷ Alien Moon ✷✷ -Runic Castor ✷✷✷✷ -Larian Wielder ✷✷✷✷ -Brush with Death ✷✷✷ -Strength ✷ -Brawler ✷✷✷ -Tough Body ✷ -Quick Chanting ✷✷!

-Quick Reactions ✷ Not only had Kirk hunted enough geos to get one-fifth of the way to his next Ascension, but the number of stars had grown to a ridiculous 34. He had two Archetypes, and going to Tier II, a Refinement for both would require 8. Already, he had 3 Refinements prepared for each.

But the going gets harder from here. Kirk thought. Still… I'm moving in the right direction. Like this, I can make the world a fairer place. He grinned and headed toward the exit of the Rift. When Kirk entered the Healing area, his cheery smile fell off his face. He sprinted the last stretch, past the long line of wounded, toward the palettes. All were filled. Several grim-faced and unfamiliar Conduits hovered around. Kirk heard a Troop Leader demanding an attendant treated their comrade first.

The harried healer's attendants allowed Kirk to pass. Inside the Healer's tent, he found Michaels drinking from a mug and looking like he hadn't slept in a week.

"You are drinking tea?" Kirk sputtered.

"They are imbeciles," Michaels spat to the side.

"That head-fucked Inspector has been crowing about our Silver Ranked treasure, all the way from here to the Duchy. It has every Conduit north of the capital frothing at the mouth. Despite the danger, several are desperate enough to poke the hornet's nest. Then they blame me when they almost die-" Michaels leaned forward and devolved into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he took another sip of tea and grimaced.

"Wound me sideways, and what a time for that shit Ralph to abscond. The rest of these whelps aren't nearly as good at telling a Conduit no, and being taken seriously. Then I bleed myself dry trying to save them. Who's the real imbecile, I suppose."

"Take my energy," Kirk said.

"Your energy? What a relief!" Michaels blew a raspberry with his lips.

"When all my patients die, at least I won't be physically miserable from a deprived Archetype. You'll notice no Healers have run here- most have cushy existences. No need to wade into this muck." Kirk considered for a moment.

"Why don't the teams volunteer their energy?"

"Most fled from the Rift, barely stable themselves." Michaels shook his head.

"But also, that's the way of the world, isn't it? Even if they could do something about a problem, it's easier just to blame someone else. Me, for failing in my job."

"That's-" Kirk clenched his jaw.

"That's life." The Healer shrugged and forced himself to his feet.

"Now let's give you a taste of the hell I've lived with for the last day. Heh. Make sure you suffer audibly. It helps me cope."