I pulled myself through the wall-crack within the small-tunnel, safe at last. The war raging on in the mana-water cavern had fallen silent in my wake, the sounds muffled by the distance between us. Were I in better condition, I might still be there; it would have been nice to scavenge the dead Aridae. It would have been nice just to watch them die.
They deserved nothing less, for their insults towards the Great Core.
Instead, I coiled upon myself - wishing that I could die in their place. The rotting sickness of the rot-flesh bad-things, which I now knew were called Festering Rats, had already begun to set in. I had hoped that the change that occurred when it shifted states would have kept most of the effect at bay. Maybe it had.
It was difficult to tell.
As I thought, [Venom Resistance - Basic III] wasnt helping. Then again, it wasnt venom. The rot of Festering Rats was a poison of another kind.
I chewed on the tip of my tail, fighting the urge to vomit - what, though, I didnt know. There was nothing in my stomach. Not anymore. [The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail] pushed my wounds into that itching, tickling state of still-healing that it did. My stomach quieted slightly.
My mind, a little less.
Already, I could see the bad-dreams beginning. From my previous experience, I knew that they would start small. Little flashes of movent at the corner of my vision, making think that bad-things crawled at the spots that I couldnt quite see. Little bouts of paranoia, heightening those glimpses, building upon them. Before, I had been able to curl around the Great Core. I had been able to feel safe in its light.
Now, that option was gone.
Now, I had only myself.
I distracted myself with the flickerings of the thought-light, pushing my attention towards it.
Na: Paradox
Species: Snake, Ouroboros
Major Title: [The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail]
Minor Titles: [Minor Mana Core]
Innate Traits: [Venomous II]
Blooded Traits: None
Resistances: [Piercing Resistance - Basic II] [Venom Resistance - Basic III]
Level: 1
Trait Points: 1
Core Skills: [The Endless Cycle]
Lesser Core Skills: [Mana Manipulation II] [Mana Venom I]
Description: A nascent Ouroboros, symbol of the eternal.
It had changed slightly. In defeating the Infant Aridae, I had reached level 1. That was the sa as last ti around. I had also gone a fifth of the way towards receiving a Blooded Trait, whatever that ant. I had hoped that anything I consud would help that progress, but the thought-light taught that wasnt the case. Each type of bad-thing moved towards acquiring a different Blooded Trait.
I thought at the thought-light so more, pushing it towards a new idea. It was sothing that I had noticed last ti, but had forgotten about after being captured by the Aridae.
Available Trait Points: 1
Use Trait Points To Upgrade A Trait?
The choice was simple, being that I only had one trait. I tried to upgrade [Venomous II].
2 Trait Points Required For Upgrade of [Venomous II] to [Venomous III].
Upgrade Failed.
The choice wasnt so simple. I thought-guessed that the upgrade cost more because it was at a higher level. If I had been trying to increase [Venomous I], it might have worked. That thought-guess felt right.
I hissed, the exultant susurrations of my forked tongue pleasing to the ear. Not only had the Great Core gifted with great potential, but it had gifted with great intelligence as well. Surely no other creature could make the leaps in logic that I could. It was unthinkable. The bad-things were bad-things. They were dumb, stupid things made by disgusting, lesser Cores.
The Coreless were no different, with their nonsense babbling and jabbering.
I hissed proudly. It wouldnt be long before I showed them all the might of the Great Core. Not long at all.
A flash of movent at the corner of my eye pulled back from my plotting. There was nothing there.
I bit my tail again.
Sharp fangs pierced through scale-flesh. Blood welled from the wound, lightly coating the air with the scent-taste of ore-flesh. A mont later, it stopped, healed again.
The bad-dreams, on the other hand, didnt stop quite so easily.
Instead, they only got worse.
The Great Cores light shone down upon , showering with its wondrous glow. I basked in the light, letting the warmth soothe my trembling scales.
I started at the thought.
Why was I trembling? I couldnt ignore it, now that I had noticed it. I was shaking, as if enveloped in terror.
Sothing flashed in the corner of my eye. I turned, only to catch sothing else in the other direction. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, it stayed forever out of reach.
The light went out.
The Great Core left ; I was shrouded in darkness, unable to see what was in front of . The movent was still there, I was sure, hidden in the darkness that surrounded .
I could hear them.
I could hear the scuffling of many legs. I could hear the squeaking of many mouths. I could hear them co for .
For , alone.
Alone, because the Great Core had disappeared.
Its light was gone.
In the darkness that remained, the bad-things reigned. They warred in the shadows, misting the air with blood-scent. They stabbed and shrieked, they clawed and cawed.
I coiled upon myself, hoping that they wouldnt find .
Hoping that the Great Core would find , instead.
It never did.
It never ca.
But they did. They always did.
Fangs pierced my scale-flesh. Claws gouged furrows from what remained. Spikes stabbed my length, pinning to the ground. Threads wrapped around , holding tight.
I couldnt move.
I couldnt escape.
I couldnt breathe.
I could only pray.
The Great Core never ca.
I woke up to darkness. Not darkness in the physical sense; little bits of light filtered through the tiny wall-crack that connected my room to the small-tunnel outside. No, I woke up to the darkness of my mind.
The darkness of my fear. The fear of being abandoned, of being cast aside as a failed creation, of being bound in crimson-coated threads that I couldnt escape.
The bad-dreams were gone, but my little room was far from quiet. It was filled with the sigh of vibrating scale-flesh on stone.
I couldnt quiet the trembling.
I couldnt quiet the fear.
Eating the Festering Rat had been a mistake. Its effects had brought the bad-dreams. Its effects had forced to rember again.
Blooded Trait or not, I probably wouldnt be able to consu one again. I didnt want to face the bad-dreams. I didnt want to face my fears. I didnt want to feel abandoned.
I wasnt abandoned, I knew. In the end, the Great Core had brought back - but the scars on my mind had stayed. The niggling question that asked : would it bring back next ti? Or would it give up on , give up on its creation?
I didnt know.
I didnt want to find out.
The thought shad - as did the realization that my crusade against the Aridae wasnt entirely to enact holy vengeance for their insult towards the Great Core. In part, it was that. But there was more to it. It was to prove my worth, to both myself and the Great Core. It was to prove that I was worth saving. It was to prove that I hadnt been a mistake.
It was to punish the bad-things for my loss of certainty.
My tongue flicked outwards, slipping through the opening in my lips. The air tasted clean in the way that the World Dungeon rarely did. The scent of the Festering Rats had disappeared; they had probably run away from the mana-water cavern while I was lost in the bad-dreams. Even the blood-scent was faint, wafting slightly from the long-dried droplets that had run down my scale-flesh.
I gathered my courage; I gathered my faith.
I slipped through the wall-cracks.
There were still many more Aridae to consu.
There were still many more bad-dreams to defeat.
Reviews
All reviews (0)