Chương 38: Chapter 36: Stalking Shadows and Shadowed Stalks

Stabbing his blade into the stalk with his right hand, he pulled himself up further. With his left, he reached up and took a handful of the rind, hearing a crunch as his fingers pressed deeper, the sap leaving a sticky residue; gingerly, he lifted himself up halfway, foot kicking into the trunk as well until it, too, had pierced a hold into the bark. When his foot had a grip, he lifted himself up fully, other leg coming up to do the exact same.

Like this, he climbed, its waxy outer layer just fragile enough to carve holds into, but sturdy enough that as long as he distributed his weight, it wouldn't drop him.

Higher and higher, he surprisingly found a trickle of energy entering his wellspring, offsetting a fraction of the cost to continue feeding Mycelaric Expanse; considering his current situation and checking how much energy he still had, he decided to cease feeding Mycelaric Expanse until he knew he was safe, just in case he needed the energy for himself.

Never looking down for fear of the vertigo he might feel, he instead glanced a few more times at the sky on the edge of his vision, whenever he was forced to stop and take a break and rest his muscles; it was during one of these breaks that he finally verified that the sky was darkening. He didn't believe for even a second that the nighttime would hold little more than darkness. The Underworld would never do something so mundane.

As the light faded, it soon became a struggle to discern the features of the stalk in front of him; he only let it slow him marginally, as there wasn't truly any significant change in the stalk. Relying on muscle memory, he just kept climbing. As the visibility dropped to nothing and he was left completely blind, he knew there was no moon or stars either to light up the night.

He felt a shiver crawl up his back, but it wasn't entirely from fear- the chill in the air sharply ticked down, tangibly cutting his throat as it went down; if he could see, he thought his breath would form mist. But still, the world was completely silent. Not able to stop himself any longer, he hoped that the darkness would reduce the vertigo as he finally glanced to the side and down, careful to keep hold as he checked if there was anything visible in the world.

A sea of stars, grounded from their sky Contrasting the pitch-black of everything else, there were several mirrors on the ground that led to bright worlds, providing the illusion that there were many speckles of light along the ground. While the sky was completely blank, the mirrors below illuminated a small area around them.

At first, he saw nothing unusual or unique about the brighter mirrors, just reflections that showed a world leading to somewhere else, but he was disabused of this notion when he faintly glimpsed many dark figures moving at the edge of the lights. And, strangely, the few times he was able to see them, they were sprinting full-tilt directly for the space beneath him, for the base of the stalk he now climbed.

His eyes went forward and he pushed himself to move faster, abusing his muscles and refusing to take a break any longer. He didn't go incautiously, understanding it would take just a single slip-up to fall to his doom, but he couldn't rest any longer. Despite there being no way to know for sure, he felt the monsters nipping at his ankles even now, and didn't believe they would care nearly as much as he did about falling to their deaths; if one grabbed his leg, it was over.

So he heaved himself, the trickle of energy ticking up for each second he did, for every grunt of exertion. He let his energy flow naturally, not keeping it chained in his chest, allowing it to massage his muscles as Onward Evermore did. He found that it didn't suppress pain, nor did it numb his exhaustion. He felt all the weight of his body, all the fear of it giving out, but his energy provided something perhaps more important- strength. Tangible strength.

As he pushed past his limit, he found that it rose, ever so slightly higher, just out of reach. The tension, the heaviness purveying him threatened to pull him down, but his personal energy filled him with just barely enough to keep going. On his own power, he was not babied. He was not removed from the experience; he continued to feel every agonizing second, each one tempering him further. But, as he continued to succeed, as he refused to give up, his will was made manifest.

He knew he could do one more handhold, pull himself up one more time, stab into the stalk just once more, and then do it all over again in the very next moment. He sought for the intangible tomorrow, never grasping it, but already there nonetheless. So long as he simply reached out, he would find the strength to do so again. And again. And a- His hand came up, meeting a flat surface, and he nearly lost balance as he was broken from his thoughts.

After a moment of panic, he finally realized he was at the leaf already. He'd climbed almost the entire thing.

'Just a little bit more,' he told himself,'If I can get on top of the roots, I'll have a place to make my stand.' His body screamed at him that this was enough, but he still carefully moved around the stalk, searching for the place where the leaf blocking his way ended, then wriggling through that opening into the last few feet before meeting the wall of tangling roots.

More carefully now, he couldn't just stab into these to climb, or he may very well sever this entire particular dandelion from the mass and send himself crashing. With a bit of difficulty, he was able to pull himself up and over, finding himself able to stand upright on the "Bottom" of the dandelion as its base was covered in roots. Yet, he felt his sword pushing against the roots, cutting through several, and hesitated.

'I can't fight here, if I swing it around too much, I'll snap them and be sent falling. I need to go up further, maybe to the room where I first woke up. THere, I'll at least have a clear place to stand.' So, weary of the edge of his Mushki feather and completely blind, he continued to fumble about in the dark, this time pulling himself through the dense foliage. He found that it was like a dense web, but less sticky.

Hairs brushed against his cheek, knots pulling him down in some places, but with some careful applications of his blade, he was able to keep moving forward, the springy nature forcing him to struggle, feeling like he was climbing up a swinging rope, while its interconnectedness at least gave him easy footholds to step on. The roots became denser, forcing him to slip through the cracks or slice out more often.

He found himself squeezed on all sides, the roots cutting into his muscles in multiple places where they overlapped and formed strong, thin hairs that wrapped around him; when he pulled to try and free himself, sometimes these hairs would snap, other times they would draw blood, forcing him to carefully cut through them with his feather.

Exhausted and focused as he was, he didn't even notice when the roots started to thin, their springy nature gradually subsiding into one more taut- these roots were not held in place by the interconnectedness of the others, but naturally pulled down by gravity. He struggled to find a place to grab onto, but his hands caught hold of a particularly thick vine, climbing up with much more ease for a distance, feeling triumphant as he made such quick progress.

When he hit another solid, veiny wall, he thought he'd finally reached the room, and searched for a while to find the opening- quickly giving up as he realized it'd almost certainly been healed over. As large as he dared to make it, he instead cut into the wall above him, pulling away a circular flap though not severing it entirely and crawling through, pulling the flap closed behind him to let the dandelions repair the wound faster.

He found himself upright on a smooth, springy surface, panting heavily, body threatening to give out. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. There was a slight curve to the floor below him, and as he reached out to test for the walls, finding none, it took him longer than it should've to piece together what'd happened, and where he was.

'I made it to the top. I missed the room, and made it all the way to the top.' Shaking like a baby deer, he wanted desperately to just fall over and go to sleep; after all, he'd needed to use a Mushki feather to get this high and cut through all the extra stuff. His reflections might've looked like they had one, but he absolutely doubted that every single one carried their own- that would just be overpowered, and the Underworld at the very least tried to be balanced.

With every magical thing having an upper limit, the most overpowered stuff came naturally from the Overworld. For the Underworld? Hell, it treated him as the same weight as Malric's silver scorpion- and maybe that was, in fact, why the stat was called "Weight." Just because something was magical and looked scary, didn't mean it was more powerful. Two things with the same stats would have the same quality of power, no matter how small or large, and even if some were more combat-oriented than others.

All of that was to say, the shadows couldn't just invent something like his Burgeoning Memorabilia, they couldn't just create them at the drop of a hat with nothing to give in return. It would be… unfair, for lack of a better term. So, couldn't he just sit and sleep here? He was probably safe.

'No' he said, going upright,'I'm not done until I say I am. If I drop now, I'll have done so because my reflections pushed me to the limit.' But what was he even supposed to do if they appeared? He couldn't see, but those at the bottom had found him easily despite being shrouded in darkness, meaning it wasn't the same for them. If only he had a light.

'My kingdom for a horse, I think I understand that quote just a bit better. All this magical energy and not even a hint of… light! How could I forget? My energy CAN produce light!' Quickly turning his eyes inward to see if he had enough to waste like that, he was taken aback at the monstrous power within him, a deep, yawning mass, rearing and eager.

'How long was I climbing?!' A question for later, he quickly drew out a thin strand of light, pushing it against the edge of his skin, and seeing the faint glow spark to life- but was quickly pulled apart the moment it left his body. Letting out a tsk, he knew it wouldn't be so easy. Had he ever maintained an external expression of energy?

'Yes, I've run it along the edge of my blade multiple times when facing off against other people, and that was easy to keep.' Indeed, trying again this time, he found his sword glowing in a swirl of green, golden light- though it was incredibly faint. When he'd sparked it on his skin, it flashed brightly outward, making the entire area visible for a dozen feet or more, but running the energy through his sword left only a candlelight's worth. It was stable, but dim, and flickering. It was enough.

His eyes slowly adjusted, giving him a better view of the space. He couldn't see far, but he could see, and verified that he was at the top of the ball, standing on the leaves while towering flowers extended off into the darkness overhead. Walking around, he sought out the best place he could to do battle, while also getting a feel for the terrain.

Much to his relief, the leaves were- almost intentionally- overlapping in many places, forming multiple stretches of stable ground where one could move about without fear of falling off or through any of them.

Considering the dandelions had woken him up before they "Landed," he could absolutely believe they'd intentionally overlapped themselves to create a shield of leaves too- after all, in order to kill a dandelion, you had to destroy them at the roots, and a protective coating over those more fragile parts would not be uncalled for. Thinking about how many he'd cut, he simply shook his head.

'I doubt my efforts were enough to leave a lasting impact on such a massive beast.' Standing center in the middle of a wide, green platform, his gaze panned about, constantly checking behind himself to be sure, or listening for any hint of a rustle. The deathly stillness of it all left his heart thumping. He swallowed, wetting his throat, and felt the pressure in his ears abate slightly, reminding him that he was high enough for the air to think his breath coming out deep and slightly ragged to compensate.

It wasn't only the oxygen that struggled to reach this high either, but everything. Around him, he found his Sensitivity less cluttered, able to discern the history and piece together some nearby noteworthy things. Closer to the ground, he knew there was dense history; Floor 1 was as old as time itself, and many, many things had walked it that low.

Some had gone high, but not nearly as much as close to the ground; it still left a partially obscuring fog to his Sensitivity, but he found it easier to filter out the excess, seeing the surroundings. Granting him one more way to search for enemies. Yet his Sensitivity, as well, found nothing. Never dropping his guard, he spent a long while adjusting, looking through and meticulously ticking off anything unimportant, even shutting out the emanations his dandelion ball threw out- loud as they were.

All while spinning in a circle, all while beating back the shadows caressing the edge of his eyes. With no way to tell time, he wasn't sure if ten minutes or half an hour had gone by when the first signs of change forebode the coming storm. The temperature dropped, and as he stepped down again, turning to search the dark, he heard the crunch under his boot as frost appeared on the top of the leaf.

Quiet world narrowing, his breathing fell away, leaving only the thumping of his heart, until that too went silent, every sense running at a taut frenzy, his nerves fraying against nothing. Until he spotted it- a shadow dancing at the edge of his flickering light, His entire body turned, lunging forward and slashing in a single motion. It leapt back, and despite the light passing near its chest, its inky form remained in absolute darkness- all but the eyes.

Exactly as tall as Aaron himself, two pricks of light upon its face stared levelly at him, absorbing them reflecting the glow. As it sank back into the shadows, the light emanating from its pupils gradually faded, blending with its surroundings once more and leaving it hidden. His lapse of judgment cost him. Soundlessly, he felt something behind him as his Sensitivity barely picked it up- though too late. Dodging to the side, icy claws raked at his skin, tearing at him with a frosty burn.

Having overextended, though, this one was too close to avoid the backswing of his blade, and he sliced through its shape, no resistance meeting him in the slightest as it was cleaved in half. Losing cohesion, its body broke apart, and he felt something light hit the ground, sending a vibration through the leaf- it'd dropped something, but he was immediately stopped from checking as another two rushed in, one on either side.

His gaze narrowed, and a rapid snap of his will sent a pulse of power outwards, meeting resistance at the burning cut in his back- it'd injected some of its energy into him, leaving him, and his was fighting to stave it off. The rest of it, though, hit his skin. Most bounced back inwards, but a significant portion was forced out, disintegrating into the air and releasing an exploding flash.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the last second, opening them as the wave of light started to weaken, leaving him unblinded but glimpsing further than his feather would've allowed. Around him, he quickly counted eight sets of eyes, the eyes of each bursting with a powerful light, all of them writhing in pain and clawing at their eyes- though he watched more bleed up from the ground between the leaves.

Worst, each obviously held a feather, or blade of some kind, that matched his in shape- he wouldn't have the advantage of reach. His arm shot out, snipping at the one closest to him and cutting through, breaking it apart. By the time he moved back to the other, it was already stumbling away, still clawing at the light emanating from its gradually dimming pinpoint eyes. Attempting to capitalize on its weakness, he rushed forward, but again, felt something sharp and cold enter his side.

The one that'd just arrived, that wasn't blind, stabbing through him. He felt its sword get stuck on his flesh, though, the energy coursing through him grabbing at and breaking it apart as best it could. Before the shadow could extricate itself, he'd cut it in half too. But its job was done- now injected with more contaminating energy, the escaped shadow had recovered, and he saw clearly as the last light in its eyes was suppressed and ejected, leaving it dark. It, and all others.

More moved in, and he swung out, beating them back with his glowing blade- but always a step behind. No matter how fast he turned, there was always one behind him. No matter how quick he responded, another nipped at the side he left unguarded. Circling him like wolves he found that, despite the significant stockpile he'd built up and how he was generating an endless stream even now, he was slowly being whittled down by their own energy attacking his.

If he let it purvey through him, he knew it would kill him like a venom, but they kept him on the backfoot, their icy energy piercing deep. He flashed out many more pulses, each time stunning all those attacking him and forcing the invasive power within him to curl back, but it was an uphill battle- the myriad draws on his energy would cut it down to nothing if he didn't do something. He needed a way to respond, a way to see them before the light illuminated their forms. A way to see behind him.

And, with the belated warning from Sensitivity, he knew where to find it- what he had to do. Each shadow held a distinct, near-silent signature to his Sensitivity. Never loud, but to his new sense, they weren't invisible, which was all he needed. What he was going to do might've been suicide, but there was no hope if the situation remained the same. He choked the light going to his blade, plunging the area into darkness.