Chương 21: -21- Horror Breaker

21 Calder-Still Stone Barrow The source of woe's frame shifted just enough to make the edges look frayed and each of his movements extend just a bit too long, trailing the memory of each motion. There was no doubt in Calder's mind that this thing was the taskmaster from the prisoners' paintings. Maybe not actually him or his soul, but at the very least something made in his image. He had managed to inflict enough suffering on this place for such a long time that his very legend carried through the ages.

Still here tormenting what were unquestionably souls forever trapped with him in this vile place. The taskmaster's form continued shifting, becoming more and more real with each step it took towards Calder. Shadows turned to cloth and then back to shadow and metal. The hints of skin danced across the apparition's features, showing a joyless scowl and callous grey eyes. Their gaze held for a moment, and the figure scoffed, unfurling a second lash of simmering mana.

Calder had no fucking clue if this thing was material, immaterial, or somewhere in between, almost like Dectus when he used Make material on himself. But one thing he could tell was that it could still wield skills, powerful ones. The coursing, weaponized mana shaped into lashes dripping from its grip were quickly heating the stone into sweltering redrivulets of molten rock. Calder's grasp of the beyond slowly trickled upwards while he pulled the bits of tranquility around himself in with his fingertips.

If the taskmaster felt like dramatically standing there making a show of himself, Calder wasn't going to rush him. The last of the tranquility around his feet disappeared. [Grasp of the beyond: 100/100] [Gaze of the Beyond 41/100] Calder gave an unkind smile towards his foe. The thing was tens of levels above him and wielding magical weapons. He also couldn't have asked for a much better matchup. Everything about his class would counter a spectral foe with whips.

The taskmaster snapped out his lash suddenly with no warning. It tore through the air far faster than Calder could react to, burning a line through his vision in the dark, and stopped abruptly half a stride in front of his face when Dectus intercepted the blow by simply sticking out his sword. It wrapped around the blade twice, and the ghost jerked hard, wrenching it from the specter's hand. Calder didn't waste the opportunity. He ran forward, consuming the distance between him and his enemy.

The source of woe snarled, trying to form another lash in its free hand while simultaneously flicking its remaining weapon straight at Calder. Calder ducked suddenly, but the blow still caught his shoulder. His world blossomed in pain; burning flesh and smoke stung his eyes. The pain had been brief but intense. A smoking hole big enough to almost put a fist in was punched clear through his cloak, nearly exposing bone in his arm. Alright, holy hells, don't get hit again... don't get hit again!!

The lash swirled around, looking to wrap around Calder just before he got within striking range. Out of pure instinct, he cast his hand out to ward off the blow and released a wave of tranquility, just managing to hold it under his control as it met the whip of fire. The effect was bizarre. Calder knew that tranquility and mana obviously didn't play nice together, considering his entire sanctuary was purged of mana. But the burning whip and the concentrated tranquility practically consumed each other.

Cracking embers met uncaring darkness, and they both winked out of sight. The top half of the lash sailed off into the distance, severed by the tranquility. Calder and the task master both had looks of shock on their faces at the occurrence. But one of them was now out of weapons, and the other was mid-charge with a greatsword. Dectus flared into existence beside Calder, dogging his shadows. Calder didn't try anything fancy he couldn't afford to miss.

He slowed just before they would have collided and whipped his sword across his body in a diagonal chop. The blade danced with motes of darkness as make material was used to ensure that no matter what plane this thing was on, it would feel the blow. Simultaneously, Dectus ducked under the taskmaster's arm, pivoting to his flank. The greatsword fell, hitting what felt like banded metal and shadows. It only dug a handspan into the taskmaster's side before stopping.

The blow was grievous; it leaked shadows and spectral light but was certainly not lethal. A shimmering blade suddenly punched through the taskmaster's hand from behind, dispelling the lash he had nearly summoned. Calder set his feet to pull the blade free, and the taskmaster moved in a way that shouldn't be possible; his form billowed around Calder's blade, closing the distance, and his hand lashed out with a backhand powerful enough to send Calder stumbling, his ears ringing.

The taskmaster advanced again, a clumsy but cataclysmic punch that trailed fire. Calder blocked with his sword, catching the fist on the sharp of the blade. It dug past knuckles nearly to the wrist, ruining the hand. But it didn't stop the intense flames. Calder's sword exploded in his grasp, shattering into thousands of pieces as the wear of combat and sudden temperature changes were finally too much for the hunk of metal. He looked at the handle and quarter-stride of the blade left in his hands with a deep sigh.

This isn't going well. Need to end this fast; if he gets the lashes out again, I'm probably dead. He glanced back up into a punch to the face that loosened teeth and sent him to the stone ground. The rest of his sword hilt shattered as it spiraled from his grasp. Dectus weaved above him, lunging in and out with short stabs to keep the foe at bay. Calder looked around for anything to use as a weapon. His eyes fell on a hunk of pure Darksteel the size of a prize pumpkin with a sharpened tip.

He scrabbled across the floor towards it just as orange light sizzled in the cavern again.

"Hurry, I don't know how much longer I can…" Dectus's warning was cut off in a flash of light as the Taskmaster scattered his form with a vicious wide swipe. Calder grabbed the Darksteel, grunting in surprise at the weight. He staggered to his feet, arms shaking slightly at the effort. The taskmaster looked at him holding the stone with both hands like some feral warrior and laughed soundlessly. [Grasp of the beyond: 24/100] [Gaze of the Beyond 40/100] Hope it's enough; if it's not, well...

I guess I had a good run... a fucking short one but a good one. Calder rushed straight at the monster the Darksteel held in one of his massive hands, trembling at the effort. His other hand extended forward. The taskmaster's eyes widened, and he swung forward. A line of fire and death stretched across the distance towards Calder. He met it head-on; a cloud of tranquility burst from his hand, warring with the certain death and canceling it out mid-swing.

He burst from the icy cloud, stone raised high overhead, and let a roar scream from his lips. Calder leaped, swinging the stone down point first straight onto the top of the source of woe. There was a deeply unsettling crunch as the rock pierced and crushed bones and flesh that weren't really there. He lodged it through the top of the specter's head all the way down to the shoulders. And then staggered sideways, his many wounds screaming at him for his effort.

[Grasp of the Beyond 0/100] [Gaze of the Beyond 40/100] The headless taskmaster stood still for one heartbeat, then two. The dark steel perched atopwhere its skull once was like a monument of evil. Then the creature scattered, shadows and ethereal whispers dripping free across the ground. Its form dissolved into naught more than a memory, and the stone fell to the floor with a fell clang. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Holy shit, I did it. That was…" Calder almost fell over again as a wave of essence unlike any he had felt before suffused his being. He thought he had felt power the first time he had experimented with the beyond. He was wrong. He could feel his sanctuary roiling, his soul nearly overflowing with sheer undirected potential. It took him a while to compose himself between the essence and the injuries; he was barely on his feet.

"Fuck… I hope Dectus is okay… I need to like… sit the hell down…" Calder simply forced his way into a nearby building, squeezing past the dark steel blocking the doorway, and slid down the wall into an exhausted heap once he was sure there weren't any enemies inside. He sat there in the darkness, listening to the whispers of the lost and watching the flitting spirits nearby while his wounds slowly clotted and his ringing head cleared. Enhanced defenses or not, he was fucked up.

Calder had burns traced across his torso and hands and bruises that might have broken bones beneath, and he could feel at least three teeth shift if he poked them with his tongue. Despite all that, he let out a gruff laugh that trailed into a cough and a weak "Ow. Shutting up." He had done it; he had beaten a foe so far above him it was miraculous. Sure, his class was basically purpose-built to counter that type of foe.

If a normal adventuring party had faced that thing, they would be in sizzling chunks after trying to cover the mage who would probably be the only one who could do appreciable damage. He wasn't going to let the matchup particulars take the success from him, and apparently the system wasn't either. A small notification flashed in his mind. He opened it up with wide eyes. Achievements were rare, outside the bounds of the leveling system and desperately sought after.

A bonus Skill or Talent just layered atop everything else you built your class into. And Calder was staring at one right now in disbelief. People tried lifetimes to recreate the conditions one required without succeeding. But his desperate dirty scramble for life and death in the darkness had earned him one. [Achievement Granted] [Horror Breaker] Armed or unarmed, either way you bring destruction and woe upon things that predate upon the mortal plane.

You have slain an immaterial entity over three times your own level using whatever means necessary. And have shown a consistent talent for doing so. Material or immaterial undead or spectral nothing within your reach is safe. You are not afraid of them its time they learned to be afraid of you. [Reward - Talent Granted] [Shadows Bane Aura] Your presence exuded danger and death to beings not of this world.

The severity and effect of the intimidating aura depend upon the power of relevant entities as well as your actions against the forces not of this world. This effect has a lesser but noticeable impact against living foes. [Passive Toggleable: Grasp of the beyond drain - low] Calder stared at the notification, his smile growing larger by the second. He slammed a fist against the cold stone.

"Yes! Get fucked, random horrors..." That is going to be amazing on any battlefield. If I can get strong enough to just end a fight with my presence… huh. I guess I'll need to keep grtioutiously killing the shit that isn't used to being killable to make it stronger though. What an odd wording for how the talent works… Meh, I was going to do that anyway, besides… Wait a damn minute, there is another fucking painting in here.

Calder sat forward; his eyes had finally adjusted to the dark enough that he could make out another of those desperate murals. And he was fascinated to see what it showed; he had always loved paintings, and especially after that fight he was oddly invested in this tale. It showed the figure from before the prisoner with glowing eyes walking among the sick and dying. He laid hands on those who could be saved and slit the throats of those who could not. It showed the slain's spirits hovering nearby thankfully.

Slowly they formed into a cloud over the heads of the workers. The next wall showed the workers digging deeper, uncovering a passage downwards in the center of their home. Then a battle: men and women fleeing deeper as their jailors pursued them. The yellow-eyed prisoner was taking up the rear and holding the way. The final wall was where the painting took an odd turn. It depicted a small figure, maybe a child, hiding in a cart, watching the others flee.

Then the moment they were out of sight, the yellow-eyed figure changed, shifting into this abstract drawing, a beast of yellow and red that the guards fled before. It pursued them like a tide to the edges of the pit before assuming the human guise once again and following its flock deeper into the earth. Great, so even the savior of this story is secretly some demon trying to lure everyone off to their deaths. Of course it is.

Calder wanted to think he had stumbled onto the origin story of the dungeon, but that would be a vain, foolish thought. Thousands of pieces of history and mysteries just like this had been recorded and brought to the surface over the years. There were theories—thousands of theories, in fact—over what had happened to the ancients that lived below the bluffs and sands along the coast.

But no true answers, and until some crazy bastard found the actual source of the dungeon and managed to survive, there probably would be none. Calder knew from stories he could trek downward for a month and not reach the bottom of this place. Many greater than him had tried over the years. Monsters in the third tier, entirely practiced parties of them had tried and been driven out and simply stated it wasn't worth it, that nothing but death and decay awaited below. That wasn't his problem, though.

Calder pulled himself to his feet and looked around; it had been a few hours, and he still hadn't seen Dectus. He still had the man's shattered sword at his side, so with a shrug he squeezed his way back out into the open and painfully made his way back and forth, piling the pure Darksteel up in front of a house. By the time he was done, he had a pile that was certainly more than even Bromwick needed. Calder reached into his pack and pulled out a magically reinforced bag.

It looked like a plain thing, just a massive burlap sack. But it wasn't; it was from the tombs used to haul and protect slabs of marble or other stone. Normally someone would put it around a stone and then onto a cart, but it was reinforced enough that it should survive being carried… hopefully… Calder started piling stone after stone into the sack. Grunting with effort each time he picked the bag up off the ground a few inches to make sure they settled evenly.

He got it about half full before the bag started stretching in an unhealthy way.

"Well damn..." He pulled out a few small stones until it seemed to be holding alright and then eyed the largest piece of pure dark steel that he had killed the source of woe with.

"Well, I guess I'm just carrying you, come here. With no sword on his back, he was able to roughly tie the large hunk along with one other across his back. He tied the sack off and then lifted it with a pained grunt, roughly heaving it over his other shoulder. He staggered under the weight; the stone beneath his feet even creaked a bit.

"Oh holy hells…" Calder put one foot in front of the other, maintaining steady, pained breaths as he started making his way back towards the lift. It only took one attempt to climb up with his cargo to realize he wasn't going to be able to do it. He lightened his load, climbed up, and lowered it the rest of the way to the floor. Then as slowly as he could, he laid the stone out evenly across the floor of the lift and began cranking. Whatever god had been watching from above showed Calder a great deal of mercy.

The lift creaked and Bent nearly sagging under its own weight with each stride upwards they went. Calder began turning the crank slower and slower until he was only inching upwards. Muttering a prayer with each stride. When they finally reached the top, he clamped the lock on the crank and began lightly tossing the rocks out of the lift, not wanting to press his luck.

He only carefully pulled himself off once all the smaller pieces were off, and he reached back to grab the big ones while standing on the blessed firm ground of the stone wall. It took him a few minutes to get his cargo situated again. He huffed as he lit a torch.

"Dectus, I hope you aren't dead; I could seriously use some help. I have no weapon, and I'm carting around enough rocks to shatter a normal man's skeleton." The only answer was the soft metal groaning of the lift as it drifted side to side. Alright, fuck it, onwards and out… unarmed… slightly maimed and without my questionably helpful teacher. Calder missed the slight shimmer of an armored figure behind him, just the hints of an age-old ghost reforming behind his charge.

Dectus wore an expression he would never willingly let Calder see. Astonishment. He may be a clumsy oaf in need of a decade of proper training. But the man the universe had handed him to train was practically a natural disaster of effortless violence. Buried under that kind gentle giant exterior, Dectus could feel it. He was forging a weapon like this kingdom had never seen before. Someone born for war, gifted the talents needed, and the mindset to not abuse it and most importantly.

He at least had a sense of adventure. Dectus wasn't sure how much longer he would have made it in the tombs before he lost the last tentative scraps of sanity he had been clinging to. He waited for Calder's grasp to trickle up slightly, just enough for him to draw on it. Then he whispered in his charge's ear.

"Calllderrr…you failed me…" Calder whirled, slamming himself into the wall under the shifting weight of his cargo.

"Dec... Dectus!?"

"You let me die… I will forever more haunt you…" Dectus trailed off dramatically, using the last of Calder's grasp for the prank with a smirk. Calder shifted his cargo and turned the hell back around.

"Such an asshole…" he muttered darkly, forging into the shadows.

"Glad you aren't dead, dead..." he finished begrudgingly.