Chương 88: Chapter 85: From the Fragments to the Aftermath

George walked to the brink of the portal and looked through. Everyone remained frozen in the same position they were in when the concepts stopped time. The walls climbed away from him in giant, tiered steps, forming a vast inverted pyramid. He saw Hollywood there, lumbering toward him, one leg lifted into the air. He saw Cassie's crumpled, bloody body on the far edge of the room. Max crouched against a wall, sheltering under his shield. Fragments from TLX's needle attack glinted in the air like metal raindrops.

One tier up, June and Loveland held each other in a pool of blood where Pine's sniper shot had passed cleanly through June's body. A patch of slime had gathered itself into a pillar near the wounded couple. Pine was somewhere up there in his sniper nest. George bent lower to look upward through the portal's opening and saw the shining sphere of TLX hovering high overhead.

He saw Grey, the young wizard, and Misco Narisco, the impassive woman who seemed to only rain rose petals, rising into the air on a platform of stone ripped from the ground. Tinntannabel, the faerie, had been frozen mid-leap as she ran up the tall tiers like they were normal stairs. The pit at the bottom of the room was full of the black gas from Sarala's murk nimbus attack. George could see the top of the crystal golem's body poking up out of the opaque smoke—impassive and unperturbed.

The gnacker was down in the smoke too, frozen in action as it twisted its head in an attempt to dislodge the vordigan clinging to its back. On the second tier, the voidling was just lifting its shadowy, reptilian head from Ezra's bloody body. It had one foot lifted in the air, turning away from the necromancer in search of other prey. George gestured and his ability orb appeared in his hand. <Ability Orb: Exit, Pursued By Bear: Create a new portal between this room and any room you have previously visited.

To create the portal, throw the ability orb at the place where you would like the portal to appear. > George threw the dolphin keychain onto the ground in front of him and transformed it into the jet ski. He sat down on it and activated his shield bracelet. He issued Writher a series of simple mental commands to be executed as soon as they went through the portal. The spider climbed higher onto his shoulder, poised to leap off. >>George.

"Yes, Nod?" >>You know I can't read your mind, right?

"Yes," George said. >>Well. >>When that potion hit your system, being on top of your brain was like riding a biochemical bronco. It was fun. Your pulse went through the roof and a ton of adrenaline dumped into your system. Your pupils dilated and, despite the hyperactivation of the rest of your system, your breathing slowed waaayyy down. >>All in all—from an outside observer's perspective—it seemed like you went for a wild ride. >>Your neurons were all in here doing jazz hands. What happened?

>>Did you figure out how to save Cassie?

"Yes," George said. >>Well, that's neat. >>So… >>What is the plan?

"We're going back to the Trial Nine," George said.

"With Cassie. Then, we are going to kill Hollywood." >>Mmmhmmm. >>I see the orb in your hand. And I see that shield activated. And you are already sitting on your jet ski like you were just going to ride through that portal in front of us without a strategy sesh with your trusty brain spider friend. >>Can I call a timeout? >>Can we have a little chat about this before we go back into the war zone? A chinwag? A palaver? A heart to heart? George tightened his grip on the jet ski's throttle and took a deep breath.

"You are Nod the Destroyer," George said.

"You'll figure it out." >>Holy shit. You are serious. Wow.

"Follow my lead," George said.

"First, the orb. Then, we get Cassie to the Trial Nine. Then, we get Max. Then, Hollywood. Got it?" >>Wait! Hang on—"No," George twisted the throttle and the jet ski accelerated through the portal. >>AHHHHH! [Unmanly scream] George found a roar rising from his own throat, too. The instant he exited the challenge room, time resumed its normal flow, along with a cacophony of sound. Entering: A Meal of My Sin's Marrow Danger Level: • Low: Act I • Low: Act II Room Description: I make room. To die room.

No powers, only tapering death. They feel all the death Kettering feels and choke on same fear. Naked together. Shock. Distance. Sorrow. Kettering will dwindle and be forgot but room will only eat and eat. Abilities: Deactivated [Combat Initiated] To everyone else, it would have looked as though George had transformed in an instant.

One moment he was flinching before Hollywood's monstrous form, and then, in a flicker, he reappeared transformed, encased in black armor and riding a sleek hover vehicle that launched forward into the room as if fired from a cannon. Without slowing, George threw the ability orb at Hollywood's enormous body. It struck his chest and activated.

George willed the orb to connect to the Trial Nine, and, instantly, there was a green flash of sparks that seemed to match the outline of Hollywood's body—and the monster vanished. A fifteen-foot tall vortex of green light burst open where Hollywood had stood. George caught a glimpse through it as he raced by—a hangar crowded with ships and stunned workers just starting to realize an angry Hollywood Cole had dropped into their midst. A notification came from his combat log.

[Ability Orb (June Dolora) Super Deluxe Wakey Wakey: Legendary-grade revival spell to cast on self or other player.] George braked Jellybean beside Cassie's crumpled body and dropped his shield. He slid his arms beneath her, lifting her gently under the arms. Her limbs hung slack, her head lolling as he pulled her onto the seat. With his upgraded strength, she felt light as a doll. He settled her across his knees, her feet hanging over one side of the jet ski. Blood was beginning to soak through her clothes.

He spun the Jellybean in a tight circle, gunned the throttle, and shot through the new portal to the Trial Nine. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Cassie and George emerged into a scene of chaos. Hollywood was roaring, and the technicians in the hangar bay were fleeing to the edges of the room, hiding behind crates of supplies and spaceships.

Entering Hunting Room: The Trial Nine Danger Level: • Medium: Act I • Extreme: Act II Room Description: A wandering superstructure older than any of its current occupants, the Trial Nine is a colossal starship that drifts between galaxies carrying out missions no one fully understands. Entire cities, biomes, ancient ruins, and civilizations exist within its vastness. All players eventually pass through the ship during their ninth trial, serving some role in its endless operations.

Over untold ages, the vessel has accumulated immense power, artifacts, factions, secrets, and dangers. Not even the captain—one of the most powerful figures in the game—is believed to understand the ship in its entirety. The moment George entered Trial Nine, his ability activated—free again after being suppressed in the previous room. Ability Notification! Threat Level 6 Knickknack Savant - Level 21 Time Dilation Maximum: x 400% Everything slowed down.

Hollywood's roars deepened in timbre, stretching into drawn-out echoes that filled the hangar bay. The sound warped around George, bending through the air with a heavy doppler effect. The fleeing forms of the hangar personnel slowed to a walk like the air had suddenly thickened around them. George and everything he touched were free from the slow time.

To an outside observer, they would have turned into a streak of motion that zipped between the spaceships scattered throughout the hangar toward the armory at the back. George blew through the entrance to the armory warehouse, briefly noting that Johnny had been replaced behind the warehouse counter by a faceless black robot bristling with arms, lights, and levers. The heightened mental state his ability brought on was different than the effects of the insight potion—yet similar.

The potion had made his mind into a supercomputer built to turn inputs into answers. His ability was more direct and more brutal. He became a creature of instinct—his consciousness stripped to motion and momentum. He did not analyze. He responded. The emotional parts of him were folded away and hushed to make space for a more primal version of himself. If the potion had made his attention a searchlight, his ability made it a blade. His movements were nearly prescient.

It didn't feel like he was reacting quickly; it felt like he was simply remembering the future. George drew the jet ski to a sudden stop inside the warehouse and deactivated his ability. He didn't know how he did it; he just did it. He didn't know it was possible until the moment he tried. He reentered the natural flow of time and raised his voice, shouting, "Lavender and Marcus. It's George! My friend is wounded and needs your help. Go to the healing aisle."

He reactivated his ability and throttled the jet ski forward, cutting it in a tight turn around the aisle he was looking for. This was one of the insights the potion had offered him when he'd been searching for a way to save Cassie. She needed healing, and there in his memory waited an entire aisle lined with healing tools gleaming on shelves.

The first time he'd walked into the warehouse, he'd scanned the aisles and seen it: a section tucked between Melee and Trial-Specific Items, glowing faintly as if waiting for this moment. The insight potion had merely aligned this detail with a handful of others in his mind—clicking them into place until the plan stood out in perfect clarity. George lifted Cassie's body off the jet ski and cradled her in his arms.

He scanned the shelves in the rejuvenation aisle—rows of potions, packaged foods, and strange goods marked with writing he couldn't read. Farther down, the items grew larger and more ominous: medical machines bristling with jointed arms, needles, and blades. Then, he saw what he was looking for. A handful of full-body pods jutted into the aisle. George carried Cassie to the nearest one. In slowed time, he scanned the buttons and screens. The pod rose to about hip height, its oval frame capped by a curved glass lid.

Shifting his grip on Cassie, he reached for the handle. The glass opened with a soft click and hinged back, revealing a well-lit, padded bed shaped to cradle a human body. He lowered Cassie into the pod. Blood streaked her arms, his hands, her torn clothing. He laid her gently inside, closed the lid with a soft click, and stepped back to study the control panel. George deactivated his ability again and time resumed its normal pace. The machine had turned on the moment the canopy opened.

When he closed it over Cassie's body, pale blue lines of light began to sweep over her form while streams of text scrolled across the display panel, cataloging her injuries. A pale mist started to fill the healing chamber, settling around her legs, her shoulders, and spilling over the tops of her arms. Inside the canopy, slender arms unfolded from hidden compartments and began to probe her wounds.

One arm pulsed a laser light at her leg and dissolved a patch of her uniform at the knee, exposing what looked like a crushed bone pushing through the skin. Shapes moved in the fog—mechanical silhouettes working with quiet, surgical precision. George shouted for Lavender and Marcus again, hoping they were somewhere in the warehouse. From the direction of the entrance to the warehouse came the sound of chaos. A bass howl reverberated through the aisles. A muted boom shook the floor and the shelves rattled.

A shrill alarm began to sound, strobing red light along the aisles. George tried to shut out the noise and focus on Cassie. He looked up just as Marcus came into view at the far end of the aisle, running straight for the healing pods. A moment later, Lavender dropped from the top shelf with a shout, drifting down beside him like a leaf on the air, wearing one of the slowfall belts she'd been wearing earlier.

"This is my friend, Cass—" George began, but Marcus moved past him and bent over the control panel. He tapped a series of commands and the display shifted from orange to blue. A jet of blue smoke sprayed over Cassie's face, mingling with the pale white mist but never quite blending. The vapor settled around her head and shoulders, lapping softly at her skin. Marcus studied the readings for a moment.

"The pod thinks she'll be okay," he said.

"What happened to her?"

"She was hurt by the same creature that's now in the hangar bay," George said.

"She's safe now. This thing is like… super good," Lavender said, patting the healing pod.

"So let's go kill whatever is making all those roaring sounds." She held up one of the lifter guns that they'd used to build their fort on top of the racks of supplies.

"I'll pick it up and bonk it against the ceiling a few times. You just shoot it with one of the guns in here."

"No," George said.

"You are going to stay here with Cassie. I need you to take care of her. I have an ability that will keep me safe and there is one more person I need to bring into the warehouse." Lavender had already opened her mouth to speak before George finished his sentence, "No way! It is on our turf!" She pushed her brother's arm to encourage him to back her up.

"Dad is already mad at us, Lavender," Marcus said. Lavender rolled her eyes. George saw a ninja star appear in her hand and then disappear.

"Do not leave the warehouse," George admonished them one more time and reactivated his ability. Jogging down the aisle, he reached the hovering jet ski, climbed aboard, and sped toward the entrance to the hangar. The room was a scene of chaos. Crew members and technicians crouched behind crates of supplies. The hangar contained several small starfighters—sleek craft with oversized engines, tapered cockpits, and long guns jutting from their wings.

The crew members with sidearms were beginning to form a defense against the rampaging, mutated Hollywood—but every volley only seemed to enrage him further. Streaks of green laser fire flickered through the air and fizzled out on his body. The blasts left shallow scorch marks that healed almost as fast as they appeared. [Propulsion Tech: Attacks Hollywood Cole with needlebeam pistol. Hollywood Cole: Negligible damage.] He throttled the jet ski toward the glowing portal that led back to the room where Sarala had set her ambush. When he reached the portal, he dismounted the jet ski and lifted his shield, holding it between himself and Hollywood's furious bulk. Then he stepped forward—one foot crossing the threshold of the portal so that half of him was in the inverted pyramid room and half still in the hangar. The portal between the two worlds shimmered, humming like a live wire and spitting sparks.

George leaned through the portal and took in the scene. Writher was clinging to the wall beside Max. Max was still crouched beneath the massive tower shield, the slab of metal angled against the crossfire from Pine and TLX above. George sent a mental command to Writher. Grab Max by both feet. The spider automaton threw itself from the wall and locked its limbs around Max's ankles. George raised his hand and fired a line from the lightrope toward Writher, then began to reel his son in.

Max's legs went rigid as his body scraped across the stone ground. His tower shield slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a heavy, metallic crash that echoed through the chamber. Max's oversized backpack dragged along behind him. Bracing himself, George pulled with all his stat-augmented strength and stepped backward through the portal. The light-rope bent around the glowing edge of the portal as if it were a physical corner. His ability seemed to extend to anything he touched, even through the rope.

Max was caught in George's flow of accelerated time. George cast draw on the jet ski and it floated toward him. He straddled it and gripped the handlebars with one hand, the other holding the rope that stretched back through the portal. As he eased the throttle open, the jet ski vibrated beneath him and he hauled Max's body feet first through the portal and across the floor of the hangar bay. He continued to reel the rope in and steered away from the rapidly escalating combat playing out around Hollywood.

Streaks of laser fire moved through the air above their heads. At the far end of the hangar, one of the enormous bay doors was grinding upward. Through the widening gap at the bottom of the door, George saw rows of armored boots—soldiers lining up in formation, waiting for their moment to join the fray. Behind him, Max was being dragged along by his feet, shouting and slapping at the ground.

When they passed through the threshold of the armory warehouse, George dismounted the jet ski and reeled the light rope in the rest of the way until Max lay at his feet. Writher released him and leapt back onto George's body, wrapping itself around his shoulders and waist in backpack mode. Only then that George realized he didn't know what to say to his son. Max's face was pale with fear. He scrambled backward away from George. >>Repeat after me, George… >>"Come with me if you want to live." >>Say it.

>>It'll be great. George raised his hands, palms out. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Max dipped into one of the cargo pockets in his trousers and withdrew an item that was larger than the pocket it came out of. It looked like a conch shell. Max slid his hand inside the opening and pointed it at George. [Combat Initiated. Tycho: Attacks with Atlantean Wrassler George: Minimal damage] The device flashed and a wave of force ripped outward, blasting George back a dozen feet and sending him skidding down one of the aisles on his back. George and Max both picked themselves up and Max raised the shell weapon again. George shouted, "Max, stop! I'm not going to hurt you! It's me! It's George." The muscles in Max's face went slack and he let his arm drop. He took one step toward George and said, "Dad?"