Chương 27: Chapter 24 – The Calm Before

The shell dragged behind him in his left hand, scraping a faint trail into the cracked white ground as Cade plodded along. Each step felt heavier than the last, but he kept moving forward. Above, a pale lilac moon floated—nearly full and glowing faintly against a canvas of midnight blue. Its light painted the landscape in cool hues, softening the brutal edges of the compacted desert. Cade squinted at it, slowing to a shuffle. Is that a real moon? he wondered.

It looked real but what did "real" even mean in a place like this? Was it an actual moon suspended in space, or just a projection by the System meant to mimic a natural world? Could he walk far enough to reach the horizon and see the edge of a skybox? Was this dungeon an entire planet in a solar system or would he hit a barrier if he kept walking in one direction? The questions came with no answers, just the dry rasp of his breath and the ache in his limbs.

His throat was parched—each swallow scraped like sandpaper—and a dull hunger gnawed at his stomach. But at least the night air was cool, almost refreshing against his raw skin. He walked for what felt like hours, always angling away from where the distant storm had disappeared beyond the horizon. The cracked plain stretched endlessly, no hills or dunes to mark the way, just pale fissures beneath the night sky. He didn't see any sign of life. No birds or insects or even the remains of a bush or a dying weed.

Only a vast emptiness. Without warning, his hand slipped. The shell fell from his grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud behind him. Cade staggered a step, blinked, and then crumpled forward—his legs folding without grace. He hit the ground hard, his ribs jarring against the packed earth. Pain flared through his torso, but there was no strength left to react aside from the slight groan that left his lips.

He lay there for a moment before managing to roll halfway onto his side, then after several more seconds of building up his determination, he forced himself onto his back. The night sky loomed above. The moon hung directly overhead. Status he thought. The translucent screen flickered into his mind's eye and he condensed it down to just his resources. HP: 18 / 270 SP: 0 / 240 MP: 67 / 260 No change to his health.

He'd hoped that being out of immediate danger would've let some kind of passive regeneration kick in, but his HP was stagnant at not even 10% of his total health. Maybe I need food, he thought, his cracked lips twitching with a grimace. His stomach let out a feeble groan. The System probably required fuel for natural regeneration to take place, just like any normal body would. No nutrients meant no repair would take place.

He didn't even have a gram of fat left for his body to burn so it would make sense his health wouldn't regenerate. Zero stamina explained his collapse. He remembered the System Entity's warning back in the initiation that he would collapse or even die if he continued to push beyond his stamina limit. But what really stuck with him was the mana. How do I have sixty-seven MP? He hadn't done anything to regenerate it from zero.

Hell, his Wisdom stat was the lowest of any attribute so how had he regenerated a quarter of his mana already? Then again, it had never gone down before either. Maybe this was normal. Maybe mana just trickled back on its own. He exhaled slowly, eyelids fluttering shut. More questions. He always had more questions. Cade let the status screen fade and just stared at the stars above until they began to blur. He finally rolled onto his side, arms trembling beneath him. His body groaned and protested but he moved.

Slowly, clumsily, he clawed his way towards the shell. He didn't want to be exposed. Not out here. Not under this endless expanse without any armor or weapons. Even though he hadn't seen another living creature since the Ashen Emperor, the sheer openness gnawed at his instincts. Something primal told him to find shelter, to hide. It took everything he had left, but inch by inch, he dragged himself back beneath the shell.

The interior was just as before, the curved walls wide enough to fit him in his shriveled state. At least it was something. Something solid between him and the rest of the world. A barrier, however small. He collapsed on his back and stared up at the dome's belly. Every part of him ached. Every joint, every muscle, every breath. Hell, even his bones felt tired. And now there was nothing to do but lie there. His body yearned for sleep, but his mind was too wired to rest. So he thought.

His eyes stayed fixed on the shell's underside, where grooves and ridges traced patterns. They looked almost natural—organic—but some of the lines curved too precisely, as if shaped by something other than organic growth. His thoughts drifted to the System. To the way it had transported him into this place. Why am I even here? he wondered. He was supposed to be in the human Tutorial for people without cores. A proper entry for someone like him.

Somewhere to learn, to adapt, to survive with others like him who weren't initially worthy of the automatic core formation. He wasn't supposed to be here in a corrupted dungeon with monstrous creatures and storms that peeled your soul out through your lungs. It should have been different. Maybe he would've had a guide. Maybe he'd be learning to fight slimes in a cave or goblins in a forest or some other generic low level creature.

Instead, he was naked and a breath away from death in a place not even meant for people with Classes or Professions. His hands curled into weak fists. Why did I rush into the portal? He kept coming back to that moment Aquelion had disappeared into the pillar of light. To the seconds after, when he'd looked on and without any real thought he had leapt in to follow. Why did I help in the first place? Because a little gator he barely knew had given him a look.

It didn't even ask—just gave him a glance that said it needed help. And Cade had helped. Just like that. No hesitation. He'd given up the two most valuable items he had: the dewstone, which had refreshed his body constantly, and the axe embedded with the obsidian flake, which had cut through anything he came across with ease. He'd handed them over because the ritual needed them. Because helping felt right in the moment. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He wanted to help. He wanted to feel useful and not let another person, well creature, down like he had Sasesh and the others. He gritted his teeth.

"Fuck I'm an idiot." If he'd just taken five seconds to think before leaping, he probably wouldn't be lying under a shell in the middle of this sterile wasteland. But he hadn't. Because deep down, something in him had wanted to help. Something had seen Aquelion and wanted to prove—what? That he wasn't useless? That he wasn't a waste of space? Cade shut his eyes. It didn't matter. None of it did now. What was done was done. Wishing wouldn't refill his health or bring back the items he fought for.

Regret wouldn't give him food or fix the damage to his body. He was here now and there was no going back. He inhaled slowly through his nose. The air inside the shell was rank and stale. He held his breath for a moment, then let it out through his mouth. Again. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. He forced the rhythm. Tried to calm his mind. The thoughts came—sharp and spiraling—but he didn't cling to them. He let them come and then he let them go. Just breathe. He told himself. He focused on the air entering his lungs.

The way his chest rose with each breath. The slow deflation that followed. He could feel the breath anchor him. The pain dulled. His awareness of his body softened. His nerves slowly receded like a tide pulling back from the shore. The aches and itches didn't vanish, but they stopped demanding his attention as he sank into the rhythm and focused just on his breath. And as he did something inside his mind shifted. A pressure pulled gently at the edge of his awareness. A flicker of thought.

A strand of something coiling deep within his mind, tickling the base of his skull. Not a memory. Not a hallucination. But something else he couldn't identify. He noticed it and let it be but the pull only grew stronger. It wasn't malicious. It wasn't even foreign. It felt familiar, like a part of himself from deep inside of his mind wanted to connect. A hand reaching out in the dark. He breathed. In. Out. The pull lingered just out of reach. A word on the tip of his tongue. A song he couldn't quite remember.

It felt so close he could almost taste it. And then a slight lapse in focus and his mind jumped at the opportunity. It moved to the sensation trying to understand it. The moment his mind shifted his breath hitched and the pull suddenly vanished. Gone as if it had never been there. Cade opened his eyes and he realized his heart was racing. The sensation—whatever it had been—was gone. His body, once numb, now howled again with exhaustion and pain. The return of pain came with spiteful clarity. His joints throbbed.

His muscles twitched. The raw patches on his skin ached with every breath. That state of calm—the strange pressure at the back of his mind—was gone, and with it, any peace he'd managed to scrape together beneath the shell. Cade's frustration twisted hot in his chest. He'd been close to something. He didn't know what, but it had felt important. The sensation had been pulling at him, just on the edge of his awareness; but as soon as he'd shifted focus, it had disappeared like smoke in the wind.

A soft sting flared across his thigh but he didn't move. His skin prickled again, that faint pins-and-needles sensation from earlier creeping in along his body. The same feeling that had come at the beginning of the ash, though far less intense. His eyes cracked open. The dark under the shell made it hard to see and his vision was blurry. He rubbed at his eyes, hoping to clear it, but the blur remained as a dull, pale smear. He cursed softly under his breath. Had the ash damaged his eyes permanently?

Was this it now? A permanent haze like looking through frosted glass? Then he looked toward the shell's opening. Thick white mist pooled outside, spilling in low like smoke crawling across the ground. Cade stared, realization trickling in. The haze wasn't in his eyes. It was everywhere around him. He pulled himself up slightly and peered around outside the shell. A dense white fog now blanketed the land, clinging to the compacted ground. The air tasted damp.

For the first time in what felt like forever, moisture coated his throat, as faint as dew but enough to give the air weight. His body tingled all over. Even his mouth and throat had begun to tickle. The mist is doing something. His thoughts sharpened slightly. It didn't feel hostile. The sensation was strange, yes—itchy, a little burny, almost like a mild sunburn—but compared to the burning he'd suffered through with the ash, this was tolerable.

The pale wall of mist rolled slowly, without wind, hugging the ground like it had weight. The mist lapped gently at the edges of the shell, creeping into his shelter. He shifted again under the shell, skin dragging across the floor, coated in that slick, tar-like residue. It felt a little softer now. The black gunk that had hardened over his skin since the baptism loosening and even peeling off at the edges. That couldn't be a coincidence. The mist was doing something to him.

Slowly, with effort, he rolled onto his side and crawled the rest of the way out from under the shell. The mist engulfed him further. The pins and needles surged and the burning kicked up a notch. Cade hissed softly but pushed through it. His feet settled against the ground, and he stood—bare, trembling, and aching all over. The white haze rose to his knees. Now that his head was above it he could see the mist stretched across the landscape in all directions in an endless smooth tide across the desert floor.

There was no high ground nearby. No hills or dunes he could climb to get out of the mist. It's covering everything, he thought. There were no hills or dunes behind him, there was only forward. Cade stretched his arms slowly. The pain flared—but it was less than before. His joints didn't creak as badly. His skin didn't feel quite so brittle. His body still hurt, still reeked, still hung by a thread—but it was a little better. He summoned the status screen again, eyes scanning quickly.

HP: 21 / 270 SP: 7 / 240 MP: 125 / 260 His brows lifted. All three stats had ticked upward with his mana nearly doubling in the short time he had laid down. Was it the mist? he wondered. It had to be. He hadn't eaten or rested properly. He didn't even sleep, he had just laid under the shell breathing. Cade looked down at his legs and arms again. The black crust on his skin was starting to flake, to soften. Where the mist clung he could swear the patches of ash and bile were breaking down.

Cade crouched and retrieved the shell, his fingers wrapping once more around the protrusion on its underside. The grip still didn't feel right in his raw, boney hands—but it was better than being naked and empty-handed. He hefted the shell against his left side. The mist curled around his knees, growing more dense with every passing moment. There was no clear path but he walked in as straight of a line as he could. He had no landmarks to go by as the mist covered landscape stretched out in every direction.

Only the shell in his hand, the sting of mist against his legs, and the dark sky above. The mist clung heavier the further he went. It lapped at his waist and continually crept higher—reaching his ribs, his chest, finally curling against his shoulders. Every rise in height brought a sharper burn, a deeper itch. His skin tingled constantly now, the sensation halfway between a slow peel and a soothing balm. The black goo coating his skin had continued to soften.

Slick chunks peeled from his arms, floated down, and dissolved into the mist. It's stripping it away, he thought. With each step, he felt lighter. Not stronger—he was still starving and still shaking—but less bound by the tar covering his skin. The crusted death coating his body was slowly melting off but as it did Cade's skin flared with new sensation. He pressed forward, bare feet cracking the ground as he moved. Keep walking. The thought looped in his mind. Keep walking. Keep moving. Don't stop.

And then he heard a noise far in the distance. A soft, slow, low rolling thunder rumbled across the sky. Not the explosive crack of the colossal worm's death shudder but the long, guttural groan of rain-heavy clouds twisting up above. Cade turned his face upward and closed his eyes. He listened as another roll of thunder swept across the horizon. A smile crept up on his lips—weak, tired, and cracked—but a smile nonetheless. Thunder meant clouds. Clouds meant rain. Rain meant water. Real, drinkable, blessed water.

He stared into the mist-wreathed dark. The fog curled around him, stinging and soothing all at once. Above him, the thunder rolled once more—closer this time. Cade took another step forward, into the growing fog.