Chapter 75: A Cheap Price For Life

Just then, instead of engulfing Kael whole, it howled to the ceiling in agonized pain. A maternal pain that he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t just rage. It was loss. It was the sound of something realizing the world had been altered permanently.

Only then did he realize that the mother hadn’t spotted him yet.

Perhaps it was the rune.

Or perhaps because it was still dark.

Or maybe it was the mud covering his body that hid his scent.

Or maybe all three of them combined.

Unlike the Ifrit, which was able to track Kael despite a delay of recognition, she was fully unable to even see him. That difference chilled him. The Ifrit had been a predator that reacted on sight, heat, and territory. This basilisk was something else, something that lived by smell, vibration, instinct. If she couldn’t see him now, it meant she was searching differently.

She sniffed the air, long and deep, the sound like a bellows in a forge. She did it again, head tilting, tongue flicking. She tasted the cave itself. She dragged her claws along stone, carving grooves as if the walls were soft. But she couldn’t locate the intruder despite him being right next to her.

It turned its body around.

And the tail barely brushed against Kael’s body, but his vest tore with that mere brush, like fabric was paper. Even her scales were sharp. And she took blood with that brush. His chest bled, not too much, but enough that pain flared bright and immediate.

He held out a shout. He bit it down so hard his jaw ached.

Thankfully, the effect of [Presence] muffled him from the world and him from his senses. So he didn’t react loudly. The pain became distant, a dull pressure rather than a scream in his nerves, but the blood was real, warm against his skin, and it made his stomach twist with fresh panic.

The Basilisk began wandering the cave, sniffing away. Once at the corpse of her children and once in the surrounding area. Her head dipped low, then lifted, then dipped again. Like she was tracing a scent trail that didn’t quite exist. Trying to see if her instincts were right.

’I’ll be found at this rate.’ He realized it with sudden clarity. While the Rune was active he was hidden, but if he stayed here long enough, his mana would disagree with him. The rune wasn’t free. It ate him from the inside, second by second.

Once he is tapped out of Mana, then he’ll know how it feels to be ground to bones and blood paste.

Kael moved, just a few steps at a time. Slow. Measured. He didn’t dare sprint. Sprinting would draw attention. Sprinting would drain mana faster. He felt the drain on his mana growing with each step as [Presence] was trying to keep him alive. The sensation wasn’t like thirst. It was like something siphoning warmth out of his bones.

The Basilisk continued moving around, ripping the ground and tearing the walls in search of the intruder. She didn’t see him walking out, and the corpses of her children were still warm. He must still be here. Her logic wasn’t wrong. Her body knew something in the cave didn’t belong.

Kael didn’t allow himself to waste more time as he moved closer and closer toward the exit of the cave. He aimed for the slope, the climb back up, the choke point that would put rock and distance between him and those jaws.

And once he reached the slope he needed to go up and leave, the Basilisk seemed to turn toward him.

And focus.

Kael’s blood went cold in an instant. It wasn’t sight. It wasn’t sound. It was something deeper, older. The way a predator stares at a patch of grass not because it sees prey, but because it feels the world wrong there.

He knew well that if she were to focus her eyes well on him, not even Presence can hid him. She wasn’t using her sight or senses to spot him, but the maternal instinct to take revenge on those that harmed her children and cut off any chances for her race to be a thing in this floor ever again.

Kael’s body was almost paralyzed from the thought.

’I’ll be found in no time. I can’t even move while she’s staring at me…’

One step.

A low growl, deep enough to vibrate the stone under his boots.

A second step.

A higher octave growl, sharper, closer to a snarl. She was sensing him. Narrowing. Closing.

{[Presence] is failing!}

The notification was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It wasn’t just fear now. It was a deadline.

If it fully failed, then he’s done for.

He needed a way to get out of here.

Without notice, a thought crossed his mind, and in his hand, a small soul core appeared. One of many he had on him. His fingers closed around it, feeling the smooth, cold hardness, something climbers would stab each other for. Something he’d just been counting like coins. And now it was a tool. A sacrificial pebble.

Without hesitation, he threw it with as much power as his strength stat could allow. Despite the injured shoulder. Despite the fatigue of killing many monsters. Despite the fear in his heart that seemed to want to beat too loud or too strong in danger.

He threw it.

The core, which was something valuable to most climbers, was used as a tool to distract the creature. And once it landed against the far away walls of the cavern, it made a loud noise. Not a small clack, but a sharp, ringing crack that echoed through stone like a thrown bell. The basilisk’s head snapped toward it instantly. She closed her eyes and opened them, lifted her head in full alert and attention toward the location of the sound,

…and howled.

She stampeded her way toward the source.

Not even half a second of hesitation was left in Kael’s mind. He turned tail and ran up the slope as if his life depended on it.

Because it did.

Big time.

Kael hurried like hell itself was opened behind his feet. His boots slipped on slick stone once, catching just in time as his hands grabbed for purchase. He didn’t stop. He didn’t look back. The Rune of Presence seemed to thankfully regain its function now that it was no longer being scrutinized, the suffocating pressure easing slightly,

…but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

He hurried, as he emerged out of the cave and ran down the train station tracks. Fast. Blindly. The muffled sensations couldn’t stop his blood from pumping adrenaline and raw survival into his limbs. His lungs burned. His heart hammered. His shoulder screamed at him in dull, distant complaint.

He didn’t think of what he had done, didn’t care what it had cost, and didn’t dare look back. There was only one thing on his mind right now: survival. Passive play and Active play stop when one sees the certainty of death, and he already gained far more than anyone in his time, being an active climber. Now he had to withdraw. And it was a good time to do so.

He ran, and ran, and ran some more, until the thought finally caught up to him in a single, breathless line:

He just escaped certain death.

And he paid one soul core as a price.

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