All of the Leafstalkers in the surroundings froze, watching one of the youngest in their group jump headfirst into one of the more unknown rifts at the three mile zone of the Cataclysm Abyss. Then they saw a blur, some of them reached for their weapons in reflex.

Ryan sprinted towards the rift only taking a glance at Crescent to see what he would do. The leader of the Leafstalkers… hesitated.

So it was just him.

He dove headfirst after the stupid elf called Tar’el. They had jumped headfirst with all of their realm four strength. Kicking off the ground so they could plummet way past terminal velocity. All of it, of course, made his job so much riskier.

Tar’el was looking up, eyes blazing in complete focus as Ryan dove in after him. The stupid elf having a dagger hidden under his sleeve.

As if I didn’t notice you hiding it while you were glaring at me like an idiot.

[Aura of Self-Momentum]

Ryan accelerated far faster than the elf did. The pit seemingly bottomless in their descent. The concern of the floor being closer wasn’t why he rushed. It was the fact that there was multiple somethings triggering his [Dangersense] all at once.

The mechanical whirr and sparks of machinery illuminated what the threat was. Turrets. Four of them scattered far, far below them. Each of them with a much larger barrel and base.

Ryan grabbed the chest of the elf as the kid tried to stab him. Ryan easily grabbed Tar’el’s dagger hand with his right and spun it around, then punched the elf in the solar plexus with his left. Then he used his skill.

[Instant Dodge]

He threw himself towards the closest wall as the turrets started firing. Shooting hot white beams of light that blasted the walls and stuck to the walls. Like superheated plasma. Except they turned purple and started to sizzle the rocky wall it splattered on.

Despite his skill moving him at max velocity–it took several damning seconds before his feet touched the wall. Not that he stopped, Ryan started sprinting vertically downwards. A winded elf over his left shoulder. His arm wrapped around the torso while he held the kid’s arms behind with his left hand.

Three more turrets below started firing. One from a distance and one only a couple hundred yards further down.

This was a deathtrap, and those turrets look too damned modern.

It was madness that the Witch Tyrant had expected anyone to survive this. Even now, he didn’t trust himself from ignoring the turret fire to descend. He was sprinting up, across the rocky wall. The fire of magical plasma lighting up a trail behind him. Ryan angled up–so that one of the bottom turret’s fire would go over the turret angled a bit below him.

The satisfying explosion was all he needed to hear that his plan had worked.

Okay three turrets left, and I can see the ground.

When he tried to do the same maneuver once again. Trying to slide and run across the rocky walls so that a turret from below would hit the one above. The one below stopped firing. It angled back up then started firing ahead of where he was.

It sent a chill down his spine.

“Someone was controlling the turrets.”

The spike of fear from both the elf on his shoulder and from somewhere else below him were all the confirmation he needed.

I’m getting better at using my aura regeneration to detect that.

Though there wasn’t a time to dwell on the thought now. The elf’s thigh came up to try to knee his face. Ryan hopped up and landed harshly against the wall. Using the momentum to drive his shoulder into Tar’el’s solar plexus.

The sudden seizure of the legs was all the confirmation he needed to know the elf would be out for another few seconds.

This time Ryan went down towards the closest turret while the others kept firing at him. They couldn’t swivel at the speeds he was going but they had changed their tact. Now the turrets were using some encircling method to entrap him. One was trailing behind. One was shooting ahead of him while the closest turret tried to shoot erratically.

It didn’t really matter at this point–Ryan was too close to that one. He threw a knife wrapped in his aura. It turned to dust in midair, though the core of the energy he threw was true.

[Volatile Antimagic Throw].

The explosion was once again, very satisfying. Though the damage didn’t stop there. The fifteenth level Rare skill continued the chain reaction, destabilizing the mana and frying whatever circuitry it had been connected to. The walls started smoking as the chamber lit up and followed–right into the other turrets.

While they didn’t explode the turrets it took them out of commission. Their barrels pointing downwards.

“Huh, I heard that mana circuitry was a bitch to handle.”

It also meant that these turrets weren’t the creation of the Witch Tyrant’s. There was no way she would have made such a low level mistake.

Ryan landed softly at the bottom, then stared up. This was a straight cylindrical drop where the top was obscured by the gray haze that hung perpetually around Sector Four.

They had dropped another mile, maybe a little less.

A familiar mechanical whirring put him back on alert. The turrets sparking and restarting, slowly turning towards him. Ryan looked around. Three different tunnels, all looked like they were unnaturally made. The smallest tunnel had an adventurer’s marking, signifying it was safe.

Ryan ran into the big one. The plasma bolts trailing behind him as he walked through.

He wasn’t stupid. Those turrets looked too new for any recent adventurers. Whoever was manning them could have placed the markings there.

The elf on his shoulder started struggling again. Ryan, finally feeling somewhat safe, put the kid down. Tar’el immediately lunged for the dagger that was in Ryan’s belt.

Ryan easily dodged grabbing hands and smacked Tar’el in the back of the head. Like he’d seen the Witch Tyrant do to Gamielle.

“Are you stupid?”

The kid was still coming at him, as if grabbing the knife and stabbing Ryan with it was all that he could think of.

Ryan sighed. He took off Larix’s robes and spun it around. He held it with two hands. Like a matador taunting a bull, Ryan waved it at the charging kid. His arms guided the kid’s arms into the robes in reverse. Once the kid was secure in the robes he started whispering to the air.

“Come on Witch Tyrant. You understand that now that I know it’s your plan, I’m not going to give up. Just save us both the headache and let the spell activate.”

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Ryan had used the emergency spell matrix on the back to escape from Pinkie. While he had agreed with Gamielle that it was a one time use, technically it was never designed as a one time use robes. These were designed for Larix, Gamielle’s little golden child. Either way, even if the matrix was dead he knew the Witch Tyrant could telekinetically pull the kid to safety.

“Come on. I love these robes and I’m willing to trade them. Gamielle would take the deal in a heartbeat”

No dice. No emergency teleportation or a telekinetic savior.

“Fuck.”

The kid continued to squirm in the robes as he looked weirdly at a dude that sounded like he had the Witch Tyrant on telepathic speed dial.

Ryan sighed, then took the sash of the robes and started tying the elf’s hands behind his back. Then he remembered the kneeing and started doing a full hogtie. Ryan stepped on the elf’s back while he pulled the flailing limbs together and tied them.

The sash that tied the Obsidian Sect’s robes together normally went around Ryan’s waist multiple times and the ends flew wildly behind him in a very aesthetic fashion. The extra length really helped in this case.

Ryan marveled at his work. One hogtied Leafstalker, glaring hatefully up at him.

“You know, it’s kinda disturbing how good I’m getting at this.”

The kid managed to get his head free of the hood that was covering his face.

“We will make sure you die Trialist.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Kid, please. You don’t even know what’s going on.”

“I’m not a kid! I’m twenty-seven! I have grown up in the cities of The Realm and–”

“Yeah, in elf years, what’s that? Like fifteen?”

“Maybe if I grew up in the forests. Like nature intended. But you, you Trialists, have come and corrupted most of our society.”

This was actually really familiar territory. Lots of realmnet discussions. This elf wasn’t Crescent the First Leaf either. Excellent.

“Oh god. You’re one of those. Bet your username on realmnet has leaflegend in it too.”

The elf-kid blinked at the accurate guess. His silence served as damning proof.

Ryan grinned. “Bingo.”

Tar’el started spluttering, “It never would have happened if your kind didn’t come and ruin the world for the rest of us! Bringing in your technology and intermingling of the species. It is no wonder we age unnaturally!”

“Hello? Earth to Mr. Leaflegend. There are still elf communities around. Orcs and drakes have their tribes too. You can pack up your shit and quit technology at any time.”

Tar’el sneered. “I am here to eradicate The Realm of your ilk, Trialist. That is why I’m here.”

And they were back to square one.

Ryan put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“How did I go from hostage taking to an escort quest?”

“Don’t pretend that you are better than your predecessors. I see it in your eyes. The hunger for power that all Trialists have. You choose to keep increasing your power, increasing the risk of those around you as…”

The elf continued as Ryan tuned it out. He was trying to go over his head about what he knew of escort quests in the Trials. They were, unfortunately, quite common for regular adventurers. Unfortunate because they were the most pain in the ass Trials that adventurers could experience.

Even Ryan had faced the Skeleton Lord rather than escort the village through hostile forests.

Not only did escort missions often take the longest, there was a minimum standard you had to meet. Half the time the Trial Quest would be something like escorting an insufferable prince or princess that had no regard to their own safety.

Tar’el reminded him of that.

While he didn’t have to please this little elven prince, he had to try to keep this idiot safe while Tar’el tried to kill him.

Which again, funnily enough, wasn’t that uncommon for a Trial scenario either.

Something tickled at the back of his mind. He glanced back at the tunnel then looked forward.

The real problem was that he was going to have to cover for Tar’el with his aura. Something that Ryan was starting to run a little low on…

Though…

He did remember when his aura got slightly replenished while falling. Both by whatever had been observing him nearby and the elf on his shoulder.

The little target of his escort quest.

Tar’el shivered under Ryan’s gaze. “What are you planning?”

Ryan approached the elf and put Tar’el on his shoulders once more. This time the elf’s head was facing forward. He started swaggering down the tunnel.

Whistling a tune.

The elf was incredulous. “Are you really planning on diving the Abyss? With me on your shoulder?!”

“Who do you think I am? I’m goddamn Artigan. Didn’t you see above. Monsters flee from me.”

Ryan felt a little trickle replenish his aura. He grinned, his plan looking like it would work.

You’re no longer my escort mission. You’re my goddamn resource generator.

–

Thirty minutes later.

Tar’el had to suffer on Artigan’s shoulder while the mad Trialist elf was casually taking a stroll, whistling for all the monsters around to hear. Artigan did not care or glance at the smaller connecting tunnels, each one they passed looking like they held terrible, monstrous secrets.

The tunnel they walked down was the diameter of a great oak tree and was clearly the main tunnel the monsters used to get around. The carved walls looked like they had to have been made out of those stretched out monsters.

Yet that wasn’t what made Tar’el shiver.

A giant ball of monstrous flesh was rolling upwards. Limbs sticking out from all the flaps and bulges. Each one carving into the ground to propel the ball of flesh forwards. It screamed in confusion and anger as it rolled towards them.

Tar’el tried to squirm but that was all he could do on Artigan’s shoulder.

There were spears and bullet wounds in the ball of flesh. Adventurer made. Which meant this ball of flesh had fought adventurers before and at minimum survived. If not killed them.

Artigan tilted his head. “Huh. Zero fear, is this thing a golem?”

The mad Trialist was just watching in casual interest as the monster kept rolling towards them. It was picking up speed. It was screaming, how could it be a golem? Multiple limbs spinning itself forwards. When it got closer it started to pull out weapons from inside the flesh. Swinging wildly. Fast enough to make Tar’el pale.

“You–why are you just standing here?”

Artigan looked up at him, zero care in the world at the tumbling flesh monster that was about to hit them.

“What’s with the concern? Thought you wanted me to die?”

Not like this. I don’t want to die subsumed in that thing. Would I even die?

Horror stories spread around in Realmnet flashed past Tar’el’s head. Stories of the lost adventurers that were never to be found–

Artigan moved out of the way at the last possible second, he grabbed one of the limbs swinging a spear and pulled it hard. Artigan tore up a bunch of flesh and metal wiring.

Also blood fountained out. Too much fresh blood splattered on Tar’el’s face and nowhere else.

“Oh, gross. Sorry. Hey look,” Artigan waved the ripped limb at Tar’el’s bloody face, “It is a golem. Look at the wiring and stuff. I think this is only half magitech, half flesh tech?”

The flesh golem stopped, snapping a few of its limbs as it slowed its own momentum. Then it started rolling back down, faster than before.

Artigan threw a rock imbued with his own energy at the exposed wound he just made. It hit the contact point and exploded the rest of the limb. Though compared to the ball of flesh and limbs it looked like a light singe.

“Huh, figures that it would be better made than the turrets if it got pushed out to test me.”

Artigan once again observed so casually as the ball of flesh was about to engulf them both.

“ARE YOU MAD?! I DON’T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS!”

Artigan chuckled then took on a stance. He chambered a fist by his waist.

In a smooth motion a torrential amount of aura burst forth. Punching forward and smashing a hole through the flesh of the monster. Completely destroying a core of the beating metallic heart inside.

Tar’el was agape while Artigan whistled.

“Oops. Man this Quasi-Legendary [Undisputed Apex] title really is too strong. Probably didn’t even need to use half of that aura to destroy it. Ah well.”

Tar’el stared at the ground the monster’s limb had torn through. Each of its limbs could tear right through stone and looked familiar to the hand carvings the wall had been made of. There was no way it wasn’t at least a fourth realm threat.

He shuddered. Tar’el felt something pull at his own aura.

Then he understood.

“You’re using me as a battery!”

“Took you a while to notice. Though it’s less of a battery and more like a generator. Honestly though? It’s not that much. Maybe a weak windmill.”

Artigan was making fun of him again. Tar’el closed his eyes. Finding his center.

“I will not let a demonic class siphon from me.”

“Hey! You better not be thinking of biting your own tongue. You’re a fourth realm and I have potions. You won’t bleed out, but you’ll be mute for the rest of the journey and I won’t have anyone to talk to.”

Tar’el let the taunt flow past him. Remembering his training. He guided his breathing and let his mind only linger on that.

In. And out.

Artigan stopped walking and fumbled with something. Not that it mattered. All Tar’el would do was to focus on–

“HOSTES FRACTI, REGNUM AETERNUM!”

The Latin choir of Artigan’s theme song blasted into Tar’el’s eardrums, completely knocking the elf out of his guided meditation. Tar’el glared at Artigan who had the speaker of his phone right next to Tar’el’s sensitive ears. Artigan grinning at the elf.

Tar’el refused to let this get to him. He closed his eyes back in focus as Artigan lowered the phone back to his side.

Good did he think that would–

The latin choir continued to play.

“ARTIGAN!”

“ARTIGAN!”

Artigan continued down the tunnel. One arm tied up in keeping his charge alive. A place where Fourthers would sweat with their nerves taut, watching every corner for monsters and traps. While Artigan walked down the tunnel, he started whistling.

Tar’el could close his eyes all he wanted. He could try to return his focus to controlling his aura and his breath.

It didn’t stop his mind from wandering. Though, no matter how much he tried to focus his mind to be empty, it kept going back to a simple thought.

The monsters of the Cataclysm Abyss still did not dare to approach.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep