The undying corpse of time shall drink the blood of an unheeding bleed.
You are the said corpse that is ushering from the ground as you kiss the grey soil every time you move, tingling the skin with something worse than pain and tremor in the presence of a higher predator.
It's not pain you're afraid of—it is your inner self whispering that you won't succeed.
And it takes toll the very moment you stepped on this demonic ground even though your pariah's eyes deem this action as stupid as worthless tirade. In the hope of erecting the blissful pride and victory, in the hope of overcoming your fear of a new world—
In the hope of not becoming your old self.
"Help, help—" Chimes from your lips that hate the taste of blood of your own brain. People are afraid to make a mistake, some strengthen their skull hard enough to replace those mistakes as an accident, but you don't have a thick skull. You're as weak as you can get when it comes to motivation and hypocrisy. When it already leads to this, it means that it was all your fault with no one else to blame.
Stress: 118%
"Shit!" Still having the slivers of adrenaline, you try to move any single piece of your body to no avail. The moment the ape in your frame appears large, that is the moment where your adrenaline is leaving. It's leaving emptiness.
A small cuboid shape of white is coming to save the day, it appears in front of you with its googly eyes with no worries of the world surrounding them. 'it must be nice', you think.
"HIIIIIIIIKHHHHEEEE!!!"
The white cube expands to the same size of the ape as he shows his serrated happy teeth. Again, trying to tell you that 'it will be fine'. The Calamity is delivering its hurled strike into your savior.
With no moment to think, the giant white retracts his jaw to chomp down the primal monkey, even though the force is strong but the zombie muscle of the mighty ape is sturdier and rougher. Coated by crimson clouds, the ape tears the jaw of white open into a naked centerfold, revealing the indescribable inside of your companion. The cube is trying his best to close his own jaw to grind the meat of those who are hostile to you. It ended with a heavy strike into the core of your new friend.
The fluid and the dark green gelatin is being flung everywhere into the vicinity. You watch the scene as it unfolds.
Stress: 458%
Horrid, your eyes can't believe what you've just seen, and your heart misses its heartbeat as the blood it delivers runs cold.
For a person, it's their heart. For a warrior, it's their faith. The ape has run amok once again, boiling your blood in a hellfire of anguish and hatred. Goyang might only be on your side for a few hours but despite its need to feel pain, the critter has sympathy and caring emotion as he tries his best to smile for you. So pathetic, you have the urge to pay back the kindness but now you can't. You can't even prevent the death of a stupid, masochistic, dumbass cuboid square.
Stress: 1,289%
It feels bitter, it feels sour. This feeling, all of the pain accumulated, the future that will never come.
You spite it all.
Stress: 6,999%
Acid, it's acid, phytochemicals, tannins, heat, burning desire, a blender, and spite. The acid is running through your veins and the bloodstream is now sour. It washes and washes the impurities inside your body and your mind. The Chrolings notice this and amplify the wave to help it further—a new realm has opened within your mana sea.
'Stress requirement has been reached.'
'Initiating the lemonade, access confirmed.'
You used the acidic blood cell as the ingredients for the 'Blood Bending Virus'. The sourness amplifies the mana conductivity for the vessel, making it more aggressive and effective. The mass production has commenced.
'Blood Bending Sour Virus' acquired.
Using all the strength that has been left within your fragile body, you seek out the nearest pillar-like object as you barely avoid the strike of the ape, searching for insurance if your plan is foiled. Anchoring your footing by drilling the ground and branching the roots into the soil with blood, you wait for the next strike to land.
10% Ashura Body Array.
The crimson arm of the ape connects with your punch. Then again, why a punch? It's not complicated, it's all just a hint of mocking fate, life, and Fortune.
Painful and firm, overclocking the infected blood with a more dense mass to help you stand on equal footing as the Calamity. The bone breaks and the blood is being grinded, spilling all over the place.
"HURRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!"
More, you want more time, adrenaline is coursing with every stalling. Despite the ridiculous move and situation, it's all been your plan from the start of the blendering.
Sending a thousand 'Blood Bending Sour Virus', neither new nor dried blood can resist the temptations of joining your parade of mortal massacring; all of them are striving for vengeance for their former owner.
The perpetrator must pay! The dissector of flesh and wound shall be circumcised from head to toe until there is no more hate dripping from the skull of the fallen.
In an instant the whole battlefield is now your ally, your blood, and your body. With no more strength to compete with the giant hulk of mass of the monstrosity, your last resisting muscle gives in. 10% of the blood from the battlefield is rushing into you, replacing the dead muscle caused by the immense stress you did to your body. That has also been your very goal. You might not believe in superstition, but you believe in your intuition.
The better the pain, the bigger the stress, the more acidic your vein is.
With no effort at all, you manage to outplay the Calamity in terms of raw strength. Blood is thicker than water, and with the help of the new type of virus, the infected blood's flexibility is immensely increased—by that means the magnetic force field and also the sheer mass of acceleration it can generate.
"Stupid Chronos, this isn't a spell chant at all."
'The Lamentor has come to conjure her hidden razor'.
You're engulfed and lose your vision in the haze of 'Dopamine'. A wide manic smile is etched into your face.
Prideful, the ape won't tolerate any defeat as it rushes once more into your direction.
You manipulate the blood to hover half a meter from the ground into the air, feinting to attack as you go into the front of the ape's skull and bash the hell out of it. The Calamity flinches, you conjure a giant spear of blood into the savage's mouth, giving the sinner a bloody deepthroat. Reminiscing your former pain, you scramble the blood into the dirty new-friend-killer's whole body and bloat the organs and tissues from inside, rupturing him completely.
Once again the miasmic haze appears but you won't stand still this time. Conjuring a fast spinning cyclone of blood, you trap the beast inside as the sharp winds shred and shake away all the haze. Rushing in, you grab the handle of the sword that is using the beast neck as its pedestal. Smashing sideways, you decapitate that morbid obese of an ass chime degenerate into the land where no sun is shining—the death, you're hoping a painful death for the beast you're torturing.
The beast grabs its head and the large broadsword that is formerly sticking end to end on its neck. The hole on the neck reveals a horride spine that moves and prays to the red sky, spewing out the numerous rib-like legs. The appearance of the parasite is almost similar to the garrulous Calamity that is chasing you into this god-forsaken trap.
Instead of fear and irritation, your veins are filled with joy.
Using the infected blood to move your body; you raise both of your pinky fingers into the front, then tilting it into one and another. Can't help but smilling with content, you begin to chant the stupid spell, "The world is my lemonade, within my lemon veins, and my heart's a lemon grenade—"
Still in 'spite', you changed the last sentence of the spell.
"TO BRING YOU MY HELLISH APOCALYPSE!"
2 Chapters is mass published for today!
A successful raid had been commenced. The Vagant Coalition department had already hired 6 foreign squadrons, 12 mercenaries, and 3 A-rank Assault personnels totaling 46 professional individuals being sent to uncover the mystery behind area 666, coded: Aghanim. A white and black space with mystical law residing within the unique land.
The infiltration to the Aghanim is bearing countless fruits for the dwellers of Neamh as they are on their way back to the homeland with research material and information, holding precious loot.
It was a smooth sailing from the continuous reports headquarters had received until the Coalition Leader reported a sudden appearance of an Angel, resulting in heavy loss of individual resources and the precious equipment they had.
Soon after, the Coalition Battalion finally reached the safe zone of Kauhu Forest. The survivors' heart has been brought to joy as they sing and waste the scrumptious loots of war into their belly, especially after making contact with Humanity's biggest threat. Until a bad omen came in the form of a 'Killer Dusk'.
A dangerous and abnormal entity, origin: Unknown, rank: Unknown, expedition history: Unknown. The ominous and gigantic existence at the size of a moon has no absolute record of what it's doing and its purpose. All they all know is that this terrifying Calamity will empower all the 'Beast Calamity' and turn all the 'Unawakened Calamity' into full-fledged Calamity, resulting in a heavy chaos erupted within its Crimson-Sky Field.
There are two types of Calamity.
A pure Calamity that spawns from a corrupted void of the Primordial Era that was triggered by the invasion from the Angels, nobody knows why they invade Earth to the point of hunting its residents for so many years. The white and valiant wings of the bible cupid didn't gave any angelic benefits to humanity.
The second is the Beast Calamity, they are basically an animal that already exists on earth that got corrupted by making contact with the void rupture, the transformation is not instant but somehow the 'Killer Dusk' made it absolute.
"How many are left?..." Says the Leader, a lion person who wears a striking golden armor and a devastated frown as he puts down a heavy shield of his. "I can't send any frequency so we need at least one of us to survive long enough to send the data."
A heavily armored lizard man is leaning his hand onto a tree with weak knees, holding off the pain of a one meter scar on his back and a broken arm barely attached to his shoulder. "Six, goddamn bloody six. This will be a dishonor for me to allow this to happen. It's shameful."
"Karas, enough, we've survived, we only need to carry the will of the fallen. Katrasia! how long will the barrier last!?"
Katrasia answers, "As long as nobody tempers from the outside, nothing can ever leave…" With a meek voice, the female Aiseirigh with a dragon's pair of horns is tinkering with the human-sized floating crystal-shaped contraption of her.
"How dare you fucking deploy a barrier when Samera is still inside!?" Shouts the mourning brother of his fallen sister, gritting his teeth.
The one who is holding him from running amok is a giant feline male, "Oy Razes, calm down. This is outside of the Citadel, everyone can die at any moment, no one is at fault. Katrasia is also feeling guilty of that accident."
"So what if I did notice? It would be better if she becomes a decoy for us anyway."
"YOU BITCH!" Razes then snaps his neck 180° to face the cat, "FUCKING LET ME GO! ZACED!"
"I TOLD YOU TO CALM DOWN!"
The giant cat slams down his companion, pinning him down as Razes' left hand slips to fling a crystal dart in the female Aiseirigh's direction.
The Leader, Arthurion, cast a defensive barrier using the slivers of his mana, "We've lost too many comrades, don't shed anymore blood."
On the corner of the safe space is an A-rank Assault personnel, codenamed: Blast, taking off the big machinery on his back that mixes the chemical for the variable of explosion. Unlike the others, he remains calm but that is what it looks like on the outside. Inside he is anxious of everything that is happening, tightening the protective gas mask on his face.
He rummages through the contents of his pocket, taking out a small note of paper, 'Ask Ollie if in any doubt'.
He takes out a clear glass bottle that he accidentally put on his chemical machine, thinking that the bottle is containing hydrogen fluoride. After putting it on the ground in front of him, he then asks the inanimate object as if it was a person.
"When can I go home?"
A silhouette of an upper body from a female with round rodent ears appears on the glass.
"You buffoon! After you finish your job, of course!"
Blast then asks again, "Everyone is fighting, I don't understand, everyone is so enthusiastic before the sky becomes an apple."
"Jeez, so it was all because of the 'Killer Dusk', that scary thing appeared on the day of my second excavation too. It was hell I tell ya!"
"Can you blow up that scary thing?"
"Apparently, you cannot. Either you get out from here alone or run away alone. Huh, that's one of the same..."
"We can't, a big monkey is blocking the exit to the other side. Saltpetre with mana essence can't kill that thing, even a concentrated piranha solution."
"Oh right, you almost killed me by putting this bottle on one of the slots."
"Hehe, today has been hectic. Though I'm kinda curious what would happen if I turned this whole giant apple into an explosive." He says while reaching his arm into the sky, try to grab the ominous moon.
"Not everything is explosive."
"If anything can be a cake, why not an explosive?"
Morbid scratchings of the trees' bark and the rattling of the leaves echoes throughout the forest. The remaining 6 survivors hurriedly finish their frustrating argument and move into a better place.
Katrasia had a bad feeling, as she insisted to the party to check back the barrier she made. She manages to convince them despite losing an arm after painstakingly dealing with the little brother of someone she used as a decoy intentionally. It is cruel but it must be done, otherwise the timing will be messed up and it will cause a total annihilation for the battalion.
An Aiseirighian, the closest descendant of humans. A dragonoid person who puts pride into everything, and the company Katrasia comes from has its own council where 'killed in action' is more dishonor than staying alive with great loss. They will give no salutations nor honor to the dead. It is also because the Aiseirigh is having a political war with the other races on how they would manage the damned society. Pulling the strings to the reluctant marionette, they are aiming to become the main driving force of everything all for the sake of their petty ambition.
Their horns serve no real purpose, but it is their soul and identity.
The total opposite of a Khazenka, the lizard people deem that solidarity is more important than pride, they seek out the other races and even force them to make an alliance through brute force all for the sake of the happiness of their future generations. A union is a must in a world where Calamity is roaming to every crevice of Neamh.
While killing every Yelper and other low-grade Calamity on their way, the party of misfits found their way into the shell of the barrier.
Katrasia retracts her right arm from holding the dripping flesh on her left arm to touch the barrier, "Someone got in."
"Another Calamity?" Asks Arthurion.
"A Calamity can't break into the barrier, it has been modified by someone…"
Blast, the one behind the rest of the party members, is asking his glass-bottle friend.
"Do you think a person did that?"
"Huh? Put me near the barrier."
He then moves towards the barrier as the barrier is welcoming him by deactivating for a moment, and then trapping him inside.
With a shudder, Katrasia is analyzing his own barrier meticulously. "H-how!?"
"You're right, Blasty, someone modified this barrier. I need you to be cautious because only a person with the knowledge of a Babel's Sage can crack this complicated circuit flawlessly."
"Gotcha, Ollie."
"See!? I told you that this bitch is plotting something!" Says the owl.
"Guys, you all need to wait outside as I check if Suolija is still there or not." Says Blast.
Arthurion steps in, touching the barrier for a while until he gains access inside.
The leader gives his speech, "Blast and I will examine the vicinity if there is any dangerous threat roaming by."
"Oy-Oy, are you folks crazy?" Says the big cat, "That ape annihilated the majority of our battalion, don't be dumber than the Ferrowl over there." As he gestures his head into Razes.
Arthurion is poking his nose into the air, as he sponge all clouds of the guts and bloods from his fallen comrades.
"I didn't smell the killing intent and madness like before, it was worth checking knowing that fate is as fickle as it is. I'll be making sure that five of you will step those feet inside the Citadel."
They all nod reluctantly after a huge silence.
"I'm also coming." Says Karas, "This oldman can take another hit."
Leaving behind Katrasia, Zaced, and Razes, the three of them walk upon the demonic land once again with their determination at its peak. The smell of rotting blood, the exhibition of their failure is being emphasized by mother nature in the most audacious ways.
Marching deftly, they are reaching into the opening to the space in front of the cave leading to the outside. The smell of blood is getting thicker and thicker until their vision meets the eye of a foreigner.
A child, staring them down from above a torn carcass, the broken bones peaking out from the joints and the ribs piercing the abdomen like a bloody maw. Her legs hung over the head of the beast, barely missing the red jagged teeth. A child, in torn clothing of gothic-lolita style, swung her feet up and down like it was a swing in a playground. Veins traced from every exposed skin, faintly glowing under the red sky. That was when they noticed it, blood. Blood moving as the child commands, like a conductor to a band. A symphony named carnage.
Despite having a petite body, the little girl is exuding a pressuring aura as dense as those who have breakthrough their mana sea and create a golden orb. Those kinds of people are usually referred to as a 'Senior' in the cultivation world, where people cultivate their mana sea to reach the highest height of power and immortality. Then again, a pressuring presence doesn't equal an immortal, but having manners to respect someone better than you is common sense.
Both Karas and Arthurion are on their knees, bowing their heads, except for Blast who is still standing still while scratching his arm.
Mass release! more PS: More chapter. Also, Shout-out to @ParLeth that helps me with this chapter as I'm busy, and shout-out to @Binocular for being a great editor!
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