Capítulo 69: Up
I opened my eyes. Darkness. They hadn't healed yet, but I could feel they were close.
I tapped my claws against the ground, feeling the way sound bounced back, outlining the world around me like threads woven through shadows. Each tap sent out a pulse, catching the shapes and textures of everything nearby—a rock here, a patch of grass there, even the faint outline of a tree root winding through the earth beneath me. This was my sight now: a symphony of echoes sketching my surroundings in low vibrations.
The emptiness below my knees throbbed in the back of my mind, a reminder of where feet should have been.
They'd grow back, I figured, in a few days. For now, I let myself ease back, sinking into the softness of the grass beneath me. I couldn't see it, but the cool, damp earth told me it was there, each blade pressing against my skin, familiar in its scent and texture.
I raised a hand before my face, though I still couldn't see it. Instead, I focused on feeling every fiber, every carefully placed piece of reinforced bone running like metal through my palm and fingers, the muscle fibers taut, obsidian-black, woven together in cords of strength. Blood, or something that tried to be blood, slithered thickly through my veins—a red slime winding in lazy spirals like a creature in its own right.
I never truly appreciated what it was to simply move until I'd been forced to fight for that right. A small smile crept onto my face, slow and steady.
It had been a good fight, even if the memory of it was hazy. The sensation of it lingered—the feeling of pushing against something utterly immovable, an endless, unyielding boulder. But there was no penalty for failure, so I pushed again and again and again. Until it cracked.
I moved my hand slowly, focusing on every motion. A faint outline began to appear, just a shadow really, as one of my eyes strained toward working.
The fight had stretched over what felt like ages, time measured in pain. Only days passed in real time, maybe...three? I could feel it, an approximation, in the pulse of magic within me, brimming and fresh.
Ignoring my lack of legs, I dug my claws into the earth, pushing myself up into a handstand. I began to "walk" in small, deliberate motions, each grip biting into the ground as I advanced, slowly but surely. Despite everything, I felt stronger than before—a new trait simmered just beneath my skin, like a fire ready to spark.
---
Titanic Endurance
Effect: +100% endurance.
---
Growing in strength had become familiar lately, but this new resilience had a weight of its own, an edge that felt strange and exhilarating.
I laughed softly, feeling the wind brush over my face and the soft, loamy scent of the dirt below. Each "step" sank my claws deeper, grounding me in every sense of the word.
The Dungeon… wasn't pleased that I'd devoured one of its own, even though I was hardly to blame.
There was a shard of Atlas that remained though, clinging stubbornly within me, resisting full consumption...for now.
So the Dungeon hadn't killed me outright, though it would have gladly tried. Instead, the walls themselves had swallowed me, carrying me up, and then spit me out onto the Surface.
Was it hoping against hope that its son would eventually take over my body?
It was almost funny. Here I was, enjoying the wind, letting my vision come into focus piece by piece. I felt it then, the world sharpening at the edges. Shapes, still mostly blurred, took form: a hill, green and silent, surrounded by dense trees. And above, an endless, cloudless sky with the sun casting warmth over me in steady, unwavering beams.
In the distance, Orario stretched across the horizon—a sprawling city encircled by walls that seemed to pulse faintly in the light. And in its heart, the Tower of Babel rose into the sky, cutting through it like a spear aimed at the heavens. Its peak faded into the brightness, but I could still sense it, massive and ancient.
It looked like my Dungeon privileges had been revoked. If I tried to go back now, to go past the 17th floor, I'd be crushed, shredded, reduced to pulp by a black variant.
Unless, of course, I lay down, gave in, and let Atlas seize control. But since that wasn't happening, I'd need something new to barter with...
I glanced down—or rather, up, considering my upside-down state—at my missing legs, and inwardly at my soul, still uncloaked and open, a beacon to any god who might be watching.
But first, I'd need to do something about these…
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
FangYuan1234
FangYuan1234 Imma go back to ATLA for a bit.
This is also the end of the first volume.
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