In For A Penny (IV)

  Cyril’s blade flashed again and again.

  His swings weren’t meant to be fatal; they were simply a means to deflect, match or parry the oncoming blows. Even if he wanted to, consecutively cutting through sizeable chunks of stone again and again wasn’t currently an option for him.

  Once or twice every few seconds was his limit. His body could only muster up that kind of force intermittently. At the moment, he was charging towards Ralph who was still a few feet away, but a statue that resembled a spearman had marked him with its weapon long before he could even cover half the distance.

  A side effect of having veered to close to the barricade keeping them trapped.

  The stone spear—more than two-meters long—was already poised and ready, the only thing it needed was the barbaric force required to propel it across the ever-narrowing gap between the user and the target. A gnashing sound came from the monster's craggy joints. Its body leaned forward, then straightened with remarkable speed and all of that momentum was instantly transferred to the stone spear that was sent hurtling through the air.

  The object closed in with a low sounding whoosh.

  Cyril charged forward and transitioned into a leap, then at the last second twisted his body the moment he performed a vertical parry. The spear had only grazed his blade but the impact alone was enough to send a sharp jolt through his arms and nearly knock the weapon from his grip. The force behind the blow sent his body into a violent full twist, but it was enough to divert the monster's weapon off course. The spear crashed into the enclosure of stone soldiers with a thunderous sound, although the creatures themselves hardly seemed concerned with the destruction.

  For the next few seconds or so, the spearman statue would be completely defenseless.

  Cyril intended to take full advantage of that interval even if it meant clashing with a few of the other monsters, yet seconds before he could make his move a voice called out to him.

  “Cyril dodge!”

  Recognizing the familiar mana signature, he obeyed and flung himself to the side just in time to see a golden shroud of power coating a certain girl’s body. Angelica planted her feet with a dreadful stomp, and aligned the rapier with her shoulder blade like a javelin. Instead of throwing it however, she leaned into a full burst of speed and blasted off the ground with a powerful lunge.

  Her body flashed across the oval space like a radiant thunderbolt. Leading by her blade, she charged at their chunky foes with a roar, the sheer force of her momentum leaving cracks in the ground where she had launched. The stone warriors could do nothing but accept the powerful thrust. Without the chance to raise their weapons, the monsters succumbed to the fierce impact, shattering into a massive cloud of dust and rubble.

  “Angelica pull back! They won’t attack us as long as we keep our distance!” barked Cyril, sending the order into the cloud of debris.

  Angelica’s slender frame popped out of the wreckage a moment later, smeared and scarred.

  “Are you-”

  “I-I’ll be fine.” She retorted swiftly, severing the need for concern.

  Cyril bit down on his lip reflexively. The hardened expression on his face was worth more than a thousand words, however, Angelica herself had failed to take note of such a thing because of how hard she was panting. Without the use of her firmly planted rapier, she would have probably collapsed to the ground by now.

  “Go...I’ll be up...in a second...” those words were followed by a treacherous clump of blood lurching off her chest. She quickly wiped it away and as if responding to his thoughts, her eyes sharpened in the very next instant. That was all it took to convey an irrefutable, inaudible command. If she were to say it out loud, then it could easily be summed up with two simple words: ‘Don’t bother.’

  Cyril’s grip tightened on the hilt of his blade. He gave a rigid nod to signal his reluctant approval, then turned away and muttered the words “don’t overdo it” before running off again.

  Damn it, what's up with that? She’s starting to suffer from the same condition as everyone else. Think! There’s got to be something I'm missing here...!!

  Ceaseless thoughts flowed into his mind, but none brought any real answers. The only thing he could do was stubbornly watch as more of their comrades fell to the invisible stroke of malice that was starting to pick them off one by one. Putting more force into his strides, he crossed the remaining distance with a burst of vigor and sorrow. They were confined to an oval space that was around fifty meters in diameter, and yet it felt like it had taken him a great deal of effort to cross that distance and reach his captain.

  That was only due to the large number of bodies and weapons lying around in addition to the ruthless attacks that were prone to come if one were to ever ‘veer out of bounds’. It would have been a bit easier if that was the only thing he had to worry about, but all the chaos being trumped up by his comrades hadn’t helped much either.

  “C-Captain Ralph, we need to regroup—these monsters, they won’t attack us as long as we keep a certain distance!”

  “I know that Severin! We figured it out a while ago...” Ralph rasped his answer without turning around.

  He was in the middle of driving back a few of the more aggressive monsters with his shield when, all at once, the pressure pushing against him vanished. Thanks to the timely efforts of a certain A-ranker, several stone joints within the advancing barricade exploded, creating a much-needed opening.

  Seizing the moment, Ralph raised his shield high and slammed it into the ground with a resounding force. The resulting shockwave rippled outward, sending several of the remaining stone monsters hurtling through the air. The shockwave nearly usurped Cyril’s balance, luckily, he managed to hold firm long enough to comply with Ralph’s next order.

  “Let’s go Severin! We’re pulling back!”

  That was all it took for Cyril to start running in the opposite direction. He dodged, weaved and sidestepped several corpses on his way back to the small gathering huddling close to the center of their small domain. The assembly of deviants had shrunk to less than half its original size. From afar he could only account for twelve or so living members of their unit, and that number wasn’t increasing —if anything, it was slowly shrinking. Most of the unfamiliar faces had completely faded from view by now, so the remaining mix was a collection of people he had some recollection of.

  Finally, they came to a stop.

  “Looks like they really aren’t going to attack us unless we get too close...” Ralph muttered bitterly, he had spoken those words out of pity and not relief, anyone could tell that much just by inspecting his line of sight.

  He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off all the bodies and body parts scattered all around them.

  “Fuck! Goddamn it! W-why is this happening? Why aren’t my spells working!” Marcel barked angrily at his open palm, rage seeping from his every pore. His baleful glare slowly rose up to scan the remaining survivors with disdain.

  Before a deviant could manifest any form of supernatural phenomenon, several fundamental procedures had to be followed—and it all began with the irregularity known as mana. Unlike the whimsical portrayals in fairytales, harnessing mana involved a series of deliberate, actionable steps that went far beyond the simple wave of a magical wand.

  “Mana” was the placeholder term used to describe the extradimensional energy that permeated the world after Ragnarok. It was believed to be composed of quantum particles known as “manites,” which had the unique ability to record, transmit, and impose information onto various systems—both physical and abstract.

  All deviants underwent a subconscious adaptation that allowed them to manipulate this energy, resulting in a mutation in their brains referred to as the Cognitive Affinity Index. This Index served as the core mechanism for interacting with mana, acting as a relay center that attuned deviants to their innate affinity for the energy.

  To channel mana, deviants subconsciously activated their Index, enabling them to direct the energy with intent. This invoked mana from the environment, internalized it, and shaped it according to the deviant's will.

  However, the effects of their mana were not limitless.

  The manifestation of the energy was influenced by the deviant’s class, one of the four main adaptive frameworks the human brain adjusted to over time— those being strikers, magicians, tanks and enchanters. The class acted like a funnel, shaping and filtering the raw mana in specific ways and ultimately determining how the power would manifest.

  Just as water can be harnessed to power a mill, erode stone, or generate electricity depending on its use, mana could be molded into vastly different outcomes, depending on how the deviant's mind guided it through their class framework. The framework, although basic, allowed deviants to do more than simply cast flashy spells or conjure fireballs—they had the ability to rewrite the very fabric of reality, altering the laws that governed matter, energy, and even perception itself.

  If a deviant’s intended effect failed, it meant that some part of the fundamental process had been disrupted—whether in the invocation, internalization, or projection of mana.

  “This-It’s all your fault, if it wasn’t for you peopl-”

  “M-Marcel, calm yoursel-”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down Evan!” he snapped, subduing the magician with a word. “Shit, I’m not even supposed to be here right now! If only I didn’t lose my rank-”

  “Thats enough Marcel! This is what you signed up for, what we all signed up for. Do you hear anyone else complaining? No, because they understand what it means to be a hunter, so unless you’re considering a permanent career change, I suggest you keep quiet!”

  The flame magician's teeth gnashed furiously, but his outburst never came. He was still calm enough to understand the ramifications of such actions.

  For a while, the space around them fell silent.

  The silence that came wasn’t particularly peaceful or anything like that, it was occasionally filled with soft sniffles, sobs, growls and the occasional sounds of things breaking apart in the distance. Ever so often, the grating sound of shifting concrete slabs would jolt them from their stupor, snapping their focus back into place—as if to mock their fleeting moments of reprieve. Without any other choice, they remained perfectly still inside the bounds of the oval clearing that had been ‘given’ to them, cornered like frightened animals.

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  “Severin...” Ralph called out, garnering his attention with a groan

  “Yes Captain?”

  Intrigued by his fervent reply, the captain raised a brow.

  “Oh? I’m surprised...you can still muster up that much luster in your voice.” He said glancing around with a dreary gaze.

  “You...you’re bleeding...” Cyril remarked nervously, the words seeming to cling to his throat on their way out.

  The thin beads of blood escaping Ralph’s lips had instantly garnered a fresh batch of interest, though it wasn’t the kind of attention he needed right now. Before their small numbers could divulge into more uncertainty, the captain raised a hand.

  “Enough about me, I’ll be fine. Severin, earlier you mentioned something about a quest with a ten-minute timer. Will this all be over after that time elapses?” Ralph probed prudently. If he hadn’t been bleeding himself, that simple question may have been enough to ease a good amount of their anxiety.

  “I think so, it said something about the ‘primary sequence’ ending once the time limit was up.”

  “I see.” the captain responded skeptically “To think all of this happened in under ten minutes... what a disgrace” he said, finishing that remark with a low sounding grunt.

  His response was certainly bitter, but it left a strange impression on Cyril. Was he mad at himself, or was his frustration directed at everyone else?

  Cyril couldn’t tell.

  “Angelica!”

  That voice suddenly sounded from nearby.

  Turning his head, Cyril recognized its owner as the A rank hunter they were so desperately staking their hopes on.

  So much for that...He thought to himself, but at the same time, he couldn’t direct his anger at her, deep down he knew he didn’t have any right to.

  Yelena’s silhouette had materialized out of thin air—or at least that’s what it looked like to Cyril anyway. In reality, it was nothing more than a simple movement technique. She stormed at them with a face full of panic and rushed to the aid of a young girl who seemed to be having a hard time just keeping herself upright.

  The small gathering of people parted like a curtain, revealing Angelica at the center kneeling against her sword. That was all she could do at the moment. The formation they had taken was quite literally designed to keep her safe by making everyone else act as human shields should things take a turn for the worst.

  Nobody had issued such an order, but allowing a member of what was arguably the most prominent origin clan to die inside Ziggurat could very well end up being conducive to a death sentence in its own way.

  They all understood that.

  Even the young Phoenix, with all his status and family backing wasn’t above such repercussions. Panting fervently, Angelica raised her glossy blue eyes to scan the face of her approaching retainer.

  “Heh...see Yelena. I told you...I’d be fine...”

  Her words came out broken and disjointed, lacquered with a slight hint of agony. Yelena’s eyes narrowed with grief. She heaved Angelica upright by the shoulder and forged a face of cold determination upon turning around.

  “I am sorry to say this, everyone...” she began, her voice trailing off on a more sinister note.

  "...but this simply won’t do. No matter how many of these stone monsters I cut down, more keep spawning to replenish their numbers. There's something off about this room; it’s weakening us with each passing second. I’m unable to mold my mana properly, and without the use of my skill defeating the boss is pretty much impossible. Quite a few of us have already fallen to this tactic, including our young miss. As her retainer, I will be assisting in her retreat."

  “Retreat...you say?” Ralph repeated, dumbstruck.

  His surprise spread like a wave. Even with all their shock, fear and anxiety, quite a few jaws fell slack after hearing Yelena’s declaration.

  “Don’t tell me you plan to use a Virstone?”

  “Yes.” Yelena responded simply, unfazed by their disbelief.

  “D-don’t screw with us! You think you can just up and leave us all here to die after you were talking up such a big game a few minutes ago!” Marcel reached his limit; he took a fearsome step forward to confront Yelena on the spot.

  Without a doubt, he’d lost all reason to rage.

  “....”

  “Say something you old witch! Get us out of here, you’re an A-rank aren’t you?!”

  Yelena’s lips parted to speak, but before she could, her unspoken words were preceded by the soft groan that came from the girl she was holding up.

  “Ye...lena...I’m..sorry...”

  Angelica’s wheezing breaths came in heavy and ragged. By the sound of that her consciousness could only hold up for a few more minutes at best.

  That was all Yelena needed to chisel her resolve. Immediately, her eyes sharpened.

  “Allow me to be clear, Marcel. I am a member of the Regis clan first and an A-rank second. No matter the situation, I will prioritize the lives of my clansmen. That is not up for debate. When I use the Virstone, the gate will be open for a few seconds, if any of you are lucky, and willing to try, you’re welcome to make the attempt after us.”

  Her statement was bold and direct, resonating within the oppressive stillness like a spark in the dark.

  A loud bash came from Ralph’s shield, his eyes burning with rage.

  "W-Wait Yelena! If you use that now, these things are bound to attack us! Virstones are great for a quick escape from Ziggurat, but it's a terrible idea to use them when there are lots of monsters nearby. They'll see it as just another breach and start swarming us!"

  “Have I not made myself clear, captain? I will ensure the safety of our young miss at all costs. I won’t hesitate to cut down anyone or anything that gets in my way.”

  No words came from Ralph’s gaping mouth.

  There was nothing more he—or anyone else present —could do. Even if they were all being weakened somehow, Yelena was still an A-rank hunter. Despite their advantage in numbers, they were going to need a miracle to best her in combat.

  “There might still be another way. It’s not completely over yet.” Cyril announced, stepping forward to strengthen his declaration.

  “Oh? Then do enlighten us boy. What other method could possibly allow us to escape from here alive?” Evan rasped, wrath lurking in his tone. “If you mention anything about that quest one more tim-”

  “That’s it.” Cyril interrupted; his expression fierce. “We’re almost at the ten-minute mark, so if we can hold out until then we might be able to leave here alive.”

  Heads turned in response to his proposal.

  No form of acceptance had been voiced yet but that also meant that it wasn’t being denied either.

  “Right, there was that!” Ralph answered hastily, his voice grating with a hoarse cough.

  His complexion grew paler by the second, and he couldn’t go more than a few moments without choking on blood. Yet, despite his worsening condition, he was the first to lunge at even the faintest glimmer of hope. Scrolling her eyes around the room, Yelena nodded in agreement.

  Slowly, the other surviving members voiced their approval until they finally achieved a unilateral consensus.

  “So...out with it already. How much time do we have left?” Marcel grated; his tone harsh. Based on the smears of blood spilling through his lips it seems the young Phoenix was also approaching his limit.

  “Well about that-”

  Cyril's words abruptly fell flat. He stumbled forward, struggling to withstand the stream of information beaming into his mind.

  [Alert. The primary sequence will expire shortly. Time remaining: 0:30]

  His head sprang back up, startled but still firm.

  “Thirty more seconds.” Cyril said, his voice strained but steady.

  A loud gulp sounded from among them, yet it garnered no significance. At the moment, the only thing that mattered were the seconds ticking down. The air grew heavy, thick with anticipation and the faint metallic tang of fear. Every breath felt like a struggle against an invisible weight. Uncertainty plagued Cyril’s mind. His thoughts ran rampant, although none were to his benefit.

  [0:24]

  I hope I'm right about this.

  [0:21]

  Damn it, if only I knew how this quest thing was supposed to work.

  [0:19]

  Please let this be the right choice.

  [0:16]

  Why does this all feel like a massive mistake?

  [0:12]

  I really, really hope this isn’t a trap.

  Thinking was a hazard right now. His mind, body and soul all seemed to be on the verge of betraying him. The shaking didn’t stop, nor did the endless stream of thoughts pouring in. The only thing he could do was isolate his consciousness, clinging to this one fleeting moment.

  It didn’t matter if he was right or wrong anymore.

  It didn’t matter what he could have or should have done better.

  The moment the countdown began, all those parameters lost their meaning. There was nothing more he could do now but wait. Whatever outcome lay ahead—whether triumph or disaster—would be determined in the next ten seconds.

  [0:10]

  [0:09]

  [0:08]

  [0:07]

  [0:06]

  [0:05]

  [0:04]

  [0:03]

  [0:02]

  [0:01]

  [0:00]

  [Alert. The time limit for the skill ‘Tartarus Pit’ has been reached. The preliminary sequence has come to an end.]

  The sequence has ended. Does that mean...

  A moment later, the very thought itself was betrayed.

  [Alert. Now that the presence of a host has been confirmed, the operator will commence the main sequence.]

  Cyril’s hand fell limply to his side as he slowly turned his body.

  Someone was calling out to him, shouting his name and even yanking his body but he hardly registered any of that.The rows of armored stone statues, which had trapped them in a blockade, suddenly clanged their weapons together and stood at attention. The violet glimmer of death, gently swaying in their eye sockets, flared to life all at once, as if roaring back into existence

  Even the thirty meter giants standing atop the large stone dais had been invigorated with the ghastly glow. Their once-inanimate bodies creaked ominously under the influence of some unknown force as if the stone itself were awakening to a semblance of life. Cyril absentmindedly ignored the gasps, shrieks, and pleas echoing around him. It wasn’t out of spite or malice, but because his mind was too consumed by fear to register anything else.

  As terrifying as the newly revamped stone army was, an even greater problem loomed ahead.

  Cyril's eyes were focused, locked on the image of the armored monster that had just risen from its granite throne. It equipped the elaborate broadsword—more than two hundred centimeters long—with one hand and stepped toward the edge of the dais, mere seconds away from assuming a combat ready stance.

  That was it.

  That was the true beginning of their despair.

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