Transgressions (III)

  “I’m surprised...you’re still alive...”

  Cyril heard a voice talking down to him, literally.

  It was rasped and sounded muffled, though he still managed to decipher those words by reading the chapped lips of their owner. They belonged to the breathless middle-aged magician standing over his body, charred and seared. Neither of their conditions were very favorable, in fact they were extremely similar.

  The only part of Evan that wasn’t already burnt to a crips was his head, and even that was slowly changing with time, his bodily fluids were outright beginning to vaporize from the flames consuming him.

  "To think that woman left you with a keepsake like that… How unfortunate. This time, I’ll make sure to finish you for good." Evan croaked harshly. Dismissing the blood spilling through his lips, he once again straightened a finger at his target and willed orange specks of light to gather at its tip.

  The process was slower this time, but that didn’t matter. Cyril knew what the end result was going to be.

  It’s over...He’s about to kill me-

  Splat

  That sound came abruptly. It took him a few seconds to process what just happened, however it was the undeniable truth. Slowly shifting his head to the side, Cyril blinked twice and looked again to confirm it.

  Evan was dead.

  Right before he could deliver the fatal blow, his body had somehow been split in half. Slayed by some unseen force, the magician’s torso comically glided off the rest of his body in the midst of his own spell.

  Am I saved? No...

  Dum

  The ground rattled from a dull impact. The tremors quickly faded, albeit not before transmitting a fresh pang of fear up they boy’s spine. In his mind that impact was more than just a natural phenomenon.....

  That’s not it. There’s no way I could ever get that lucky.

  ...to him, it was something far worse....

  Evan didn’t just ‘die’ on his own, he was killed by-

  ....it was a warning.

  By the time his neck had creaked around, it was already too late. His figure was already swallowed by the vast shadow cast by the aggressor—the one that had taken Evan’s life.

  “Operator.”

  He managed to word sheepishly, struggling to process the relentless torrent of alarms and warning bells going off in his mind. His primal instincts were fully functional, but what good would that do when the deadly grip of fear had already taken hold?

  Cyril remained in his awkward position, barely managing to keep himself upright as he stared up at the creature looming over him righteously. With a powerful impact, it planted the large blade in its hand firmly into the ruptured floor. The boy nervously glanced at his own reflection in the thick flat of the blade—heart racing like a wild horse. Before he could even register the terror surfacing on his face, he was abruptly yanked into the air. The monsters grip slowly tightened on his throat and no amount of flailing, kicking or scraping did any good. The only form of response his futile efforts attracted was the brightening violet glow visible underneath the creature's helmet.

  Before the oxygen deprivation could completely take hold of his mind, he heard something that tugged at his fading consciousness.

  “This one is not affected by it. I was right, host confirmed. The other one was a fake.” The voice remarked begrudgingly.

  A humanoid… monster… talking…? A Titan…?

  He hardly had any strength left to spare on shock at this point, although he was still surprised nonetheless. The monster holding him captive muttered something to itself and manifested a strange object in its free hand. It had a vague, cone-shaped design with what looked like open valves extending from it, though he couldn’t exactly tell because of the dark, almost sinister shroud enveloping the construct.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Going off the way it pulsed and jiggled, the only thing that Cyril could compare it to was a distorted heart—alive and throbbing with a slow, rhythmic beat.

  Then it came.

  The sound of his flesh being crushed, accompanied by the indescribable pain of his internal organs being dislodged and distorted by a large metal hand. He wanted to scream, shout, and die all at once, but the overwhelming pain wouldn’t allow for such things. Strength drained from his limbs, but the suffering showed no sign of relenting. At last, he felt something snap inside his chest, followed by a warm liquid spilling out. But even that was quickly stilled, as though something had replaced what was lost.

  The literal iron grip suspending him in the air loosened on cue, and thus, the boy’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. His body, battered and broken, barely reacted to the impact after allowing his consciousness to fade.

  [Alert. A suitable host has been found. Commencing assimilation of the specified realm factor.]

  [Alert. Anomalies detected. Commencing recalibration...]

  [Error. Missing component detected. Currently, the host body does not possess the proper foundation to facilitate complete assimilation. Rerouting to secondary pathways for adaptive recalibration.]

  [Error. Connection to source not found. Initiating regent protocol.]

  [Initiation successful. Assessment of the host body will be delegated to the main system interface designated as A.R.I.A]

  [Notice. All unexpected errors have been accounted for. Commencing initial recalibration of host body. Expected duration—144:59:59]

  A century ago, an unseen hand of malevolence descended upon humanity. It all stemmed from a single factor, the effects of which continue to persist to this day. An event from the not-so-distant past which had been henceforth dubbed as ‘Ragnarok’.

  In modern times, the only real ways to stir up an existential crisis was by inflating issues that could easily spread like wildfire thanks to the foundation of conspiracy theories supporting them. Things like nuclear wars or an alien invasion could have certainly done the trick, but the real catalyst for humanity’s demise was something a lot more direct.

  It came in the form of a ‘gate’.

  Not the typical type that was made of metal barriers and bars but rather, a gate connecting to another world—the place called ‘Ziggurat’.

  This world, Ziggurat, it was composed of numerous pocket dimensions, or ‘dungeons’ stacked on top of each other. The dungeons ranged in rank from S to D, with each dungeon’s rank assigned based on its difficulty. Dungeons contained a variety of monsters and otherworldly elements, with the only established general pattern being that lower-ranked dungeons housed weaker monsters and were consequently regarded as being less threatening as a result of that. If they were notorious enough, and depending on their type, some dungeons had even managed to earn code names for themselves if they had yet to be conquered.

  Ziggurat infamously rose to prominence one day when small rifts in Earths dimensional walls— which were later dubbed as ‘gates’ — suddenly began emerging across the globe.

  The dimensional breaches varied in size and location but the one thing they all had in common were the inhuman creatures that emerged from them. Some were horrible, twisted entities each more bizarre than the last, while others had humanoid shapes but nothing more.

  They lacked even the most basic tenets of humanity—no compassion, no understanding, no sense of morality. Their movements were erratic, and their actions were driven by an instinctive cruelty that surpassed mere violence. Either the concept of civility was completely foreign to them, or they simply didn’t care, but whatever the case was, one thing was clear — these “Monsters” were enemies.

  The entire world unanimously agreed on the idea, and so for the first time in history, the entire world had found a common enemy. That being the case, attaining victory was easier said than done.

  Though their weapons were rather simple, the monsters that emerged from beyond the gates had something else at their disposal — the power of magic.

  With that arcane force under their control even creatures as simple as rock trolls could easily shrug off tank shells. Their reinforced bodies made the convenience of modern weaponry seem like nothing more than expensive toys at best.

  It made the very thought of victory seem futile.

  However, on the brink of despair, something changed.

  Whether by luck or by chance, a small group of humans— said to be the first ever to acclimate to the strange magical forces of the world— harnessed that power to emerge as something greater: ‘Saints’

  The term was often synonymous with divinity, but in this case, those who witnessed their transformation might have dubbed them saints solely because of their overwhelming strength, powers that bordered on the divine.

  That was all it took for the tides of battle to shift in humanity's favor.

  With the emergence of just five individuals, the tides of battle begun shifting slowly but surely from there onwards, and after two grueling decades of struggle, the invaders were decisively pushed back beyond the bounds of this world. Victory was attained, but that wasn’t the end.

  Ziggurat was still connected to the world, meaning that with just the right amount of effort the second coming of ‘Ragnarok’ was always a looming possibility. Thus, a new profession was born — “Hunters”

  It was an exclusive occupation, open to fewer than ten percent of the world’s population, the chosen few destined to follow in the footsteps of the five saints. A profession so elusive, it was reserved for the awakened individuals who had joined a ‘guild’—those who wielded the power of ‘mana.’

  In time, the world would come to know them as “deviants”.

  And with that, the prologue comes to a close. Hopefully it piqued your interest! This is where things start to diverge from your typical dungeon diver format. I wanted the prologue to introduce the concept of dungeons, but in hindsight... this probably wasn’t the best example. Don’t worry, things don’t usually play out like that. Anyway, the next arc of the story is going to serve a different purpose. It won’t focus much on dungeons for a while. Honestly, I was originally planning to make this an Isekai—but I realized it might get stale if the entire story was just dungeon crawling. So I decided to blend things a bit: a little sci-fi here, some dungeons there. That way, I can split the worldbuilding—explore the setting in the aftermath of Ragnarok, and gradually expand from there.

  At some point, I’ll probably add a glossary. I didn’t mean for the power system to get too complex, but I really liked the idea of mana being an extra-dimensional energy made up of quantum particles that can record and rewrite information. It seemed cool to me at the time.

  Hopefully the glossary will help make that clearer. I’ll include other stuff in there too—like skills and whatever else pops up. I know I've been throwing loose terms around for a while, like "Psionic" and whatnot, but that's just because I was trying to avoid introducing something and then explaining it on the spot. It should all make sense in a bit.

  If you’ve read the prologue, you probably have a good sense of where this story is headed. If you’ve got a moment, I’d really appreciate an advanced review—it helps a lot with visibility and Rising Stars overall. Also, I'll ask for input from readers every now and then to gauge the stuff I need to brush up on. This time around I'm curious about the pacing so far, how was it? Pacing’s always been a bit of a challenge for me, but I’m actively working on it.

  Oh, about the Patreon, I've decided to hold off on that until I've built up a bigger backlog. It'll come through soon—I Promise.

  Thanks so much for reading!