Chapter 262 – Floor 52: Part 3

  The interior of the abandoned Power Plant was a cavernous labyrinth of rusted metal and crumbling concrete. Rusted and old machinery emerged like skeletal giants in the dim light flickering through the cracked windows high above.

  Mathew moved cautiously; his boots made faint scrapes against the dusty floor, and his every step seemed louder than they should have been. The noise echoed faintly in the stillness of the plant’s interior despite the battle going on just outside.

  The entrance where Mathew entered had collapsed shortly after he made it safely inside, sending up a screen of dust and debris that obscured his sight.

  In the yard behind him, chaos still raged. Distant explosions rumbled like angry thunder, and the sharp crack of gunfire was only slightly muffled by the thick walls. Each tremor sent vibrations through the floor and caused thin trails of dust to sift down from the corridor girders above Mathew’s head.

  It was like Mathew had entered another world, one separated from the violence of the ongoing battle.

  He paused near a leaning support beam, his breath shallow from the dust and controlled. The stale air was tinged with the metallic scent of neglected equipment and the faint tang of long-spilled oil left to seep into the cracked floor.

  But mixed through it all was the smell of Aether, thick and cloying.

  Another explosion rocked the earth, this one closer and much more forceful than the others. A cascade of debris fell from the ceiling, peppering the floor with small shards of concrete and rust. Mathew could hear screams and shouts now, still muffled by the walls but loud enough to carry.

  Hurrying as quickly as he could, Mathew ducked under machinery that blocked passageways and weaved through the hallways until he came upon a wider area.

  Mathew stepped cautiously toward the entrance to the wider chamber, his movements deliberate and silent. The air felt heavier here, charged with a faint, unsettling energy that prickled at the back of his neck.

  The windows around the room were boarded up and barricaded, and the only illumination came from lamps that had been set up around and powered by a generator. The strange energy came from the figures that were standing guard around the room.

  Dressed in ragged cloaks and patchwork armour that gave them a haphazard and unpredictable look, they all had glowing runes and glyphs tattooed onto the skin and worked into their clothing.

  Unlike their clothing, their weapons were well cared for and gleamingly new. They wielded a mishmash of modern rifles and shotguns, along with swords and knives. Mathew could feel the magic in the room, even from where he was standing. The glyphs were the obvious source, but he suspected that even the weapons were enchanted.

  Some of the guards held their guns at the ready, scanning the chamber with intense vigilance, while others were clustered around something on a table at the center of the room. They seemed either unaware or uncaring of the violence occurring outside. Instead, they were all focused on something else.

  Several of the people with their backs turned to him wielded items that practically hummed with power. Mathew could see talismans in their hands, obsidian orbs and strange, jagged rods that shimmered in the light.

  Mathew could spot the leader immediately by the aura of power around him and the large staff held in his right hand that was crowned with a single shard of Crystallized Aether. His presence seemed to command authority from those around them as the other members kept glancing in his direction as if waiting for his orders.

  Another distant explosion outside made the walls vibrate, and a fine mist of dust rained down from the ceiling. The Ashen Pact members barely flinched; all of their attention was on the object they were guarding.

  It wasn’t until one of the members shifted slightly that Mathew could see it.

  The Sacred Vessel rested on the center of a table, and it was a container unlike anything else in the room. A seamless blend of magic and technology, its core was an intricate cylinder of darkened glass, etched with shifting runes that glowed faintly in rhythmic pulses, like a heartbeat.

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  Encasing the glass was a frame of gleaming black metal, polished to a mirror finished but marred in places as if burned by fire or acid. Thin, delicate latticework in gold and silver spiralled across the surface, forming patterns that were too precise and intricate for Mathew to observe from his hiding place.

  Within the container, suspended as though even gravity didn’t dare to touch it, was a single drop of blood. It was unnaturally vibrant, shifting between shades of deep crimson, molten gold and radiant violet. The blood held a shape like a perfect tear despite the container being cylindrical.

  Mathew could see faint arcs of energy flickering around it, tiny bolts of lightning that danced along the inner walls of the glass before vanishing into the runes. Strangely, Mathew felt the pull of the blood drawing him toward it, promising unparalleled power.

  It was clear that this was no ordinary blood and that the Elder it belonged to was one of those ancient beings whose existence could be measured in centuries, if not millennia.

  The Ashen Pact was trying to open it, and from the tools scattered around the table and the frustrated atmosphere in those gathered, they were finding the task difficult. Mathew watched as one of the members tried to pry off the lid with a crowbar while another hit it with a hammer, both to no effect.

  The stillness and quiet in the chamber were suddenly shattered with a violent roar as one of the walls exploded outward in a shower of concrete and jagged metal. The deafening sound of the blast reverberated through the room, sending out shockwaves that rattled the walls and sent a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

  Screams echoed as the Ashen Pact scrambled to respond, their weapons and magic already raised and ready. Through the gaping hole, the attackers surged in. They were a mix of armed fighters and spellcasters, their efforts coordinated and precise.

  Gunfire erupted in an instant, the sharp crack of rifles joined by the hum and sizzle of magical energy as both sides opened fire.

  But the Pact wasn’t alone. Their monstrous allies emerged from the shadows, roaring in defiance as they joined the fray. The grotesque creatures threw themselves at the intruders without a care for their own survival. Hulking brutes covered in patchwork armour were joined by smaller, more agile monsters that darted across the battlefield.

  One of the brutes, a towering figure with sharp teeth and claws, smashed its way through a group of humans while an Ashen Pact spellcaster raised a glowing talisman in his hands and directed a bolt of shadowy energy toward the attackers, striking one and sending them sprawling.

  But the Ashen Pact weren’t invincible, and the attackers sent their own bullets and magic toward them. Several of the monsters fell, their bodies riddled with wounds or burning from unnatural fire.

  And amidst all the chaos, Mathew stared at the Sacred Vessel that glowed faintly on the table, untouched by anyone and dominating the room with its presence. Destroying the Ashen Pact was one of the goals of this Floor, but not the only one. It seemed inevitable that they would be defeated based on the number of people attacking the power plant.

  But if he could get the Sacred Vessel out of here, his mission would be accomplished, and Mathew could move on to the next Floor right away.

  So, just as he did outside, Mathew watched the battle unfolding with a sense of detachment and waited for his opportunity.

  He only needed to wait for a moment before it came.

  Mathew burst from his cover like a coiled spring; his body surged with the raw energy of mana coursing through his veins. Every muscle was enhanced; his movements were unnaturally fast and precise. The chaos of the battle seemed to slow around him; each sound dulled, and each motion was crystal clear as he sprinted across the debris-strewn floor toward his target.

  A nearby Ashen Pact guard turned toward him in surprise, but Mathew was already on him. His enhanced strength sent the guard’s rifle clattering to the floor with a single strike to his wrist. Before the guard could react, Mathew struck him in the face, and the guard crumpled onto the floor.

  As the guard fell, Mathew reached out and grabbed a knife from his belt and charged toward two more Pact members who were still firing into the crowd of attackers. Mathew drove the knife into the second guard's side before ripping it out and slashing the third in the throat.

  Feeling the surge of Aether from the downed guards, Mathew didn’t slow down at all as he continued on toward the table. With terrifying speed, he darted forward while weaving his way through gunfire and magic alike.

  He closed the distance as quickly as possible, and even with his enhanced agility, he was struck in the shoulder by a bullet and again in the leg. The protection afforded by his Essences could only absorb some of the damage, but he was near enough to the Sacred Vessel that he didn’t slow down much.

  As the last guard in his path fell, Mathew reached the container. Its glow pulsed faintly, beckoning him to take it. The instant his blood-covered fingers closed around it, he felt a shock of energy.

  The room seemed to grow still for a brief moment as the Vessel’s presence pulsed through him. He could barely hear the ‘Ding’ from the notification announcing his success as his attention was taken away by something else.

  Mathew heard a faint ‘clink’ from the Sacred Vessel as the lid opened and the drop of blood its prison. Like a thing alive, the drop of blood spun around the container for a moment, then struck Mathew on the cheek and was absorbed immediately into one of the myriad cuts and scratches he had there.

  His vision turned black, and Mathew collapsed.