Chapter 194: Only Hell Awaits You
'What?'
Watching the creature force its way inside through the opening, Kael bit his lower lip tightly, only to taste the saltiness of blood in his mouth.
'What else am I supposed to do?'
He had nothing left in him to fight back anymore, so he couldn't do anything to prevent its descent in mid-air. His mana was almost depleted after using that whirl spell to make the hole bigger, which meant he was no longer in a position to cast any magic either.
All he could do was lie still on the piles of ash and stare at the monster with drooping eyes as it plummeted down, devouring him whole without facing any resistance.
He wasn't even sure how to feel about it.
He was just too damn tired.
But for some reason, his skin tingled a little.
Ignoring the strange sensation, he closed his eyes and braced himself for whatever was about to happen.
'I guess... this is it. There's no going back this time. Well, what can I say... this is just how things go sometimes...'
To his surprise, however, time continued to pass, but nothing seemed to happen.
The sound of something striking against the rocks still echoed throughout the isolated place, repeating itself in an awkward rhythm.
Kael opened his eyes, but the moment he looked up, he was left at a loss for words.
He stared at the creature for a while, then lingered a little longer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
Eventually, his expression turned blank.
'How could I? No, how could I forget that?'
The creature had indeed managed to enter the gap, but it was now stuck halfway through the opening, unable to move any deeper inside. The reason was quite simple: unlike its long neck, the rest of its body, particularly its abdomen, was simply too thick to pass through the narrow entrance.
In fact, he doubted whether it would be able to squeeze through even if the fissure were three times its current size.
It was such an obvious thing to happen, yet he had failed to consider that possibility.
'Maybe, I've become so stupid that I've forgotten how to use basic common sense.'
He let out a broken laugh, which forced him to cough a few times.
For the time being, he was confident that he wouldn't have to deal with the Verdant Scyther anytime soon, although that didn't mean the creature was going to give up its efforts just yet. It kept striking against the opening, occasionally trying to tear its way through the surrounding rocks, but they were simply too thick and sturdy for it to smash through so easily.
Even so, it showed no signs of giving up.
And Kael could only sprawl there and watch it fail over and over again.
Throughout all of this, the rest of its body remained outside the opening, leaving it practically defenseless against any potential assault. It was an excellent opportunity to attack the creature, but none of the other monsters seemed to be making any attempt to harm it, or else, it wouldn't have had so much time to keep digging.
Which meant...
Either it had killed all the monsters that had driven themselves inside the crater, leaving none behind to challenge it or perhaps the remaining minions had been withdrawn from the battle under the boss's orders.
Both possibilities could be true at the same time, though.
In fact, he had a feeling that they were.
However, that only raised a new question.
Why would the boss suddenly withdraw all its minions? Was it because he had escaped their sight? But the creature had gone to such lengths to catch him, so it had little reason to back off now. Besides, it still had another enemy outside that it needed to deal with.
So, why?
What had changed?
He was not exactly sure yet.
'Speaking of which, there's one more thing that doesn't make any sense at all.'
He had been too occupied with everything else to give it much thought before, but now it hit him.
Why would a monster attack its own kind?
It wasn't unusual for monsters to fight amongst each other, and such encounters were actually quite common, but even in the outside world, those confrontations usually happened between different races.
Under normal circumstances, monsters of the same kind hardly ever engaged in such battles. Instead, they maintained a strange harmony, or perhaps lived according to some sort of unspoken agreement to avoid disturbing each other.
Even amidst the unstable ecosystem of the dungeon, different races would usually fight when they crossed into each other's territories while travelling between floors, or when one attempted to claim an area already occupied by another. Some would fight to protect their territory and keep intruders away, while their opponents would try to seize it for themselves.
In the worst-case scenario, such conflicts could arise when a high-level boss, or even a boss of the same rank, used its power or authority to dominate monsters of different stripes, coercing them into submission with the purpose of taking control of their minions and expanding its own forces.
He had encountered the latter on the first floor, where the Star-Eyed Digger King had controlled several other kinds of monsters, along with a swarm of Goblin Kings, to assist its minions.
Sure, monsters were often regarded as mindless beasts, but they still possessed more than adequate intelligence to distinguish between friend and foe. In fact, they regarded their own kind as allies, unless there was some outside interference or something worth fighting over at loggerheads.
'But what could it be? Wait... maybe I can find an answer if I think things through from the beginning.'
At first, the White Scyther had been entangled in a deadly battle with the Green Scyther, sustaining injuries in the process. With no other choice left, it had fled, only to encounter him along the way.
After struggling with him in an attempt to gorge on him, it had lost once again and found itself on the verge of death. Back then, it had suddenly let out a deafening shriek that echoed throughout the hill. That must have been the trigger, or rather, a desperate call for help to its boss.
Surprisingly, the boss had not only answered the call shortly afterward, but had also brought its entire group of minions along, all to defend just one of them.
However, instead of retaliating against him, the one who had undoubtedly slain its minion, the boss had chosen to consume the Green Scyther first.
But how could it have known that the Green Scyther had been the first one to attack its minion, rather than him?
There was only one explanation for it.
Those two monsters of the same species were definitely not on good terms with each other, or perhaps, they were outright enemies.
Perhaps that was why the Green Scyther had ambushed the White Scyther in the first place. That also explained why the minions hadn't hesitated to attack the Verdant Scyther upon spotting it.
But why exactly were they at odds?
'Come to think of it, all the minions shared one thing in common: their bodies were white, or predominantly so. Their boss also looked similar, or at least, that's what I think. If that's the case, would it be safe to assume that the Green Scyther and Verdant Scyther also belonged to a similar but different type of minion tribe, considering the resemblance in their body colours and shapes, one that falls under the command of another insect boss? Could this be the reason?'
Having two bosses in the same area meant there was a chance of them engaging in a battle to devour each other, provided they weren't on good terms.
Perhaps that was exactly what was happening here.
Whatever their goals might be, the one who emerged victorious would gain control over both the territory and the minions belonging to the defeated side.
'And somehow, I've ended up right in the middle of this whole affair, like some unwanted third party? What the hell?!'
Kael studied the struggling creature above him for a moment before letting out a sigh, paying almost no attention to the shards of stone that occasionally fell onto his body.
'Couldn't I have been sent somewhere else?'
But then again, he didn't really want to be anywhere else.
After all, there was no place within a lower floor that could be considered safe in the truest sense of the word, since the extent of one's protection here was determined by the level of danger or the number of threats lurking in the vicinity. As far as he could tell, this place might very well be one of the least hazardous areas on this entire floor...
Who knew?
'Surely, it's better in every regard this way.'
Engulfed in ash, Kael felt a strange chill permeating through his body. It felt as though he were standing shirtless outside in the early hours of a winter morning.
Half of his body was buried beneath the soft mound, while specks of ash lingered all around his bloodied skin.
His face twisted into a grimace, and his teeth were grinding against each other.
'Ah!'
Pain.
He was drowning in pain.
An inescapable, bone-sickening pain.
There seemed to be no end to it, as his chest, waist, shoulder, legs, bones, and even blood vessels were all aching grievously.
Even though he had restored most of these wounds before, twice, even, they had never completely disappeared. He had only managed to heal them partially to stop the bleeding, leaving both the pain and the underlying injuries behind.
He had been suppressing all of it until now, but he was no longer capable of doing so.
It was simply too much.
As if that wasn't already bad enough, drops of blood were still trickling out of his fresh wounds, the patches of peeled skin, and even some of the older injuries that had reopened after he scraped his chest against the rough stone surface.
His battered body was already in a deteriorating state, and he could hardly afford to lose any more blood, not even a single drop of it.
Unfortunately, he had no way of staunching the bleeding either, no matter how much he wanted to.
Of course, there were plenty of bandages inside the Liquid Chest, which he had brought as spares to use in emergencies, especially if the tattoo was ever exposed to others' gazes. However, even if he could get his hands on them, he wouldn't be able to wrap them around the mangled flesh, not when he couldn't move a single muscle.
So, even trying to do so would be pointless.
With all the affliction caused by torturous agony and severe blood loss, it wouldn't be long before his body betrayed him as well.
But he had to do something before that happened to ensure his own survival, although, tragically, there was nothing he could think of.
As a gifted healer, an exceptional one at that, he had hardly ever carried herbal potions or concocted remedies with him that could be used to reduce pain or curb the bleeding. It wasn't because he was arrogant about his own abilities, but rather because he had never found himself in a situation where such things were necessary.
Still, as a precaution, if he ever required any, he could have obtained some from the leaders, since they had been provided with various supplies by the Guild, or at least that was what he had thought back then. But how could he have imagined that so many things would happen after entering the dungeon, let alone that he would end up completely separated from the others on a lower floor?
Regardless, there was no way left for him to tend to his lacerations, so the only hope he could still rely on was his own healing element. However, to utilise it again, he first had to stay alive until his mana core was replenished.
Normally, it would take an hour or so for that to happen, but having used Stagebreaker not long ago, the rate of his mana accumulation had decreased significantly.
It wasn't because of a curse or anything similar, but rather the consequence of forcing his flowlines or mana core to overwork for the first time. Amidst all that, he also had to worry about the possible side effects, in case he had sustained any.
Still, even at this pace, it wasn't particularly difficult for him to estimate how much longer he had to keep himself alive.
It was less than two hours.
He had to hold out for two more hours.
It might not have seemed like much in hindsight, but to him, the amount of time was simply too extreme, almost exaggerated. He wasn't even sure if he would make it halfway through, let alone subsist until the end.
Was that not sufficient of a reason to stop resisting and simply brace himself for the imminent outcome, without having to struggle through his final moments?
Besides, what would be the point of fighting against his own battered and broken body if his death was unavoidable to begin with?
It was merely a matter of time before it happened, so what difference would it make if it came much earlier than expected?
Would it change anything at all?
On the contrary, it would grant him a merciful and befitting end, one without any sort of misery.
If considered carefully, this choice was rather generous, even.
But no, he wouldn't accept it.
Because an assassin like him was unworthy of such generosity.
And so, no matter how dire things became, he would strive to cling to life for as long as a single breath rattled past his lips or nostrils, even if it turned out to be meaningless in the end.
He didn't care about that one bit.
After all, not all suffering promised sweetness; sometimes, it granted nothing but bitterness.
And he was fine with that.
With each passing second, the condition of his body deteriorated, growing worse and worse without showing even the slightest sign of improvement.
His bloodstained face had become deathly pale, almost resembling that of a corpse. His heart pounded against his chest like a sledgehammer, each beat sending a tremor through his motionless body.
His breathing had grown ragged and erratic, accompanied by crimson, frothy bubbles escaping through his dried lips.
Above all else, the dozen wounds scattered throughout his more or less ruined body flooded waves of harrowing pain through his veins and muscles like a crushing wave, leaving him feeling almost suffocated beneath its immense pressure.
But he could no longer quell it, and so, he decided to take a different approach this time. He forced his mind to wander through distant, ridiculous thoughts, trying to analyse whatever came to mind, since it was a better way to pass the time while keeping the sickening agony at bay.
At first, it worked steadily and seamlessly, allowing him to distract himself from everything else. But as time passed by, his thoughts gradually began to dwindle until even the simplest thoughts became sluggish and difficult to process.
Eventually, he simply lost the desire to think about anything at all.
His head throbbed violently, while an uneasy feeling crept its way inside him, making it difficult to keep the train of thoughts together.
And so, he had failed against the pain.
And so, he had lost the battle against the pain.
It had won.
He wanted to scream as loud as he could, to let out everything that had been building up inside him. But sadly, no words came out of his mouth, not when his throat had dried up from an unquenchable thirst for water.
His body had almost nothing left to give.
But still, he had to hang in there somehow.
Anyhow.
No matter how arduous it became to tolerate all this suffering, no matter how unbearable the burden grew, even if he was already standing on the very brink of death, he still had to wait... he had to wait until his mana was refilled again.
And so, he waited.
He waited, and waited, and waited.
But sadly, time simply refused to pass by.
It didn't move at all, almost as though everything around him had been frozen in place.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
It stretched and stretched, expanding endlessly, making a simple second feel like a minute, while a single minute felt like a whole hour... even though he had no proper sense of time left within him.
After what felt like an eternity, the pain coursing through his flesh became unassuageable, bringing tears to his eyes.
His jaw muscles tightened as his teeth clenched against one another.
In order to survive, he had no choice but to endure it somehow.
No, by any means necessary.
And so, he did... he endured.
But then, something strange happened.
The insufferable, irresistible agony that had been tormenting him all this time suddenly disappeared... it... it vanished into thin air.
He couldn't feel it anymore.
For a brief moment, he felt a sense of relief washing over him.
But soon, he regretted feeling that way.
By then, the excruciating heat radiating from his ghastly wounds had been replaced by a deep, creeping chill that sent cold shivers down his spine, no, through his entire being, stiffening his muscles while gradually numbing all his limbs until they began to lose all sensation.
Before long, his body started shaking uncontrollably amidst the ash.
Cold.
Everything felt cold.
Skin-piercing, bone-chilling cold.
It washed away all his suffering, embracing him in a strange yet soothing sense of tranquility that made everything else seem distant and negligible.
It was peaceful, if nothing else.
He wished he could remain this way forever, in a place where nothing existed and nothing could ever trouble him again.
An insatiable hunger for deep, dreamless sleep arose within him, growing into an overwhelming yearning to surrender himself to its depths and never return.
He closed his half-lidded eyes, slowly but steadily succumbing to the serene silence.
No, he was dying.
If he fell asleep now, perhaps he would never be able to wake up again.
But it was so placid, so comforting, and so, so blissful...
'No, no... don't... don't get... tricked by it. You'll never find peace... not, not... even in death, never, never... only hell awaits you.'
As his consciousness began to fade away, he desperately clung to the last fleeting fragment of it, forcing himself to stay barely awake.
It was his sheer refusal to die.
And his unwavering determination to survive.
Only by relying on it could he persist until the countdown was over.
But it was not nearly enough.
He needed something else to overcome it.
But there was nothing else he could lean on... and yet, he had to.
And so, he did... he persisted.
He withstood everything thrown at him for as long as he could remember, until, before he even realised it... his mana was replenished.
The index finger of his right hand trembled slightly amidst the ash, parting the dust beneath it as a barely visible, faint glow emerged from its tip.
Gradually, the fragile light expanded outward, enveloping the rest of his bloodied body in a green glow that resembled a sun.
A green sun, to be precise.
Soon enough, his body began to heal at an accelerating pace, as the mangled and twisted flesh rippled before gradually knitting itself back together, restoring his battered body to its original state.
Though some bloodstains and patches of ash still remained, almost every wound had disappeared, leaving no trace of the pain behind.
It should've felt amazing... but he was in no condition to appreciate it.
Because, as soon as the healing was complete, his consciousness finally gave way, plunging his senses into an unwilling, deep slumber.
Inside the opening, the place was mostly covered in shadows, with soft, glowing light emanating from here and there while faint light poured through the fissure from outside, falling down in a thin line. In the middle of it, a young man lay sprawled atop a mound of ash, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly as he curled up against the dust like a child sleeping quietly.
...
Beyond the shadows of the cave, beyond even the boundless fog hanging above it, no, somewhere far beyond the floor itself, inside a barely illuminated hall, a woman wearing a seamlessly flowing midnight-coloured dress could be seen standing. Half of her face was concealed beneath a veil made of the same material, leaving only a portion of her features visible.
She pursed her lips.
"What an interesting man! Clinging to his fragile life even at the precipice of death. No matter what he goes through, he never ceases to amaze me. Perhaps he will not prove to be an utter disappointment, after all."
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(Chapter Ended)
To be continued...