Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 170: Corpse

Chapter 170: Corpse

“W-what on earth?” Marcus gasped, picking himself up off the dusty stone floor where Leif had shoved him. A golden shield rippled around him, warding off remnant waves of heat that washed over the room. “That thing almost turned me to ash.”

The jagged remnants of crystal fell from Leif’s fingers as he crushed the gemstone in his fist, the automaton going inert beneath him. Blue flames still danced along the ceiling, charring ancient rock and filling the chamber with smoke.

“That was a priceless artefact!” Nern shouted, waving his hand in front of his face. “You shouldn’t have destroyed it!”

Both Leif and Marcus turned, giving the professor a pair of incredulous looks. Nern wrinkled his nose, then glanced at the scorch mark that had been burnt into the wall beside the entrance. He cleared his throat. “Nevermind. I must say Mr Vin, I did not expect you to be able to punch through solid steel. Most impressive. Maybe try to do less damage in the future…”

Leif shook his head and glanced down at the bulky, vaguely humanoid looking machine. “What exactly is this? And why is it down in the temple?”

“It looks like a war golem of some sort.” Marcus said, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve seen similar machines, though nothing this advanced. Look how damaged it was before you destroyed it, I’m shocked it was capable of activation at all.”

“People made this?” Leif asked.

“Not necessarily.” Professor Nern said, nodding in acknowledgement to the team of shocked looking students who had appeared in the doorway, clearly having run from elsewhere in the temple at the sound of combat. “The dungeon below the imperial capital is famous for manifesting similar looking monsters. Though something this advanced is similar to the most powerful constructs found within.”

“Naturally created constructs look different though.” Marcus said. “I’ve, uh, I’ve studied the crucible dungeon quite a bit. The automatons from there are made of twisted metal, their internal structure is more organic. Look, you can clearly see distinct wiring within the chest cavity.”

More members of the expedition had arrived, a combat team pushing their way through the gawking crowd. Nern started awkwardly barking out a recounting of events, the professor sending away people to report to the leadership about what had happened, and to alert the other teams of potential dangers within the temple.

Leif stood back, letting a team dedicated to thaumaturgical research approach the automaton and begin prodding it with all manner of skills and instruments. It wasn’t his place to barge in and take charge, his own skills lay elsewhere. And besides, the system was distracting him.

Level up! Class [Inspiring Brawler] is now level 12!

For applying the efforts of your diligent training to destroy an unknown foe that posed a danger to your allies with your bare hands you have gained a level!

+1 to [Spirit] +1 free point!

New class skills available! [Showmanship] or [Aura of Spectacle] or [Fist Projection]!

Mana reinforcement progress: 25%!

Leif scanned the new skill options, frowned at the poor level up, then closed the system window. He’d deal with these later, and when they weren’t potentially surrounded by hostile constructs.

===

There were more, an hour later a team excavating an alternative entrance to the temple encountered the remains of two such automatons, though both had been destroyed by now petrified roots, and neither attacked. The temple was evacuated, and the day ended before the leadership could come to a conclusion as to what to do next.

The quadriad was returning the next day, so professor Goodwil ordered the temple’s entrances to be sealed, and told everyone to take the next day off. And so Leif and Marcus returned to Lutum, both lost in thought about what they had discovered.

===

“I’m not taking another aura skill, I don’t want to dilute my existing aura unless I have to.” Leif said later that night as he and Hera sat in the living room of the Blade’s home.

“[Fist Projection] is fairly common, there are a few different variants of the same skill. [Blade Projection], [Mind Projection], [Sight Projection] and so on. It would synergise with your existing skills quite nicely, that being said, you should pick [Showmanship].” She said.

“I’m not picking [Showmanship].” Leif replied flatly.

“Aww, why not? It would be funny.”

“I’m not picking a skill because it would be funny.”

“But think of how well it would synergise with your high [Charisma] attribute. Think of the power!”

“I don’t need a skill to entertain people.”

“It’s more than that. It’s a social skill that increases the effect of performances. And not just musical performances, dances, theatrics, even acrobatics and deceptions. Or in the case of your class, fighting with exaggerated style.” She explained.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“I’m picking [Fist Projection].”

Hera made a faux expression of disappointment, then took a sip of her drink. Leif ignored her and selected his newest skill.

===

Fist Projection:

Aspects: Technique (Body)

When you make an unarmed strike using your fist you may increase the range of the attack by projecting a copy of the strike. The further the projection travels, the less of the original strike’s power it contains.

===

“Simple, but hopefully effective.” Leif said after reading the skill’s description.

“Want to test it out?” Hera asked, her tone hopeful.

“Are you that bored without Lucia trying to kill herself from training too hard?”

Hera glanced upwards, and Leif knew that if she wanted, the Blade could see through the ceiling and check on the two children sleeping upstairs. “Apparently she put a bunch of noble brats to shame today. Broke a bunch of records, a few hearts, and one kid's leg. I’m so proud.”

“It seems she was busy. Let’s go, I want to see how this works, and I don’t want to risk breaking anything valuable in here.” He said, standing and marching towards the door.

He needed to do something to distract him from the discovery down in the ruins. Something to stop his thoughts from spiralling. Something to stop him from going back down there by himself, regardless of the risks. Hera downed the liquor in her glass, almost choked, then followed.

Experimenting with the new skill helped, but only barely. And during the next day, when he spectated the quadriad with Roy and Lucia, he barely paid attention to the fights at all, his thoughts pulled back to Dimid and the ancient temple.

===

Dust fell from the ceiling as the twisted wall of roots shifted, their form peeling away to create a narrow passage barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through. The further into the temple complex the expedition went, the more prominent the presence of the petrified roots.

But it wasn’t just the frequency of their appearances that increased, but the size, and perhaps more importantly, the mass. Leif’s [Wood Manipulation] skill had come a long way since he had first used it to pick up sticks and bend branches, but the mental effort required to both hold the vitality he had pushed into the petrified wood in place while willing the roots to move was a trial all on its own.

Leif squared his shoulders, preparing to widen the gap when someone called for him to stop. A pair of mages ran forward, babbling about structural integrity, and he stepped aside, giving way to their expertise. This was the main bottleneck for their progress, the tonnes of stone above their heads could fall at any moment if they weren’t meticulous in maintaining the foundations and supports.

He wasn’t an impatient person, or at least he tried not to be, but the further down they excavated, the more present the golden thread hanging in his peripheral vision became. Leif had managed to ignore the quivering line of gold only he could see up until this point, but both he, and whatever power or instincts that had somehow manifested inside him after the battle at Far-Reach agreed on something. The amber tree was close, and with it, a glimpse into the past.

Eventually the two mages had reinforced the walls and roof to their satisfaction, and Leif went back to clearing the path forward. He went first, the loitering combat teams having already figured out that he was more than capable of protecting himself. The chamber he emerged into was massive, the cavernous space stretching off into the inky darkness, the lights from the expedition behind him barely making the shadows retreat more than a handful of metres.

That changed when someone shot a bright green flare of light into the room. Destroyed machines littered the tiled floor, and skeletal remains lay in piles or alone where they had fallen. Blackened lines were burnt into the ground, and from what the light revealed, the floor had once been decorated with a mosaic mural. Two combat teams fanned out to either side of the room as a third team sent someone running for more people.

Another flare of light flooded the room as the first began to fade, and as it did two machines began to stir, awakened from their dormancy at the approaching of people. To Leif’s side Marcus uttered a word that made the air tremble, then a purple gauntlet crackling with arcane power appeared over his hand and forearm.

“Team one! Focus on the closest automaton! Team two! Delay the other until the first is dealt with. Don’t get too close! Anyone who isn’t an approved combatant needs to get the hells out of my sight thirty seconds ago!” A middle aged professor yelled, striding forward along with the two combat teams.

Leif crossed his arms, not moving to engage. He would act if he needed to, but the combat teams had been chosen well, so it was likely he wouldn’t even need to heal them afterwards. Skills flashed across the room as the battle started, a wave of water crashing against a jet of blue flames, steam exploding outwards, only to be taken control of by somebody else and redirected above their heads, the billowing vapour splashing up against the distant ceiling and fading away.

When the automatons had been discovered, the combat teams had been shuffled around, each being made to have at least two members who could reliably check the machines in battle. Two minutes later the first of the constructs was cut apart, and a minute after that both teams converged on the last one. Unlike most of the machine’s Leif had seen down in the temple so far, this one was actually capable of movement, though one of its legs had been severed cleanly in half centuries prior.

The other half dozen automatons that hadn’t reactivated were thoroughly checked over, then the professor that had called out orders sent someone to go fetch the newest members of the expedition. [Operator]s, those who could more effectively utilise magical machines, constructs and vehicles, were a rarity, even within the Academy. But during the day’s break, Goodwil and the expedition leadership had managed to scrounge up a handful, though Leif was yet to see any of them.

Leif watched as the room was cleared, the bones and machinery pushed off to the sides. His breath caught as he finally made out what the largely destroyed mosaic depicted. A massive golden leafed tree. And at the far end of the chamber, a rounded stone door with a carving showing something similar. Almost by instinct he drifted across the space between him and the door, his esoteric senses picking up traces of information.

“Mmmm. Locked.” Nern said from where the professor was hovering by Leif’s shoulder. “I can sense the stone gears behind the walls here and here, we’ll need to wait for-”

The scion stepped forward and placed a hand against the slab of rock easily twice his height. Something shifted, and golden light flashed dully as the door rolled off to the side, slowly grinding on unused mechanisms. Wind stirred the chamber, a salty breeze picking up the dust behind him, making more than a few people cough or gag. Beyond wasn’t a room or a chamber, it was an open air alcove in the shape of a crescent, sunlight streaming down through a jagged crack that ran from the apex of the ceiling, down the natural formation of stone and parting to reveal the sea. Water splashed up over the cliff side, running down finger thin channels that had been carved into rock in ages past.

But those details were unimportant. For in the centre of the space, right up against the edge of the cliff, stood a petrified tree. It wasn’t burnt, nor had it been hacked to pieces, but it was dead nonetheless.