The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Chapter 1767

Chapter 1767

For several long seconds, Randidly sat and watched the churning blizzard that radiated out from Clarent without even blinking. His eyes captured the tumbling ice crystals that were driven to become such vicious gusts. If before those storms were environmental creations, the important current shift was that Claudette herself had ascended to become the howling engine that spewed desolation across the surroundings.

Sensation gradually drifted back to Randidly. His body tingled, his head ached.

The Engraving continued to loyally absorb Aether and struggle to cope with the image forces that spun together in new patterns. But the power of Claudette/Clarent was quickly tumbling out of control. The transformation in front of him was not clean or convenient. Huge waves of navy blue frost burst outward, thoroughly covering all the details that Randidly had painstakingly refined.

Randidly’s lips twitched, but he accepted this outcome. The sharpness he had added was being dulled, but the core of Claudette’s image reinvented itself with every second. She used all that patient and insistent hatred that he had squeezed out of himself to prop her psyche up. And then she unleashed all the force of her own loneliness and desolation, the bleak helplessness of a life where she had always thought she had no control.

What he currently witnessed was her taking back her own power. If he hadn’t felt so completely horrible, he would feel proud to have assisted Claudette with the process. As it was, he could only groan and blearily inspect himself to figure out why it felt like he had been run over by the moon rather than sat on it for-

Congratulations! Your Skill Absolute Timing (Ru) has grown to Level 204!

The Skill Level gain brought with it the knowledge he was seeking. Ah, Neveah’s Engraving had some time acceleration functions. Seems like I spent about a year in there, working on Claudette’s image. And that time period doesn’t count the fact that the Visage of Obsession kindly let me experience time more slowly.That compression is probably why I feel like hell.

The storm of frost and desolation rumbled and suddenly smashed down into the ground. Not only did Neveah’s Engraving take some serious damage, but the moon’s surface shook. His joints creaking, Randidly pressed his hands against the ground. Even if he was done guiding Claudette forward, he could still keep the periphery of her image from being eroded by the force of her current transformation.

The violence of this transformation is pretty… strong. Randidly’s tired mind grasped for a word but found nothing worthwhile. He shook his head. But because of that, I bet Helen would have been proud to be a part of it.

He realized that he was still sitting on the ground while Neveah’s Engraving began to fail and tried to stand once more. But his powerful Willpower couldn’t find a grip on his body. His effort seemed to ooze out of him and dissipate. The destructive storm roiled and pulsed, tearing another dangerous hole in the Engraving. As he watched the destructive afterbirth, Randidly felt himself sinking lightly through a heavy bank of fog, still drifting downward in the Visage of Obsession.

The last sacrifice, the shortest, The lines on Randidly’s face tightened as he understood his situation. Giving up all control and being forced to watch. The rest truly… is up to Claudette.

He had no choice in the matter, although he had some doubts that this would really help her. So Randidly sat and saw all the careful emotional energy he had cultivated, the true intensity that he had born from Helen’s death, and watched as Claudette carelessly guzzled it down. Thick streams of ice and wind howled around the periphery of that core area, acting as ribbons that tied the core blizzard into a tighter and tighter knot.

After an hour, Neveah’s grand working was barely holding. Randidly was exhausted. Just paying attention through the haze of his headache had become a challenge. But that weariness extended to his emotions as well; acceptance was easier than feeling anything toward this development. Just like the red gauntlet of rage, the black one was steadily consumed. Randidly’s senses tingled as he observed the way the cataclysmic storm that devastated the world of the Lizakh was rolled up and stuffed into the hilt of a sword. The Engraving breathed a sigh of relief.

Whether or not it’s enough, I don’t have any regrets. Randidly observed the climax with clear eyes. Clarent glowed with a blinding light as all that momentum began to adjust the core details of Claudette’s image.

Congratulations! Your Skill the Torch of Fast and Slow Silences (A) has grown to Level 264!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill the Torch of Fast and Slow Silences (A) has grown to Level 275!

Frost and snow had accumulated in a thin layer across his body by the time the energies began to diminish. Neveah’s well-crafted Aether machine alternated between wheezing and rumbling, as even its foundations were scoured by the radiated energy.

The wind died, revealing the bleak surface of Expira’s moon. The Engravings on the ground slowly dimmed, their purpose served. Randidly bowed his head to them in thanks for enduring for as long as they did. Finally, the last of the dust and frost drifted away, revealing the figure of Claudette sitting cross-legged in front of a floating sword.

The final version of Clarent had shifted somewhat after drinking deeply of Randidly’s hatred. The blade had darkened to a murky blackness, lit in small, quarter-sized areas by motes of light that drifted through the cutting edge. The dark tentacles of the hilt had stretched, curling protectively around the base of the blade.

And the central jewel of the sword had been dyed a deep, metallic blue. The weapon seemed to breathe, releasing an aura of desolation that prickled Randidly’s skin, even at the distance between them.

At the moment, Randidly was in no state to judge the power of what they had created after a year of accelerated efforts. But his first thought, as he looked at the blade, was an urge to spar. Which hopefully was a good sign.

That thought earned a wince from him. His head was pounding and the last restrictions of the Visage of Obsession faded away.

All at once, the concrete image began to dissipate. Claudette simply leaned back and pressed her head against the rocky ground. Clarent vanished and its maker passed out against the ground.

Randidly grimaced and leveraged himself to his feet. His body felt rusted and heavy, after being so concerned with only the mental dimensions for so long. Along with the discomfort came a rumble from his stomach. He rolled his shoulders, his eyes sliding to his left arm. I really need to take the time to recast this.

His mind still felt listless, but gradually his connections outside of the image refining returned to Randidly. The first thing that arrived in a thick wave was the Influence notifications; apparently, his Nether Core had only been able to keep up with his emotional expenditures by constantly thickening his Nether. His Nether Core was thin and frail now, but that was only because he had spent so much of it while assisting Claudette.

Influence +27!

He opened up his Status Screen and looked at the Nether section. His Influence had reached 105 thousand, with more arriving every second.

Influence +51!

Randidly’s mouth curled upward in a satisfied leer, but he began ignoring those notifications because Neveah’s consciousness brushed up against his. The usual instant understanding of her intentions was lost in the murky overexertion of the past several days. Neveah? Do you need something?

Oh! You are awake. Neveah’s mental communication was so sharp and vibrant that Randidly winced. The Visage of Obsession left him with the worst sort of hangover. She felt his discomfort and adjusted her intensity downward and tried again. I can feel how exhausted you are, but the Pantheon wants a favor.

Can it wait? Randidly twisted at the waist, easing himself back into the familiar burden of a body.

He felt Neveah’s negative. They’ve been spinning a whole narrative for Expira, since you were making such an obvious commotion on the moon. The expedition has spent the last week pushing through onto the Calamity planet, so the tension is very high right now. And if the prophecy comes true without anything spectacular happening, it might undercut some of the momenta.

Some of Neveah’s word choices finally grabbed Randidly’s attention. ...what exactly have they been saying?

*****

“The Ritual is nearing its final stages!” Tosam bellowed. In front of him, the whirling mass of death Kadir whipped around his glave and sliced through the waist of one of the insectoid horrors. “We need to push forward; if we don’t get to the core area before the Patron of Grey is revived, we will have another bastard to contend with!”

The forces of Expira had camped at the upper end of the valley this morning and now made a death march forward to reach the bottom, where a dark tunnel led to the central area of the Calamity. According to intelligence gathered by the Zones, there was a strange energy resonance between the core area and the phenomenon that had darkened the moon in the past several weeks to look like a bloodshot eye.

Unfortunately, the locals were out in force.

Up and down the rocky slope, images slammed into the seemingly endless lines of Level 85 Mutated Nightmare Ants that swarmed up from the depths of this place. The jittering teeth and clacking mandibles created a horrible din that remained a low thrum beneath the cries of anger and pain from Expira’s fighters.

Plus, two of the ‘bastards’ that Tosam was talking about, filled the sky with heart-stopping impacts as they battled Expira’s greatest warriors. Alana handled one all by herself. Lucifer and Wolfram handled another, with the final of the trio being attacked by Paolo and Kayle.

Despite the tense situation, Tosam’s shout drew the attention of many upward. As they watched, the bulging rust-colored growth on the moon popped. For a brief moment, something small and chilly swirled there. But then the energy began to dissipate.

D’min used a spare moment to wipe the slippery mixture of blood and sweat that had accumulated on his hands and then readjust his grip. He didn’t have the luxury to worry about anything but his own life right now. Ahead of him, a massive spectral centaur summoned by Glendel cut down three of the ants while three more jumped out to rip deep gashes in the back of its legs. The creature bellowed in living fear and pain.

In the next moment, Yn’ulk was there, swinging his sabers with brutal precision. He eviscerated the first, decapitated the second, and lopped off the arm of the third. His image of a blazing golden crocodile settled around his body, giving him the ability to keep up with monsters far beyond his Level.

But as always, more of the horrid things hurried forward to fill the place of their fallen comrades. The denizens of this barren home to Calamity had no individual thoughts or will. A geas to protect the ritual to summon their fell Patron drove them forward. Their lives were only valuable if they could serve a higher purpose.

And my people are just like them, D’min thought in disgust. He might not be anywhere near as deadly as Yn’ulk, but his eyes flicked across the chaotic lines and pierced through the complex weave of Skills and blood and ichor. He raised his javelin and heaved it forward. The weapon whistled through the air and penetrated an ant through the side, just as it was about to sneak up on an ogre.

It wasn’t a killing blow, but it gave the ambushed ogre a chance to recover. D’min lifted his hand and spent a small amount of his Mana. Yn’ulk wasn’t the only one who had learned some tricks in the Dungeon with Alana.

Congratulations! Your Skill Javelin Recall (Un) has grown to Level 134!

With a spare moment, D’min’s eyes drifted up to the two celestial bodies looming in the sky. Because of perspective, Expira looked to be the smaller of the two. What cast the largest shadow was Expira’s moons, where a strange red and grey energy had been steadily building for the last week.

Yet now it continued to dissipate. D’min’s heart was tired, but even he felt a thin sliver of fear at what would come next.

Perhaps… the ritual failed?

With Yn’ulk’s help, the centaur was able to gather itself and push even deeper down the slope to the central temple. More and more of Glendel’s remaining summons charged forward, helping to carve a path. The muscular Lizakh warrior pulled up for a second, scanning the battlefield with a critical eye. “Te’Leto, to me. We need to assist with the flank. Otherwise, the Patron of Grey will be able to descend onto this planet!”

D’min’s mouth felt dry and he couldn’t bring himself to speak; Te’Leto had died six hours ago, as they moved through the entrance of the large valley guarding the final temple. The other four remaining Lizakh were similarly quiet, too exhausted to point out Yn’ulk’s mistake.

But he seemed to realize his mistake immediately. His face went pale and for a moment, even the dauntless Yn’ulk allowed his shoulders slump. But in the next moment, he pressed his lips together and brought one of his sabers to his forehead, a sign amongst the Lizakh that showed respect to the Patron of the Sun. “D’min then. Follow me. We will carve a path forward.”

“Me?” D’min blurted out. All the other warriors gave him a look and he flushed.

Yn’ulk just nodded as he stalked down the slope. “Yes. Your senses are the sharpest. We need an opening to make a difference. Amongst the Lizakh… even before the attacks of the Sky Otters, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone as sharp as you.”

He brought his sabers together in a violent clang that attracted the attention of a dozen mutated ants that began to skitter forward. Yn’ulk smiled tightly at D’min. “It is time we earned our place in this world.”

As though in answer to Yn'ulk's words, a pillar of grey light erupted from the fading remnants of the strangeness on the moon and shot down for the central area of the Calamity.