Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 90: Ruins

The landscape north of Far-reach was not what Leif had remembered. Which was only natural, deathly energy seeped into the very land, rotting it from within. It was a sobering, almost melancholic emotion that overcame Leif as he passed valleys blighted by undeath, forests barren of all leaves.

Rotting corpses of the beings who had once called this region home shambled around, their bodies unable to find respite even in death. The further north Leif travelled the more desolate his surroundings. Even turbulence, chaotic weather patterns caused by the cracked face of the earth’s closest moon seemed subdued, smothered by the blighted and barren landscape.

Leif had been trudging towards the ruined city of Pherin for well over a week, the northern mountains slowly coming into sight the closer he came. It struck him one day, as he stood atop a ridge and looked into the distance, how utterly massive the mountains must be for him to see them from this far away.

He and Ram had returned to Far-Reach before going their separate ways, the goatman turning into a stream of lightning as he bounced up through the sky and vanished into the distance. Leif had attempted to restore [Healing Palm], the first step of which was returning to the domain tree. Becoming one with the now dozen metre tall tree was something he knew he could do, if only in theory.

In practice it was as simple as he had imagined. Using spellcraft he twisted the intent behind [Settle], effectively doing the inverse of what he had done when separating himself from the skill to begin with. At his command the world trembled, then he slipped into the trunk like a stone breaking the surface of a pond, vanishing within.

Leif’s attempts to visualise [Healing Palm] ended up being unsuccessful, even with the meditative mindset once again being in his tree form brought, he still could only vaguely sense the skills that rested within his soul. He could feel [Settle], being practically within that skill’s structure brought it closer to his awareness than any other.

He attempted to blindly grope around in the dark for the fragments of [Healing Palm], but it was like trying to grasp the air in a fist. Throughout his several hours of reaching within himself, letting all else fall away as he concentrated on seeking out the fractured skill, one thing repeatedly caught his attention. The golden thread that connected him to the strange vision was ever present, the hair thin strand of light more real than any other part of his soul.

During his days of recovery, exploration, then training, Leif had let the vision fall to the back of his mind. But now within the calm stillness of [Settle], as he stretched his perception ever inwards, Leif found the connection an almost distracting constant. He reached out mentally for the golden strand, not to return to the vision, but instead to feel if he could. The strange buzzing and pressure was distant now, but not gone in its entirety.

Even a week and hundreds of miles later Leif still found himself thinking back to the string within his soul. Marching through the lifeless wilderness, no longer connected directly to the domain tree Leif could no longer sense the connection. Instead, deathly energy seemed to permeate every inch of reality. It was a distracting, smothering, foul presence.

It washed against him, thicker and more tangible by the day. It felt like the life aspected domain [Settle] emitted, only an exact opposite. Maybe that's what it is? Could the dungeon, or perhaps the mere presence of undead creatures create a domain with the death aspect? Leif didn’t know, and he likely wouldn’t until he reached Pherin, and explored the Mythhold below.

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The abandoned city, once a bastion of humanity within this region was, unlike the rotted and dying land surrounding it, mostly as he remembered it. Towering stone walls divided the city into layers, though the defences were breached and cracked in several key areas. He now knew this city had been destroyed by the same enemy he had died fighting against. The enslavers, ant-like monsters and their legion of enslaved. Humans- or perhaps demikin, bound to the will of their monstrous overlords and made to fight.

From his vantage, Leif could see packs of undead roaming the streets, the prevailing aura of death seemed to pulse within the ground like the beat of a sickly heart. To his innate sense of vitality it looked as though dark veins of power were running through the earth. In the centre of the city stood the partially shattered remnants of the monolith of stone that indicated the main entrance to the Mythhold.

If the structure had once been able to bestow a mythical class, its purpose was now twisted, now an epicentre of death corrupting the world. Leif could attempt to descend down into the dungeon, picking his way slowly through the collapsed hallways and chambers. Fortunately he had a better idea, one that would hopefully save him a considerable amount of time.

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As Leif made his way through a gash in the outer wall the nearby undead were alerted to his presence. Leif pushed cultivated vitality into [Shroud of Preservation], the skill flickered around him, small motes of amber light floating around him in slow meandering patterns. This only served to enrage the undead, their stumbling approach becoming rabid and desperate.

The spriggan walked forward, an amber limb reaching out to grab each of the skeletal figures as they got within range. It was like the undead had run headfirst into a wall, their momentum instantly halted the moment he grabbed onto them. They thrashed and struck out, even as he drained them of the corrupted vitality that animated them beyond the end of their lives.

Without breaking stride Leif walked down the nearest thoroughfare, dozens of skeletons scrambling towards him through the rubble strewn streets or out of mostly collapsed buildings. He idly noted most were goblin sized, almost childlike in their proportions. It was an unnerving sight, if not at all threatening. With every step Leif took he left dust and loose piles of bone behind him. None of the undead manifested mana shards upon their final death, but that wasn’t unexpected with how weak they were.

But Pherin wasn’t the heart of the undead plague without having its share of nasty surprises. One of which made itself known as a bone spear twice as long as Leif was tall came sailing towards his head. Three amber arms reached up and snatched the projectile out of the air, combined they were able to stop its descent, if barely.

He looked the spear up and down even as it hung barely an inch from his right eye. The weapon was clearly made of bone, though Leif couldn’t identify what types had gone into its bizarre creation. It was as though something had melted down an entire skeleton, then reformed it into the weapon. Leif hadn’t detected the hostile intent of whatever had attacked him, so he pushed out his aura, using its expanded radius to increase the scope of his perception.

A second spear came from his right, a faint wisp of intent right at the edge of his aura. This one Leif didn’t bother blocking, simply stepping to the side and letting the missile sail past. It crushed three undead as they tried to claw their way past the conjured hands that were restraining them. His cultivated vitality began to build up back to maximum as [Blight’s Bounty] worked to convert the deathly energy that entered his body into life-force. He pushed more power into his shroud, the golden motes beginning to dance around him as if energised by the vitality he was feeding into the skill.

Leif considered ignoring whatever was attacking him from range, but he decided against it. Alone, the attacker was no real threat, but that could quickly change if more powerful undead joined in to assault him all at once. He slapped aside another bone spear, then began running in the direction he sensed the hostile intent.

He wasn’t fast, speed would likely never be his strong point. Even still he moved with surprising haste. As Leif made his way through the ruined streets of Pherin, amber limbs reached out to use buildings as leverage, hauling him along like a demented spider. There was a limit to the strength of each arm individually, but combined they were more than enough to accelerate him towards his destination.

Leif vaulted over a mostly crumbled wall and into a courtyard. Before him, clinging to the side of the remains of a structure that may have once been a bazaar, loomed the evolved undead. It was almost entirely made of bone, but that was the only natural part of the abomination. It was long and slender, its body wrapping around the peak of a nearby building like a snake wound around a branch.

But by far the most striking part of its foul appearance were the hundred sets of skeletal arms that lined either side of its serpentine body, giving the monster an almost centipede-like visage. Leif locked eyes with the undead, its enlarged face sunken and hollow with angry emerald light dancing within its eye sockets. As the undead and spriggan locked gazes, It reached down an arm and scooped a skeleton from the ground even as the undead ran towards Leif. Before his eyes the lesser undead was melted down, bone flowing like water in a stream only for the liquid to stretch out into the shape of a spear.

I didn’t expect to be so right with my assumption the spears were melted bone. Leif thought, eyeing the projectile wearily even as his own arms wove a defensive pattern around him. The undead chittered angrily, intent flared even as the monster lifted the spear and took aim. Then another spear was lifted, and then another.

The undead’s form rippled as it began to repurpose its own body for ammunition. Yeah no thanks. He thought, reaching down with a pair of amber limbs and grabbing chunks of debris. Then he threw them with everything he had, [Grand Action] increasing his [Might] attribute as strength flooded Leif’s body. The chunk of building shot through the air, crashing into the undead’s side and spoiling its aim.

Leif ran forward, ripping up chunks of the partially shattered street as he did so. Under the cover of his own barrage of projectiles he reached the base of the building the undead was lurking atop of, then he half climbed, half tore the structure down as he ascended. Bone spears flew even as the undead retreated.

He grabbed onto the monster as the building fell apart, deathly energy flooding into him where he was draining the undead. The undead shrieked, and contorted, its head thrashed as the monster hissed in fury. Spears fell, only to bounce off a barrier of golden light as Leif shifted his focus onto [Willpower]. The barrier cracked, but held off the onslaught of spears as the spriggan tore the undead to pieces, bone chunks flying off into the piles of rubble and detritus.

A minute later the thrashing stopped, and a mana shard manifested above the now still undead’s body. Leif plucked it out of the air, nodding thoughtfully at the small blue crystal. He would need a few more of these, and not just for the skill he was currently attempting to fuse.