Level-Up Apocalypse: Surviving With The Assimilation System

Chapter 33: The Silence

As his system presented its bounties, the young man simply sat there, uncaring for it as he looked at the now lifeless body of the one friend he had. More than a lack of attention to it was a sickening feeling; seeing the gifts bestowed to him for ending the life of the one he cared for made him want to throw it all up.

Sitting there for an amount of time he didn't care to consider, he looked down at his hands, finding his wounds gone and his body returned to peak condition. Again–it felt wrong.

Alone; he was alone. That truth engulfed him in a veil of sorrow; an emptiness that ate away at his heart. As he sat there with a distant look, he found himself completely swallowed up in the darkness.

The wind felt different; thicker and harder to breathe, with a certain chill that ran through it. He was no longer simply in the accursed warehouse; he was dragged into the heart of something different–something evil.

"Are you in pain, young man?"

The question echoed through the shadows, bringing the sorrowful assassin to raise his gaze, not having to look around to find where the voice came from.

"Who..." Finn weakly said.

Before him stood a figure that resembled a man, though bore such a wicked expression that there was no doubt the malevolence pouring from him was too refined to be human.

The man of dark skin and coiled skin that looked like a twisted rag, wore bracelets around his arms that jingled as he bowed, "I am Apophis, though you may know me as the Sovereign of Shadows."

There was no reaction from the young man as he sat there on his knees in the pool of darkness, disconnected from his own sense of self as sorrow still billowed.

A certain smile was present on the being that wore the skin of a man as he stepped closer, using his unnaturally lanky body to lean over as if enjoying the misery of the man.

"Right now, you're at rock bottom. You've lost everything, even your self worth. If I killed you right now, I doubt you'd even protest," Apophis remarked. "That's no fun, though. That's boring. A waste."

It was only as he listened to the monotonous words of the strange figure did Finn begin to pick himself up with an uncoordinated stumble. He gripped the dagger in his hand, finding the outlet which to point his grief–

'He's the one that did this. It's his fault,' Finn blamed.

Though the young man pointed such hostility his way, Apophis held his smile, seeming to welcome it, "That's why I think it's better if I let you live. I'm sure if I keep watching, you'll show me even greater entertainment. You'll keep pushing yourself and suffering, losing everything around you–it sounds like a whole lot of fun, doesn't it?"

Hearing the sickening words that taunted him entirely, Finn pushed through, slashing his dagger at the malevolent one's throat.

"--Hff!"

The blade only sliced through darkness as the figure vanished, leaving Finn stumbling aimlessly in the shadow-filled realm.

"That's right. Flail around and try your best," the unnerving voice echoed through the dark.

Finn spun around to try and find the entity, though only found the darkness around him gone in a blink, once more standing in the dreary warehouse. He stood there amongst the corpses, with his lifeless friend right by his foot, looking around as his heart thumped.

'Am I losing my mind? Is the darkness still playing tricks on me? What the fuck is going on?' He questioned as anxiety fluttered in his body.

As he turned around again–darkness.

He was back in that boundless void, though it felt different this time; the air itself tightened as the animosity of the one who resided in that darkness felt like the rain on a stormy day. The presence of the one who introduced himself as "Apophis" was felt in front of him, behind, on both sides–everywhere.

It was a suffocating feeling, leaving Finn to drop to his knees as a sense of hopelessness filled his body. The vengeance in him, the reckless rage, the lack of self-preservation; all of it was swept away by that inhuman presence.

He was small, a fly caught in the web of something ungodly; a divinity that showed no grace or mercy.

'This is...' The thoughts struggled to be strung together as Finn felt the hairs on his skin stand and goosebumps forming.

It felt as though he already resided in the belly of the beast, that fighting back wasn't a possibility; he was subject only to the whim of that entity.

Yet–

"Haah...?"

Finn found the darkness gone as quickly as it came, once again, back in the warehouse, this time left with a stark reminder of just what it is that let him live. As he stood there, he realized his arm had moved on its own, bringing the edge of his dagger up against his own neck.

He quickly moved it away, lost at how his own body's movements deceived him, not knowing how close he was to death.

After the encounter with the true form of what resided in the darkness, he couldn't stop shaking, even as he grabbed his own hand.

His teeth chattered, and his blood ran cold in his veins; the slightest noises in the distance caused his gaze to shoot around anxiously.

'...It's everywhere. If he really wanted, he could kill me whenever he wants. I need to get out of this city...Charlotte–shit, Charlotte is still out there,' Finn remembered through his own renewed sense of fear.

As he looked down at the corpse of his friend, a part of him didn't want to leave him behind. Nonetheless, he had to, as much as it pained him.

He placed his hand against the cold, smooth concrete of the warehouse interior.

'I have to find her...If she's still out there,' he thought.

["Shadow Tracking"] [9:59]

Once more, the sapphire illumination outlined the steps of the person he sought to track down. After what he just went through, he found himself hesitant to follow the footprints. Part of him was afraid of what he may find, but a larger portion was simply scared of the malevolent darkness; it felt like eyes constantly watched him.

'Damian would keep going. He'd go to her, no matter what...I have to do the same, don't I?' Finn thought to himself, forcing one foot in front of the other.