Kuldar stood over his grandfather's Essence in dejected silence. He knew what he needed to do, what he must do, but the cost of his advancement was more than he was willing to pay.
“Apologies, benevolent ancestor, but this ungrateful one begs you to reconsider! How am I to tell Haidar that the restoration of his life came at the price of your own? How will the Lotus Sect survive without you?.. Can you… would you be willing to…” he lifted his face just enough to meet Erasmus's conflicted gaze. “Dearest grandfather, Please take my body as your own! I know I am an unsuitable vessel, but surely that is better than the alternative!“ He returned his eyes to his feet and waited for the ancestor's reply.
Unable to continue for fear of breaking down, Kuldar wiped his face with what remained of a sleeve. It was just as he'd feared.
Chuckling softly, Erasmus rolled his eyes. To the very end, his grandson refused to stray from proper etiquette. "While your resolve is admirable, what you ask of me is impossible. I have been dead for eons, my beloved Kuldar. This Celestial Essence is all that remains of what I once was. It is my legacy, my inheritance. I will not allow my path to wither away in the confines of this labyrinth any longer. Ever since you were a child, I knew that you were the one that I had been waiting for. I have endured all these years for this moment. Now that you have survived the labyrinth and acclimated to the requisite Celestial Energy signature of the Path of the Soul Wright, I can finally find peace and move on."
With a voice filled with both weariness and determination, the soul wisp continued, "But Kuldar, we must hurry. The System-empowered humans have breached the outer defenses of the Lotus Sect. They seek to seize the power within the inner sanctuary, and we may already be the last remnants of our once thriving sect. I can no longer sustain the inner barrier and maintain this clone form simultaneously. We are exposed. You must accept my Essence and make your escape before they discover you here. Do it now boy!"
Kuldar's eyes widened with a mix of concern and urgency. The seriousness of the situation beginning to settle upon him as he gauged the weakened state he was in. He looked around, his gaze shifting from the underground lake to the majestic cavern ceiling that simulated a lifelike sky. The serene expanse was a stark contrast to the feeling of impending danger that loomed over his head like an executioner's blade.
Before he could initiate the process, the atmosphere crackled with an ominous energy, as if an attack was incoming. Kuldar's senses heightened, and he felt a nauseating sensation at the back of his neck, as if he was being watched by a silent predator. As he flicked his gaze around at random, a subtle shimmer materialized in the air behind him, catching both him and his grandfather off guard. The sudden appearance of this unseen presence indicated that danger was swiftly approaching, yet the source remained as elusive and intangible as a ghost.
Time slowed to a crawl, Kuldar's heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Before he could gather his sluggish energy to mount a defense, a jolt of searing pain pierced through his abdomen. A peculiar mechanical object, one adorned with three short blades and countless glowing stones that flashed in a mesmerizing pattern, slid through his back and burst forth from the middle of his stomach. Waves of alternating forces shattered his Cultivation Core as if it was made of cheap glass. Burbles of anguish escaped Kuldar's lips, his body convulsing in response to the ruinous attack.
Ashamed at his own weakness, a surge of power emanated from within Erasmus's clone form. With a snarl of anger, he unleashed the full might of his Divine Spiritual Treasure, the [Sandstorm Cloak]. The defensive artifact burst out of his robe in the form of a veritable wave of living sand, encapsulating their bodies in a whirlwind of golden particles, shielding them from further harm. The sandstorm, a manifestation of Erasmus's final means of defense, swirled with a ferocity that defied the invisible assailant's efforts to strike again.
The hidden assassin, little more than a shimmering outline of a humanoid, activated some kind of teleport skill. In a burst of speed that boggled the mind, it evaded a colossal fist of sand that sought to pound it into the ground, reappearing near the edge of the plateau where it crouched down and let out a deep roar laced with fury. Now that the element of surprise was lost, it knew the task at hand had just gotten much more complicated.
As the sandstorm raged, obscuring their forms from their would-be assassin, Kuldar's vision faded into shadows traced with intermittent currents of gold. Moments later, when the sand finally settled, he found himself alone in an unfamiliar underground cavern, his only company a stone pagoda and a small branching river. Kuldar coughed and struggled to regain his bearings, his shattered Core hemorrhaging Celestial Energy like a fire hydrant, the attack having left his battered body weak as an elderly mortal.
As Kuldar tried to come to terms with the sudden, and devastating destruction of his Cultivation base, in the sanctuary they had just fled, the hidden assassin snarled in fury. He had arrived too late, thwarted by the unexpected intervention of that wily old fox's overwhelming sand techniques. The translucent shimmer hiding the assassin from view fell away as it cut the flow of energy to the Obfuscation Array.
Although fully revealed, it remained unclear what manner of being this was. The assassin was shrouded in a solid black, hooded cloak that concealed any hint of its identity from prying eyes. The skull of a tusked beast adorned its face like a mask, obscuring their features completely. Burning orange eyes, like pools of molten ore shone out from the depths, narrowing with fury. The worst case scenario was already unfolding.
The assassin had arrived too late. A feeling the being couldn't remember ever having felt bubbled up from the depths of its being. The shame and embarrassment only served to compound the anger surging through it; the assassin's grip tightened around the hilt of the weapon concealed in its cloak. Hidden in the comforting shadows provided by the jet black Class armor, it observed with a mixture of surprise and disgust as the coveted Celestial Essence sank into the solid stone floor.
As the assassin contemplated which Technique would most efficiently break through the reinforced stone, a simple white tower erupted from the floor to contain it. The assassin knew the power within that essence was coveted by many. Both Cultivators, and their many, many enemies would pay a planet's ransom for such a rarity. Its usually-dormant emotions seethed at the thought of such a windfall slipping through its fingers.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The very stone beneath the assassin's feet began to tremble precariously as a protective barrier shot out from the tower, sealing off access to any potential intruders. Mind racing, seeking a way to salvage anything of value from the unexpected failure, the assassin sighed and settled on pursuing after the targets. With any luck, one of those slippery little sausages would have the means to deactivate these pesky defenses.
If the information had to be tortured out of them, that just made things all the better. One should always find great pleasure in their chosen professions. Drawing upon formidable skills gathered and mastered over multiple centuries, the hooded figure channeled Mana, Stamina, and Hp into his most expensive technique, [Inexorable Pursuit], focusing his attention on minor spatial fluctuations left in the wake of the Cultivator's escape Technique. A storm of dark energy blades shot from an outstretched palm, forcibly slicing open a rip in the fabric of space. A gaping maw into the void materialized before him, beckoning him to step through.
Sensing the imminent danger of the tower's incoming barrier, the assassin wasted no time. The hooded being moved swiftly and with purposeful strides, cloak billowing out behind it while stepping through the portal to nowhere just before the barrier slammed into the spot where he had stood only moments ago.
***
Alan's consciousness felt a powerful tug as it was made to endure another jarring shift. Returned to his body, yet confused and extremely lightheaded, Alan instinctively checked his stomach, half-expecting to find a wound from his lingering ordeal. To his surprise, his gaze fell upon his own Class Armor and the colorful scales and sharp black claws that adorned his oversized hands. Panic threatened to overwhelm Alan's senses, but it quickly dawned on him—he was back in his own body. Relief flooded his overworked brain, chasing away the last of his confusion.
As his senses gradually adjusted, Alan's attention shifted to the solemn figure standing before him. Waiting not ten paces away, radiating an air of wisdom and supreme authority, was Erasmus Lotus, Kuldar's esteemed grandfather and the founding ancestor of the Lotus Sect. The recognition stirred within Alan, and amidst his tumultuous emotions, he realized the significance this encounter carried. It was not just a memory or a fleeting vision; Erasmus Lotus was here, present in the flesh… clone? Well, regardless, he was there nonetheless.
The sight of Erasmus Lotus called up a confusing morass of emotions that cut into his heart like a serrated dagger. There was a deep sense of respect for the revered ancestor; a recognition of the sacrifices he made to try to save his adopted grandchildren. Of the willpower he must've possessed to unflinchingly lead a powerful Sect through the ages while only a fragment of what he once was.
Erasmus nodded gravely at Alan, his gaze cutting and harsh in comparison to the memories playing out in his head. A faint whisper echoed within the depths of Alan's mind, Erasmus' voice resonated regret and determination in equal measures. He expressed his apologies for the intrusion of memories but explained that by 'borrowing' the Dungeon's memory and influence he had been able to share a glimpse of the past. Alan felt a deep sense of gratitude for the opportunity to understand the events that had shaped the present.
Listening intently to every word, determined that for once in his life he wouldn't interrupt, Alan absorbed Erasmus' account of the past, his eyes focused on the revered ancestor. Echoes of Kuldar's great admiration for his grandfather threatened to bring tears to his eyes as Erasmus recounted the treacherous encounter within the underground chamber where he had sent Kuldar
As the ancient Cultivator whispered in his mind, the scene unfolded before Alan's eyes as if he were actually there to witness Kuldar's final act of defiance.
Kuldar, his features heavily obscured by the [Sandstorm Cloak] that was currently doing everything in its power to hold in his exposed innards, appeared to be unfazed by what had to be crippling agony. Rather than let his failing body distract him from what he knew to be his only true course of action, Kuldar was engrossed in manipulating something atop a slender pedestal crafted from an ivory stalagmite. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as Alan, his heart pounding, observed the scene before him. Kuldar's focus was unwavering, his hands deftly working with something atop a small pillar.
A sudden, unforgettable shimmer in the air disrupted the tranquility of the chamber, signaling the imminent arrival of danger. Alan's breath caught in his throat as he watched on helplessly, unable to intervene despite the urge to assist. In a horrifying turn of events, Kuldar's head was abruptly severed, the sound of a blade whistling through the air echoing through the underground chamber. Time seemed to freeze as the severed head fell to the ground, a lifeless testament to the brutal reality of being a Cultivator.
In a mesmerizing and disturbing display of macabre beauty, the severed head, and the body it was—until very recently—attached to exploded into a swirling cloud of scorching red sand. The fine particles danced and whirled upon the air, forming a complex array of magical circles that enveloped the pedestal and the glittering object it held. Alan's eyes widened in both awe and a burst of sudden understanding as he realized the magnitude of the event unfolding before him.
Within the confines of the swirling magical circle, Alan's gaze fell upon the object of their pursuit—a peculiar spherical gem. Its surface held a mesmerizing resemblance to the vast expanse of outer space of its colors were filtered through various shades of brown. Although no bigger than two fists held together, it loomed in his mind like a mountain, drawing Alan's attention as if calling out to him. The Dungeon Core.
Alan's revelation was cut short when the air around him resonated with a piercing cry of agony, a haunting sound that reverberated through the chamber like the wailing of a thousand specters. The shimmering presence, once again materializing, revealed a towering, goblin-like creature covered in strips of black material.
Alan tried without success to toss out an [Appraisal] as a shattered helmet of bone fell uselessly from its head and clattered to the floor. Without any warning whatsoever, Alan was beyond confused when the creature's grotesque form exploded into a fine red mist, the essence of its being expelled into the surrounding space. The pulped-monster-mist swirled and churned, drawn inexorably into the depths of the magic circle, which hummed with the accumulating energy.
As the mist flowed through the intricate patterns of the magic circle, a rapid, and surprisingly gorgeous transformation occurred. The blue hues shifted and merged with the accumulating blood, gradually intensifying into a vibrant shade of purple. The energy within the circle pulsed and surged with an otherworldly power, suddenly resonating with the very essence of the Dungeon itself.
With a roar of sound and pressure, the magic circles suddenly shrank, their perimeter collapsing inward. In a moment that spanned the blink of an eye, the condensed circles, now reduced to a mere fraction of their original size, were absorbed into the base of the altar. Lines of purple fire traced up the ivory surface.
The altar, resonating with this newfound energy, pulsed and glowed as the essence of the oversized goblin creature merged with the Dungeon Core. Alan stood in silence, witnessing the culmination of a pivotal moment in the Dungeon's transformation. The weight of what he had just witnessed settled upon his shoulders, a realization that he had quite possibly just witnessed the creation of the Dungeon's Core Consciousness.
“It just had be a fucking Goblin…”