He didn't think to consider the personal risks, let alone question why be began moving in the first place. He fixed his gaze on the Wyrm's sword-filled maw and leapt in-between Su'ong and the impending attack. He lifted his shield, placing it between himself and the Wyrm, and tried his utmost to knock the blow off target. He managed to shove the Wyrm's jaws to the side, but failed to see the attack coming from above.
Unseen to Alan the Wyrm unfurled its short, yet powerful arms and swept them in a downward arc. Its hooked claws released a sickly purple haze as they tore through his [Vortex Shield] and slammed into his back, leaving behind deep, smoking grooves in his armor.
With a thought, Alan sacrificed an instance of [Aquatic Repulsion], and a wall of water rushed out to push the heavy beast back. But with no way to recover his balance, the unexpected blow halted his forward momentum and threw him to the floor.
Remarkable! Your Skill (C)[Falling with Character] has grown to Level 4!
Alan rolled to his back only to see he was lying just below the Boss and sighed with resignation. His efforts had so far saved the Naga, while also avoiding fatal damage to himself. He knew he needed to hurry, but the fall had left him disoriented and slow to react.
Alan got to his knees, but unfortunately he wasn't able to make a clean getaway. Shit!
Before he could scramble to his feet, the Wyrms massive body fell upon him like a massive hammer. As if he were the perfect meat-nail, it pounded him into the floor. The last thing he heard before the crushing weight robbed his awareness was Su'ong releasing a ferocious roar.
***
When Alan awoke, it took him a moment to gather himself. He was disoriented, but most of all, he was bewildered by what he saw. Though at a loss to what was happening, he was certain of one thing at least. He was no longer in the Sandstone Palace Dungeon. No more was he locked in a life or death struggle. And strangest of all, Su'ong was nowhere in sight.
What's going on?! Alan wondered. Where's Su'ong?
Hells man…where am I? What am I caught up in now? He tried to rub the back of his neck and nothing happened. Try as he might, his arm refused to move. He began to panic, straining against the unseen bonds binding him in place
Alan was desperate to get something to move. Anything. But nothing worked. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't even twitch a single toe. He went to take a deep breath and when that didn't work, he knew something weird was happening. Although he couldn't breathe, he didn't feel short of breath.
It was as if he'd been paralyzed. But that didn't seem quite right either. That wouldn't explain the fact it seemed he no longer needed to breathe. Confused at the lack of bodily responses, he looked down to see if he had somehow allowed himself to become magically restrained.
Though he was unable to move, he experienced a disorienting change of perspective. When his vision quit wobbling, he was looking down at the grimy floor where his body should've been standing. There wasn't anything there. HE wasn't there. Yet somehow, at the same time, he was.
Ok. Let's take this one step at a time. The specter of Alan began to rationalize. It could be that I'm just dreaming, in which case I just need to figure out how to wake up. But what if this is one of those 'life flashing before my eyes' moments? What then? What if I'm dead…fuck me! Am I dead?! The last thing I remember is the Wyrm falling on me…
SHIT! Alan thought amid a rush of inner turmoil. I think I might've died! Damn…Rexus…Wait! Chill out dude. It's too early to make assumptions. No point in jumping to conclusions. I can't be giving up just yet. But what else can I try? I can't move, and I don't see my PSA. I'll try to look around...hopefully I can figure out how to change my perspective again. I'd rather not be stuck staring at the floor forever.
He quickly found that with but a thought, he could will himself around the room. All he had to do was concentrate on where he wanted to be, and after a another disorienting shift, suddenly he was there. For a moment he lost himself. Laughing maniacally, Alan flitted back and forth across the room, relishing the strange weightlessness that came with lacking a corporeal form.
Once he'd gotten his fill of the excitement, the gravity of his situation began to set back in, and he knew it was time to get serious. By now he was starting seriously to doubt he was dead. There were just too many oddities.
Though it's not like I know what I'm talking about, Alan grumbled internally. I've never actually died before…
Regardless of the cause, for the time being, it seemed he was stuck here. With nothing better to do, he flitted to the corner of the room. With a clear view of the full interior, Alan took stock of it's contents. Silently, he hoped to find a clue that would get him back to his body.
I never thought I'd want to get BACK to the Sandstone Palace Dungeon. He would've smiled at the irony if he had a mouth to smile with. That place sucked bags of asses, but I NEED to get my body back..
And besides, he added as an afterthought. I'm worried about Su'ong. That Wyrm was hard enough to handle when it was both of us. I need to hurry up and find a way back!
He found that the sole source of light in the room was a small metal grate embedded in the corner of the ceiling. A weak stream of fading sunlight shone through the grate, illuminating a small portion of the floor in the opposite corner of the room. The rest of the interior was hidden in deep shadows.
Luckily he didn't have eyes, so there was no need to adjust to the gloom. He was able to peer right through the darkness as if it weren't there.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He quickly discovered that he had somehow been relocated into a home of some sort. But once he'd taken in the whole scene, he came to understand that at best, it could only be considered a very sad attempt at one. Makeshift walls made of stacked and layered blue plastic tarps enclosed nothing more than a small table, and a pile of dirty bedding along the far wall. All of which sat atop a moldy stone floor.
For the first time since waking up here, Alan was actually glad he didn't have a body. He felt it was most likely a blessing that he didn't have a nose right now. He was sure this place smelled atrocious. The floor was absolutely disgusting.
Puddles of stagnant water pooled up in the corners of the room, each one positively swarming with insect larvae. Their sheer numbers caused the surface of the water to ripple and shimmer.
His sight fell upon a young girl who stood next to the table. When she hadn't moved or made a sound in several seconds, Alan realized she was somehow locked in place. Like time itself had forsaken this unsanitary hovel and decided it best to seek out more hygienic opportunities. Upon first glance, she wasn't much to look at. It was immediately obvious to Alan that this child was malnourished. Not to mention in desperate need of medical attention, and a bath.
She wore a stained blue shirt under a filthy pair of short-legged overalls, and had no shoes. Her tiny feet were horribly swollen, and covered in oozing, painful-looking sores. They traveled up her bony legs, and out of sight under the knee-length shorts of her overalls. As his gaze fell upon her dim, sunken eyes, a surge of emotion threatened to overwhelm him. He KNEW this child.
For how could a brother not know his baby sister?
Clarice?…a sudden flood of memories hit him all at once. Each with it's own distinct Emotional Flavor. It was like he was forced to view a million pictures at once. His brain couldn't keep up. Submerged in a dizzying rush of color and sound, he was only able to grasp fragmented images of random scenes. And even those were torn from his grasp before he could fully absorb the meaning of their contents.
He saw a squalling baby in a worn out old rocker, the shadow of a man stood protectively above his child.
When that scene was torn away, he saw a young girl of perhaps two years old. She had a cut on her knee, but was pointing at it proudly. She grinned as a single tear fell down her cheek, as if her pain was an accomplishment.
He saw the same girl, now a chubby faced 7 year old. She was lying on top of a man's crumpled and lifeless body, crying hysterically.
Alan flinched as he witnessed the same girl, now a year older. Her eyes were dim and deep-set, her once full cheeks so sunken he could vaguely make out the shapes of her teeth hidden beneath.
The final scene he was able to glimpse was one he wished he would've been spared. One so painful, a part of him wished he could simply cast the memories away and remain oblivious.
The worst thing was, he came to understand that he was here in his old home just in time to witness the grisly scene play out once more.
Oh no..oh HELLS no! I can't be here. I can't do this again. Though he raged against the imprisonment within his own personal Hell, he was nevertheless unable to escape. I don't want to watch this. Please let me wake up…
In the midst of his understanding, he saw another child, this one a blonde-haired boy. He stood with his back to Alan, facing an older woman near the flap of plastic that served as the door to their home. Both seemingly having been frozen mid-conversation.
Though he already knew, Alan needed to make sure. He shifted his perspective to look at the boys face. What he saw brooked no discussion. Although his face was covered in a layer of grime and scratches, and his bright blue eyes were filled with a deep-seated rage and hatred that he didn't remember ever possessing, the fact was undeniable. Alan was staring into the eyes of his younger self. With that realization came another startling memory dump.
By the time the memories ended, Alan knew where he was in full detail. Although it had been a nearly eleven years since he stepped foot in this place, he still KNEW where this was. This hovel was located deep within a collapsed storm drain on the outskirts of the sewer. He was less than a mile away from the Guadalupe River Dungeon. Less than a mile away from the place he now called home.
Why the fuck am I here? Alan wondered. Once he was sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, that he truly DID know exactly where this place was, the ominous feeling returned. It only grew in intensity when time suddenly unfroze, and the family began to converse as if time hadn't just been frozen.
No! It's about to happen…SU'ONG PLEASE WAKE ME UP!!!
“ …but mom, can't you just go later? Clarice said, using her best begging voice. “It's going to be dark soon. You don't let us go out after dark!“ She looked to her brother for backup. “Isn't that right Alan? If we can't go out at night, mom should have to stay home too, right!“ She nodded enthusiastically, her long, tangled brown hair bouncing in sync with the movements.
A nervous grin spread across her sunken cheeks at she stared hopefully at her brother.
“I don't have any say in this Clarice. You know she won't listen…mom makes the rules around here now that dad's gone. That's just the way it is.“ The boy, Alan, responded harshly to his younger sister.
“Meanie!“ Clarice yelled, sticking her tongue out at her obstinate brother. She turned back to her mother and began to hack and cough. After regaining her breath, she tried once more. This time she tried to be more like her brother, and put a bit of bass in her voice. “Could you please just wait until tomorrow mom? I'm really worried. It's a long way to the surface…and there are scary monsters EVERYWHERE!“ She clutched her dress nervously, once more glancing at her brother for support.
As he relieved one of the worst moments in his life, Alan tried to voice his opinion, to tell his mother to listen to Clarice. He knew it was a long-shot, but he still had to try. When he failed to make a sound, realization hit him with the jarring crash of a falling piano.
Because he had no mouth with which to utter a warning, nor eyes to close, he was nothing more than a spectral passenger being dragged along for a ride he did not want any further part of.
He saw the memory of his mother turning to face her children. Her long black hair was tied up it it's characteristic bun. Her dark brown eyes contained a fathomless sadness. In the year since her husband's death, everything that could've gone wrong had. She had no practical knowledge of how to survive this cruel new world.
She knew she had failed her children. They hadn't eaten in days, and if she didn't find antibiotics soon, she couldn't imagine her daughter was going to live out the month.
Though broken internally, she still tried her best to force her pinched up face into the guise of a smile.
Looking lovingly at her children, she began to speak.
“Alan, be a good boy and hold down the fort for me would ya!“ She said, her voice full of fake cheer in an attempt to cover up her near-crippling anxieties. In order to find the needed medications, she was going to have to brave the surface. While things were less than optimal down here, up there…the thought absolutely terrified her. But not nearly as much as the thought of watching her daughter waste away. Or the fact her son had begun to resent her.
“Sure mom, no problem. I'll stay here and guard your daughter while you go get yourself killed.“ The young Alan replied, his voice thick with resentment. Ever since his father had died, life had been one hurdle after another. And he was beyond over it.
If this was all life had to offer, then he could truthfully say he wanted no further part of it.