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Chance's Gambit (LitRPG | Progression Fantasy | System Integration)
Chapter 69 – She ain’t heavy, she’s our leader.

Chapter 69 – She ain’t heavy, she’s our leader.

The Winding Way felt less like a tunnel and more like the world’s most depressing endurance test. Every step Lorelei took seemed to drain her strength further, as if gravity itself had decided to stage a coup and double its efforts just for her. It was like she was trapped in a personal hell where even the simple act of moving had become a Herculean effort.

“Ye alright back there, pet?” Pete’s voice echoed from up ahead, filled with that blend of concern and annoyance that only a seasoned grandparent could muster.

“Peachy,” Lorelei lied, forcing her spine to straighten despite every vertebra screaming in protest. “Just . . . enjoying the scenery.” The scenery, as it happened, was nothing more than bleak walls, shadows that seemed to wriggle out of the corner of her eye, and a smell that had decided it was better left unidentified.

***You Know What, You Were Right. This Is Fun Message***

So, I had a think and I cannot conceive of a better way to ‘balance’ the scales than this. You asked me to fuck around with an outcome, fine. The price of that little flight of fancy is that you become too heavy to try anything like that again for a bit. Congratulations! You've activated Jinxed Weight Gain! Enjoy the sensation of everything you carry—including yourself—gradually turning into the heaviest anvil I can imagine. And I’m being creative with the old imagination here. Don’t worry it’s only for the next 24 hours. You’ve got this champ!

Lorelei’s eye twitched as she read the message. Somewhere, deep in her soul, the last vestiges of her ability to be snarky shrivelled up and died. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, the words dropping from her mouth like stones. Even her tongue seemed to be in on the act.

The tunnel away from the Wraith had started as merely unpleasant, but now felt actively malevolent. Her boots felt like they were made of lead, each step pulling her further into the ground with a spiteful determination.

“Come on, keep up,” Hild said, her tone hovering between impatience and concern. “What’s wrong with you?”

Lorelei forced a smile, though it was closer to a snarl “Just a little… setback. The System’s latest attempt at humour. I seem to have picked up another nasty debuff for casting back there. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Hild snorted. “Not much of a joke if it gets us all killed. What is it with you and all these debuffs? You’re like a magnet for the fuckers. You better not slow us down too much.”

Zorrobar, who was usually a beacon of light and positivity, had slowed his pace to match hers. His normally upbeat demeanour had dimmed, and concern darkened his features. “Lorelei, you’re looking like absolute shit. What’s going on?”

“Charmer,” she managed, the word a battle against the relentless force that was pulling her down to the ground. “It’s just that everything… getting heavier.”

Zorrobar’s eyes widened. “A weight-gain debuff? That’s just sadistic.”

“No… kidding,” Lorelei wheezed, feeling as though her lungs were closed for business. “And… it’s getting worse.”

Chrissy, ever cheerful, skipped back from the front of the group. But even her usual enthusiasm faltered as she took in Lorelei’s state. “Do you want me to cast another heal? I know it’s not exactly what you need, but it might help.”

Lorelei shook her head, immediately regretting it as the weight of her earrings—now apparently forged from neutron stars—made her head feel like it was going to topple off her neck. “No… save your mana. I’ll manage. I don’t think this is intended to do more than just teach me a lesson. I had to do a deal to grab Chrissy’s .”

Steffan eyed the bulging pack on Lorelei’s back. “Maybe we should divvy up her gear. Lighten the load a bit?”

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“It’s not just the pack,” Lorelei admitted, her voice now barely a whisper. “Everything’s getting heavier. Even my own bloody limbs.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances—the kind people share when they realize they’ve just boarded a train bound for disaster. If Lorelei couldn’t keep up, it wasn’t just inconvenient; it was a death sentence. None of them wanted to risk anything like the Wraith coming after them.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” Pete said, in that tone of resigned authority that came from years of dealing with difficult situations. “Lorelei, give me yer pack. I’ll carry it. Hild, ye and I’ll take turns helpin’ her walk. We’re not leavin’ anyone behind, got it?”

Lorelei opened her mouth to protest, but the words got stuck somewhere between her pride and the crushing weight of . . . well, her weight. With a sigh, she shrugged off her pack, wincing as her shoulders screamed in relief from the sudden lightness. Pete took it without a word, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all.

With Pete and Hild taking turns to prop her up like a malfunctioning marionette, they resumed their march through the Winding Way. It wasn’t a march, really—it was more like a prolonged stumble, punctuated by muttered curses and the occasional grunt of exertion. Even the tunnel walls seemed fed up with this whole ordeal and wanted to see it end.

Time, never kind to those in distress, stretched on and on. Lorelei’s legs trembled with each step, her vision swimming as exhaustion wrapped around her. Her thoughts felt as sluggish as syrup on the first pancake of the day. But still, she pressed on, driven by sheer stubbornness and the refusal to let her Guide win.

***Help Message***

That’s the spirit. You’re really showing me something here. Lot of guts. A lot of resilience. It’s actually making me feel bad . . . no, sorry. Can’t keep that up. This is hilarious. I’m so glad you talked me into doing this. On the plus side, a little over 22 hours left. Go you!

After what felt like years of this torturous trek, they reached a wider chamber. The air was cooler —an almost pleasant contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the rest of the Winding Way.

“Alright, we’ll rest here fer a bit,” Pete announced, as though he were bestowing a royal pardon. “Everyone, take a breather. We’ve earned it.”

Lorelei sank to the ground with a groan. The cool stone beneath her was a welcome change, and she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes as exhaustion properly took hold. Every muscle screamed for rest, but she knew they couldn’t afford to linger. Not in this place.

“How are ye holdin’ up, pet?” Pete asked, kneeling beside her with concern and fatherly affection.

“Barely,” she admitted, her voice rasping like sandpaper. “This debuff… it’s brutal.”

“Aye, it’s a nasty one, that’s fer sure,” Pete agreed, his brow furrowing. “But we’ll get through it. Ye’ve been through worse.”

Lorelei tried to smile. “I don’t know about that. Right now, it feels like I’ve got the weight of the world on my shoulders. Literally.”

“Well, ye’re not alone in carryin’ it,” Pete said, giving her shoulder a pat that was meant to be comforting but only reminded her how much her shoulders hurt. “We’re all in this together.”

As the group rested, Lorelei could feel the weight continuing to increase, even as she sat still. Her limbs felt like they were turning to stone, and every breath was an effort, as if her chest was being slowly crushed. “Alright,” she said after a few minutes, her voice trembling with the effort it took to speak. “We need to keep moving.”

“Ye sure ye’re ready?” Pete asked.

“No,” Lorelei admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But we don’t have a choice.” With Pete’s help, she struggled back to her feet, every movement a monumental effort. “Let’s go,” she said.

Eventually, though, and not that much further down the way, her strength gave out completely. As she stumbled for the umpteenth time, unable to keep her balance, Steffan made a decision. "Ent!" he called, and the hulking creature stepped forward, its form a grotesque patchwork of roots and bones. "Carry her."

Lorelei wanted to protest, but her body refused to cooperate. Ent lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all, cradling her in its twisted arms. The sensation of being carried by the undead creature was unsettling, to say the least, but it was better than the alternative—collapsing under the ever-increasing weight and never getting back up.

With Ent carrying Lorelei, the group moved more quickly, though the mood remained sombre. Lorelei could feel her consciousness slipping, the exhaustion pulling her under like a riptide. The last thing she was aware of before everything went black was Chrissy's voice, chattering away in a futile attempt to cheer Steffan up. As the darkness took her, Lorelei could only hope that when she woke, the debuff would have run its course. Because if it hadn't, she wasn't sure she would survive another step.