It was a different experience for Ethan to be the one creating the rift, rather than just its continual unwilling passenger. He felt the power being pulled from his chest, his newest tattoo’s faint yellow glow dimming slightly as the world seemed to tear, the blue-white light engulfing his body.
There was virtually no delay between the rift taking him and appearing at his destination, so to Ethan’s eyes he was simply looking toward the wall, then a flash, and once again he was falling straight down. “Oh shi–Rift!” he shouted scant inches before crashing into the ground.
Another flash, another blink, and he was at the ceiling again, still trapped in the room. Only this time, he was falling faster. Apparently the rifts didn’t affect momentum at all, and the floor was racing toward him. He barely had time to react, but managed another hasty “Rift!” just before impact.
Again, the ceiling, again, faster. This time he tried to focus on a different location in the room, and upon simply thinking of [Rift], the blue-white light swallowed him. A moment later he was emerging once more, but this time he was looking at the ceiling. His momentum sent him soaring upward, only for gravity to bring him crashing back down a moment later.
The air burst from his lungs, and Ethan lay gasping on the floor, rolling to one side as the pain slowly left him. He eventually got to his knees, looking around to confirm he was still in the same room, then quickly inspected his bruised body. “Damn it, it’s like Portal but with very breakable bones,” he muttered.
He’d made progress though, even if he paid for it with yet more injuries. Ethan considered what he’d done differently that time, how clearly he’d pictured his destination–and how much he’d wanted to be there. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to try again, then thought about his climbing tattoo failing him earlier, and looked down at his chest.
The Bond tattoo was covered by his shirt, but easy enough to see when he pulled the torn fabric aside. Impressively, it still had a reasonable glow. Apparently a Familiar granted a lot more reserve energy than whatever powered his other skills. Content that the rift should still work, he prepared himself, concentrating.
He felt a brief moment of panic when his traitorous mind momentarily imagined appearing inside a rock. However, when the thought came up, he immediately had a sense that the rift would fail. “Maybe some kind of safety mechanism?” He mused. “Or…I just can’t displace that much mass, the way I can with air. Hmm…”
Feeling somewhat less afraid of dying, his molecules fused with a mountain for billions of years, he went back to his unusual task. Let fear motivate you, don’t let it hold you back, Dean's voice whispered. “Right. This is just a science I don’t understand yet,” Ethan said to himself. “And good science involves experimentation. Rift.”
The light came again, and Ethan held the image of the moss-lit tunnel in his mind, trying to picture as many details as he could. It was difficult, as he’d walked for miles, and it all seemed the same in memory. Still, for the first time the ability seemed to be on his side, and a moment later he dropped lightly into a place that blessedly wasn’t the same closed-in room.
Bracing himself for another game of ‘fall forever’, Ethan was surprised to find himself dropping only an inch or so before connecting with the stone floor. Looking around, he let out a relieved breath to see that he was, in fact, back in the moss-lit tunnels. “Or…at least one that looks similar?” he commented, realizing that the floor beneath him was actually stone blocks, rather than the dusty texture of a cave.
He looked around, spotting no other difference. “Well, same as before then. Walk down, and hopefully find an exit.” He did exactly that, easily identifying the slope, then slowly plodding along. He never even truly considered using another unreliable rift, knowing it was far more likely to hurt than help.
After more than an hour passed, Ethan was starting to feel a bit demoralized. Even more skittering beetle-things might have been a welcome relief from the endless, unchanging tunnel. Trying to assuage his boredom, he pulled up the Mad system interface, curious to see what had changed since forming his bond.
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Ethan Bishop
Familiar Bonds: 1/3
Affinities:
* Dimension
* N/A
* N/A
Class: (In Progress)
Rank: Pre-Dawn (Dawn Rank: 33%)
Physiology: Basic (human)
Abilities:
Dimension: (1/4)
* Rift (Dawn Rank 0: 4%)
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“That’s something,” he said, re-reading the display. “Looks like things will get really interesting if I get a couple more Bonds.” He considered the egg in his inventory. “Do I have to keep finding eggs? Was Toby in an egg?” He sighed, hating the lack of information.
Being a doctor had always felt like weaponizing knowledge against disease and injury. The only true tools in the fight against death–at least that’s what he thought in his more megalomaniacal moments. He may have also occasionally said it when he was hitting on a girl in a bar. Regardless, being so ill-informed was grating.
Dismissing his interface, he turned back to the endless tunnel, only to finally spot something new. Up ahead, the tunnel intersected with another. This was frustrating at first, as there weren’t many ways for him to differentiate a path. Although the countless dead beetles changed that, bringing a grin to his face.
“Valanor, you pest-controlling badass, thanks for leaving me the grossest trail of breadcrumbs I’ve ever seen!” With renewed confidence and vigor, Ethan turned right at the junction. Not only was it still going downward, but the bugs had all died facing in the opposite direction. “Hopefully they weren’t retreating…” he considered as he walked.
Still, he was heading down, and that seemed unlikely to change. He was disappointed when he tried and failed to loot the creatures, though, there was simply no reaction, suggesting he needed to either be closer when they died, or possibly even directly involved in fighting them.
Soon the trail of bugs ended, and he put the thought behind him. He tried to increase his pace, though his aching body protested. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before he heard sounds up ahead, and raced forward, surprised by his own desperation to see another human.
The metallic ringing made it clear that he was running toward a fight, and his crowbar was in hand long before he reached the source of the sound. Thankfully, it was Valanor. This didn’t feel like the best circumstances to make new friends, and the knight–while gruff–had been a reliable companion.
Fortunately the battle was only against more beetles, and Ethan utilized the same strategy of disabling limbs while he approached the knight and his Familiar–the latter nearly invisible in the dark tunnel. “Valanor! I’m behind you, please don’t kill me by accident.”
“I know,” the knight replied, not slowing. They continued the monotonous work, Ethan wondering exactly how much bug-slaying was expected of people in this world, but thankfully there weren’t nearly as many this time. The moment the last one was crushed under a typically expert blow from a warhammer, Valanor began moving forward once again.
“Walk and talk, we’re running out of time. Where’d the rift take you?”
Great, more questions I’m scared to answer. He thought of the Familiar Bond tattoo, poorly hidden under his shirt, and remembered Valanor’s promise that he’d kill Ethan if he was anything resembling a threat. “It dropped me into another room, somewhere in the mountain. It took a while, but another rift finally got me out. Different tunnel though, I wasn’t sure if I’d find you.”
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Valanor was silent, presumably considering the half-truths. “Very well. I haven’t seen any rifts for some time, so if we’re lucky they won’t be a problem again. Stay sharp and stay close. We have to be nearly to Flagras’ den.”
“His den? So we know where he went?” Ethan asked.
“It’s likely. Flagras is unique, but he’s still a beast. If they can–and if they’re intelligent–they hide when badly injured. It’s why we need to hurry. We mustn’t let him die before Prince Calevaro Bonds him.”
“That’s what this hunt was about?” Ethan asked. “Isn’t that a lot of work for a single Familiar? Knights were killed..”
“Any cost is worth it. It’s Flagras,” Valanor said, and once again Ethan felt the weight of the statement. He sensed that there was more to this than he could possibly understand without asking way too many suspicious questions.
“Of course. Obviously it’s worth it for Flamegrass,” he muttered, thinking of the knights he wasn’t able to save.
“Quiet!” Valanor whispered harshly. Ethan held back a quip as he recognized what the man heard. It was the same tenor as the echoed growls from earlier, but lower, weaker, even. “We need to move,” the knight said, before taking off at a near sprint.
Ethan moved after him, unable to produce more than a shaky jog. Thankfully the tunnel soon ended, opening up into a rough stone chamber, not unlike the one where he’d first witnessed the battle between the monster and knights. It was large, with a domed ceiling, and while it lacked the glow-moss Ethan had grown used to, small fires burned in several places, casting flickering light.
There were a few more tunnels leading into the chamber, one of which appeared to continue further downward. There were also three massive holes in the wall that the beast clearly used, which seemed to have been made by melting the rock. One led back in the direction they’d come from, while two more led away into the mountain. All those details felt inconsequential compared to the massive stone wedge rising at an angle from the far wall, under which lay the injured Flagras.
The monster was curled up in a ball, not unlike a dog or cat, and countless injuries lined its body. The fur was almost entirely dark red now, the white highlights stained with its blood. The rumbling whines echoed through the chamber, loud enough that Ethan could feel the vibrations through his body, and he took an involuntary step forward at the undeniable pain in those sounds.
A large hand to his chest stopped him. “Stay back, it’s still more than capable of killing either of us.” Valanor looked from the beast to the three large exits, then sighed. “The Prince isn’t here, and those tunnels weave through the entire mountain.”
At last he turned to Ethan. “Listen, stranger. You’re alone in our land, and in need of allies, if you perform this duty, I promise you’ll have them.”
“What exactly are you asking?” Ethan asked.
“I must go fetch the Prince, and guide him back here as quickly as possible. But if the beast moves again, it’ll be dead before we have time to search all the tunnels.” He produced a small, painted rock. “Take this; it’s a tracking stone. If Flagras moves, follow him. He should be slow enough now for you to keep up.”
“That’s it, just follow him, and hold on to the stone? I don’t need to make him swallow it or something?”
Valanor slouched, and Ethan could practically feel him roll his eyes within his helmet. “If you do something stupid and he eats you, then by all means, please make sure he swallows the stone as well. But I’d suggest that you stay hidden, and quiet, and don’t move until I’m back with the Prince.”
“Okay,” Ethan said uneasily. There wasn’t much more to say, and the knight didn’t wait to hear it. Valanor nodded once, then moved toward the entrance that hopefully led toward the prince, clearly being as quiet as he could manage.
Left alone in the dark chamber, Ethan crouched against the tunnel wall, eyes on Flagras. He didn’t understand why they needed this creature, but Valanor’s intensity had convinced him that it was for more than just some royal vanity. “I guess you have to stay alive long enough to become sword-guy’s pet,” he whispered.
The minutes passed, and Ethan felt increasingly troubled by the creature’s pained cries. It reminded him uncomfortably of the sounds his childhood dog Revan had made when he’d been sick, near the end. Worse, the sounds were coming more slowly, and there was no sign of the knights.
By instinct he activated [Apollo’s Gaze], and was disturbed by what he saw. Like with the wounded from the other side of the fight, there were numerous injuries beyond what he was capable of recognizing. “Magic injuries,” he whispered, still needing to speak it out loud to believe it.
But there were countless others he did recognize. Bleeding, lacerations, bone fractures, perforated organs, torn ligaments. It was such an overwhelming sight that Ethan was walking toward the creature without any real consideration, helping the wounded beast seeming no less natural than when he’d charged into the battle that led to its injuries.
The enormous monster was facing away from, and it was so close to death that it didn’t even react as he approached, only managing to lift its head slightly when he placed his hands on its gargantuan back. This close, he could see that its eyes were a surprisingly pale shade of blue, in powerful contrast to the tones of red and orange that made up its coat, and its deadly black horns.
Ethan found himself staring into those eyes, despite the near-physical aura of power and threat that seemed to emanate from the creature. Even as its dark mane rose up, and whip-like tail began to swish, Ethan didn’t budge. He simply held Flagras’ gaze as he would any dying patient. After a tense minute, the beast made another sad sound, then lay back down.
What Ethan did next, his rational brain tried to attribute to the Prince’s imminent arrival, and Valanor’s promise of aid. The beast needed to live, both for Ethan’s sake, and apparently some mysterious purpose as well. The real truth was simpler. Ethan just couldn’t leave it in pain.
“Hand of Apollo,” he whispered, summoning the strange power. The bow and arrow glowed brightly on his hand, and he felt its energy flow into his unusual patient. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t close to enough. His magical gaze showed nearby wounds close, but Flagras easily had the mass of a hundred injured knights. It would take more.
“Hand of Apollo,” he said again, louder this time. More power flowed, and more injuries knitted themselves together. “Hand of Apollo!” he called out, the glow on his hand starting to dim. More, he needed to do more. This time the skill went off without the command, clearly reading his intentions.
More! He screamed inside himself, and images flashed in front of his eyes, some real, some imagined. He was eight years old, in a hospital, watching nurses run by. More! He was eleven years old, on a battlefield he’d never truly seen. More! His father was dying, but they didn’t know why. More! A man dressed in camouflage was running into a warzone, always the hero.
The glow from Ethan’s hand was barely visible, but he couldn’t see it anymore. The creature’s obvious agony, the reminder of his life back home, the culmination of an impossible and anxiety-ridden day, altogether it was too much. Ethan had hit his limit, and rational thought was replaced by pure instinct.
More! He just kept healing, because he could. Because he was a doctor. Because that’s what he did. Because the world–no matter which one he was on–kept trying to tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Screw the world. More!
Something inside him hurt. More! The room was spinning. More! A massive head was watching him. More! His hand was numb and on fire at the same time. More! Something was obstructing his vision.
He tried to focus, to remember where he was. A glowing square had writing on it.
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Disabled [Unique Rarity] Eidolon detected!
Legendary Guardian Flagras is attempting to form a True Bond. Accept? (Y/N)
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The messages continued, but everything was growing blurry. “You want to be my friend?” he mumbled, looking into a pair of pretty blue eyes. “That sounds nice.” There was a strange sound then, and the world just kept getting brighter. Ethan’s chest burned, and suddenly he was falling forward, no longer leaning on the warm, soft thing.
He was coughing, something wet spattering out with each heave. Darkness was closing in around him, and the heat was only growing. Pain ravaged its way through his body, though he could only register it with detached curiosity, his mind still miles away.
Finally he felt the cool stone beneath him, strangely soothing. As his eyes drifted shut, he noticed the message again, still hovering in front of him. He just barely made out what it said before the darkness won.
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Extreme Danger! New Bond Not Recommended!
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