The scene before me was a nightmare stitched from chaos. A narrow, winding stretch of carpets hovered precariously over the endless void, their edges curling and shifting like restless serpents. Each carpet shimmered with an unstable energy, faint ripples racing across their surfaces as if they might unravel at any moment. Some twisted and turned, others blinked in and out of existence, vanishing into the abyss with a soundless finality.
The void below whispered in a haunting murmur, an ever-present reminder of the fall waiting to claim me if I hesitated or faltered. It wasn’t just the depth—it was the absence, a yawning emptiness that gnawed at my mind, pulling my thoughts downward.
Swirling drafts of wind roared through the expanse, cutting across the fragile path. The gusts tugged at me, threatening to knock me off balance, their icy fingers biting at my skin. My breaths came shallow and quick, every inhale filled with the faint scent of ozone and something else—something old, like forgotten dust.
The carpets seemed to mock me, their unpredictable movements daring me to step forward. One moment, a solid path stretched ahead; the next, it rippled and fragmented, like a mirage dissolving under scrutiny. The space felt alive, the shifting patterns and gusting winds conspiring to push me toward failure. It was as though the void itself was watching, patient, hungry.
The wind came without warning, a sudden, howling force that ripped through the air with a ferocity that stole my breath. It hit like a physical blow, shoving me sideways, my feet scrambling for purchase on the precarious carpets. My arms flailed as I fought to regain balance, the edges of the nearest tile curling and shifting like it wanted to peel away from me entirely.
The gusts were relentless, unpredictable. One moment, the air was eerily still; the next, a roaring draft surged through, tearing at my clothes and threatening to send me careening into the void below. The chill of the wind stung my skin, and its sheer strength left me staggering, my knees buckling against its force. The void seemed to laugh with each blast, its murmurs rising in a mocking cadence.
Through the chaos, the Aerlyntium grid pulsed faintly in my vision, offering a solution. I clenched my teeth, willing a Patchwork Platform into existence. A square of golden light appeared, locking into place beside me. Grabbing the opportunity, I lunged onto the platform, its sturdy glow holding firm against the violent drafts. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to anchor me—to give me a moment to breathe before the wind struck again.
But there was no rest, not with him watching. The thought struck me again to just use the aerlyntium and make him disappear, but I wanted to prove myself to this idiot.
The Overseer loomed in the distance, his crooked staff tapping against the carpets with an almost lazy rhythm. Each tap sent a ripple of dark energy coursing through the path. Without warning, a carpet nearby shuddered violently and crumbled into the void. I barely leaped back in time, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Faster, boy!” the Overseer called, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “Surely you can do better than that!”
The path ahead twisted into new, more treacherous forms. Carpets no longer lay still, no longer merely shifted or flickered; now they turned. Large sections rotated in slow, deliberate circles, their motion deceptively calm. Each revolution created fleeting openings—moments where the jagged edges of one carpet aligned with another. But those moments were brief, and mistiming a jump would send me plummeting into the endless void below.
I studied the grid, the translucent overlay mapping the rotations in faint pulses of light. My heartbeat thudded in rhythm with the spinning tiles. I had to act, and I had to act now. Timing wasn’t just important—it was everything. I darted forward, pausing on the edge of a rotating platform as it lined up with the next. My legs coiled, muscles taut, and I leaped.
The jump landed perfectly, but my victory was short-lived. A low, guttural sound rose from the void below, sending a shiver racing down my spine. I glanced downward and froze.
Shadowy tendrils, impossibly long and sinuous, reached up from the darkness. They moved like living things, their claw-like tips grasping at the air, hungry for purchase. One lashed out, brushing the edge of the carpet where I stood. The platform shuddered, tilting slightly, and I stumbled back with a curse.
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The grid pulsed again, and I realized what I had to do. A faint golden glow appeared on a nearby carpet—one of the tiles generating light. If I could direct the beam, I could drive the tendrils back. I focused, channeling the Aerlyntium’s energy. The light shifted, lancing downward in a sharp, radiant arc. The tendrils recoiled instantly, writhing and hissing like wounded animals before retreating into the void.
Relief was short-lived. More tendrils rose, their numbers growing, their movements faster, more coordinated. Each step forward became a battle of timing and precision—rotating carpets beneath my feet, snapping tendrils reaching for my ankles. I juggled it all: directing light beams to banish the darkness, aligning jumps with the rotating platforms, and watching the grid’s energy dwindle with every move.
The void wasn’t just a threat anymore—it was alive, aware, and relentless. And it wasn’t going to let me go without a fight.
The path ahead dimmed with every step I took, the faint glow of the carpets fading into shadows that seemed to thicken like a living thing. Darkness pressed in from all sides, wrapping the air in a suffocating shroud. I could barely make out the next tile, let alone the full layout of the path. My pulse quickened, every step a gamble in this ever-blackening void.
I called on the Aerlyntium grid, its faint golden overlay flickering into my vision. For a moment, safe tiles glimmered faintly, revealing a viable route forward. But the grid’s light was fleeting, a brief spark before fading to conserve energy. Overusing it wasn’t an option—I could feel the drain with every activation, the diminishing pulse of power in my mind a constant warning.
A sharp chime echoed in the oppressive silence. Numbers appeared in the corner of my vision, counting down. Ten minutes. That was all I had.
From behind, the Overseer’s booming laughter reverberated like thunder. “Tick-tock, boy! Let’s see if you’re as clever as you think you are. The void is hungry, and it will catch you if you dawdle.”
As if on cue, the carpets behind me began to disintegrate, folding into themselves and vanishing into the endless abyss. The void wasn’t waiting—it was rising, creeping forward with a slow, inevitable hunger that sent a cold chill down my spine. I had to move. Now.
I sprinted forward, relying on memory and instinct as the darkness deepened. The shifting tiles beneath me rippled and twisted, forcing me to adapt on the fly. The grid highlighted a stable tile ahead, and I lunged for it, landing just as the one beneath me crumbled into nothingness.
But the Overseer wasn’t done. A sharp crack split the air, followed by a guttural growl. My head snapped around just in time to see it—a shadowy figure clawing its way up from the void. “What is that? “Scan!”
Entry 0048: Void Herald
Weak against: Light, holy
Strong against: Shadow, fire, physical attacks
The Void Herald is a manifestation of the void itself, a steward that exists to enforce the unknowable rules of the space between realms. Its form flickers between solid and intangible, shrouded in writhing shadowy tendrils. Its glowing core, a void crystal, pulses with an ominous rhythm, seemingly tethered to the very fabric of existence. And unlike the Room Reaper, this one can't fall into the void, so don’t even try.
Stat: ????
Health: ????
Potency:????
Defense: ????
Magic Defense: ????
The "Void Herald" stood hunched and sinewy, its form shifting like smoke, its glowing red eyes locked on me with unrelenting malice.
It moved fast. Too fast. Each step it took destroyed the carpet beneath it, leaving a trail of annihilation. The countdown in my vision ticked down, mocking me with its merciless rhythm. I activated the grid again, swapping two tiles ahead of the Sentinel, sending it down a path that looped back on itself. For a moment, I bought myself some breathing room.
But the Sentinel adapted, its movements sharper, more purposeful. It wasn’t just chasing—it was hunting, and I was the prey. The grid flickered weakly in my vision, its energy nearly spent. I had to think faster, move smarter. With a burst of focus, I froze a distant tile just as the Sentinel reached it, forcing it to pause and recalibrate.
The Overseer’s laughter rang out again, rich with cruel amusement. “Faster, boy! Don’t keep the void waiting!”
Sweat slicked my palms as I pushed forward, the Sentinel relentless behind me, the void rising ever closer. The final stretch of carpets loomed ahead, a maddening puzzle of shifting platforms and rotating tiles. There was no time to think, only to act, and as the grid dimmed further, I realized I’d have to make the final leap blind.
The darkness pressed in tighter, the void howled beneath me, and the Sentinel’s growls grew louder. My heart thundered as I prepared to jump, every ounce of energy and instinct guiding me toward the faint glimmer of hope on the other side.