Chapter 17: Race Against Time

Consciousness drifted in and out, a haze of exhaustion and venom clouding Lance's mind. The rhythmic thudding beneath him was foreign—powerful, smooth, and unnaturally fast. He wasn't walking. His legs had long since failed him.

"HE NEEDS A HEALER," the voice thundered, a shockwave of sound that seemed to defy the growing darkness swallowing Lance’s mind. the Shadow Rat King's voice thundered, shaking Lance's skull with its sheer force. "NOW."

"The guild has healers," Cassandra's voice rang out, laced with urgency. "But it's a half hour back—"

"CLIMB ON."

The massive rat beneath them expanded, its form warping as it made room. No one hesitated. Hands grasped shadowy fur as they scrambled onto its back. Someone—probably Brother Thomas—muttered a weak healing spell, but the venom was too strong.

"Hold tight," the Rat King growled.

Then the world became a blur.

The Shadow Rat King moved like liquid darkness, ignoring roads, pathways, and obstacles. It slithered through forests, its massive form phasing in and out of the environment like a wraith. The wind howled past them, and Lance barely registered the gasps and cries of his companions as the impossible speed threatened to throw them off.

As the Shadow Rat King surged forward, the landscape warped around them. It did not merely run—it manipulated the very shadows, bending the world to its will.

Whenever a tree stood in their path, the Rat King’s body phased through it like a living specter. When a river loomed ahead, its form stretched, flowing across the surface like black ink, undisturbed by the rushing current.

The further they traveled, the less solid it became.

Lance felt an eerie sensation, like plunging into ice-cold water, as the massive beast shifted to pure shadow.

Wind screamed past them. Buildings and trees became streaks of gray, blending into the backdrop of night. The roads of Graybourne, normally bustling, were abandoned as people scrambled out of the way of the approaching monstrosity.

Guards on the city walls barely had time to react.

"SHADOW BEAST APPROACHING!"

"WHAT IN THE GODS' NAME IS THAT?!"

"L-Look at the size of it—!"

Arrows were drawn, spells were prepared—but too late.

The Shadow Rat King did not stop.

Instead, the shadows beneath the city wall twisted. For a single breath, everything was consumed in darkness, a swirling abyss of pure void. And then—

They were inside.

The transition was so smooth, so unnatural, that it defied logic. One moment, a solid wall. The next, open city streets.

They emerged into the city's merchant district.

Market day was in full swing. Hundreds of citizens packed the streets, haggling over goods, gossiping at stalls, going about their ordinary lives.

Until a massive shadow beast materialized through a solid wall.

Chaos erupted.

Merchants abandoned their stalls. Women screamed. Children pointed in wonder. City guards drew weapons, shouting orders, but their voices shook with uncertainty. How do you fight a legend? The Shadow Rat King was a myth, a tale to frighten children—not something that charged through city streets in broad daylight.

Some brave souls tried to block their path. The Shadow Rat King simply phased through them, leaving them shivering from the cold touch of shadow-stuff.

"CLEAR THE WAY," its voice shook windows and rattled teeth.

People pressed themselves against buildings. Guards formed lines but didn't attack. Even the city's famed griffon riders, circling overhead, kept their distance.

Lance drifted in and out of awareness, catching fragments:

- A priest dropping his holy symbol in shock

- A summoner's familiar dissolving in terror

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- Children pointing and whispering, "The Shadow King!"

- Guards arguing about whether to sound the alarm

Screams erupted.

The streets were in chaos, but the Shadow Rat King did not slow.

"Make way!" the Rat King’s voice boomed, rattling the very stones beneath them.

Even those who did not understand instinctively obeyed.

And just as quickly as the panic had erupted, they reached their destination.

The guild hall.

A final pulse of shadow magic rippled outward

And the beast phased directly through the guild’s stone walls, emerging in a swirl of black mist.

Then the guild hall loomed before them.

The Shadow Rat King didn't bother with doors. It surged through the main hall's solid stone wall, materializing in a swirl of black mist. A shockwave of darkness swept outward, rattling furniture and knocking over parchment stacks.

Silence fell.

The reaction inside was instantaneous.

Hundreds of adventurers—mercenaries, spellcasters, warriors—leapt to their feet.

Swords left scabbards. Arrows were nocked. A few spells ignited mid-air before their casters, realizing what they were facing, hesitated in raw disbelief.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"

"IT CAME THROUGH THE WALLS!"

"THAT’S… THAT’S NOT A NORMAL SUMMON!"

The sheer magnitude of what had just happened settled into the crowd like an icy grip.

"That’s a… Rat King."

"No way—those things only appear in high-tier dungeons. How did they—?"

"They brought back the orb?! Already?! That’s impossible—!"

Among the chaos, guild staff scrambled. Clerks knocked over stacks of parchment, some frantically trying to record what was happening. Merchants in the guild, ever opportunistic, were already whispering among themselves.

"That core alone could go for—"

"Double if they auction it through—"

"If he really tamed that thing… gods above, imagine the contracts—"

And in the center of it all, Victor Draeven stepped forward.

Guild Master. War veteran. An iron-fisted ruler of the adventuring world.

His expression was unreadable, his gaze sharp.

"Assessment team. Back in under an hour." His voice carried, cutting through the din. "With both the objective and a B-rank monster core?"

The murmurs rose into a fever pitch.

Draeven’s eyes flicked over the scene. His gaze lingered on Lance, barely conscious, then moved to the Shadow Rat King, the monster radiating sheer presence in the center of the hall.

"How," Draeven asked, slowly, "did you pull this off?"

"Not the time," the Rat King growled. "HEAL HIM."

A sharp glance to an aide.

"Bring Sylphyra. Now."

Lance's body tumbled to the floor.

"HEALERS!" the Rat King's voice cracked the tension. "NOW!"

Other summoners in the hall stared in shock. Their contracted beasts—wolves, hawks, even a young drake—cowered before the Shadow Rat King's presence. This was old power, deep power, something that shouldn't exist in the modern age.

Cassandra stumbled forward, panting, her eyes wild but determined. One hand clutched the glowing crystal orb, but something else gleamed in her other hand—a dark crystal, pulsing with unnatural energy.

The crowd went utterly still.

"Guild Master!" Cassandra's voice rang through the hall. "Assessment team returning! We need—"

Footsteps approached—light, deliberate. A presence unlike the others.

And every man in the room forgot how to breathe.

Kali Sylphyra.

She was more than beautiful—she was ethereal. Her long purple hair cascaded past her waist like twilight given form, shimmering with hints of deeper violets and rich amethysts. Her eyes weren't merely purple; they were pools of ancient power, flecked with silver that seemed to shift like stars behind storm clouds.

But it wasn't just her beauty that commanded attention. Power radiated from her in waves—old power, pure power, the kind that made lesser mages step back in instinctive deference. Every movement was grace incarnate, yet carried the weight of centuries.

Rumors about Kali filled every tavern in Graybourne:

- That she was older than the city itself

- That she'd survived the Calamity Wars

- That she'd rejected marriage proposals from three different kings

- That her healing arts could restore life itself

But none of that mattered now.

She knelt beside Lance, her presence humming with barely contained energy. Through his mask, even half-conscious, he felt it—power recognizing power, ancient things calling to ancient things.

"I am Kali Sylphyra," her voice was music, yet sharp with authority. "Rest easy, brave one. The toxin is potent, but not beyond my skill."

Cool energy flowed into him. Unlike divine healing, this wasn't a burst of light—it was a slow, steady unraveling of the venom's grasp, as though nature itself was reclaiming what had been poisoned.

As Kali Sylphyra worked, a hushed meeting formed between Draeven and the assessment team.

"Explain," Draeven ordered.

Cassandra, still catching her breath, laid out the sequence of events. The monsters, the desperate battle, the unexpected summoning of the Rat King—everything.

At the mention of Jest, the room stirred.

"That… that doesn’t sound like a normal summon," muttered a summoner from the back. "His beast shouldn’t have evolved mid-battle."

"It wasn’t normal," Cassandra admitted. "It felt… different. Like it wanted him."

Draeven’s expression darkened.

"And the toxin?"

Kali, still kneeling beside Lance, glanced up.

"Neutralized," she confirmed. "But it should have killed him minutes ago."

"Then why is he alive?"

A long silence.

Then Kali’s gaze flickered.

"Because his power is different."

Heads turned.

"Different how?" Draeven asked.

Kali placed a hand over Lance’s chest. Her magic reacted strangely, like it was being absorbed in layers.

"I do not know," she admitted. "But I can feel it. His presence… it’s not normal."

Another pause.

Draeven glanced at the Shadow Rat King, still standing guard, watching with something too intelligent for a mere summon.

"His rank?" someone murmured.

Draeven exhaled slowly.

"His team was supposed to be D-rank."

The entire guild hall shifted.

"That’s… that’s not D-rank anymore," a rogue muttered.

"A B-rank core. A Shadow Rat King. The orb recovered in record time."

"It’s unheard of," a spellcaster murmured. "There’s no way they stay D-rank."

Draeven folded his arms.

"No," he agreed.

"They don’t."

His shadow rat chittered on his chest, its third eye pulsing. "SHE IS STRONG, MASTER. ANCIENT BLOODLINE. HEALING MAGIC EVOLVED BEYOND NORMAL LIMITS."

The Shadow Rat King, still dominating the hall, watched with interest. Other summoners whispered in awe—not just at the massive beast, but at how it seemed to defer to Kali's presence.

Behind his mask, Lance managed a faint smile. "Practice."

For the first time, Kali smiled too. A small, knowing thing that made several nearby adventurers catch their breath.

"Indeed." She glanced at Guild Master Draeven, who had appeared during the healing. "He needs rest, but he'll recover fully. More importantly..." Her gaze lingered on Lance's ring—on the purple veins pulsing in sync with his heartbeat. "I believe we should discuss his rank assessment."

The whispers grew:

- "Completed the trial in under an hour..."

- "Slew a B-rank guardian..."

- "That rat... it's impossible..."

- "The way she looks at him..."

Summoners in the guild whispered among themselves, comparing their creatures to the impossible scale of the Shadow Rat King. Some looked envious. Others looked frightened.

Merchants in the crowd immediately began calculating the market value of a B-rank core and a Shadow Rat King’s contract. Gold was already shifting hands in bets about Lance’s future.

Guards outside the guild were overheard murmuring about security concerns.

"If a contractor can summon something like that…"

"Gods, if we lose control over him—"

Healers nearby gathered, debating the toxin.

"No one survives that. No one."

"It’s not just healing. His body adapted to it."

Kali’s gaze lingered on Lance as he stirred, consciousness barely returning.

And, for the first time in years—

She was curious.

Lance felt consciousness slipping again, but this time from exhaustion rather than poison. The last thing he saw was Kali's knowing smile and the Shadow Rat King's protective stance.

Whatever this was—his power, her interest, the guild's shock—it was far from over.

The legend of Jest was only beginning.

And somewhere in the shadows, watching through his rat's third eye, Lance smiled. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.

Well, almost everything. No one had planned for Kali Sylphyra's knowing smile or the way her power resonated with his own.

The Shadow Rat King loomed like a dark omen. Kali Sylphyra, glowing with ancient power, only smiled.

This strengthens the contrast between raw, primal force (the Rat King) and refined, enigmatic power (Kali).

No one had planned for Kali Sylphyra’s gaze to linger on him… as if she already knew what he was becoming.