Chapter 178 - The Fall

Not giving the captain any chance to recover, Vern bolted forward, a sharp look in his eyes.

I have to end it right here, he thought, eyeing the dangerously low levels of flux in his thought space. That last feat hadn't come without its cost, leaving him with barely ten percent or so in his reserves.

One step. Two steps. Three...

With each stride, the distance to the wounded captain shrank.

Suddenly, the man's eyes snapped open. "Stay the hell away from me!" he barked. A phantom maw materialized, lunging at Vern.

Caught off-guard, Vern could only manage a hasty slash as he dodged.

Swish…

Fortunately, he had the sword coated in a layer of Instability for a possibility just like this. The moment its edge came in contact with the vicious maw, the phantom disintegrated from the point of impact, exploding into nothingness.

"This... this can't be. What shade observer even are you!?" The captain's scream was tinged with panic as he summoned a deluge of maws around Vern.

Ready for it this time, Vern pulled apart at Duality's handles, splitting it into two slender blades. Coating the left one with stability to ensure its structure wasn't absorbed by the phantoms, he blocked one attack after another.

The phantoms struck relentlessly. Though weak, their touch dissolved anything they contacted. Vern's sleeves disintegrated where the maws grazed them.

Fortunately, his body itself was innately somewhat resistant to having its representation morph, more so when the maws were trying to change the structure.

Seizing an opening, Vern thrust his Instability-laden blade into a phantom. The move was sloppy—Mistress Amelia would've cringed—but effective. The phantom dispersed, only for another to lunge at his exposed arm.

In better circumstances, he could've warded them all off with a single pulse of instability. But I can't waste my flux. After all, manipulating a wider area cost much more than simply coating a slender blade with stability.

He barely blocked one attack before two more found gaps in his defense. Phantom teeth sank into his hand and nape.

Fuck! Vern leapt back, but not before the phantoms drew blood.

Urghh. Pain lanced through his arm and back, but Vern pushed through. Defense wasn't an option. These relentless phantoms would wear him down given time.

Slash!

Another phantom fell to Duality's edge as Vern pressed toward the captain while the remaining two hounded him ceaselessly.

I'm lucky he didn't do this before, he muttered to himself with a grim look. If the captain hadn't gone for theatrics at the start—wasting most if not all his mental energy in those gigantic hands and instead sent hundreds of these, he'd be dead already.

Praising the lack of judgment and strategy on his opponent's part, he ducked under a wild lunge, following through with a back thrust.

Zishhh!

The phantom sizzled and popped, its ethereal form dissipating into nothingness. But before Vern could even draw his next breath, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

Tang!

Steel met spectral teeth as he barely deflected the final phantom's lunge. The impact reverberated up his arm, but Vern paid it no heed. His attention was suddenly completely captured by a sight that made his blood run cold.

The captain's form began to shimmer, an otherworldly glow enveloping him. Gossamer threads of light, like liquid starlight, started pouring into his body from the very air around them. With each passing heartbeat, the man's outline grew more translucent, edges blurring into the background.

Vern's mind raced, piecing together the implications in a flash of clarity. His eyes widened, pupils dilating with the surge of adrenaline coursing through him.

No! He can't—

"Where do you think you're going!?" Vern rasped, his voice raw with desperation. He lunged forward, every muscle in his body screaming with the effort to close the distance before it was too late.

He's escaping. He's actually escaping!

The captain, silent for once, poured all his focus into his flight. His form flickered, edges blurring faster with each passing second.

Vern spun, free from the phantom's assault, but the distance between them yawned like a chasm. Too far. Too fast.

No choice.

With a desperate gamble, Vern channeled the last dregs of his flux and roared—

"Stabilize!"

The air crackled. Motes of light, moments ago swirling around the captain like a cosmic dance, froze mid-flight. The man's ethereal glow sputtered and died, his body snapping back to solid form as if slapped by reality itself.

"AHhh, you bastard!" the captain shrieked, his face contorted with rage. "You've ruined it. You've ruined everything! Why won't you just die?"

Exhaustion clawed at Vern's very being, his Thought Space a hollow void. But he couldn't falter. Not now. In one fluid motion, he merged Duality's blades in his off-hand and drew his vapor blaster, every movement deliberate and urgent.

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He was finally in the effective range of the gun as well as at a point where his aim wouldn't be leagues off the mark.

Hahh... Vern steadied his breath, resting the revolver on his off-arm. Duality formed a makeshift cross-guard, stabilizing his aim.

Bang!

The bullet streaked through the air, dead on target for once. Vern followed its trajectory intently, and right when it was about to pierce the man's ribs, he flicked his wrist.

A phantom maw materialized, jaws snapping shut around the bullet. Both vanished in an instant.

Tch! Vern clicked his tongue, but his legs pumped harder. He was merely a large hall's distance away from the man.

If nothing, the gunshots might just keep him engaged enough not to throw more of those phantoms at me.

The very next moment, however, one emerged right behind him, and instead of trying to fight it, Vern shot at the captain once more. He didn't have flux for more than a single unstable attack, and he didn't want to waste it on this thing.

Bang!

The shot went wide, his aim compromised by the sprint. But it hardly mattered—the captain, ever the coward, had already summoned another phantom maw to intercept the bullet.

Vern's mind raced. With even a fraction more flux, he could've destabilized that makeshift shield at the last moment, forcing the bullet through. But every drop of his reserves was precious now, the situation far too precarious for such risks.

The brief exchange bought Vern a moment's respite from the maw at his back. He seized the opportunity, legs pumping furiously. So close! The gap had narrowed to mere meters.

The bullet met another spectral barrier, and in that split second of frustration, Vern failed to evade the maw that clamped down on his shoulder. A scream caught in his throat, escaping as a strangled gasp. His breaths came ragged, but grim determination etched itself across his face. Fuck this! I've to push on.

Blood seeped from his shredded arm, his back a sticky mess of gore. Now, his shoulder joined the list of injuries, each screaming for attention he couldn't afford to give.

Stopping now meant a fate worse than bleeding out. His final scraps of flux were too precious to waste on mending flesh.

So he pushed.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

"No! Don't come any closer, you demon!" the captain shrieked, his voice cracking with panic. "This can't be happening! How—how can you control this world so well?!"

Spittle flew from the man's mouth as he ranted, "THIS IS A SETUP! That bitch—aghh—Leah, set me up! She said there's no one more powerful than me in here!"

His words devolved into a guttural growl. "I hope she rots from the inside out! May maggots feast on her eyes while she still breathes! And YOU—" he jabbed a trembling finger at Vern, "—I curse you to watch everyone you love die screaming! May your world crumble to ash in your hands! I hope you live long enough to see the flesh slough off your bones as the world falls."

Vern tuned out the mad ramblings, thrusting his gun into his tattered coat. With a flick, Duality sprang to life. A sizzle filled the air as it drank the last dregs of his flux, vibrating with a purple glow.

The phantom maw, now frenzied, snapped wildly around him. Vern shrugged off the assault, taking that final, crucial step. Duality hummed in his grip, now within striking distance of the captain.

"No! No no no no no, goddamnit!" The captain's shriek turned shrill as he scrambled backward like a worm leaving a trail of blood. "You don't know my pain! My loss! My despair! You don't have the right to end me!"

Self-absorbed to the very end, huh? Vern thought coldly, unsurprised.

"I won't go out like this!!"

Suddenly—

"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" the very world quivered, followed by a wet pop!

The captain's pupils burst into a crimson mist, and his scream reached a fever pitch, "WATCH MY PAIN!" He spasmed, "MY—azulianthra triloxthor…My DESPAIR!!! SUFFER THROUGH MY CONDENSED DESPAIR!!"

Vern's body chilled instantly, and he frowned, Are those…whispers? However, he had no mind of stopping. Heck, it made him want to end this sooner.

He'd never seen the process of an observer losing control, and this wasn't how he wanted to witness it—tired beyond measure and powerless against any anomaly.

Without any qualms or hesitation, he let the sword fall, its tip aimed right at the man's jugular.

"DESPAIR!!!" He screeched one more time, and as if those words held power, a baleful sight suddenly overtook his mind dissociating him from the reality instantly.

At first, a terrible uneasiness claimed Vern as one after another, terrifying images of torture, gore, and violence assaulted his mind. But he soon calmed down when the process went on and on and on. All of these acts were committed against the poor, helpless, and weak as this bastard broke them mentally.

A sharp pain shot through his mind, and the Axiom's singularity, which had been his sole bastion through all this, began weakening.

Thousands upon thousands of scenes flitted past his mind in but a second, images of death, decay, and rot. Yet none of it held any weight to him.

Is this supposed to be his most potent attack?

Without the complimentary mental manipulation that was firmly blocked by the linked singularity, they were just a bunch of random images that failed to evoke anything of meaning from him.

He felt nothing.

.

.

.

Before he knew it, the images began to wane, turning into morphed faces and twisted visages shouting, "zephyrianth malanthro." "thexwir lizrend." In a bit, the images jumbled and mixed together before fading entirely.

When he came to, the phantom digging its teeth in his leg fizzled away as his sword hovered mere inches away from the man's neck, who was shrieking, holding his head in his hands.

"DIE! DIE! DIE! Ephrodis vrang DIE! YOU SCUM! oplinthian molux strintholum tervex GIVE UP! DESPAIR! DIE!"

Each new voice emerging from the captain's throat sent a chill through Vern. The whispers blended with curses, creating a disturbing symphony of madness.

"…plorvix…pain…loximorphis…loss…vlortrix…despair!"

Unwilling to risk the captain rising as a maddened Observer, Vern acted.

"Ahh!"

Duality plunged downward, skewering the captain's neck. Instability pulsed through the blade, rapidly consuming flesh.

A bitter and hateful look on his face, the man continued to croak as his body spasmed, "pain…plorvix…loss…lmexthar…despair…"

Gradually, his breaths slowed and convulsions ceased. The whispers and ramblings faded, leaving behind a numbing silence. In this world teetering on the brink of chaos, Vern stood motionless, eyes fixed on the lifeless form before him.

The acrid smell of blood mixed with the metallic tang of instability filled the air, a pungent reminder of the violence that had just transpired.

Vern took a step back, his breath coming out in a long, shaky exhale. He finally couldn't suppress the disgust rising from within.

Until the very end, this man was hell-bent on inflicting pain and despair on Vern. On everything around himself. Even in his last breaths, he was wishing suffering and loss on him.

Is this what it means to be an Observer? To have beliefs so strong you become a slave to them? That they consume your every thought? That, in a bid to ascend, instead of manipulating the world's laws, you're the one actually being manipulated? And by none other than yourself.

In a bid to become singular—unique in the eyes of the world, did one really not just become isolated? Alone? Validating their twisted ideologies in their own mind just like this man? Becoming rotten and destructive by nature?

As much as it was clear that this wasn't the right path, the opposite was just as terrible.

How could one really find greatness if they simply followed the masses like a sheep? Relied on outside validation and never believed in oneself? Never remained alone with their own thoughts or struggles, only to fall into mediocrity?

.

.

.

Surely, there existed a better balance between both these paths.

Surely, there was a more balanced ideology to live by.

Surely, there was an answer.

.

.

.

Right?