Remus clutched onto the luminous shard in a bloody grip, breathing in deeply, the dispersing carcasses of dozens upon dozens of Unbounded leaving nothing but rocky shrapnel in their wake.
He was either cut, bruised, or bleeding in more places than he could count, clutching onto his waterskin with trembling fingers for dear life. He drank, the coppery taste of his own blood polluting the water. Not that he could muster the will to care, instead focusing the rest of his mental energy on preparing his final meal of the night — unbuttered, plain, and starchy bread. Taking a bite, he clutched onto his drink once more, being able to resist the lingering heat no longer.
In a few purposefully sparse drizzles, he let the cool sensation of the liquid drip down his ashy face; quelling his discomforts, for the time being. Whether it was a waste of his resources or not, Remus didn’t care. The temperature down here was agonising, reducing his skin to the equivalent of sandpaper.
Refreshed at last, he turned back to his sorry excuse for a meal, in a slow, depressing bow of the head. He couldn’t help but think of the others; whatever they were doing up there, he solemnly hoped they were experiencing a much more enjoyable time than he.
He wasn’t sure exactly on how many days had elapsed since his descent, though it was likely early into his second. Remus’ plan had been to count the days in accordance with his body’s natural circadian rhythm. Whilst likely accurate on paper, he had failed to take into account how sporadic Unbounded attacks would significantly deteriorate the quality of his rest, and in consequence, the idea was robbed of all its worth.
His eyes shot out into the dimly lit murk, waiting avidly for whenever a batch of the stone devils would conjure the courage to attack. It was typically every few hours, but who knew how long that consistency would keep up. Maybe they would eventually lose interest in him, perceiving Remus as the fresh newcomer to play around with for now, only to be ignored once his fun had worn off. But alas, that was likely wishful thinking on Remus’ part.
Remus’ eyes drifted idly to the Infirnite chunk in his hand. It was heavy, about the size of his head, but keeping the prize of this trial close to him at all times kept Remus driven. Made it somehow seem easier, as if the bulk of the task had already been completed.
Restored with a newfound confidence, Remus got up. It was more likely than not that someplace in these tunnels, a water source would be present. If his pitchers ever ran out, he was done for.
Stretching, his body making a few odd popping sounds as he did so, Remus put on his bag. It seemed to weigh more than usual, but upon careful inspection, Remus discovered its contents to have had actually reduced. He ignored the bad omen for his general health, slotting the crystal deep inside, and charging forwards into the dark, with a piece of crystal hung at the rim of his trousers. No longer would he waste torches so willingly.
Water, was the only thought occupying his mind, I must find water.
----------------------------------------
Violet shook manically from side to side, the brown sludge encapsulating her not giving up its steadfast hold for anything. Her breaths came with sporadic consistency, a concerning reality when you were preoccupied with the very taxing chore of suffocating.
Shouting — Hadrian’s shouting — was but a vague notion beyond the lightless barriers, which were an oozing, blackish opaque deadset on consuming her whole.
Panic seeped into the deepest crevices of Violet’s mind, but her logic, just in the nick of time, kicked into high gear. I will not meet my end at the hands of a mud monster!
Her Mark flashed in a luminous purple, causing the slimy walls encompassing her to recoil, as if sensing the power she was drawing from. By whatever improbable means these Unbounded had sneaked through the front lines, and Foot-Soldier equivalents at that, was now irrelevant to Violet. This was far from the first instance where she’d been pegged against opponents stronger than herself — her sister for one, had been at a similar level of power during the fiasco of her escape. And still, back then, despite the overwhelming odds, Violet had survived.
So now, arguably more equipped with knowledge than ever before, what was her excuse? It was simple: there was none.
The Unbounded hissed as she sent the air quaking with chaotic energy. Little whisperings of havoc, the devil’s tongue muttering into the ears of existence to simply break.
“Jussss . . .” The foe spasmed, tiny stretches of the oily material tearing open, letting in the first rays of sunshine to come slashing through. “Justice!”
Regardless of whether she could see the battlefield in full detail or not wasn’t important. The fact was that out there, with Hadrian setting the oozing masses ablaze in a sea of flickering red, there would most definitely be an endless array of debris to play around with. Violet set her mind’s eyes onto the pebbles likely littering the floor around both her and her foe; onto the snapped twigs and other seared plantage not already victim to Hadrian’s fumes; onto the amounting carbon infesting the atmosphere, now solidifying in accordance to her mind’s will.
In a motion no more extreme than the tight closing of a fist, she sent all of her makeshift weapons hurtling. Right into her Unbounded prison.
The already-expanding cuts in the goo’s flesh only fanned open further. Jagged rock, thorny ends of weeds, and cemented articles of a blackish substance were only a few of the Unbounded’s troubles; all stabbing into one side of its sticky layer, and out through the other.
Violet was grazed here and there, but otherwise unharmed, staring through the largest of the fiend's slits, about twice the size of her head. She latched two hands on both sides before they could recover back into place, double-downed on her will, and tore.
Rip, she beckoned to the slithering walls of her prison, puncture open. Return to the base form of all existence, to havoc itself, and let yourself be formless.
The words themselves had no effect of course, and wouldn’t have even if she muttered them aloud, for that wasn’t how Marks worked. But their intent bled into being, sharpening the blade of her focus like a waterstone. The Unbounded made a retching sound, the gap now easily a metre or larger. Her upper body passing through, Violet caught sight of what really was occurring out there.
She was positioned at the end of the Unbounded — the beast of a larger size than she could've ever fathomed, even if given a million Rebirths to merely sit in an empty room and speculate. They were mobile, the creature conquering metres of land in seconds. Boulders, foreign plants, and dim lamp-posts were mere pebbles in her escort’s wake, consumed and flung out without a second thought. In the distance, Violet eyed a literal giant of flame. She was forced to double take at that.
Emerging from what appeared to be, from this distance, a carpet of thriving ruby, the flaming feet and legs of a wholly ablaze entity supported a colossal weight. Fitted with whips and talons of solidifying lava, turning gradually into a steady obsidian, the entity roared in the face of an entire squadron of the enemy Violet was up against currently. Based on the cloudy ashes of Infinity draping over the scene, quite a few had already been killed. Violet, despite the urgency of the precarious situation, couldn’t help but think that the view would make for a fantastic painting from Veida. Too bad she had other concerns prickling away at her attention, other than memorising the scene to recount to the researcher later.
Hadrian, a mere silhouette in the chest of the giant, and the mastermind behind the construct of destruction, was quite efficient with how he handed out death.
His feet toppled foes, his hands were channels through which more beams of incineration could fit their job description, and the leer in the giant’s ethereal eyes was almost enough to stop Violet’s heart from beating. Ignoring Hadrian’s puppet as far as possible, Violet suddenly became extraordinarily aware of her distance from the warring Mercenary. She was being dragged away. For what purpose, she wasn’t keen to find out.
Freedom was close now, she just had to grab it by the throat. The creature binding her from the waist down taking too long to release its stagnant hold, Violet decided to hurry things up. She commanded the obstructions in the beast she had previously sent flying to twist around in a tortuous manner, and, ignoring the Unbounded’s shrill screams, Violet took a more practical approach.
She punched down rapidly.
“Jus-” It spluttered, fragments of jet, bubbling gunge flying off the body.
Violet didn’t dally long enough to catch the rest of the Unbounded’s ramblings, though it didn’t take too much mental energy to make a very likely assumption. This strain of Unbounded weren’t very creative with their vocabulary. She dived out, rolling onto hard ground with world-shattering force. They appeared to be at a roadside somewhere, now devastated from the encounter, but she didn’t spare too many of her vital seconds on sightseeing.
A wave of vertigo struck Violet, and she wobbled upwards, dashing across the paved street below. The Unbounded was faster, but she didn’t dare to look back. Running, running, running, until her sides roared in two simultaneous stitches. She had a plan, however flimsy, but their environs had simply been too ravaged to fit its vital requirements. She would have to reach unflattened land first, somewhere with obvious obtrusions she could work with.
She could hear the grovelling form closing in on her; smell the repugnant scent of dirt and tar that sustained its grotesque body. Violet kept her Mark active, hurtling anything she could get her hands on to impede the creature’s path. And, until she arrived at her desired destination, that only extended to shovelling excesses of dirt, stand, and the grains of forcibly crumbled rock their way.
A miniature sandstorm wafted between both monster and mortal, doing little to prevent either of their advances other than watering the eye. Violet’s ankle gave in, twisting painfully to the side, and she sagged, hopping onwards for a desperate moment on one leg.
Violet could feel strips of goo clutch onto her skin, chafing away patches as she scrambled away, the threat of once more being consumed and taken to gods' knew where more prevalent than ever. Her breath was desperate, her Mark seeming to burn against the flesh of her forearm as she pushed it to its limits. Fear driving her insane, her eyes swerved up ahead. She allowed a crazed smile. It was time — she’d made it.
In a surge of power, Violet virtually flung her body to the side, her Mark steaming enough to boil water. The Unbounded didn’t have time to halt and reorient itself. It crashed into the jumble of boulders, uplifted roots, and miscellany uprooted from the local area in one almighty collision. Its oily form was stretched to breaking point, like a seething tide slamming itself against the base of a cliff.
Buckling down to one knee, Violet raised a palm, squashing her now flattened foe in the airborne wreckage, commanding it to cluster together in a makeshift imprisonment. Now who's the one being held captive, hmm?
For eight glorious seconds, that seemed to be the end of it, her will availing over the Unbounded’s pitiful struggles. Then a slippery tendril came slithering out, and with it, the rest of the creature followed. Violet toppled over further, failing to catch her breath, no matter how hard she tried. The mess of objects crashed down haphazardly around her, sending chunks of dusty stone erupting up. She didn’t pay enough attention to try and dodge them, only avoiding a grisly end beneath their weight by sheer luck. Something she was evidently out of.
The Unbounded was on to her, inches away now, and there was nothing she could do.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Justice!” It cried.
“Shut it!” Violet spat back.
Too exhausted to think of anything else, Violet readied her fists once more. She didn’t like her chances with simply punching the thing to death, but she didn’t possess infallible energy stores. Maybe if given enough time, she could whisk the discarded articles back into action, and try yet again at concentrating the beast into an even thinner pulp than it already was. For now though, classic brawling it would be.
The Unbounded leaped, and her hands became a fuzzy blur.
The fiend’s sap warped and convulsed unnaturally, as Violet poured a tiny amount of Chaotic energy into her attacks, the creature screeching all the while. Forgoing active focus for her instincts, Violet's mind went awry with worry. Would this be how she perished, whenever her fatigue won over? Would Remus return from his trial, never to see her again? Would she never uncover the conspiracies poisoning her family, destined to die at the hands of an overly-aggressive puddle of mud?
It was at times like this when Violet typically turned things around, achieving a swift victory after reaffirming her reasons for being in this world. But as she forced her hands forward, eyelids drooping, into the unbothered flesh of her enemy, imprisoned once more, no such second wind came.The walls of the Unbounded closed in, and a perverse smile played on Violet’s purpling lips. After all this, she would die from suffocation. She had always envisioned herself perishing valiantly at the heart of a battlefield, or in her bed peacefully, at a comfortable old age, well into the hundreds. All those potential years blipped away in the blink of an eye.
Right before her eyelids were to close fully, a pupil in the wall of the fiend formed, staring raptly at her. Violet barely processed its existence, half-conscious as she was. It scrutinised her beaten form, looking her up and down with no emotion behind its lens. After a hesitant moment, it spoke.
“One.”
Violet spluttered. “What?”
The creature said no more. In the most abrupt turn of events Violet had ever experienced, the creature unravelled itself from around her. It was fully morning now, and the urge to sleep that had eluded her for so long finally returned, with all its due impact. Even the ground below her would have been a passible place to take rest, but Violet momentarily ignored the feeling of weariness, in favour of a stronger sensation: confusion.
The Unbounded turned, crawling over a mound of rock, and out of view. Violet didn’t try to follow, let alone stop it.
For how long she was sat there, benumbed, Violet didn’t know, just that after some time, Hadrian arrived. In a blazing bundle of limbs, he crash-landed, as if a miniature comet, worry written over his face. He dashed towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders.
“Violet,” he began, breathing a little rugged, “are you okay? I cleared out the pack of them over there. Twenty or so Foot-Soldier equivalents! We have to report this, it's not normal — unheard of, even. Maybe Veida wi-”
In his rambles, it took Hadrian a second to notice just how bad Violet’s condition was. Something in his eyes changed.
Twenty . . . Violet thought, deliriously, Hadrian killed twenty of them, and I’m left like this with one.
“It's not dead.” she managed to croak.
“What?”
“The Unbounded, the one I was fighting . . . it’s not dead.”
Hadrian grimaced. “Where?”
Violet pointed in the rough direction she had seen the gloop fleeing past.
Conflict dawned on Hadrian’s face, his eyes darting repeatedly between Violet, and into the distance. “Can you walk? Or should I carry you?”
Thinking for a moment, Violet tried to get up. It took some difficulty, but she persevered. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”
Hadrian nodded. “Good. We’ll deal with the last of 'em on our way back. Camp is roughly in the same direction. If you ever feel too unwell to continue by yourself, tell me.”
They began to walk, but before they could get anywhere more than a few steps forwards, Hadrian turned to her. “I’m sorry Violet. I’m so sorry.”
“It's okay.” Violet muttered, any ire she could’ve held dissolving in seconds. He was far too sincere to stay mad at.
For the rest of the way back, the man didn’t look up. The shadow of his forlorn face bore into the ground, muttering nothing but apologies.
----------------------------------------
Violet didn’t remember much of passing out.
After she and Hadrian had stumbled into camp, with the Mercenary sending the rogue Unbounded to the netherworld with a casual drift of flame, everything became a blur. Violet had heavily underestimated just how injured she was; several of the objects she’d been stabbing the attacking Unbounded with had slit her also, she’d just been too high on adrenaline at the time to feel it.
Let’s just say, it wasn’t very fun when that rush of chemicals wore off. Multiple people had appeared to dash towards her in worry, before Violet’s dazed mind could even begin to process what was going on. The last thing she could remember was being sent to bed — carried, presumably — and slipping adrift before her head had hit the pillow.
Only now, stirring awake after however long it had been, did she recognize the tent around her to be Veida’s. The woman was at her side, stirring some sort of steaming liquid around a heated pot. She glanced over to Violet, a smile expanding upon her face. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” Violet groaned, “and worse.”
Veida contained a chuckle. “Haven’t we all? But I’m glad you weren't too badly injured. I still don’t understand what Hadrian was thinking that day, apologies. I’ve already chided him sufficiently, if that helps.”
Violet wasn’t a fan of that wording, particularly ‘that day’, and its implications. Panic seeped into her mind yet again, jolting her fully awake. “How many days has it been?”
“You slept through yesterday, and a portion of today.” Veida answered. “That should be more than enough to have healed you. I bet you’re hungry though, correct? I’ve been preparing some soup, here,” she handed over a wooden bowl, filled to the brim with a faintly orange liquid, “be careful, it's hot.”
Violet accepted it gratefully. She was never a fan of soup, but after almost two whole days without a crumb of food . . . it ranked high up there, amongst the best things she’d ever eaten.
Only once she had ravaged the bowl of its contents, did Veida continue. “So what happened? I’ve heard Hadrian’s account, but I’d like to hear yours.”
“Well . . .”
Having no real reason not to, Violet recounted the enthralling tale of her battle, which was considerably more fun to listen to than to experience yourself — and, come to think of it, that was how most stories worked.
“So I was trapped inside the Unbounded for the second time.” She was in the middle of saying, when a question occurred to her. “Would you happen to know why a Foot-Soldier equivalent was this far out from the front lines? I thought that was impossible.”
“Not impossible,” Veida corrected her, “just unlikely. See, for an Unbounded to advance, they have to increase the concentration of their Infinity. And to do that, if you don’t want to be passively breathing in Infinity from the surrounding aura for ninety years, requires killing. Both mortals with a Boundless Bank, or a higher development of the godly construct, and other Unbounded are the most obvious sources.”
“They kill each other?”
Veida nodded. “Do humans not kill each other? Arguably for more material things? It's the way of life, Violet.”
When put like that, it sounded painfully obvious.
“On a battlefield, where death is the most abundant, is the perfect environment for Unbounded to grow their strength. And there is no larger battlefield out there, other than the front lines themselves.”
“But that doesn’t explain why a pack of Unbounded of such strength was roaming around here. Unless the entire family is impossibly old, or have been slaughtering the surrounding area for decades? Both sound like stretches . . .”
Veida took a sip from a cup of herbal tea at her side, the same drink she was always seen sipping at. “It's a combination of the two. And Violet, I must thank you.”
“What for?” She frowned. “I don’t think being beaten senseless is worth congratulating, no offence.”
Veida’s demeanour suddenly grew very dark, and something signalled to Violet that matters were about to grow very serious indeed.
“I know the Unbounded you and my husband were fighting, the fool. And not just their species,— tarlords — I mean I literally know them. Or perhaps know isn’t the correct word, for I’ve never actually met them in person. But I sure as hell won’t ever forget those vermin.”
Violet wasn’t catching on. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”
Veida sighed. “Do you remember when I told you about Leander?”
. . . and understanding clicked into place. Violet kept her lips tight. “Yes.”
“The tarlord that,” she fought to get the word out, “that killed my brother was likely one of the family, or maybe even was the manufacturer of the dozens of offspring you and Hadrian ran into.”
Violet thought the term ‘manufacturer’ was an odd descriptor, but understood the reasoning behind it. Unbounded didn’t reproduce in the standard way, instead sacrificing a portion of themselves, of their Infinity, to beckon into existence a weak copy of itself, or a version of themselves when they’re in their weakest form. It was one of the only two methods through which Unbounded could crawl into this world — that, or spawning naturally in Infinity rich areas.
“One of the family . . .” Violet repeated, “why do you think so?”
“The details match up. They're the same breed, and both mutter singular words — perhaps the Unbounded you fought, spouting ‘justice’ is the two syllable-word we’re looking for. A Foot-Soldier equivalent could maybe produce so many kin in the thirty-five Rebirths or so its been since Leander passed.”
Veida grabbed Violet’s hands. “Thank you for risking your life alongside my husband, to bring my brother’s killer to rest. I’ll never have to stay up at night worrying again.”
Blood swarmed in Violet’s cheeks, and she didn’t quite know what to say. Veida withdrew, and Violet coughed awkwardly.
“Ah, no problem. Anyhow, back to the story . . .”
Violet explained the rest, and Veida kept a straight face the entire way through.
“The tarlord didn’t withdraw Violet,” she put a hand on her shoulder gently, “the injuries must have been making you see things.”
Moving to object, Violet thought the comment was bizarrely incorrect, especially coming from someone as intelligent as Veida. Did she think she was lying? Alas, before she could even fully open her mouth, Veida cut her off.
“Save it.” She said, strangely curt. “Trust me.”
“I know what I saw Veida, I’m not crazy-”
“I didn’t say you were Violet, but it's common to get delirious after suffering from too many wounds. It's not something to be ashamed of.”
Violet’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not ashamed, because I wasn’t seeing things! The Unbounded turned and left, right before it could have killed me.”
Suddenly, the examiner’s face wasn’t quite so soft. She got up, making to leave the tent. “Drop the matter Violet. Hadrian arrived right before the Unbounded could deliver the final blow, and incinerated it. Now, leave. It.”
For some reason, Violet didn’t feel like backing down. It was an odd hill to die on, sure, but Violet didn’t appreciate being called mad anymore than she did a liar, even if it was only insinuated. And she definitely didn’t appreciate being talked down to like a child.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, but I know what I saw. The Tarlord was about to crush the rest of the air out of my lungs, and then stopped — honest. Come to think of it, I don’t think they tried to kill me the entire time we battled; it was more like . . . more like they were trying to take me somewhere.”
Veida halted by the flap of the tent, which was fairly spacious, as rigid as a statue. She appeared to be thinking something through, as if finalising a thousand calculations in the space of a second. A little shakily, she spoke in a quiet, determined voice. “Get out.”
“What?”
Veida spun on the spot, her face a mask of fury, her features blending into coals, setting ablaze as kindling to enact her ire. “Leave!”
Her hands really did erupt in streaks of fire then, and Violet found herself taking a step back. Amid the terror, amid the confusion, a deeper feeling arose. The familiar face of a demon unveiling its face once more; the face of betrayal.
“Veida-”
“I don’t want to hear it.” The woman muttered, the undertone of all that anger causing her voice to quake. It brewed beneath the fickle barriers of her words, barely contained from breaching out to the surface.
Her palms were free from any threatening red, but Violet got the impression that Veida wouldn't hesitate to beckon those crimson tides back forth, if pressed.
“Where am I supposed to go?” She asked, her voice a pathetic squeak.
“Wherever. You have five minutes. Gather your supplies and leave this territory. Leave it before I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Violet dared to catch a glimpse of the woman, forcing her own dawdling eyes off of the safety of the tent’s flaxen floors.
Veida’s teeth were gritted in visceral disgust. It was the kind of look that elicited a greater pain with every second stuck staring at it, and Violet quickly tore her gaze away. For some reason, that only magnified her emotions, suffocating her in its unfathomable depths. She wanted to linger at the bottom of that abstract void, never to surface again.
“What about Remus?” She managed to splutter to the ground.
Veida inhaled, not quite facing her. “I’m sure he’ll have no problem following you. You both likely have a planned route. If he survives, he’s sure to seek you out, knowing him. Now leave.”
Violet tread a few steps forwards, lifting the flap of the yellow tent. A strange moisture she couldn’t quite wipe away materialising in her eyes, she had no choice but to leave.
And neither of them said a word.