Ufomi
Just happy
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Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
{It's an initial post, so it's longer than I would normally write. Hopefully it builds the world a little bit and gives you thoughts to play with. Enjoy!}
You know, for a tower described as "the devil's middle finger sent straight from Hell," I expected worse.
Well, no, let me be more specific. "Expected," past tense, implies I no longer expected it to be awful, which wasn't true. I was still fully anticipating some type of psychological or physical horror awaiting me on the later floors; I was only surprised it wasn't instant. Suffice to say, the very first floor I entered really wasn't all that noteworthy. It was a square, empty room with a door on the opposite end. That was it.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I shouldn't have been able to see the room at all. There were no windows, no sources of light that I could see, and the doorway I'd entered through had vanished the moment I'd walked through it, so no way for the outside daylight to creep through the cracks. No light means no vision. I'm still not entirely sure what gave the room its faint illumination, but my best guess was some type of intense Betrail aura. Supposedly, it's only visible when someone is actively channeling, but considering that the tower likely acted as some Betrail beacon, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that there was enough latent energy in the air to give a ubiquitous almost-light. That, or I'd suddenly been granted night vision by the holy gods above.
Ha. Right.
When I'd stepped through, the change in brightness was drastic enough that my eyes needed time to adjust. I could make out the general outline of the room and the shape of the door but little else. There were faint runes inscribed on the door that glowed with a soft purplish glint; I would've missed it entirely had the room not been as dark as it was. When I stared at the writing, I felt this odd sensation of understanding. "Come," it read, though I shouldn't have been able to make out the details well enough from my distance--assuming it was even a language I was familiar with.
I still acted cautiously. I mean, this tower quite literally killed people. Often. I wasn't about to simply stride across a room no matter how innocent it looked. Luckily for me, after my eyes had adjusted to the low light, I noticed something I'd failed to see initially: a wide chasm separating me from the door with walls that looked unnaturally straight. I say "luckily" because, had it only been an empty room, there was a fair chance there would be some hidden piece waiting to spring on me. Dealing with something I could see at least meant nothing would catch me by surprise. Assuming the challenge was to cross the room. If it were actually some dragon's den or hole through which acid began to rise, I reserved the right to rescind my previous statement.
I leaned over to see how far it went, but I couldn't get a sense for its depth. I didn't see the end, no, but that didn't necessarily mean it was endless; there simply wasn't a lot of light to see by in the first place. Who knows? Maybe there was a bottomless pit. I'd entered on the ground, so if there were a place for one, it'd be there. Regardless, it wasn't something I was eager to test.
After waiting a little longer and hearing nothing nor finding anything beyond the large gap which, for all I knew, might have been the entrance to the literal gates of Hell, I started running through ideas in my head. How to cross a chasm that was four times longer than anything I could jump? With no help? And possibly with other dangers lurking in the depths?
All things considered, it could have been worse.
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
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Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Last edited:
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
I'd brought the ring you gave me, of course. Useful little thing. Considering it was never intended to be used as a light, it gave off a decent glow, and I used it to check the walls and ceiling of the room in case there were some hidden handholds or platforms to help me get across. Believe it or not, the room had no pre-made pathway to cross the chasm. Shocking, I know.
I figured it was worth the look, though. The real test was the chasm itself. I wanted to get a feel for how deep it was, hopefully without using myself as the measuring stick. I would normally drop something and listen for the corresponding sound, but there wasn't anything in my pack I wanted to discard. And the ring's light wasn't enough to show the end. (By the way, next time you propose, consider something that would help me see a little better into a darkness of possibly infinite depths. Thanks.) I looked as far as I could, down to where the light faded to black, straining to catch the bottom. There had to be something. Maybe some ... some type of shape or outline or ...
I couldn't be sure, but I thought I noticed something odd. At the very end of what was visible, the light ... wavered, similar to how the air looks near the blacksmith's furnace. It was faint enough that I couldn't tell if there was actually something moving or if it was my imagination. I continued to stare at it. Something tickled the back of my mind in faint recollection. It almost looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. I felt like I was trying to recall details from a fleeting dream.
The longer I stared, the more the feeling of recognition grew until I had two flashes of insights at once. The first insight: Yes, the light was indeed shifting near the bottom, and I recognized those patterns. It only ever flickered like that when it crossed paths with active Betrail channeling. That's right. Active channeling. Not latent tower energy, but focused, directed channeling near the edge of the light. The second insight: It was rising. I almost couldn't see the wavering when I'd first looked, but I no longer struggled to see the movement. Something, whatever it was, was slowly creeping upwards--not unlike the rising pool of acid I'd unfortunately joked about.
I had no idea what would happen once the Betrail energy reached me, but I had a feeling it would be wiser for me to get to the other side before it happened. Stories of death and whatnot.
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
I know what you're thinking. If only there were some sort of additional power source to draw from, some added help, as if from a different plane of existence; if only I were someone who had spent years mastering the art of channeling. Oh, what's that? I, Rayze, am a Betrain? What luck.
But I'd spent the majority of my time channeling Charity for obvious reasons. That alone was difficult enough. It had taken me years to grow competent enough to be a reliable physician, so I was lucky I'd started young. Strictly speaking, I was physically able to channel other Betraites like Pride—which would have made this situation trivial. Pointless to try and hone those other traits now, though. I took a quick look over the edge to confirm that, yes, my ring still showed the frothing mess of energy rising, and it certainly wouldn't wait the several years required for me to practice channeling the other Betraites. I had access to Charity. That was it. In other words, I had honed a skill that could save anybody in the room except myself.
The irony of the situation was not lost on me.
I wasn't entirely helpless, though. I shrugged off my bag and started rummaging through the various supplies I'd brought. Remember that doll I had? The small one, with the white dress and frilly little bonnet? I don't think I brought it out often around you simply because Charity is much easier to use on real people, and I didn't see a practical need for it. I was already connected to it; the ring only glowed when I was channeling something, a pleasant indicator that it was aiding me. The real challenge would be channeling Charity in a way that benefitted me without intending to benefit me. It's an interesting mind game; you should try it one day, what with all this free time you have.
Putting my pack back on, I approached the edge of the chasm with the doll in hand and stared into its depths. I didn't want to leave my doll alone to its fate where it would succumb to whatever energy was climbing (and possibly explode for all I knew). Seeing as I had no way across myself, it would be cruel of me to leave my doll to suffer some horrible fate without some way to provide it comfort. It had always served me well. The most humane thing to do would be to place it in a painless, unconscious state so that it could go on in peace.
Now, the doll wasn't actually alive. It could only act as a target for me to focus my Charity. Concepts of "weakness" and "strength" and "pain" were stored in its imbued fibers as Betrail energy, nothing more. The effect on me, however, was quite different. Charity uses my own self as part of the fuel for the channel, so, holding the doll in both hands with as much care as I could manage, I started to give it all the things I felt would help it: I hid its strength so its magical parts wouldn't react with whatever Betrail energy was coming; I gave it tranquility so that it would feel calm as the event happened.
As I continued the channel, the ring's glow increased, and I could feel strength flowing into me alongside a growing anxiety. For my doll to have weakness, it must take mine, which is backhandedly what I wanted. It unfortunately also started taking my tranquility, hence the nervousness that had already started forming a pit in my stomach. I know it sounds strange to add the parts that harm me, but it was already difficult as it was to give it my weakness—or, in other words, gather strength—because despite my rationalizations, I knew something felt off. A large portion of my attention was dedicated to not thinking too hard about the actual implications of my channeling. I had to really intend to help this doll. I could deal with additional anxiety if it meant more physical strength.
We had a few problems, though. Firstly, as I was gathering strength, I noticed that something tickled my mind, feeling like a far-off sound. It felt foreign to me. It was some ... voice, almost, like a whisper from a distant room whose words I couldn't make out. And for reasons I couldn't say, it made me feel unsettled. There was a vague wrongness to it. I looked over the chasm and discovered that the frothing energy was closer than I'd expected it to be. Was it rising faster?
Secondly, giving someone weakness isn't exactly the same as stealing strength. There's a limit to how much you can give. Had this doll been an actual person, between the combined energy of my years practicing Charity (which basically amplified the power) and my ring (which actually amplified the power), he would have been knocked into a comatose state. And I really wasn't that much stronger.
Keeping the doll in hand, I walked up to the nearest wall and tried testing how far I could jump. (By jumping parallel to the chasm's edge, of course, not into it. I'm not stupid.) I kicked down, hard, and was pleasantly surprised to find that I leapt farther than I was anticipating. Just not far enough yet. Unfortunate. I tried it a few more times to be sure, but it wasn't enough.
Oh, and whatever was in the pit was continuing to rise. By this point, after my trial runs, I could tell even without my ring's glow now. That sense of uneasiness, distinct from what the doll was giving me, was growing. It was gnawing at me the way rust eats at metal, and the presence I felt in my mind continued in a voice not unlike a vat of snakes slithering over each other. The hairs on my arms were beginning to rise. There was a palpable, invisible hum of energy, like static in the air the moment before lightning strikes.
I don't feel desperation, of course. Obviously. But I certainly felt the heightened tension. I slung off my pack to see if I could jump farther without it on. It was relatively light, but I'd still packed enough to prepare for quite some days here, and losing the weight might make a difference. Walking to the wall, I jumped again and landed maybe a few handspans further. Improvement? Yes. But not enough. I'd continued the channel to my doll through all my practices, giving up more and more weakness, but I didn't have an infinite pool of weakness to draw from (much as I may appear to at times). Diminishing rewards. I was still getting more strength (and more anxiety), but it wasn't fast enough.
And by the looks of it, I didn't have much time left. I peered over the edge again, and I could feel the power radiating off of whatever invisible source down there. My ring flickered. Something was pushing against my mind, and I subconsciously began to grit my teeth. Stars and stones. My palms grew slick. I wouldn't clear the whole chasm, but I was going to have to hope that I'd land close enough to grab the top of the other wall and haul myself up.
I grabbed my pack from the floor, hefted it in my hands to get a feel for its weight one last time, then hurled it across. I did not want this dropping into the abyss. It hit the far edge of the wall with a hard crack before slumping against the floor, and I couldn't help but stare at it. Ah. My bad. I overestimated how hard I'd needed to throw it.
My turn. I walked as far back as I could manage to give myself a running head start. Not much room, but it was better than nothing. It was me, the stone walls, the door at the other side of the room, and a venomous pit that was probably trying to kill me. And the doll, of course. I gripped it tighter—no way was I losing that on the way over—took one last breath, then began to run towards the chasm. And leapt.
I felt like the world paused for a moment as I jumped, as if it were holding its breath. I remember having one clear thought, very distinct, as I passed over limitless darkness: I wonder if anyone will notice when I die. For that tick of time, the earth ceased to rotate, gravity held no sway, and I existed, weightless. And then I hit the wall.
I had no real way to brace myself since I needed my arms as high as possible to gain every inch of advantage, so all I could do was turn my face as my body collided in a violent impact. Pained slammed into me from all sides. It was the fear of death alone that kept my hands clawed at the top, my left hand scraping fingernails into the top of the stone and my right hand doing what it could with the doll in its grasp in the hopes that I could stop myself from sliding off despite having the wind knocked out of me. It hurt. Even the adrenaline coursing through my veins wasn't enough to stop an involuntary gasp.
And I would have been fine. I would have been able to pull myself out after a bit of struggling, catch my breath, and apply a few of the pain-numbing herbs I'd prepared. I would have been okay.
In the leap, however, one of my feet scraped the edge of the malignous energy that had been rising, and the pressure I'd been feeling against my mind, the sense of uneasiness that had been eroding at my defenses, suddenly burst over me like an ocean's wave.
Over the course of life, I'd come to understand how dangerous my emotions could be. Greed perpetually egged me on like the siren it is, making even normal, everyday decisions difficult. This internal warfare dragged on even when I slept, and try as I might, I couldn't resist forever. I slipped up. And when I did, people got hurt. They always did. I'd noticed this even before I met you, and one day, I came to a decision: The only way to not succumb was to destroy the temptation. Greed, it being an infinite source of power from another plane, wasn't something I couldn't affect, sadly. I could affect its hold on me, however, by learning to distance myself emotionally. True, it required sacrificing other things like happiness and contentment, but if the alternative was being an unstable assassin, I would learn to live with it. As such, after quite some years, I'd prepared for emotional onslaughts—even for weightier matters, like the inevitable rush that comes from extreme adrenaline or the reflex to strike back after being hurt or startled. What I had not prepared for was an external, overwhelming wave of fear powered by Lust (as I later learned) that was forced upon me, completely circumventing any personal safeguards.
I can't even describe how potent and raw it was. For the first time since the incident, I felt emotion to levels that I'd forgotten existed. My heart rate spiked. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. In that moment, dangling at the edge of the chasm, the sensation having burned through all defensive mechanisms I had, I lost control and instinctively channeled Greed. It always comes with a peculiar heightened sense of awareness. As I breathed in, I felt myself searching for anything to latch onto with invisible tendrils, and I swore I could see vaporous yellow streaks where my wild channeling stretched out, hungry to leech the life out of anything it could grasp. I fastened on to the doll first. My connection to it, which had been almost thread-bare before, magnified, and I felt a nearness to it, an almost-kinship. I could feel its history, the way the fibers wove together with the inner Betrail frequencies that allowed it to be imbued, the pulses of energy it carried like blood flowing through artificial veins. Not enough. It barely had any light.
My attention shifted instantly to find something else, something that could feed the hunger tearing into me. And there was something nearby I could sink my teeth into: the rising energy, whatever it was. I tapped into the vat of power that was making its way up the chasm and felt like I were looking through a keyhole into a vast, plumbless night sky. My Greed immersed into it with an insatiable thirst.
Greed normally requires a fixed target. The better you know it, the easier it is to steal from it. Non-human entities were harder to connect to, half because objects simply don't hold as much Betrail energy and half because it's difficult to know the history of an object. Things as vague as "that frothing invisible smoke of death"? You might as well try to bring someone back from the dead with Wrath. As it was, however, that didn't prove to be even a slight hindrance.
It had been as instinctive as taking a breath after having been underwater for too long. As fowls take to the air and fish to water, I channeled Greed. Even after having laid dormant over a year since the incident and several years before it, it felt as familiar as if I'd never left it. And with it came life. My ring gave one bright, explosive pulse of light, almost blinding me, before it turned off completely. My mind sped up to inhuman clarity and understanding; the pain was instantly replaced with a sense of vitality. Without skipping a beat, I heaved myself over the edge and took in everything. I saw the etchings on the door in detail as if I were standing directly in front of it; I smelled the stale and faintly humid air of a room that had perhaps never seen the sun; and I felt everything. Determination to beat this floor, mourning at your loss, fear of dying, hope of overcoming, cynicism in the odds, excitement, energy, despair, hatred, loathing, love, giddiness. I'd forgotten what it was like to see the world in emotional color. It was still only a sliver compared to how I'd felt during the incident, but it was still intoxicating. Oh, to feel alive. I felt a wide grin spread across my face.
It was only the repeated practice had over the years of turning away from emotion, honed into a battle-hardened second-nature response, that let me inwardly power forward and end my channel to Greed. I struggled for a moment to gather enough willpower to stop, and in the moment before I cut it off, I felt an acute spike of fear the way one would feel the second they saw an assassin's knife plunge towards them. I started to force it shut, squeezing the connection closed with whatever mental energy I could gather.
—There is a long pause. In the background, the ambient noises of the graveyard whisper in the air, the details of the sounds lost, leaving their gentle touch to tease recognition but nothing further. A single, drawn-out sigh is heard—until it, too, fades into the sepulchral tones of a land more acquainted with the dead than the living.—
Do you know what it feels like to die?
Do you understand what it means let go of the things that make life sing? To forget the way the window fogs up as you stare excitedly at your first snowfall, your forehead and the tip of your nose growing cold against the frigid glass because you couldn't help getting as close as possible? To ignore the melody to the only song that brought you comfort, to place in a coffin the only person you'd ever loved?
I suppose you do, don't you?
It feels like that. Some part of me felt a throbbing, aching compulsion to stop the process. To be connected again, to not have to die, to listen to my will to survive screaming at me that I was killing myself. I hated it with the passion I could still hold on to accompanied by the tell-tale fear that I would lose myself and true concern over life not being worth anything if I weren't there to feel it. It was necessary, though. I had to end it, because I knew that if it grew beyond a certain level, I would simply never choose to come back. I almost didn't last time.
As the channel closed, the concentration I needed to force it back lessened, and I noticed without even needing to bend over that the swirling energy was almost to ground level. The fear it emanated was still there, but I was expecting it now and could temper it. Just a few more moments. Breathe.
In. (Please, please don't make me go back. Things will be okay this time, I swear. I won't hurt anyone.)
Out. (I promise no one will hurt! I'm the only one in the tower. I'm safe.)
In. (I don't . . . I don't want to lose again. Please don't . . .)
Out. pent up tears, wordless flush of anger
In. (Please.)
Out.
After a few more breaths, I was left with a vague, insubstantial pressure in the back of my mind, like there were something I'd forgotten to do and were trying to remember. It diminished further to a feather-like touch, only noticeable if I concentrated on it. And there it remained. It didn't go away completely, but I wasn't entirely surprised, either. It had taken me weeks to drop to manageable levels after the incident, and still months after that before it was so faint it didn't draw attention. While this slight infraction wasn't nearly as lengthy nor as potent, I believed I'd still feel some vestige of Greed for several days more. Note to self: Don't mess with Lust.
And now it was high-time that I left the room. I went to gather my things, still shaking somewhat, and stopped in front of the door, placing my doll inside the bag. The door was arched at the top. Wooden, perhaps, but I imagined it was very resilient to anything Betrail. No handle. It wasn't until I put my hand on the door, intending to push my way open, that I noticed my ring: it was dead. That intense Greed channeling must have made it completely unresponsive. Great. One floor down, and I'd already blown through one of my Betrail artifacts. I shook my head. I honestly had no idea how I'd make it through the whole tower. I could only hope that the ring wasn't broken permanently and that I managed to avoid ruining everything else on the next floor.
I could do this.
I pushed through the door.
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
I stepped across the threshold and immediately shivered as I felt the temperature drop and humidity rise, like I'd been slapped by an arctic jungle. A threatening blackness stretched in all directions except for a single torch giving off a sphere of warm light, flickering slightly, held aloft by a man.
He was looking at me. Sweet lords.
Nix, you should have seen his eyes. There was a Wrath crackling in them that chilled me worse than the temperature, and I felt my stomach drop. Even from this distance, I could feel his Betrail energy. I'd have called it Pride if it weren't for that distinctive black glimmer—and it takes someone well-practiced indeed to dual-channel.
Luckily, I'd planned for situations like these. Unluckily, that planning included my ring, which, big surprise, was still dead. Why did I bother preparing? I could fix things, maybe, but that required not getting splattered across the walls, which meant it was time to stall.
I put my hands up in a hopefully non-threatening way. "I'm not here to hurt you." I would if needed, of course, but no point in telling him that.
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
—The girl pauses again. She doesn't notice, but her brow is furrowed from dark realization, her gaze unfocused, gray eyes angled towards the tombstone.—
I . . . almost died right there. I did. I really did. One moment, I was saying some placating word, and the next he was firing a projectile towards me, which streaked high above my head. I'd assumed he was showing off his prowess (as he does) and trying to intimidate me. But, looking back . . . no. Leo wanted to kill me.
—Her face is tense. The unchanging expression belies the mental churning behind it, pieces clicking together like unhealthy clockwork. She blinks once. Twice. Thrice.—
You want to know the strangest thing? It hurts. I doubt he even remembers our first encounter, and, logically, there's no reason not to attack. And yet it hurts. Odd.
But I digress. After bracing myself for a sharp impact that never came, I opened my eyes to find the torch on the ground and the man a good distance away, likely pushed back from whatever explosive force he'd used. I still had a soft ringing in my ears from it. Despite the disorientation, I noticed the tell-tale shadow light of Wrath and froze. Not a good sign. Never a good sign.
Believe it or not, my first instinct was to stop the channel—not because he would try to kill me (though he likely would) but because I'd seen the horrible effects it had on people, and that level of Wrath was likely enough to leave some permanent scarring on his soul. I instinctively channeled Charity onto him, forcing everything I could into the Betrail connection between us: worry that Wrath would hurt him, a reluctance to attack anything, calmness to alleviate any adrenaline-fueled actions.
My ring didn't so much as spark in reaction, sadly, but years of practice had allowed me to focus on even unfamiliar targets from a distance. I knew I had some effect because I could feel a sudden increase in bloodthirstiness and, as an odd pair, indifference towards Wrath. But it wasn't enough. I felt with some Betrail sense in me the sudden compressing of Wrath in the Tactile world before it burst with an awesome power. I once again shielded my face, absolutely not praying to the gods that I was out of the blast radius.
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
My next memories are mostly a blur. I remember seeing some flurry of motion, mostly flashes of muted colors and writhing shapes, but not able to make sense of anything, as if I were watching things underwater. I remember a sharp, high-pitched whine in my ears—all other sounds being oddly silent. And I remember a strange sense of detachment from the world. I honestly don't know how long I was like that; I was barely conscious as it was. And I was lucky. Had I been standing just a few feet closer to Leo when he threw that Wrath, I would've been knocked clean catatonic, if not worse, so hallelujah for slight incapacitation.
And then, like being jolted awake from a dream, a horrible, primal scream broke through the haze surrounding my mind, and I had a moment of clarity. My eyes fixed on a figure trapped between something akin to pincers, and exactly one instinct took over: protect. You were right, Nix. With enough years of practice, even I could feel that urge to help without the need for rational thought. I'd seen my fair share of horrors in the medical ward, but even then, it took excruciating circumstances to cause a human, of all things, to scream like that, and it triggered some deep, visceral part of me into action. I was on my feet before I was consciously aware, barreling straight towards that man.
I noticed a few things only in fragments as I approached—his clothes, soaked-through with sweat; a wild, almost insane look to his eyes; my own ragged breathing. I grabbed him around his trapped arm and channeled Charity. No words. Just a wish, the will for him to live and be strong.
I gasped as I felt the channel take hold. My ring usually amplified the effect, but with it sitting lifeless, much more of my own vitality and strength was funneled into restoring him, and only my long years as a physician let me override the reflex to let go. That shock, however, gave me the final push to finally snap back to my senses. I had just leapt to the aid of the man who, only moments before, had tried to kill me. And I was standing under the giant frame of some carnivorous beast that, judging by its limbs and aura of life-sucking Betrail energy it was exuding, might well be an oversized species of furachnid.
I didn't know which was worse.
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
Last edited:
Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
I was supposed to be dead.
He was supposed to be dead.
The monster was supposed to be dead.
That's two truths and a lie, dear. I'll leave you to decide which ones are which. You see, had I come across that arachnid-like beast on my own, pincers strong enough to snap bone, legs like elongated spears, I would've tried some tactical planning. It's no secret: a human—even a Betrain—versus an enlarged furachnid simply doesn't stand a chance. And, yes, Nix, it was a furachnid. I had trouble believing it because it was so massive—the ones in the wild never grow larger than a crab—but its green blood and Betrail aura made it undeniable. Its venom can be used to create incredibly debilitating poisons to Betrains, assuming one had enough money or the expertise to synthesize it himself ...
Ah, I forget who I'm talking to. You already know this.
The point being, I would've tried to plan something to defeat it that didn't require brute strength. Not face it head-on. That would be idiotic. Unless, of course, you happen to know how to channel Wrath at intensities that can overwhelm a creature specifically designed to absorb Betraites, like popping a mosquito by forcing it to drink too much blood. I haven't studied much on furachnids' intake capacity, but even ballpark estimates say it would've taken enough Wrath to instantly kill a group of men.
Keep that in mind. Almost instantly after channeling Charity into this man, I saw color rush back into his face. The effect was remarkable, actually. Where there had been a feeble, broken person was now someone with a dark rage in his eyes and a vitality to match it; and with a burst of black light that I would've deemed impossible had I not seen it myself, there was a violent pulse, an inhuman screech, and then sudden silence. The air smelled of charred hair and sweat.
The furachnid was dead. Just like that.
I stared in bewilderment at the man whose arm I was still gripping, my fingers tight from shock. He let his gaze linger a moment at the beast he had just felled, then rose to his feet, still facing it. I let go as he stood. I'd needed to touch him to start the channel, but now that it was going, I could keep it open so long as I stayed close. He was ... taller than I'd expected. Messy, unkempt brown hair. Noble posture.
"You should've killed me when you had the chance."
I blinked. He'd said it so nonchalantly, I thought I'd misheard him. When his head turned in my direction, though, and I saw the glint in his eyes, I felt my throat constrict. He knew he could end me.
As he stared at me with that sideways glance, I couldn't help but notice a nasty scar that ran down his face. My attention was then immediately drawn to his hand, which he was bringing up into a familiar position: fingers poised to snap. Wrath. "Many hard feelings, yes? Now die. I've got a tower to climb."
At which point the rational part of me finally sputtered back to life, and I cut off Charity. I felt an instant surge of vitality flow back into me at the same time that I saw his body slump and hit the ground, unconscious.
Well. That was another crisis temporarily averted.
It took me a few moments before my breathing pattern returned to normal, and I took that time to analyze the situation. The furachnid in all its Betrail glory was dead on the floor, dark green puddles slowly growing under it. The only source of light was that small torch on the floor. And the man? Let's talk about the man.
He'd used Wrath to kill the monster, but unless my memory failed me, he'd also been channeling Pride earlier. He was likely proficient in them both, then. It was odd for someone so young to have such a strong grasp on two Betraites like that, but perhaps he only seemed young?
I crouched down and inspected him further. If he really was the Wrath user he appeared to be, it would show; and a quick check of the veins on his arms confirmed those exact suspicions: they were a deep hue, almost black, noticeable even in the dim light. I would've told him he was beyond saving if he'd shown up in our ward. Frankly, I wondered how he'd arrived here in this condition at all. Combined with his earlier use of Pride, it was a miracle his Fall and overuse of Wrath didn't knock him clean dead after that fight.
He was supposed to be dead. Two truths and a lie.
Now, I was wrong about this next part, but you'll have to forgive me for making what I'd presumed was a logical conclusion. In all my studies of the tower, I had never once come across any indication that two people could exist on the same run. Not once. Even people who entered together found themselves mysteriously separated after stepping through the threshold. There seemed to be some malignant force at play that kept people away from each other. It almost makes sense. With a supposed wish at the end, it might've been too easy with multiple people attempting the same run.
—There is a momentary pause before a small grin appears on her face.—
Lords, did I just say it would be too easy?
Even gone, you still distract me too much for my own good. Returning to my earlier point, there was no evidence suggesting that the man in front of me had actually come from outside the tower. I'd assumed—I'd actually assumed—the furachnid and the man were to be the challenges of the room but that something had gone wrong and they'd ended up fighting each other instead of me. I'd thought it was a mistake. Oh, lords, I'm sorry, but that sounds so funny to me now.
See, I thought I was being clever. Why not use the mistake to my advantage? I'd stumbled across an overly-powerful Wrath Betrain that was supposed to have killed me but which I could now use to help me clear the future floors. Or at least the ones involving combat. It'd be a difficult persuasion, but with him being mostly dead, I imagined I could make it work.
I turned my attention back to him. Gently, I placed my hand against his forehead. Cold. The rest of his skin was clammy as well, and his breathing had grown erratic and shallow. He was, without doubt, close to death—and likely would die if I didn't step in to intervene. Some part of me wanted to begin intensive care measures and nurse him back to health—we'd seen worse in our ward—but I knew that, unless I had some bargaining chip, there would be no reason for him to listen to me. So instead of channeling Charity and dumping as much health and vitality as I could manage, I only opened a small channel, the barest of trickles that would stabilize him and bring him back to consciousness. I had to fight the urge to stop his pain. He needed to know that I was the one in charge.
After a few moments, his breathing became regular again, and his eyes flickered open.
I was, at this point, seated on the floor next to him, my hand still on his forehead, a gentle yellow glow now also emanating from my own eyes. "Be very careful. You're in a precarious situation. Attack me, and you die. Run, and you die. You may not be trained in Charity, but if you focus, you should be able to feel the small influx of energy coming from me, and it's currently the only thing keeping you from death. I don't want you dead, but I'm not opposed to it. The fact that you are indeed alive right now should be enough for us to have a conversation, at the very least."
Now the important part. "I have a proposition for you."
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
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Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
Ufomi
Just happy
Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.
“Ugh, Charity Betrains. You good-for-nothing lot disgust me, hiding behind allies and letting others do the dirty work.”
For someone who had just been revived from death, he was showing a lot of nerve. I felt more than heard a tiny voice in the back of my head. Oh? Is this how we're playing? A small flash of frustration ran through me, and I cut the channel right then. With surprising speed, his face turned again to an ashen gray, eyes hazy, and I found myself talking before I'd processed what was happening.
“This good-for-nothing Betrain and her Betraite is all that stands between you and the afterlife. You answer to me, got that?”
He nodded. Or I presume he did, given his state. I strengthened the channel again, and I heard him gasp softly as his lungs filled with air. Even standing taller than me, he ... really wasn't looking great. Threatening to end Charity to get something out of him isn't exactly a Charitable thing to do, and, in all honesty, I was surprised I'd said what I'd said. I didn't recognize the traces of Greed still affecting me after the door had been opened on the last floor.
"There isn't an easy way to say this, so I'm going to speak bluntly: I'm asking you to go against what you're supposed to do. I know you were intended to be a challenge for this floor, but if you're similar to human in more than appearance, you'll have a will to live. I'm offering you a chance to live longer." I very nearly said "a chance to leave this tower" but caught myself before I mentioned it. I'd assumed the Tower had created him, and I certainly didn't want some demonic spawn running around outside.
"You're strong, I continued. "Wrath and Pride have an interesting dynamic—dangerous, yes, but a long lifespan likely wasn't in your design. I don't expect all future floors to involve combat, but strength will be useful in most circumstances, I imagine, so I'm proposing you help me advance a floor or two. After that, you should be strong enough to do as you will."
I was still locking eyes with him. With a little more hardness in my voice, I finished, "It bears repeating that any attack on me results in your death, too."
Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
Hugh Flynn
Hey you, hope you're happy up there. <3
the influencer
leo.
♡coded by uxie♡
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