Chapter 33 - Arcadia, The Land of Magic [2]
—Drip...! Drop...!
As I regained consciousness, I found myself in a pitch-black space. My memories were hazy, and I couldn't recall the events that led me here.
Once I remembered where we were, I lifted the bubble of Ichor and absorbed it back after it had protected us from the collision of multiple buildings.
—Vooom...!
"...Blegh.” I grimaced, overwhelmed by the strange smell that filled the air.
With the Ichor no longer surrounding us, the area remained completely dark. The atmosphere felt damp and musky, emphasized by occasional droplets dripping down.
The eerie environment gave me the creeps, reminiscent of the abnormality of the Middle Alephs.
“Ugh, my head hurts… What happened?” Camila asked, placing her hand on her head as she tried to stand up.
“I wish I knew. Are you okay?” I offered her my hand to help her up.
“…Thanks.” She grasped my hand, still bewildered by the events that had just unfolded.
After the amalgamation where everything converged, everything around the dorms shifted, pulsating and merging with one another.
It wasn't a violent destruction of buildings, but more like clay being mixed together, creating whatever environment we found ourselves in now.
Now that we were both awake, I took Libera out of my pocket, prepared in case any hostile entities were waiting for us.
I would've crumbled in despair and pain, unable to find solace in our situation.
But I've experienced similar situations, and falling into despair won’t make things better.
So this time, I won't make the same mistake twice.
"Ha... hahaha..."
Camila laughed nervously, clenching her fists, her eyes shaking as if she had committed a grave sin.
"Camila...?"
"This... this is my fault.”
But despite my convictions, the person behind me thought otherwise.
"It’s fine, what’s done has been done. Do you really think this won't happen anywhere else?" I reassured Camila, considering the possibility of a similar situation occurring anywhere.
—Kachick!
I loaded a bullet into Libera, preparing for the upcoming fight. It was time to stay cautious after our recent encounter.
I opted for a bullet that wasn't intended for Eldians. It was on the weaker side, but enough to kill them if I'm precise enough.
It isn't a good idea to use something as destructive as Libera in an enclosed space.
I had created countless types of ammo during my time at Camila's house, gathering ideas after our fight, but that's a topic for another time.
“…You’re right; now’s not the time to think about regrets.” She looked at me, slightly feeling better when I didn't blame her for what happened.
Even though she was still wavering, she felt a bit better, at least.
“Alright, let’s do this…!” She reached into her bag and pulled out her weapon of choice, clearly understanding that we were about to fight something.
While her main gimmick with <Telekinesis> involved leveraging the terrain and her handy dandy steel rods, she takes out... two pairs of gauntlets?
“Hold on. Camila, what are those.”
“They're gauntlets. What about it?"
“That’s great and all, but don’t you usually rely on magic?”
“Yeah, I do. And?”
Camila flexed her arms and moved them around. The more I watched her agile movements, the more inadequate I felt about my own.
If she wanted to, Camila could probably fold my flimsy body like an omelet—assuming she hasn't done that already.
“I… it’s nothing.” I shook my head and stopped asking about it.
I didn’t want to admit it, but I already knew this wasn’t because she felt like it; it was because I knocked her out so hard she must have lost a screw in her head.
As we trudged into the dark, dim hallway you’d typically see in horror movies, we moved forward with a flashlight in hand, illuminating what was once a normal dorm that had transformed into a liminal space.
—Squelch...!
The hallway was wet and damp, as if it were the remnant of water from a sewage spill.
With every step I took, I felt horrible, exposing the nature of this Pylon—a grotesque and unexplainable region that words couldn't describe, something only the human imagination could capture.
Every Pylon is shaped by the humans it influenced upon its descent.
A Pylon that fell into a snowy wasteland is influenced by <Everfrost>, encasing itself in a field of ice, cold enough to freeze anything.
A Pylon in a typical city is influenced by <Abnormality>, manifesting people’s greatest fears and creating a pseudo-red sky as its domain.
A Pylon that fell in a place filled with urban legends, influenced by <Falsehood> to turn that concept into reality, as long as it harboured malice.
Or perhaps a Pylon that inhabited Arcadia that manifested the dark desires and intentions of the students or those who resided here.
In this damp hallway, it extended as far as the eye could see, endlessly looping around over and over again.
Knowledge in Arcadia was vast—so vast that there was no end to it. As people sought to uncover the truth, none could find it, forever trapped in a limbo without answers.
This domain drew on <Erudition> as its influence.
“Can you still keep going? Or should we take a break?”
“Ah, I’m… I’m good. Let’s keep an eye out for
"...If you said so."
Taken aback by her answer, I realized I should have told the truth because, in reality, I'm actually scared shitless.
I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
Camila shrugged off my concern and seemed fine, but one glance was all I needed to understand otherwise.
—Rustle Rustle…
After wandering around aimlessly, we heard something rustle nearby, and I immediately aimed my gun toward the sound.
The more Eldians I encounter and survive, the sharper my senses become, eventually granting me <Heightened Perception> as a side effect.
As for Camila, she tightened her gauntlet so hard that I heard the leather creak.
For someone who endured for two years in a slaughterhouse, this still instilled a sense of dread, as if we had entered a horror house—except far worse.
—Crackle...
The two of us exchanged glances and nodded when we heard the noise again.
We didn’t need to say anything; we understood the importance of staying silent to avoid making unnecessary decisions.
—Creak…!
I cautiously moved to open the door from which the eerie sound was coming.
As I entered the room, I placed the flashlight on my forehead to free up my hands. I did the same with Camila’s flashlight, too.
In silence, we searched the room for the source of the noise. The rooms felt distorted, as if artificially generated, which made the atmosphere unsettling.
Just as we were about to leave, a familiar sound caught our attention from behind us, leaving us speechless.
“Help…” A girl’s voice suddenly echoed from the corner of the room where Camila stood.
In an instant, we both froze, our fear reaching new heights as we found ourselves trapped in a horrifying nightmare.
Planning to shoot them if it was dangerous, I turned my head and aimed Libera at the source of our dread, only to hesitate over what was truly hiding behind us.
“Oh… oh god…” Camila murmured in despair, looking as though she was on the brink of losing her sanity upon seeing it.
Ah, this is... messed up.
The noise we heard didn’t come from an entity trying to mimic a voice; it was a girl who had once been human.
Deep crimson red and dull gray, a grim mix of colours.
The girl possessed gray skin, as if she had been petrified into stone, her body was riddled with countless crimson veins.
Her appearance mirrored the symptoms of those we encountered in the dormitories, but she didn't attack us; she struggled to go against THEIR influence.
Those who failed to escape a Pylon’s domain become trapped, transformed into living batteries to sustain its source of human malice.
Due to this cruel and tragic fate, people instituted an ironclad rule known as Protocol Stray.
When encountering a husk, one must kill it to set it free.
That is their only remaining salvation.
“No no no… this… this can’t be happening…!” Camila's knees hit the ground, and she placed her gauntlets over her face.
She didn't care about the dirty, muddy water on her hands and merely wept in dread.
“…Strays,” I murmured aloud. I stood in front of her and looked at Camila. If she succumbed to despair, she would eventually turn into one of them.
"Camila, look at me." I gently removed her hands from her face and held her cheeks, squeezing them softly.
“Do you want to live?”
“…”
"Answer me."
Camila remained silent, her vacant stare starkly contrasting with the once-proud, strong person she had been.
I had known from the moment I met her that she wasn’t in a good place mentally.
She tried to act like everything was fine, even engaging with my little jokes and being rough with me to vent that frustration.
But I knew that wasn't enough.
"Look, I'm scared too. Probably even more scared than you." I grasped her hands in mine, feeling them tremble.
Although I could have given up at any moment, I chose to trust Camila, who trusts me.
There may come a time when I can forgive myself for everything I’ve failed to do. But if all I need to do is become a beacon for others...
Then so be it.
“Camila. I don’t care if you give up or not, but personally, I don’t fucking care. I will drag you with me to hell, jump in after you if you try to kill yourself, and follow you from the afterlife if I have to.”
I was unsure of the expression on my face; it was different from my usual demeanour, snapping her out of it and forcing her to accept this cruel reality we now live in.
“You and I, as humans, can do only one thing to respect their will. Until the day we die and take our last breath, I ask you: survive. Survive until we can pass the torch to those who come after us.”
After parting ways with Noah, I noticed that I had changed a little.
Was it his charisma as the protagonist that made me transform? Was it the realization that this world is real? Or was it the understanding that hiding will never lead to anything?
All of these are consequences of my actions, and I regret everything I have done in the past.
But now, I’m sick of it all.
If dying is inevitable, then I might as well end it without regrets, knowing that I have done my best.
Camila, who was staring at me, cried silent tears—something I had never seen from her before.
Realizing that it might take some time for her to understand, I turned around to compose myself for what I was about to do.
“So, Camila… wake up already before I punch you again.”
—Tap tap...
I walked towards the Stray. I kept her waiting long enough.
"...Save... me..." The Stray raised her hands high, asking for something from me, but I knew it was too risky; they could move without warning, intent on killing.
“…It must’ve been hard,” I said, ignoring my own warnings as I took her hands to show that I was here for a reason.
Feeling the warmth of my hands, the Stray, who had been groaning constantly, fell silent.
—Kachick…
“Then... goodbye.” I closed my eyes and pressed my gun to her head at point-blank range.
My hands trembled, and my expression was about to crumble despite all my conviction.
Memories of my first murder flashed through my mind, constantly reminding me of my bloodied hands, stained with murder.
'It's fine... it's fine...' I repeatedly told myself as my breathing began to steady.
But before I pulled the trigger and ended it all, someone stopped me—it was Camila.
“Camila… now is not the time to be…”
“I know. That’s why… please, let me do it.”
"..."
"..."
"...Alright."
We looked at each other in silence, and I backed away after seeing the new resolve in her eyes.
—Thunk!
Camila equipped her gauntlets, determined to end the Stray’s suffering herself.
Here, in a dimly lit room that reeked of mould, silence was the only thing present.
In that room lay a young girl, once filled with aspirations and dreams. But after disaster struck, all her hopes were shattered, leaving her trapped in this hellhole.
Despite being stuck in a never-ending nightmare, she persevered, refusing to do the Pylon's bidding.
Now… it was finally time for her to rest.
“May you rest in peace—” Camila whispered.
I couldn’t hear her voice clearly, but she spoke a name that must have belonged to someone close to her.
As she raised her hands, I closed my eyes, only to hear Camila’s soft cries and the loud boom that followed.
The silent woes of the Stray echoed in our minds,
And an irreversible action has been done.
