Ryckel saw a small boy in an endless world. The structures around seemed like paint washed out by water.
After a while, Ryckel realized that he was this boy. Yet, how was he moving even though he never wanted to?
It felt like a fever-dream. He remembered that he was impaled by the Knight. So how could he be alive?
Or maybe…he wasn't.
Maybe this was the last bit of his dying mind trying to latch onto life.
Ryckel was still running. Soon, he noticed that wasn't running over anything at all.
The moment he noticed, he fell off the edge of a world that had no bottom, plummeting through a cold void that felt and looked like ink.
Figures emerged from the dark. They were giants clad in the same chilling armor as the Knight.
What the…? Is this… the great Opaque?
I wasn't good in my life?
They loomed over him, their shadows stretching until he was like an ant beneath a boot.
Ryckel felt the heat. It wasn't the warmth of a flame but searing rage. Black and white sparks erupted from his chest as it was so much that he screamed into the void.
Cough.
Cough.
Cough.
The real world rushed back with the taste of death. Ryckel's vision was a smeared lens of red and grey.
Huh…
He noticed that was still on the floor, his blood all around on the stone. Above him, the Knight stood frozen.
He seemed like he was muttering something as his form flickering like a candle in the wind.
W-What the…
Didn't I die?
Ryckel rapidly touched where the Knight's hand was.
The Knight's shock lasted only a heartbeat. With a rasping wheeze, it lunged. It summoned the great longsword in a burst of blue flames and drove the blade forward.
Schlick.
The steel buried itself in Ryckel's chest, pinning him to the floor. Ryckel's back arched, his mouth filling with gore.
Not again!
His mind shrieked.
The Knight dismissed the blade, turning away as if the chore was done. Ryckel lay there, gasping, his hands clawing at the stone.
Wait.
He looked at the floor.
The hand... the hand went through my stomach before.
Where was the hole?
There was no scar. No wound. Only the fresh, gaping tear the sword had just left.
Then, the sensation started.
It was the feeling of a thousand spiders weaving silk inside his guts. He felt his muscle fibers stretching like taffy, stitching themselves back together.
"How...?" He choked out, pushing himself up.
The Knight spun around, its fidgeting armor clattering. It took a step back, the blue light of its essence dimming in what looked like genuine terror.
Ryckel looked down. He saw his reflection in the thickening pool of his own blood.
His eyes widened. What he saw wasn't Ryckel. Only thing being left was his medium lengthed dark golden brown hair that looked as if it belonged with the mud up above.
It was a cluster of pale, slender hands had erupted from his face, fingers interlacing from his nose to his chin to form some…
A beak?
He reached up to touch it, only to recoil. His fingers were gone, replaced by elongated, obsidian claws.
"What am I?" He screamed, but the sound that left his throat was a metallic screech.
I'm supposed to be dead. Twice!
Could it be…
He remembered back to the cliff, how those black ropes went right through his body and he still didn't die and how the holes healed.
Am I truly a corrupted one?
He fell back, and as he hit the ground, two massive appendages moved from his shoulder blades.
They were wings. Not feathered ones at least.
Made of hundreds of human hands, all desperately gripping each other.
A tail, a whip of interlocking palms, thrashed behind him, cracking against the stone.
Ryckel was still in disbelief.
The Knight was not. It recovered first and charged with a roar.
Reflexively, Ryckel twisted his body in mid-air. His tail lashed out, the hands at the tip tightening into a solid club of bone and flesh.
CRACK.
How could I do that?!
The Knight was sent reeling.
Ryckel stood his ground, snapping a wing forward to block the follow-up strike. The sound of sword against his wing made out of hands was like steel hitting cured leather.
I have to get back. I'm alive now. It's an opportunity. The rest I'll figure out later.
Ryckel's mind raced, even as the black-white sparks around him began to burn hotter.
Maybe I can fight Hood and the rest like this?
No.
I can't fight Hood like this. He's an experienced Attuned. He knows and has seen things that I have never.
And if the Stained Brothers saw this monster, they wouldn't sell him anymore, they'd hunt him.
He looked up. The ceiling was already groaning, bits of earth falling like rain.
The structure is weak… can use that to my advantage…
He tried moving the energy in his body to fortify himself like he always did. It worked but there was something really odd.
The energy moved all around his body. But not his tail and wings. He felt that they could...
By now, because he's been practicing and moving them around his body. His original body had already gotten used to them.
The Knight lunged again, forcing Ryckel to concentrate. He didn't dodge. Instead, he caught the blade with his claws. threw his entire weight against the Knight, driving them both into the central support pillar.
BOOM.
The stone cracked. Ryckel used his tail to lash out at the surrounding walls, targeting the already crumbling sections. He became a whirlwind of black-red lightning, tearing the foundations apart.
The ceiling gave way.
A massive shelf of stone and dirt collapsed. The Knight looked up, letting out one final, disjointed rasp before it was buried under tons of ancient history.
Ryckel scrambled back toward the entrance, his wings beating uselessly as he narrowly avoided being crushed.
"I…I won?" He shakingly said.
"I can't believe it… I actually won!" He shot up with excitement.
Ryckel saw a faint light hover from the dirt. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what it was as it stayed not too far off from the rubble.
What could it be?
Curious, he reached at towards it. As soon as his fingers touched the pale light, the white flames appeared and this time, with a disembodied voice.
[New Mark Acquired]
W-What?
---The End of Chapter 12---