Mangowo
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Chapter 79: Phasing Through
🕑 Added 2024-11-14 00:30:02 +0000 UTCFor a good while, I prowled around the camp’s edge, cloaked in shadows, taking in every detail. A few tidbits emerged. First off, there were two separate patrol teams, alongside mages and archers stationed at predictable corners, all clearly affiliated with the cult, thanks to those peculiar masks they wore. The delvers, in contrast, were easy to spot in their less formal garb and functional armour.
One unsettling discovery followed: it seemed I was in far deeper trouble than I’d initially thought. Those three Elves from before had reached the spot where I’d dispatched their comrades and dragged the corpses back to camp. Comrades, or perhaps something less chummy—the fellow named Carel looked awfully stiff when confronting Tharen. Bit of bad blood there, I’d wager. But history aside, the spotlight of danger had decidedly shifted to yours truly.
Watching the Elves haul those half-shredded bodies through the camp, I knew they’d be using them for divination. With that, I was well and truly in the crosshairs. I lingered under the bioluminescent canopy, muttering curses under my breath. Luck? More like fate’s twisted sense of humour, it seemed.
Then my gaze fell upon the blue barrier around the camp—tricky business, that. I needed to test one last thing: would my technique let me phase through the barrier? It wasn’t particularly thick, and there was nothing in my skill’s description saying it couldn’t handle a magical construct, only that it struggled with dense materials. I’d already tried trees with no success; anything thicker than a few centimetres had me bouncing off like a fool. Perhaps, in time, I’d build up the skill to phase through more substantial obstacles.
Another detail noted—my stamina took a hit each time I phased, costing an extra 3 points on top of the usual expenditure to maintain the stance. Altogether, quite the drain on resources.
I threw one last glance at the barrier, then retreated a few paces. Best to get prepared, I thought, and summoned my stat screen.
Name: Jade
Level: 15
Species: Voracious Manaweaver (Draconis) (III)
Abilities: Mana Devourer
Attributes:
- Strength: 70
- Durability: 87
- Intelligence: 95
- Will: 82
- Mana Points: 52/54
- Stamina Points: 106/110
Species Skills:
- Roar: Level 5 (I) (+)
- Scale Harden: Level 5 (I) (+)
- Spectral Crunch: Level 2 (III)
- Flight: Level 5 (I) (+)
- Deep Breathing: Level 5 (I) (+)
- Breath of Shadows: Level 3 (II)
- Climb: Level 5 (I) (+)
- Flamethrower: Level 4 (I)
- Advanced Mana Manipulation: Level 3 (II)
- Core Stabilization: Level 4 (I)
Exclusive Skills:
- Transformation: Level 1 (I)
- Lightning Affinity: Level 2 (I)
Techniques(1/1):
- Phantom Dragon Dance: Level 1(I)
Mutations:
- Eyes - Focusing Lenses, Peripheral Optimization (III): +0
- Claws - Claw Flexibility, Razor-Edge Claws (III): +0
- Scales - Colour Adaptation, Shock-Absorbent Scales (III): +0
- Wings - Hollow Bones (II): +0
- Legs - Joint Flexibility (II): +0
- Fire Gland - Mana Reservoir, Mana Conservation (III): +0
- Macro-Trophic Sac - Stamina Surge Reservoir, Toxicity Neutralizer (III): +0
- Mana Conduit Vasculature - Micro-Mana Control, Mana Conduit Resilience (III): +0
Resources:
- Skill Points: 18
- Morphogens: 99
This was a proper bit of progress, wasn’t it? Nearly all my stats were unrecognizable from where they’d once been—a written record of how far I’d come, as it were. Strengthened with each encounter, a grand wave of accomplishment swept over me. I’d have Barn to thank for the early boost, no question, but after that, every inch gained was mine. I’d done it—on my very own! Now, once again, I found myself near the edge of evolution. Well, perhaps not quite; still five levels to go, but close enough for a bit of well-earned self-congratulation!
My eyes skimmed over the screen, catching the same old oddities with stamina points. If there was any sense to what made them increase, I’d long since thrown in the towel. For now, it seemed they only grew whenever my other stats took a jump.
And then at the bottom, the morphogens stared back at me. It’d take roughly 65 points to advance a single organ. With my current stash, I could only push one organ forward, if I fancied it. But at present, the thought of mutating felt a bit... vulnerable, so I brushed it off. However tempting a Tier IV upgrade on these rare bits might be, I’d prefer to skip the mutation fanfare just now.
That left skill upgrades, and I eagerly dived in. With a bounty of skill points on hand, I had more than enough to splurge. One by one, the options came up, and I picked the best of the lot. Not all that thrilling at Tier II, true, though a couple were decent enough. In the end, I nabbed a good mix, all for the cost of five skill points. Quite a satisfying haul!
[Advanced Flight:] Wing and muscle coordination enhanced; wing bones adapt subtly to optimize airflow, reducing drag. Improves high-speed control, enables rapid altitude shifts, and allows precise dives, sharp turns, and sudden ascents.
[Rich Respiration:] Lung alveoli density increased for faster air absorption. Significantly boosts stamina regeneration during rest, reduces recovery breath time in combat, and enhances tolerance to low-air environments for prolonged exertion.
[Adaptive Grip:] Claws and digits gain adaptive tensioning, enabling grip adjustment on various surfaces. Increases climbing speed and stability, allowing secure clinging on challenging, smooth, or inverted terrain.
[Resonance Roar:] Vocal cords and throat structure modified for deeper resonance, producing a low-frequency vibration. Increases roar range and intensity, inducing fear and briefly disrupting balance of nearby opponents, reducing response time.
[Reinforced Scales:] Scales gain an additional sub-layer of dense fibers, increasing resistance to physical and elemental damage. Reinforcement disperses impact force, minimizing damage from concentrated attacks.
With a step up in skills, it felt like I’d made a substantial leap in my progression. Had me wondering, as I often did, what it’d be like without a system to lavishly allow me to use these skill points. Just imagining it: how many humans, Elves, dwarves, even beast-kins out there, brimming with untapped potential they’ve yet to touch. Assuming, of course, they had resources like mine to begin with.
I shook my head; another matter to chew over later. Right now, there was work to be done. A few deft hops through the underbrush brought me close to camp again. As I skirted around, I found my entrance—a nice, quiet patch with a shabby barricade just beyond the glowing blue barrier. Easy enough to soar over, yet those makeshift watchtowers—oh, those were the real nuisance. Masked Elven mages and archers perched atop them, watchful as hawks, ready to skewer anything daft enough to come too close.
A plan began to brew. Time to play the bait once more, it seemed. Couldn’t deny I’d developed a certain… fondness for luring these ravenous beasts after me. The ones who’d happily shred me to bits, all while I led them merrily to where I wanted them—if the glint in my grin was any sign.
***
Wasn’t long before I stumbled upon a hulking Manaroe-like creature. Not quite the colossal brute I’d seen before, but still formidable enough to give those Elves a proper fright. A doddle leading its thick head to the spot I wanted. And when the system kindly threw a quest at it, it did just as planned—charged the barrier full tilt. Along the way, I picked up a few other monsters who eagerly joined the brawl. A sizeable kerfuffle ensued, capturing the second watchtower’s attention, and with my technique active, I snuck closer, silent as a shadow. By description, it should cloak me entirely so long as I stayed as still as stone—and sure enough, no one seemed the wiser as I edged up to the barrier.
Time for the grand moment. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, struck a stance, and bolted forward. Worst-case scenario? I’d crash headlong into the blue shimmer, then find myself pinned like a dartboard under a barrage of arrows and spells.
I was just considering the best case when I opened my eyes—and found myself right beside it! SUCCESS! I could phase through thin magical barriers too. Oh, Thalador, what splendid news! This technique was positively busted. But I shook my head, reminding myself not to get carried away.
No one seemed to notice me as they were busy fending off that enormous, manaroe-like beast. And blast it, the barrier actually had a fracture from where the creature had charged. Makes sense they’d be vigilant about taking it down before it became a proper disaster.
I offered a mock salute in the beast’s direction. Thank you, brave, clueless creature. Your sacrifice shall not be remembered! With that, it was time for a proper infiltration. I kept my air sense sharp as I glided over the barricade. More monsters had gathered, and that big brute looked ready for another charge. The surrounding elves were thoroughly preoccupied. I dove with such grace and silence, even I could scarcely believe it—my landings had never been this smooth. The upgrade was absolutely worth it for these little tricks.
I took a moment to survey my surroundings. I was in the rear of some meticulously aligned tents. From my earlier scouting, I had a general idea of the layout. There were two rows of tents on three sides, with the fourth side open, but heavily watched, so that route was a no-go. My main aim? Gather whatever the elves knew. And if possible, slip into the cultists’ tent. Since they were giving orders to these delvers, they’d likely have an operations tent here as well. But that would be a trial-and-error affair.
I began my search, using Air Sense to suss out which tents were unoccupied, sliding into the empty ones like a breeze through a drafty window. Mostly, I found the usual assortment of delver knick-knacks, likely left by the lot hired under the cultists’ dodgy contract. A few weapons, some personal effects, even the odd alchemy or enchanting kit. Shame I couldn’t pocket any of it—quite the pity, really.
I pressed on, keeping an ear cocked for any stray tidbits the Elven delvers might unwittingly drop. One detail struck me as rather curious—a seething undercurrent of resentment in their tones, punctuated by muttered gripes about the “handlers” that seemed to lace nearly every whispered exchange. Their top complaint? Pay cuts. Particularly galling, it seemed, after they'd been stranded here for weeks on end. Supplies had taken a similar nosedive, leaving them scraping by on meager portions while the cultists' stores remained under lock and key. Tension simmered between them, with some conversations edging dangerously close to full-blown arguments—as if the entire setup was ready to tip into outright mutiny.
One juicy morsel came my way: apparently, these delvers were bound by contract, unable to leave until their time was up. I caught one Elf whispering about a mate who’d been caught trying to slip away at the fortress gates, only to be dragged back with threats of hard labour. Whatever the cultists had going here, it reeked of ruthless efficiency, bleeding every resource dry—including their own people.
A grim thought whispered in the back of my mind—were these delvers destined for the chopping block as well? I pushed it aside. Why sacrifice their own? Last time, I’d seen them desecrating beast-kin bodies for nothing more than grotesque decor. Did these cultists even need sacrifices, or was it all just a morbid flourish for the grim aesthetic?
But speculation could wait—I had cultists to find, and their tents called to me. Skirting through each one with care, I paused here and there in snug, shadowed nooks to let Rich Respiration restore my stamina. That stamina-hungry technique needed its fuel.
Finally, I spotted it—a sprawling pavilion across the way, almost in the opposite corner from where I’d slipped in. Eight signatures pulsed faintly inside, clustered around the center, with one off to the far side—and another one... floating? That was new. A quick scan with Air Sense mapped the area around it in satisfying detail, revealing what looked to be a small shelf—just the sort of perch perfect for a subtle, tucked-away entrance.
I poked a tiny hole in the fabric, wary of wards or the chance that the assumed shelf was really a transparent screen, a perfect trap for the incautious. All seemed clear. I took a breath, checking my stamina reserves, which hovered nicely above ninety points—just the buffer I needed.
Without further ado, I phased through the fabric. Time to see what these blighters were up to this time.
Comments
Shelbo
Good chappy, can’t wait for the next one to see what the Elf (French) cultists have in their lil camp
