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Chapter 125: Giant Ring
🕑 Added 2023-03-04 17:36:01 +0000 UTC“Oof,” Jack said, panting. He and Brock had just climbed down a staircase that felt like it reached from the heavens to the earth. He didn’t even know how many miles down they’d traveled. Maybe a hundred.
Even for an E-Grade cultivator with almost two hundred Physical, it had not been easy. To save time, they had been jumping from one side of the massive, stair-ridden hole to the other. As if that wasn’t enough, his anesthetic had run out half-way, and his self-healing still wasn’t done repairing the damage. His hands burned with every jump. He’d had to grit his teeth through he final two hours of their descent.
At least, those two hours had given his regeneration time to work. He was mostly fine now, though starving.
“Well, Brock,” Jack said, looking around, “I guess we’re here.”
Now he knew why the first ring was called the Giant Ring. They were surrounded by a forest of gigantic proportions. The trees stretched hundreds and thousands of feet into the sky, with barks the width of apartment buildings. The grass blades reached up to Jack’s thigh and Brock’s neck, making the brorilla look funny.
Jack felt tiny. It was like he had been shrunk to the size of a large bug and shoved into a forest. At least his gray pants and dark blue t-shirt didn’t stick out too much, and his black boots were sturdy enough to protect him from anything sharp on the ground. Brock’s only garment, a red pair of shorts, weren’t nearly as protective, but forests and jungles were his natural environment. He’d manage.
A deep roar washed over them, shaking every molecule in their bodies. Jack couldn’t tell what animal might be making that sound, but he sure as hell wouldn’t like to find out.
Brock looked around with wide eyes. The two of them were currently at the base of a long column that stretched from the ground all the way to the sky—or, at least, what passed as the sky here. This ring was a massive cave, with its roof being the underside of the planet’s surface, a rock layer of unknown width. It was so high up that it really did resemble the sky—there were even a few clouds drifting about.
Based on how long they’d been descending the stairs, the cave ceiling could be a hundred miles tall. The sheer enormity of this space was enough to blow his mind. For a few moments, he was consumed by awe.
What god could have made this… he thought, his gaze lost above.
Enormous mushrooms hung from the ceiling. Each was clearly titanic in size, and they shone like miniature suns. With one of them every few miles, the forest below was illuminated as bright as day. The cave ceiling between the mushrooms was a bright gray covered in still shadows. Jack wondered if there was night here.
Finally, the air itself was odd. Jack didn’t notice it at first, panting as he was, but he eventually caught on. Every breath seemed to fill him with life and energy. His heart beat faster, his thoughts rolled quicker—almost too quick.
Am I hyperventilating? he realized, consciously slowing himself down. I see! The oxygen here is thick. That’s why everything is so large.
He’d once read a novel by Jules Verne, Journey to the Center of the Earth, which described a giant forest in a deeper layer of the planet. Many subsequent storytellers had been inspired by that, and the deep-earth gigantic forest caught on. Funny how that ended up having a hint of truth.
Only the dinosaurs were missing—for now.
Wait. Jack’s eyes widened. Will there be dinosaurs!?
He reined in his inner child and biologist. He wasn’t here for fun. He was here to punch stuff, meditate on punching stuff, and get stronger.
A second roar echoed through the thick trees. “Was that closer?” Jack asked. Brock shrugged. “Okay, bro. You know what they say: the first step to getting stronger is not dying. Let’s move.”
Brock cheered—together, they left the column behind and delved deeper into the forest.
It was nostalgic, in a way. Being lost in a forest teeming with dangerous, unknown creatures. It reminded him of the first days after the apocalypse. Back then, the Forest of the Strong had been a hive of danger. Before he’d conquered it.
Funny how the world moved in circles sometimes. Jack had grown stronger, but so had his environment. Suddenly, he was back to the start. He didn’t dislike the feeling. Here, there were no scions with strong daddies, no planetary overseers, no complex diplomacy and rules.
He was just a man in a forest. A predator amongst many. He felt life spread through his limbs; the satisfaction of the hunt. He was buzzing with anticipation. His soul, his Dao Seed of the Fist, was shivering. His fists itched. He couldn’t help grinning.
He had conquered the Forest of the Strong. He had triumphed. It had been his first step onto the path of the strong. The tournament had been the second.
This oversized forest would be the third.
However, he wasn’t alone this time. Jack smiled at Brock, who grinned back. There was excitement in that grin. Brock mirrored Jack’s thoughts. For the thousandth time, Jack felt glad to have him. He was the best little bro ever.
But this wasn’t the time to ruminate. Jack turned back to the front, on the lookout for the danger that was sure to appear.
He didn’t know what to expect. Gan Salin had said this ring wouldn’t be too dangerous for someone of his strength. That gave Jack courage, but he still kept his eyes peeled for danger. He crouched through the tall undergrowth, parting grass blades with his hands to pass. His gaze scanned the large branches above, the inconspicuous tree barks, the towering, thick bushes.
He almost didn’t see the enemy.
As he pushed a grass blade aside, a hint of black was the only indication he got. He froze, ready to fight or flee. Brock froze beside him.
The ants before him turned to look. They were the size of small dogs, each reaching his knee in height. They were black with hints of brown, along with six thin legs and fierce mandibles that clicked and clacked as they inspected him. Antennas rose from where their eyes should be.
Jack saw three ants at a glance, one behind the other. Looking closer, there were more; far more. They’d stumbled upon a long ant line.
Conqueror Ant, Level 28 (F-Grade)
Conqueror Ants are invasive species that can survive in most environments. Their colonies typically contain hundreds of workers, with larger colonies rising up to tens of thousands, along with multiple queens. If left alone, they will expand at great speed, annihilating anything in their path despite their relatively low individual Levels.
A Conqueror Ant colony is considered a peak E-Level threat. Immediate extermination is advised.
Jack’s first reaction was to back up a bit. He was a biologist focusing on evolution, with insects being one of the most fascinating sub-topics. He knew a lot of things about them, and everything came back to him at once. Ants were terrifying.
He did not want to mess with dog-sized variants.
The ants paused for a moment to inspect him. Their antennas waved, probably spreading pheromones—their preferred way of communication. Jack held his breath.
Eventually, the ants seemed to reach a consensus. One broke off the line to watch Jack and Brock, while the rest carried on, heading to wherever.
Jack took slow steps backward, followed by a confused Brock, until they were out of sight. Then, he kept going for a bit.
Brock made questioning sounds.
“Because they’re ants, Brock,” Jack replied. “Trust me. I don’t care what their level is; they’ll mark us, hunt us down, and overwhelm us by sheer numbers. Plus, ants have incredible strength for their size. If they bite us, goodbye.” He shook his head. “No. Better to avoid them at all costs and just find the way down. Gan Salin said so, too: up here, there are few benefits to get. The lower rings are our targets.”
But where could the entrance to the next tunnel be? Gan Salin had also mentioned that there were many of them, each usually indicated by some landmark.
“Knowing the System, I’d bet my right arm these ants have built their nest right on top of a tunnel,” Jack said. “But it doesn’t matter. My biologist sense is tingling; attacking them is too dangerous.”
Brock nodded. Whether because he agreed or because he trusted Jack, that was hard to say.
“Let’s find a way across the ant line,” Jack suggested. “Perhaps we could go over it?”
He looked up. Their ears were suddenly filled with buzzing. A dragonfly zoomed high over their heads, as long as Jack was tall. It was painted in bright colors, almost like a rainbow.
Agathan Dragonfly, Level 56
Contrary to what their name suggests, dragonflies have no relation to dragons. Agathans range in length from 3 to 15 feet. Despite their beautiful appearance, they are deadly hunters. They are carnivorous, fast flyers, highly perceptive, and require a large amount of sustenance to survive. Caution is advised.
This particular dragonfly didn’t seem to have noticed them. It darted down from between a tree’s branches and flew into a bush, hiding itself from sight. Jack heaved a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, he was torn. The biologist inside him screamed that every single creature here was a walking dissertation. However, his more prudent parts yelled that insects were fucking dangerous. He’d take dinosaurs over them any day of the week.
Trial Planet was no joke.
“Let’s go, Brock,” he said quietly. “We should climb a tree and see what’s around us. According to Gan Salin, the tunnels are in obvious locations. Perhaps we’ll find a few.”
“Bro!” Brock said. Then, he frowned. Jack raised a brow.
“What is it?”
Brock’s frown intensified. He opened his mouth and closed it again. A moment later, he said, “...Yes.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Brock!” he yelled in joy. “You said another word! Yes! That’s amaz—”
Buzzing filled their ears. The dragonfly shot out of the bushes next to them like a bullet, mandibles wide open and ready to rip. It was on them instantly.
***
Edgar sat in the safety of his study. His desk was filled with orderly stacks of paper, each covered in detailed notes. The window was open, letting in a light breeze and the sight of the far-off mountains—the view from the top floor of the Bare Fist Brotherhood’s new headquarters.
However, Edgar’s eyes were on the brown ceiling. He was slumped in his chair, neck resting on its back.
He was sad.
Magic was beautiful. It was everything he’d ever dreamed about. When the opportunity appeared, he grasped it with both hands, forcing the world to make him a powerful wizard. He succeeded.
So why were things not as he expected?
Where was the joy of discovery and exploration that accompanied magic? Where were his faithful wizard companions, with whom he would forge a new life? Where were the grizzled professors that would teach him their ways, and where was the childlike wonder of bending the world with the power of will and imagination?
Edgar chased his dream and caught up, but all he found was ugliness. Selfishness. Competition. Hatred, death, and war.
He did not want that. His notes were theories on how to best weaponize his abilities, but his heart wasn’t there. He wanted to make butterflies. To host light shows and recreate the nice little spells of his favorite books. He wanted to be a wizard, not a warrior that happened to use magic.
He had tried his best since the Integration, all the way from Valville to the tournament, and he succeeded in getting stronger, but that didn’t meant he enjoyed it.
His notes and research were guided by duty, but his mind simply traveled other paths. There wasn’t much he could do about it. Every minute that he forced himself to focus was pain. The little moments of peace like right now, when he allowed himself to simply relax, were his final haven.
I hate this world, he realized in a moment of clarity, but I love magic.
How could dreams and reality be reconciled? That was supposed to be precisely a wizard’s job. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to research magic and explore its applications, lose himself in the bright world of possibilities. He wanted to master magic and spread the gift to everyone, so that gifted little children would no longer have to suffer in a mundane world that didn’t fit them.
Was war the only path to peace? Did he have to live through hell again to protect others? When would that end? When would he finally be free?
Edgar did not know, and that scared him. Help me, he thought out, but no God answered his prayer.
He sighed as he sat up. He would weaponize magic as he was told, but here, where it was calm and safe.
The Forest of the Strong would be safe with or without him, thanks to Sparman, the D-Grade robot guard that Jack got for them. In truth, Edgar should have been in Burkina Faso with Vivi and the rest of Flame River. He could bolster their defenses.
But the Flame River headquarters were at war. Nobody had time for research. He would be reduced to a weapon, called to the front lines all the time, having to risk his life to kill his fellow men and waste his time in underleveled dungeons instead of progressing his research. He would have to live in an environment he hated.
He wasn’t in Burkina Faso. For once, he had a choice, and he would stay in the Forest of the Strong until he was needed. He was working on his magic every waking second to become as strong as possible and help everyone. He deserved some calmness.
And more than that, safety. Because there was only one thing that truly scared Edgar.
He could live through the current crucible. He could flatten and exhaust himself on the altar of war. He could do the right thing. He could endure years of being at the wrong place because he was powered by the anticipation of the good years to come. When everything was over, he would become a strong wizard and build a wizarding school. It was the dream of his life.
Which was why he feared death. If he endured years of despair only to die before he was rewarded, all would have been for naught. He would have wasted everything.
So he would remain at the Forest of the Strong for as long as possible. While the Flame River and their allies exhausted themselves to conquer as many dungeons as possible, fighting the Ice Peak’s forces at every turn, he would study, achieving strength in his room’s peace, so he could fight well at the time of need.
Because he deserved it. And if his decision brought casualties, so be it.
Comments
TheOne320
Edger should never force himself to fight. Maybe he can find a planet that thinks similar to him and train there. He could come back when everything is over and start the school.
