N. Francis
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Chapter 101: The Others Pt. 4
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 14:30:01 +0000 UTCZoey was annoyed.
Very annoyed. And she had been annoyed for some time now.
“It’s bullshit,” She muttered as she stared at the broken item that she had come to rely on extensively over the years. A Horizon Mirror. It had been her reward for conquering a rather treacherous delve, five floors of monsters that had started at low tier six before maxing out with a mid-tier-seven boss that would have killed her had her get-out-of-jail-free skill not been activated.
Every morning, she could shine the mirror on whatever horizon she saw and instantly travel vast distances. It maxed out at ten ‘jumps’ a morning, but she could cover some serious ground with it.
It was broken now and had been for several weeks, leaving her stranded.
“Stupid piece of crap,” Zoey muttered. In fairness, she had known for some time that it was beginning to look rough, every ‘jump’ seemed to wear away at its integrity, but she knew fuck all about fixing stuff like that. She’d been trying to make her way back to her ‘settlement’ that she had abandoned several years ago, offloading it to one of her dependents as the new boss, as she sought to explore.
And explore she had, except now she was stranded in an extensive expanse of floating upside-down mountains and islands, an ocean of darkness far below.
My fault. My damn fault. I couldn’t help it. Who doesn’t see a bunch of floating upside-down mountains and islands and NOT want to investigate?
Glancing up, she scowled.
“And now this crap,” Zoey sighed as a monster that looked somewhat like a cross between a giraffe and a spider stared down at her with its many eyes.
It began to stamp its many hoofed feet upon the earth as Zoey scrambled out of the way, stones flying high overhead before racing back down to slam upon the ground in fiery explosions.
Smacking a few of the projectiles away as they careened toward her with a deft swat of her shield -another delve reward- she changed directions, sprinting at the low-tier-seven monster.
She had been tiered seven for a good few years now, so the thought of facing a tier seven monster, at least a low-tier seven monster, head-on wasn’t anything of concern anymore. Mid-tier-sevens could still definitely be a problem if she wasn’t prepared. It wasn’t much of a concern for her safety at this point; only high-tier sevens could honestly pose a severe enough risk that death was a real consideration. However, she simply didn’t have the sort of damage potential needed to kill things mid-tier seven and above without some major struggle.
“Shield Strike,” Zoey called out as the shield began to glow. For a few precious seconds, her durability took a significant dip as the shield drank in some of the energy. Avoiding several small meteors, she smashed the shield into the volcanic giraffe-spider. The hit staggered the monster, shoving it back several feet.
Tch.
It was exactly what she meant. A good, solid hit, but that was all it was, a good, solid hit. If she did that enough times, it would die due to blunt force trauma. Still, some monsters could regenerate surprisingly quickly, and blunt force trauma that required several seconds of charge time wasn’t exactly the tool for dealing with such monsters.
She didn’t like it, but she gritted her teeth as she prepared herself.
“Even Shields Must Take Up Arms!” Zoey yelled, as suddenly the sense of her durability depleting from her earlier shield strike was multiplied several times over, as her strength and other non-durability physical traits rocketed up. It was her boosting skill, sacrificing almost the entirety of her durability in return for massively enhanced physical attributes. It was meant to be an ace in the sleeve sort of skill, but over the last few years, she’d begun to rely on it almost casually, simply because it let her finish fights faster.
It also meant she sustained far more injuries than a durability focus should have allowed, but that had a silver lining: it allowed her to push her understanding of what durability was by manipulating it to the point where it became almost an everyday occurrence.
Either way, with the boosted attributes, she shot forward faster than the monster expected, her shield slamming into its face as a single leap was enough to send her careening twenty feet with as much struggle as stepping up a stair.
It wasn’t much of a ‘fight’ after that point; she beat the monster down with brutal efficiency. In Zoey’s mind, she wasn’t a fighter; she cared more about exploring, but a big part of that was that she needed to be able to defend herself.
Once the monster had been pummeled into submission— death being a form of submission —Zoey ended the skill. She was covered in burns just from the proximity to the monster, burns that on Earth would have called for an immediate ambulance ride to the nearest burn ward. With her durability restored, they would heal by evening.
“Seriously, though,” Zoey muttered. “What am I supposed to do?”
She was trapped. Sure, the pyroclastic streams, the name she’d given the weird, hazy orange currents through the sky, could transport her between the individual islands and mountains, so she wasn’t ‘totally’ trapped, so far as she could explore the distorted region to her heart’s content. Yet, she hadn’t found any that would return her to the mainland from which she had mistakenly jumped with the Horizon Mirror before it broke.
“Darn it,” Zoey kicked a pebble, launching it off the island. Instead of falling to the ocean far above or below, depending on your perspective, it floated upward, burning up the further it traveled from the island.
I couldn’t even jump into the ocean if I wanted to.
Falling hundreds and hundreds of miles into a deep black ocean wasn’t probably a wise idea. Still, Zoey had considered it before she’d made the wise decision to test what would happen to anything tossed off the islands.
Staring up into the sky, from her perspective, she could only sigh.
God, this sucks.
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Two figures faced off, one against the other, gauging each other silently. One held a spear, though her fists could be just as dangerous as the spear. The other was a furry, badger-like figure wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt and pants that bore a striking similarity to fishing waders, an axe hefted over his shoulder.
“’ Ye got a good expression on ‘ye face.” The badger man said, a twinkle of violence in his eyes.
“I could say the same,” The woman said, letting her spear lean against her shoulder as she cracked her knuckles.
“Military?” The Woodsman asked.
“Nah, I’d say boxing, but it wasn’t quite that above ground.” The Spear laughed. “More like, ‘beat the shit out of each other, and whoever was left standing won’ or some shit.”
“Eh, same shit.” The Woodsman snorted, feeling giddy. “Weapons first, or just going to throw shit down the ole human way?”
“Well, I’m as human as they get.”
“That’s ‘er spirit.” Mumford ‘Raving Badger’ Garfuck grunted as he charged the woman, who likewise shot forward. In an instant, the two were slamming into each other, fists colliding and blows being traded in a brutal physical contest. While the Spear seemed to have an edge in terms of strength, the Woodsman had achieved a more balanced split between strength and durability. It was a contest to see which style would prevail as the two settled into their pace. A hard right from the Spear was dodged with a backstep from the osferian, only for the taller woman to hook her foot forward and trip up the badger-person. In return, the Osferian let himself fall, landing on all four as she shot forward like a badger from Earth, barreling the woman over as he slammed into her legs.
With both of them on the hard earth, the battle turned into a contest of who had a better ground game. Larger and stronger, the advantage should have been the Spear’s, but no matter how she tried to pin her furry opponent, he slipped away. Getting annoyed, she began to throw several cheap hits. Still, the Osferian seemed unbothered as his fur, like steel wool, absorbed some of the hits.
At last, the Osferian managed to maneuver himself behind her expertly, arm wrapped around her neck as he pinned the woman. For several seconds, he held her like that until, with a loud thump, she slammed her fist onto the ground, taking a ragged breath as he released her.
“Fuck,” She spat, annoyed at losing but in otherwise good spirits. “I thought all you alien types were a bunch of soft bitches.”
“Most,” The Woodsman laughed, a deep bellowing sound. “Us Osferians are the only ‘twats out there with any bit of metal in ‘ur bones.”
“Fuck. Yeah, I can see that,” Allison muttered. “Still, what was that?”
“Drill Sergeant, or something like that,” Mumford answered. “Yer a good street fighter, but you need to work on basic forms.”
“Yeah, fuck you.” Allison spat back, still halfway grinning. “Fucker, bet next time I kick your ass.”
“Hah, spitfire and vinegar,” Mumford said as he offered her his hand. “Hope you’re better for continuing than the shits I worked with.”
——————————-
The Voice was confused, and rightfully so.
She had long come to expect that even if her Word of Power command didn’t strictly control a monster, it would at least disrupt them.
This time? Not so much.
“Burst!” Essenya shouted as her voice traveled forward, exploding trees and stone alike. “I will not let you attack my home like a would-be conqueror!”
Her opponent avoided the exploding sound wave as it shot through the air, the fastest monster she’d ever encountered.
“Foolish.” The bird spoke. It was, her feelings aside, the most majestic bird she’d ever seen, adorned in rainbow feathers with golden streaks and highlights upon its crests and beak that made the large bird of prey appear like a radiant, gold-adorned predator ruling over many a jungle planet.
“Freeze!” She shouted as her will attempted to force the bird to remain still. Unlike her command, which had failed to affect the bird in any way, freeze seemed to do the trick. It was a testament to its strength that rather than outright freeze in place, the bird only slowed.
“Serenade of Gold!” The bird cawed as a golden light shone from it, the light momentarily intense enough that even sound seemed to be washed away.
Averting her gaze, when Essenya looked up once more, the bird had broken free of the slowing shackles of her command.
It was also flying straight at her, its wings promising a quick death.
“Swap,” The Voice called out, and suddenly, it was no longer she standing there, but a gorilla covered in scales and spines. Surprised, the bird attempted to abort its dive, only to once more freeze in place as the Voice shouted from somewhere nearby.
“Freeze!”
Unable to avoid what was to come, the bird could only brace itself as it was given a backhanded swat from hell, its lighter mass resulting in it being launched several hundred yards away.
Reappearing, the Voice frowned. She hadn’t felt the influx of energy that would come from slaying a powerful monster.
“Is it gone?” A young girl suddenly spoke up, popping out from seemingly nowhere.
“Eisa, you know you mustn’t come out until the all clear.” Essenya scolded the ten-year-old Varasayian girl.
“Oh… Sorry.” The girl said innocently.
Children.
Sighing, the Voice stared out past the cliff face that the bird had been launched away from. Only a few moments later, a brilliant bird shot up into the air, making direct eye contact with her before flying away.
“And to answer your question…. No. It will be back.” Essenya muttered. She could sense it easily enough; the bird had been probing, testing their ability to resist.
Glancing back, she took in the sight of what she was protecting, a small commune of maybe ten huts, fifteen people living within here, not counting herself.
I need to prepare.
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A man in his early to late thirties bowed once as several gathered teenagers and young adults returned the bow, albeit more deeply.
“Sensei.” They shouted in unison.
“Disciples.” The First Monk responded. The once-gawky teenager had filled out, wearing light blue robes reminiscent of a Shaolin monk. “Step forward,”
One by one, the disciples stepped forward, starting with the least ranked. Each one would bow before him directly before taking a fighting stance, as he likewise matched their stance.
What followed were quick bouts, spars that lasted for several seconds before the First Monk forced his disciples to submit. It was a ritual more than any act of dominance. Each morning and each night, they would have a spar, more of an assessment of their progress than of animosity or domination. He would test if they were training and pushing themselves, and they would test if their master continued to hold himself with both grace and strength.
It was all well and good until a disciple suddenly ran into the small temple, bowing hastily. He was part of the disciples who were ranked lower than even the ones in the room.
“Disciple Ifu?” The First Monk questioned, surprised at the young disciple’s brazen act of charging into the temple during the sparring rounds.
“Master,” The young disciple bowed once again. “We have a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Yes, um, a major problem.”
“Being?” The First Monk questioned.
“T-the blessed stone. It’s, um, it’s gone.”
“Gone?” The First Monk questioned, eyebrows raising. “What do you mean?”
“Well, just that. It’s just, poof, gone.”
The First Monk looked between his gathered disciples before sighing discreetly. “Let us put this on temporary hold. Quickly, lead the way.”
Following the young disciple through the courtyard, their buildings, all made of opaque blue ice and stripped bark, soon came to a halt before a building that stood out from the rest of the rather plain-looking temples and lodgings. It was the only one that had any ornamentry, and its doors stood wide open. Within the ‘blessed stone,’ otherwise known as the Flagstone of Frozen Pneuma, was kept. It was the cornerstone of their sect, from which they all gained affinities connecting to ice, snow, or even the mountain itself.
And just as the young disciple had said, it was gone.
“What do you think happened?” The young disciple said, babbling.
“One moment,” The First Monk said patiently. Closing his eyes, the world seemed to still around him, as if he were an immovable force frozen in time.
When he opened them next, a light scowl was upon his face.
“We were robbed.”
“Robbed?” The young disciple questioned.
“Yes, I sense a strong feeling of the Long Night and Darkness here.” The First Monk said.
“What are we going to do?” Disciple Ifu asked.
“The only thing I can do,” The First Monk said, a creeping stillness radiating outward. “I’ll just have to track down whatever thief or rogue crossed us.”
