Chapter 53

  The Immortal!

  Hollow eyes stared out, a mirror of the void surrounding a man, for a man he now was. Youth had died and dragged innocence with it. Elijah felt as empty as the nothingness that stared oppressively back at him. He did not blink. The darkness did. A notification appeared.

  You have defeated a Lv 26 : Terranoceros Ignis

  More Xp is awarded for defeating an opponent of a higher level. 1072 Xp awarded. Xp automatically placed in escrow, US 2.7.1.

  Elijah was disgusted by himself. His actions were bad enough, but to be rewarded for them! The glowing blue window was dismissed, revealing another it had covered up. Choosing the bottom choice as always, the human waited for the usual flood of notifications to appear.

  Evolution Unlocked:

  Will of Iron: S

  The Will of Iron holds dominion over all metals. This Evolution of the Terranoceros Ignis is focused on creating from metal anything one might need. Unlike other Evolutions, the Will of Iron responds to one’s hard work and dedication to iron. The more one focuses on shaping and controlling iron and other metals, the greater the Skills and Traits that will be rewarded.

  New Class Skill Unlocked!

  New Class Skill unlocked:

  Metal Manipulation: B

  This Skill allows you to manipulate metal using Mana. With this Skill, the process becomes a part of you, and you no longer have to think to use basic metal magics.

  As had become habit by this point, Elijah dumped 100 Xp from his Escrow account into the new Class and watched as the surprisingly high number of attribute points poured in.

  You have reached Level 1 in W????i??????l????????l???????? ?????o???f???? ???I?????r????????o???????n???????!????

  +4 Initiative

  +2 Strength

  +1 Wisdom

  +1 Intelligence

  +1 Dexterity

  Something was wrong.

  It had returned.

  The cold, near-undetectable, infinite dread crept like a rocket from Elijah’s centre. It was worse than the last two times. The convulsions came on immediately. All the teen could do was grit his teeth while the very essence of him twisted in knots and tore apart.

  Two seconds was far too long; this pain-free agony was the worst thing the sixteen-year-old had ever felt, that could ever be felt. It was as if a quintessential part of himself was being forcefully ripped asunder.

  A mouth opened wide to the empty heavens, screaming out the existence that was Elijah. All his hopes and dreams, all that he had been and all that he aspired to be. The silent cries were met in kind; there was no response. None came to help. The winds of fate swept away what had been Elijah, drawing him down the river Styx, beckoned on by a familiar, unfamiliar voice.

  “One more step, just one more step, and it shall all be over.”

  The innocent child watched as they were drawn out of a body they nearly recognised and, at the same time, was completely foreign to them. Why was its hair so long and greasy? Why was its introvert’s complexion ruined by scars? Why did it stare vacantly into the abyss, its jaw set hard and its face twisted into a snarl? Who was this?

  The pure one floated further away from its mortal coil, happy to have finally escaped.

  You have DIED

  Potential rewards will suffer as a result of dying whilst undergoing the Trial.

  Snap!

  Elijah’s focus returned very suddenly to his body. His eyes opened, but it was not he who looked through them.

  Crackle!

  The strange window staring back at the being fizzled; something was wrong, but he knew not what.

  Pop!

  A darkness of a different kind took Elijah with the sound of popping eardrums.

  ?

  A kettle hissed, declaring its boiling to the world and drowning out the busy buzzing of… bees? They must have been bees, for the air was thick with the smell of hot honey buns freshly cooked and demanding to be eaten.

  Elijah shifted. The sound of crinkling linens could be heard as his skin rubbed against the light, soft material. The sixteen-year-old groaned; even that little bit of stimulation was too much; his head throbbed with dissatisfaction.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  The exhalation of displeasure caused the teen’s throat to lethargically open and close. That was a mistake. At some point in his sleep an evil gnome had crawled down his gullet and gone to town with a roll of sandpaper and a brick.

  A second groan left the young man, this time silent and only in spirit. Something far too bright was stabbing at his eyelids; sleep couldn’t be clung to any longer. With great reluctance, Elijah heaved open his eyes and, through the fog of uncertainty, beheld the room around him.

  The teen’s memories were jumbled up, out of order, and difficult to access. The only things he knew for sure were that he was a Cornish lad and he loved his family, friends, and the sea. Almost everything else was a blur.

  Despite this, he had some very clear memories of his grandparent’s house, his own house, and of the beach, but he had no memories of the place he found himself in; it was completely new to him. A rational part of his mind thought he should be having an irrational response: hysteria, shock, or perhaps anger. He felt none of these. Curious eyes peered about, eager to learn.

  Green, paisley wallpaper coated the walls, all the way up to the rather low ceiling. The height of the room was diminished even further by the protruding, dark oak beams that supported the structure.

  With a shift of his head, Elijah was able to identify the source of the infernal light. A paned glass window stood ajar on the leftmost wall. Rays of death shot through a bright blue sky, momentarily slowed by a passing fluffy, white cloud.

  His reprieve was short-lived. It didn’t take long for that cloud to float away, and the full power of the sun once more blazed through the single glazing. Instinctively, Elijah turned his head to face the opposite wall. The movement was abrupt and caused his ears to ring, but that was better than being blasted in the face full force with sunlight.

  Once the spots in his eyes had been blinked away, the teen was able to get a good look at the other side of the room. In keeping with the country cottage aesthetic, there was an ornate dressing table, stained a rich reddish-brown and with a lighter colour wood inlaid around its edges. A copper mirror stood atop the piece, reflecting a well-used wooden chair and the clothes thereupon.

  It was then that Elijah finally realised, underneath the cosy yet breathable linens of his bed, he was completely naked. Hadn’t he been wearing clothes? Honestly, he didn’t know. How or why he came to be here remained a mystery.

  With clothes on the brain, Elijah looked once more at the clothes on the chair. Neatly draped over the sitting implement were a plethora of different shapes of colourful cloth, far too many for a single outfit, and none of the items were familiar.

  With a mind to investigate, Elijah forced his way through the splitting headache and out of the nice, warm bed. Plodding over to the dressing table, he inspected the clothes. Were they even clothes? Elijah normally wore jeans and a T-shirt, and neither could be found in the freshly ironed pile.

  It wasn’t cold exactly, but having just clambered out of a cosy cot, Elijah was eager to equip himself with the toasty pieces of cloth. Rifling through the pile, he tried to find something to wear.

  After nearly fifteen minutes, the teen was finally properly clothed – properly clothed for a fifteenth-century bard. The underwear was easy to figure out, but the greyish-blue hose that tied to his briefs had been a puzzle. As were the rough-spun woollen tunic and the jacket that matched his hose.

  There was also a handkerchief, a hood, and a couple of other small items that Elijah assumed he had worked out a use for. When he had donned everything, he found nothing left on the chair. These clothes were not what he was used to, but when in Rome… or whatever kind of mediaeval museum he had stumbled into.

  Straightening himself out in the mirror and brushing his freshly washed, oddly long hair out of his face with the implements provided, Elijah finally felt ready to tackle whatever circumstance he had found himself in.

  With a smile at his reflection, he commented under his breath, “Clothes maketh the man,” unsure where he had learnt the phrase.

  Looking back at the sheets he had left sprawled across the floor in his attempts to escape the clutches of his bed, he decided that before he could begin exploring, he needed to put things in order.

  Once the bed had been turned back and tucked in, and the furniture was square, Elijah finally ventured forth. Placing his hand on the polished brass knob, he turned it and opened the door in one brisk motion.

  He had expected… Well, he didn’t know what he had expected, but a rather bland hallway with decor similar to his room, complete with a warming pan hanging on the wall and several rather nice oil paintings of meadows, wasn't it. Elijah sighed, for some reason disappointed that he was in the typical English cottage he had assumed himself to be in.

  Leather-soled, weirdly snug shoes stepped across squeaky floorboards towards a staircase at the end of the hall, heading down. Elijah wanted to search each of the closed doors along the corridor, but a rumble from his tummy bade him follow his nose.

  The scent of warm honey buns led the young man down the stairs, through another couple of well-decorated, homely hallways, and into a kitchen that looked like it had come right out of some mediaeval fantasy magazine.

  A brick oven occupied much of the space; a fire burning away merrily. Copper pans hung from the ceiling alongside bundles of drying herbs. Two blocks sat, filled with knives of every shape and size, and, somehow, Elijah just knew that all of them were exquisitely made.

  None of these things stole more than a passing glance from the teen; his attention was arrested completely by a plate on the heavy oak table in the middle of the room.

  Steam rose from the buttery buns of honey-covered beauty. There was a bang as Elijah darted across the room, slamming into the table. The teen’s mind didn’t register the superhuman speed with which he moved, nor the pain in his bruised thighs; it was focused on one thing. His hands snatched the sweet, sticky goodness that he could not live without.

  Golden delight dripped down the young man’s chin, his eyes were closed in bliss, and a light moan escaped his rapidly healing throat. Everything felt better; pins and needles rushed through his body, causing him to shiver. In their wake, they healed bruises, soothed aches, and all round made him feel a hundred times better.

  “So, you're finally awake?” an amused voice asked, clearly suppressing its mirth with stern disappointment. Elijah froze mid-bite. Unable to turn around and face the newcomer. He had been caught red-handed!

  “Errrammearg,” Elijah garbled, his mouth still filled with stolen treasure. The teen flushed with embarrassment. What on earth had come over him? He didn’t normally act so rude; this wasn’t how he was raised.

  Unable to hold back their laughter any longer, the as yet unseen person let out a high, tingling chuckle that made Elijah smile despite himself, so contagious was it.

  “I’m glad to see you’re up and moving about. Oh, and don’t worry about the cakes. I made them for you; I thought they might make you feel better. Have they?” the mystery man asked once his fit of laughter had concluded. His voice was an odd mixture of noble superiority and soothing motherliness that made Elijah drop his guard.

  “Much, thank you,” Elijah began after he had choked down his mouthful. “I feel wonderful, like every illness I’ve ever had was cured all at once,” the teen said excitedly, grateful for the pilfered confectionary. “That said, I still have a rather annoying headache; it feels like—” Elijah cut off midsentence.

  He had turned around, no longer afraid to confront the good Samaritan taking care of him. His eyes stared at the stranger’s shiny black shoes, worked their way up tight black trousers, roved over a slim-fitted black waistcoat and puffy, white poet’s shirt, finally coming to rest on the person’s face.

  Their face was angular, slightly androgynous, and hauntingly familiar. The predatory smile that danced across their lips was cat-like and caused a shiver to run down the young man’s spine. The dark red eyes glowed ominously, and Elijah couldn’t help but stare.

  The teen cried out as, simultaneously, a pain stabbed at his heart, and his head began to explode. A torrent of memories came flooding back. All at once, Elijah remembered the last several months of misery. The friends he had made, the friends he had lost, and his purpose – to escape!

  All of that paled in comparison to the other memories which this person’s face had unearthed, the memories forced into his brain in the cave he had explored with his friends as a child. There was war, butchery, torture and death, all done with the same calculating grin this person, this immortal, looked at him with now.

  Elijah threw up. It was all too much. The blood, the guts, the gore – the teen had seen his fair share of death while in Trials but what this person, this creature, this monster had done was on a whole other level.

  The teen’s legs turned to jelly as fear took him. What was this thing going to do to him? How was he even here? Wasn’t this immortal monster locked away far beneath the earth, petrified for all eternity?

  When his memories finally slammed fully back into place, Elijah checked his notifications.

  The Trial of Evolution 1: Vampire

  You have reached Lv 25 as a Vampire! Welcome to The Trial of Evolution: Prove you are able to control your bloodlust to the progenitor’s satisfaction and you shall be granted the right to Evolve. A better performance in this trial will lead to a more powerful Evolution with stronger monster Skills and Traits.

  patrons: