L'Opéra De Géhenne IX
Picking the small pebble of crimson lying amidst the mutilated remnants of a once prominent corpse, I scrutinize it.
Rune of Hunger |F|
A rune? Wasn't this supposed to be a core? Are they the same?
Clasping it in my palm, I course my will through it, the same way I did with the dungeon core.
Infinite possibilities form before me. There are particles of eleven basic colors, yet even the ones of the same color vary in their tints.
To the best of my knowledge, an eye, well, at least a human eye, can only register about a hundred variations of colors.
Yet, in reality? There are millions, if not billions, of them.
And I only need a specific color.
Just as Mari said, the particles that I require, the luck particles, don't flow toward me.
To put it simply, my will is completely ignored.
Do I then have to look for them, then, instead?
No, impossible. There are just too many.
I frown, guiding my will through the endless swarm of particles, breaking them apart, most of which are red. And so I grind them.
First, all colors except blue and orange and pink and brown vanish.
Out of the remaining four colors, each one of them except blue breaks into smaller, bluer particles.
Finally, only blue prevails. Fracturing those blue particles into smaller fragments of luck, I then realize—
Out of innumerable spheres of light, both enormous and gigantic, only a few hundred tinier ones are left.
Such a waste. But what can be done, really?
So, what do I do now? How do I absorb these particles?
I sit on the ashen floor, the ground grilling my ass.
Biting my lip, I force the hem of the robe down below my burning butt.
In my anger, I almost lost control over the particles I so earnestly gathered.
Breathe in… Breathe out—
Why is the air so fucking hot—
Concentrate!
First, I empty my thoughts.
Detach from the agony, detach from the anguish.
My breaths are steady.
Slowly, I channel the luck fragments inside the rune through my clasped hands on my waist and course them through my body to my heart.
Throughout the process, I lose half of them.
As they gather in my heart, I sense the connection between me and the faraway dungeon core.
Slowly yet steadily and surely, the fragments leave my body through the connection—
Reverse Plot Armor |S|
My heart tightens in pain as the connection falters.
Only a tenth of the fragments pass through.
The ninety percent experience loss, huh.
My eyes fall on the crumbling pebble that now lies on my lamp.
It almost ceases to exist, the dust scattering across.
So this is cultivation?
What can I say?
To summarize the whole experience—
A waste of fucking time as I gained close to no experience.
I writhe in pain as I stand, lifting my purple robe before turning to check on my asscheeks to make sure they're not cooked to perfection.
To summarize the whole experience—
I got my ass burnt, is all.
Wasting time on F-rank cores is useless unless they're perhaps of blue color, and even then, it's still not of much benefit.
What I need is fat prey, of E-rank, or perhaps even D-rank, to make the whole experience worthwhile.
Otherwise, I fear I'd have to cultivate for days to gain a single experience point.
And I need a hundred of them to level up my dungeon.
Thinking of it, I can open the dungeon's status window here since the connection is already established, right?
Dungeon of Wrath
Lvl. 1 |0/100|
Create |E| |CP: 30|
Domain |E| |DP: 30|
Summon |E| |SP: 30|
Alchemy |F| |AP: 30|
Troops:
Vassals: 0/3
Familiars: 1/3
Subordinates: 0/20
Medallions:
Wrath x1
Luck x1
Life x1
Before summoning that cursed bitch, I designated her as my familiar.
Mari said that all Archdemons can only have three familiars throughout their lifetimes. The difference between normal subordinates and familiars being that, I get stronger as they do, and they get stronger as I do.
They also attain substantial powers just by becoming a familiar.
A pity that I wasted one of the three spots for a mindless moron.
Oh well, such is luck. What can be done, really?
It's not that she's useless, no. I don't even know what abilities she has.
It's just that F-rank abilities are not worth any consideration to begin with.
For now.
In the future, as she improves upon them, maybe then, she'll possess some worth.
Though I doubt that. Just by considering what kind of person she is.
That's the problem, in essence.
Mari is a crazy kid. Unfortunately, I'm no better in my current mental state. We needed someone with reason, yet what we got instead was a lunatic.
So, I'm the most reasonable one in the group, which, in my life, has never happened before, which—is terrible, very troublesome.
I really miss Gin at times like this…
Gin? Wait, who's Gin again?
Never mind.
I stretch my hands, heaving a tired sigh as I further down the fleshed tunnel.
The eyes glare at me creepily.
I flip a middle finger, slender and delicate. My hand shakes as I barely refrain from spontaneously breaking it.
Remember, no more regeneration. I can't just sever my limbs expecting they'll grow back just as fine this time around.
I yawn, the air scorching and dry, blitzing through my throat and firing up my lungs.
Is this the punishment for my sins? This life?
I wonder, I wonder how long I can wander.
Is this my last journey?
The tunnel narrows, and the heat intensifies.
I meet a few more glazers along the path, slaughtering them effortlessly and ignoring their remnants.
I only regret that I didn't take Gunter's sword with me, or at least the elf's hand knife.
Could have dealt with things at a much faster rate.
In all honesty, I would have run and just ignored glazers, but instead I eliminate every one of them. After all, if I let them be, they will pose a danger to the kids.
Finally, after marching for a long time, I glimpse at the clearance below.