Marathon Against Time
1 second... 2seconds... 3 seconds.
The world blurred.
George's body was already crumbling—his legs withering and iron-red-blackish veins pulsing with the energy of a curse when three triggers were activated at once:
[Invisible Streak]: obscuring them from view for 60 seconds.
[Silent Steps]: muting all sound for 100 seconds.
[Shared Curse]: Linking his triggers to others for 90 seconds.
The uneven time balance could only mean one thing: someone had to track every second like their life depended on it... because it did.
Murphy sensed the cloak fall over them like a veil of silence. The air grew thin. The sound of his heartbeat vanished. Not even the rustling of May's hair on his back remained.
They were ghosts now... But ghosts could still die.
The tunnel lay ahead, 5 meters wide at its narrowest point and 20 meters at its widest. The ceiling was 8 meters high, jagged in some parts and smooth in others.
The feeding ground of the crimson beasts lay 170 meters ahead, in a disgusting, swollen, vein-like outgrowth—the exposed stretch they had to cross—90 meters.
Beyond that, there were 40 meters of passage leading to the entry of the stream, which was covered with rocks.
Their destination, their ultimate goal... 300 meters away.
Murphy's heightened senses were charting out the landscape. His hearing extended for 350 meters... not quite the reach of a tracking dog.
But it was enough.
He heard the gnashing, the tearing, the wet crunch of bone against sinew.
Ten Newborns. One Chimera. One Infant Wretch.
The Infant was quiet...Too quiet.
Murphy's leg throbbed.
May was slung to his back, with Pearl fastened to his side. Robert, haggard and tired, came running alongside them... And George is on a cursed-energy-ticking clock.
Murphy calculated.
Untrained humans could sprint at 4 to 6 m/s in short bursts. So, at best, they could clear 240 to 360 meters in 60 seconds.
But that was an unrealistic dream. Robert was barely holding together.
Pearl was... well never mind... and himself? One leg crippled, carrying two bodies.
"If I get out of this alive," he grimly thought.
"I might need amputation. Or maybe this cursed place will heal me."
"Assuming I don't die first."
He glanced at Pearl. Perhaps they would move more quickly if Robert carried her. But Pearl didn't trust him.
Nobody did... Least of all Murphy.
George? He was the only one fit enough to sprint. But he was burning through mid-grade stones, activating multiple triggers, at maximum capacity, and still expected to fight if things went wrong.
Murphy grunted.
"Who did I offend in my past life?"
"Fuck it."
He thought of Derrion. If it were his decision, he would have slit all their throats and kept on moving.
Ruthless... Efficient.
Murphy smiled bitterly.
They could have waited to activate the triggers until they were closer to the feeding ground.
No— there was a Chimera, and an Infant Wretch! Both had senses keener than any mortal... which he was. So, waiting until the last approach would have made them prey.
"Dying once is enough," Murphy thought.
"I'm not gambling on reincarnation...transmigration... or whatever the fuck this is."
"The survivors left behind?"
Murphy thought they would never make it. Not with what lay ahead.
5th second... 6th second.
They'd only covered about 25 meters.
"Not enough."
Murphy extended his arm, lifting the cloth that bound May and Pearl. Pearl rose several inches... yelping in surprise but growing silent thereafter.
Murphy wasn't willing to fail.
Robert had surprised them by not falling far behind; he held his own.
"Survival is genuinely an extraordinary catalyst for achieving the impossible."
Murphy clenched his teeth, squeezed out every iota of his willpower, and charged himself forward like a madman.
4 m/s… 5 m/s… 6 m/s… 7 m/s.
His crippled leg screamed...
His lungs burned. But he ran.
***
Meanwhile, far above…
Anna rose.
Faster than she'd ever traveled in her life...
She had to.
Leaving the humans wasn't despicable. If what she feared truly resided below, then even her Samaritan instincts wouldn't change a damn thing.
Before absolute strength, all means of resistance are futile...
So, she flew past the upper tunnels, past the survivors she had saved. They were tossed aside like leaves in a tempest.
700 km/hr… 800 km/hr… 1000 km/hr.
Not enough.
She drew energy from her mixed blood, which was both dangerous and volatile. Without quick healing from the Favourite doctors, it could be the end of her favourite ascension.
1100 km/hr … 1300 km/hr… 1500 km/hr.
She prayed and prayed.
But no matter how loud, how desperate, she was met with—
Absolute silence.
***
The Angel, wherever he was… He stood there...
Watching. Waiting. Unmoved.
***
At the heart of the floating island … 1,000 kilometers deep.
Surrounded by the ice-hot lake. The tail outline — once spotted — was now gone. In its place, a spatial rift had opened.
A nine-peaked mountain range came into being through it. The central peak, highest of all, was covered in corrosion and worms of all kinds twisting and turning... and at its summit sat an ugly throne.
On it... sat a semblance of a man.
Until he opened his mouth... And roared!
The roar shook the astral world... raised the temperature to boiling degrees, leveled the nearby mountains, and... and shook the soul cores of the weaker crimson creatures inhabiting that plane.
Erasing them from existence.
The few lucky demons who had their own means of survival, or those spared by this dark deity, for whatever reason, fled for their lives in desperation.
The roar seeped into the real world through the newborn territory, leaving spatial rifts in its wake. The rifts claimed lives unceremoniously, splicing anything in their path in half.
Space itself was collapsing... forming unstable channels to the astral world.
As the might of the dark deity seeped into the world, it corroded the sealed space, crafted by the Angel with ease, replacing it with his divinity's seal.
Dark, gloomy eyes appeared on its surface... they seemed to be crying tears of blood... accompanied by stone-like matter that gave off the smell of rotten meat.
The bloody tears fell like acid rain... beautiful, majestic... yet turned everything it touched into a wasteland.
The falling stones now had the speed of falling meteorites, promising nothing short of apocalyptic extermination.
In the millions, the eyes snapped open with disturbing synchronization.
Then, as the might was in its fading phase, it transformed into 18 dragons that split and ventured out in two directions.
Defiant... Unyielding... promising total annihilation.
One group comprised two dragons, while the other had 16 dragons... and each dragon revealed a terrifying suppression force to anything it deemed unholy.
Divinity's End Wrath had arrived.
Murphy felt it. George felt it. Pearl's mother felt it.
But Anna felt it the most.
Meanwhile, the Angel was beaming away with an eerie smile.
"Took you long enough."