The Great Core's Paradox

I hissed, the sound thrumming with rage - enough that I almost dared hope that my enemy would move from my path, leaving me free to slither where I wished.

The black-water didn’t flee, even when I hissed a little harder. Even when I tried to warn it off with a gout of [Mana Fire], the blue flames licking at the black-water’s surface for a brief instant, the black-water didn’t even ripple. Didn’t even try to get away.

It would have been more upsetting if I wasn’t already aware of how little chance I had from the start. The black-water was a powerful enemy. Luckily, it wasn’t one that would go out of its way to attack me unless I went out of my way to slither into its depths.

Maybe one day, I’d be able to defeat it. For now, I would be forced to turn aside. Go somewhere else.

Which was a problem, because there weren’t very many places left for me to go. Every tower-nest, except for the one that I had started in, was fully surrounded by enough black-water that I couldn’t reach them. Not without traveling on one of the Coreless’ not-sinks, and I couldn’t get those to move on my own. I already tried that; alone, I could barely even make them wobble.

A sound pulled my attention away from the black-water. A heavy creaking, like the groaning roots of the Darkwood Guardian as they moved about. Loud enough to echo within the cavern. Loud enough that it was impossible to miss.

I jerked my head in its direction, looking towards the nearby cluster of tower-nests. Unlike most of the pools of black-water in the area, this one was large enough for multiple tower-nests to burst from its surface, with bridges high above providing passage between one tower-nest and the next. They gleamed a brilliant white, the radiant ore-flesh that lined their edges casting light that bounced off the tower-nests’ surfaces with an almost blinding intensity. Bright enough that [Ambusher’s Vision] was painful to keep active. I let my eyelids shift in a careful flex, hissing with blessed relief as the painful brightness became easier to manage.

The cavern dimmed; the black-water became all the blacker, and shadows deepened into all-consuming darkness.

I could still hear perfectly fine, though, and that was all that I needed. The groaning darkwood, somewhere across the black-water, on the other side of the cluster of tower-nests, fell still. A heavy splashing took its place, the sound of a large not-sink rushing across the dangerous waters.

“Get moving!” a Coreless shouted, the not-hiss completely incomprehensible without a [Little Guardian’s Totem] to help me guess at its meaning. There was a meaty smack, and a yelp quickly followed. “Row, you!”

Soon enough, I saw the not-sink itself, a large number of Coreless using its wide body to hide from the deadly black-water. A few wore the glowing ore-flesh that seemed to mark stronger Coreless, but they were greatly outnumbered by the ones without. The others wore ore-flesh, too, but it was different. Dull and oddly shaped, in bands that wrapped around wrists, connected together by thick, jangling threads of just-as-dull ore-flesh that tugged and pulled with every movement, making the Coreless struggle to move the rods of darkwood that helped push the not-sink across the black-water’s surface.

They should have just taken them off if it was that much of a struggle, but sometimes Coreless just weren’t all there. Maybe, when I caught up, I’d suggest wearing more useful pieces of ore-flesh instead.

Either way, I wanted to meet them, since none of the group carried a [Little Guardian’s Totem]. None of them had accepted the light of the Great Core. Something that just wouldn’t do. I slithered along the banks of the black-water, moving to intercept.

The Coreless were a lot faster than me, moving many slithers for each one of my own. Fast enough that, by the time that I began to catch up, they had already disappeared.

Luckily, it was easy to figure out where they disappeared to. The Great Core had blessed me with far, far more wisdom than I would have needed to see past the Coreless’ pitiful tricks. And they relied on those tricks too often.

This particular trick was one-and-a-half not-Needles high and three wide.

And it was just as stupid as its kin, trying and absolutely failing to blend in with the surrounding stone of the cavern’s wall. Honestly, it was like they weren’t even trying to hide the wall’s weakness.

Yet again, I found myself facing one of the Coreless’ moving-walls. And, for the first time, one that opposed me. If it could tremble, I was sure that it would. But no, it couldn’t even do that.

Useless.

My not-so-Great enemy stood silent watch, blocking my path. But I already knew how to defeat it - and as I had seen time and time again, it wouldn’t take much. Just a push, and it would topple. Pathetically. Uselessly.

I slithered forward slowly, giving the doomed thing time to accept its coming defeat. I was sure that it had many in its unfortunate life; like the weakest bad-things, it could only fall before the strong. Which, given its worthless design and poor attempts to hide, was basically everything.

Then, quicker than it likely hoped, I found myself resting before it. Ready to strike. I leaned forward, pressing my scale-flesh against its surface.

I pushed.

…

I pushed.

…

I pushed, great puffs of air bursting from my lungs with the exertion. Slowly, ever so slowly, the moving-wall began to shift. Nearly a tenth of an entire slither before it retaliated just when I was at my weakest, my scale-flesh beginning to fail. It bounced back in a vicious attack, sending me violently spinning away.

Hissing with fury, I quickly returned to the fight. My fangs struck the darkwood flesh of the moving-wall, scoring its surface time and time again. [Death - Wither] dripped from my fangs, rotting whatever it touched, and a gout of [Mana Fire] burst from my mouth, setting the thing on fire. Or a small part of it, anyway. The moving-wall was too tall for me to reach most of its body unless I climbed higher.

Still, my efforts were enough that the moving-wall refused to retaliate again. Likely too afraid of what might come after. The moving-wall’s wounds were far greater than my own, and even the most moving-wall loving Coreless wouldn’t deny that.

I leaned forward again, pressing my scale-flesh against its surface.

I pushed.

…

And then I went around, using [The Golem’s Fading Heart] to shift enough stone to form a passage beside the moving-wall, slithering through the hole that formed and coming out the other side. Because the moving-wall was stupid and useless, and I was much smarter than it. Even if, apparently, it was harder to push open than I thought it would be.

They were still useless, though, and I refused to acknowledge otherwise.

With the moving-wall defeated, I was able to hear a constant crash of ore-flesh against stone, beating down again and again. The sound stretched down the large-tunnel that I found myself in, quiet and tinny enough that I knew I had a ways to go before I found my first Coreless. Giant beams of darkwood lined the large-tunnels’ walls, reaching up its sides and stretching across the ceiling as if holding up the large-tunnel itself, while other - far smaller - pieces of flaming darkwood had been attached to tiny rings nearly a not-Needle high, making the large-tunnel bright enough to easily see even without using [Ambusher’s Vision]. Little bits of black-water ran across the ground in the occasional tiny trickle, far more dangerous than they looked - but small enough that I knew that I could wind my way past them.

And so, with my most recent enemy left somewhat-broken and definitely-humiliated behind me, I slithered onwards, following the sound of ore-flesh striking stone.