Traverse The Fog

The sound of scraping metal and burning drew ever closer from behind. Growing desperate, Cyrus' stabbing intensified as he thought of a means of escape.

Cyrus stabbed his spear into an echo's head. Powered by his life runes in his arms, his spear quickly tore through its eye, easily disabling it once metal hit rotten brain matter. Then, he kicked it, sending it to the line behind it. But it mattered not. Another echo replaced the last.

And there was more. And more. And more. Seeing them brought a sudden weakness and despair to Cyrus' mind. And in that weakness, he glanced backward. More. Burning with faces forever frozen in muted screams.

Cyrus faltered for a moment. But it was just for a moment, as the need to survive shot adrenaline through his veins. He turned and began stabbing harder and harder. The echoes fall in one by one. But it was too slow! Cyrus could hear that scraping, drawing closer and closer. But what was he to do? His gun? It only carried six rounds, and he had no time or room to reload his ammo.... ammo?

That's it! A desperate plan to push forward formed. The next moment, Cyrus brandished his revolver and aimed blankly at the echo before him.

Bang

It flopped to the floor. Then he fired the next shot and another until all six rounds dropped six echoes. But Cyrus didn't stop there. After storing his revolver, He charged and pushed forward, stabbing one head after another to reach the exit.

After stabbing down another echo, Cyrus stared at the horde around the tunnel's entrance. It was a mess. They had congregated to the point of trampling on each other, blocking the exit. But why were they all staring at him like that?

Ignoring the budding fear in his heart, Cyrus reached into his pouch and retrieved the entire ammo case. He lit it on fire with his hungry ember and tossed it just over their heads.

Now wasn't the perfect time to prove if the tales were true. But Cyrus channeled light through his palm in a bid to hold them while he fell back. And by the gods, did it work. More even as their flesh sizzled and skin melted while they shielded their faces. Then, the case exploded in a near instant. With a thundering roar, it launched metal shards and casing that tore through flesh and skull.

Anything caught within its radius was brought down onto the floor, moving or not. Meanwhile, Cyrus, who had taken cover, was taken aback by the sight. At most, he expected some small pop or distraction. But the explosion was powerful enough to turn something mild into a deadly force. Just what kind of powder did they use in those casings? But now wasn't the time to worry about such things. The group was down for the count, and that's what mattered.

Holding back his excitement, Cyrus quickly modified his plan. Light and life were the answer, not the flame. Then, powered by life in his arms and beaming light through his gaze, Cyrus pressed forward. He stabbed an echo in the eye while turning his lighthouse gaze to meet the oncoming echoes. Skin sizzled and charred as they shielded themselves from his light.

It was not enough to kill them, but it gave him breathing room.

There was no time to waste. Cyrus pulled and twisted his spear, and the echo toppled over. Then he went for the next echo behind, flashing light before stabbing forward.

Thus, Cyrus fell into a cycle. Sweat-drenched, he would slowly cut through the horde and flare lights. And soon, he reached halfway across the cavern. But there were too many. One slain was replaced by another. And a flood of more spilled from the four tunnels behind him. The only good news was that these were a bunch of mindless husks without a battle str—No good. I'm going to be overrun!

An echo swiped a claw at his arm. But the Wayfarer had been enchanted for flame and defense, so it took the brunt of the damage with a mild shimmer. But it didn't stop the sharp claws from slicing against his skin.

Cyrus grimaced from the pain. More would be coming if he didn't hold them back. So, Cyrus willed almost all his light runes into his palm and infused a quarter of his mana into his spear. It shone with blinding and burning incandescence and illuminated the room. The sounds of searing and melting flesh filled the air as the skeletal echoes covered their eyes from the blinding light, their backs casting deep, dark, monstrous shadows.

At that moment, Cyrus struck. His spear shot forward like a flaming arrow straight into an echo's head. For a moment, there was darkness. But then, a blinding light melted through its skull and lit the room again. It went out a moment later. Infuse could only offer two seconds, even at a time like this.

Cyrus' face fell. He then grunted as something clawed on his back. But Cyrus didn't turn back. He could only move forward or meet his death. With a yank back, he slammed the butt of his spear to the echo behind him. It seemed to work, albeit temporarily. As more and more struck from behind, leaving Cyrus' back bloody and in pain that had to be numbed by the power of his life runes.

Regardless, he stabbed and flashed lights. The exit was right there, waiting for him. Cyrus only had to push just a bit farther. But... between his life runes and light, Cyrus was burning through his mana fast.

So, in a desperate bid, Cyrus almost channeled all his mana into his light runes. He attacked in the meantime, stalling for time. But more and more attacks were coming from every side.

Just one mo—there!

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At that moment, he raised his hand into the air and unleashed a light as blinding as the sun. The echoes went blind as the sight charred their faces and eyes. The light brought them into a daze. Taking advantage of the moment, Cyrus charged forward, rushing through the stunned crowd like a bull. And it was enough. Soon, Cyrus stabbed through the final echo blocking his path and toppled over it.

Holding back his disgust, he scrambled up and ran into the tunnel, almost forgetting his spear in the process. And good timing, too. For a moment later, his light vision turned off as a wave of nausea struck him.

But Cyrus could stop. Quickly, desperately, he held a hand on the cavern's walls as he stumbled through the dark. And Cyrus dared not stop. Even when his chest heaved and he thought he tasted blood, he did not stop. Only when he was under those gray skies did Cyrus finally allow himself to drop his spear and crash onto the ground.

A few minutes later, Cyrus coughed against the dirt. Slowly, he crawled to his pack and sifted through it. He scrounged out three health vials and drank one while drenching his back with the others.

"Ooo, it itches," Cyrus said between gasps.

This was the first time he'd ever healed deep wounds like these. But thankfully, they got the job done. Then came the mana crystals. And once he absorbed them, the nauseous feeling soon died down as his mana pools were refilled.

Oh, how glad he was outside again.

"Wait." Cyrus frowned and looked around. "Bird?!"

His yell yielded no response. Nor did a command whistle.

"Did he finally fly off?"

A strange feeling wormed in his heart. It was a shame that he couldn't tell any more stories to the little guy. But who knows? Maybe they will meet again in another life. But the sudden echoes of shuffling and scraping drew his attention.

"Fuck," Cyrus tiredly muttered. "They're coming."

He looked upwards and found the gray skies lacking again. Would these things melt under the sunlight? At least, that's what he thought.

There was still some time. So, Cyrus whistled and waited for Bird to return. But once he could see that pallid, shambling tide appearing from the murky darkness...

Sorry, Bird. Cyrus hoisted his pack over his shoulder. But you left, and I can't wait any longer.

So, he departed. Quickly, Cyrus retraced his steps while searching for a safe climb down. In the meantime, he thought of his escape.

It was sloppy. If Cyrus hadn't fallen into a panic and used his photomancy at the metal vein, he could've held Latriaen's rune for the next room as long as he paced himself. All of this stems from being too green.

Then there were these echoes. They were slow and rigid, never bothering to dodge or defend themselves. And in a one-on-one situation, they were barely considered a threat if one knew basic defense techniques. Moreover, a horde only had the advantage of numbers. If it had been a more open space, Cyrus might have been able to kite them if he chose not to run.

"Most importantly, never, ever, trust a dead body again."

And yet... Despite admonishing himself, a small smile broke through his face. It grew larger and larger until Cyrus stopped and began to laugh. Slowly, stepped before the terrace's edge and stretched out his arms.

"I'm still alive!" He yelled into the rolling landscape.

Truly alive. Still, Cyrus had to move. So, with a spring in his step, Cyrus followed the mountain wall, lost in his thoughts of brilliance.

A few minutes later... Chirp!

Cyrus blinked and shifted his gaze upward at the mountainside. And the sight of a snow-white canary happily pecking at... some cyan tomatoes growing on some vines? Whatever they were, Bird seemed to enjoy it.

"You left me for food?"

Hearing his incredulous call, Bird turned and chirped cheerfully before returning to its meal. Indeed, he did.

"We need to go, Bird," Cyrus urged, whistling a command. "This place might be overrun soon."

But Bird ignored him completely. It was more preoccupied with digging its tiny feet into the fruit's flesh and savoring its tangy taste. Well, that was until Cyrus revealed Bird's favorite seeds.

"Oh, now you come." Cyrus scoffed but still allowed Bird to eat off his hand. "Come. We need to get out of here..." He frowned at the sight of Bird's stained blue feathers. "And give you a bath."

Forward they went. A few minutes later, the two reached the peak they had first ascended. Cyrus then stared down the cliffside. It was a shame. It was too steep and too dangerous.

Should he turn around and search for a more reasonable climb?

"But... what if I went back and fought them?"

Cyrus' gaze shone with a brilliant light. He could hone his skills and slowly whittle them out in the process. And the choice sounded better now that there was much more room to maneuver.

"I'll do it," Cyrus muttered, clutching his spear tightly.

Slowly, he placed his pack down and sifted through it. Cyrus then retrieved six rounds from his pack. The last six he had left since he just used the rest as an improvised grenade. After reloading his revolver, he stored it and hid several potions in his coat for quick retrieval alongside some mana crystals. Then, there was his flare gun. Should he use it to alert Latriaen? Cyrus shook his head at the thought. He had very few left and no means to make more.

"Maybe I should inquire about having more made... or better yet, why can't I use my own powers to create something similar?" Cyrus pondered aloud, clenching his fist.

He thought it was a good idea. Maybe he could practice the idea once he's in his 'exploration' phase. Something like throwing fireballs into the air and letting them explode in a certain way. But now wasn't the time to think of such things.

Shaking off his contemplation, Cyrus glanced at Bird, who seemed a bit too preoccupied with his seeds.

"Come, Bird." Cyrus turned toward the terrace. "It's time for round two."