Chapter 242 - TFF

The skinned servants rushed toward Alan as one, and the black-robed Blood Corpse waited behind to heal them, and then make use of their remains as it had before. Alan’s memories were not as clear as he wanted them to be. Emotions dulled the mind’s ability to retain some things, no matter how high the stats were, but he still remembered enough.

Especially when it came to this encounter.

Alan didn’t move this time. The charge was fast perhaps as fast as the movements of the jaderi warriors, who had proven a slight challenge last time. Not as fast as the drider though. Not as fast as his newly refined mana could move. Mana didn’t suffer the constraints of flesh.

Shadows unfurled around him as his shroud covered his form. Alan raised his hand, and a dark ball of void tore through one of the skinless servants, appearing in its path. It was like a meat grinder meeting soft tissue. Flesh and bone were ground to dust and erased from the world, removing the bodies the Blood Corpse could mend or make use of. [Consuming Dark] was much better than [Void Pierce] when it came to that. It was a tiny black hole, and it was awesome—almost the same as the skill of the parasites when Alan thought about it. It was his own garbage disposal which could tear through almost anything.

The Blood Corpse didn’t react, nor was there a message announcing the death of the skinless servant. Alan didn’t expect either. Arrogance seemed hard-coded into the [Flesh Bishop’s] very existence. It was a good move as it prepared those visiting the dungeon and facing it for the realities of power. Even Alan himself was often falling victim to the wonders of skills and how they allowed him to mold the world around him.

Power was everything, after all.

The rest of the skinned servants continued their charge only to be met with limbs made of dark ravenous shadows. The monsters were thrown back from the impacts but left unhurt. Alan avoided shaping the darkness into blades this time around.

He was using this opportunity to see if he could affect the weight and hardness of his shadows more by changing the concentration of mana inside them. It was an idea that had popped off a few times before, but now was a perfect opportunity. The skinned servants had enough strength to be good test dummies and knew all their moves and what the Blood Corpse was capable of as well which made it even safer.

Levels had made them many times stronger, but the gap was apparent. There was no worry nor even a slight notion of losing. It was a game, and games were for having fun and experimenting. Plus, he had some tools he had yet to try, and it made him excited to achieve some more progress on his own. Skills were like muscles in that regard. One had to train them.

This might be as good a situation as any. If the werewolf is with the Doctor I’ll need more than what I have to win. Assuming it's above tier one.

Shadows twisted in his palm, making a small vial appear. It was one of the Mana Concentration Potions he had gotten from the mines—a petty reward for what he had gone through, but it came from the System, and the System knew how to surprise people.

Without paying attention to the skinned servants attempting to tear through the waves of shadows blocking their path, Alan chugged it. It tasted of nothing. Not even water. The sensation was more similar to getting a mouthful of heavy smoke, but it wasn’t half as disgusting. More like… insistent. It reached deep inside him, bypassing the constraints of flesh and finding that special place where Alan’s mana pool was located. He was still unsure what it was officially called, or how it existed within him.

He felt the effect begin from deep within his core. It quickly intensified. A warmth that followed the paths of his mana, seeped through his mana-infused flesh, reached his bones and made them tremble with energy, and even rushed his mind to work faster. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and grand.

Alan laughed to himself all the while the Blood Corpse stared at him unflinching. Alan knew this was more than the effect of the potion, and he lamented for not thinking of this earlier. Each part of him had been introduced to his dark and hungering mana and each part of him knew it well. He had made sure to do it all with his rituals. His [Basic Mana Body] trait was a simple thing, but it felt like it was evolving now. His mana pool grew smaller, leaving place for a lot more to be taken in and Alan hungrily started absorbing the ambient mana of the dungeon.

The emptiness he felt had to be filled, but it was not that his reserves had grown smaller. Rather they had become more compact. Denser and layered, like folded steel. Each tick of the potion’s effect makes the concentration clearer and clearer. The spirit shadow too seemed to enjoy this, as it raged with renewed vigor and grew smaller and smaller.

The shadows swirled excitedly and mimicked his internal feelings. They turned into blades and spikes—rough creations focused on result, rather than appearance. It was like Zirida’s many blood swords, but rather than separate items it was a sea of darkness with parts of it stretching and lashing out. Before Alan knew what he had done they tore apart the three skinless servants, turning their hard bodies into mush. There had been no will permeating his darkness. It was [Shadow Creation] alone.

Quick casts of the [Consuming Dark] took care of their remains and ensured a smooth execution of what he was planning.

A red light suddenly washed over the hall and the Blood Corpse sent a ball of energy toward him. Shadows rose to meet it and the attack exploded harmlessly against the dark wall. Alan felt the impact through his perception of the shadows, but it was nothing dangerous to the current him. Even if met head-on at worst he would be slightly hurt. The difference was disappointing, simply because he had hoped for a challenge.

And his mana…

This feels great! But why is it not advancing?! Alan felt he could fill the whole hall with his shadows if he so desired, and it wouldn’t even take much! The more he created the more difficult it was to control his creation, but simple spikes or pure mana was a simple thing.

His shadows lunged toward the Blood Corpse and the creature finally reacted. It moved swiftly, but Alan had already taken away one of its advantages. Without the remains of the skinless servants, it couldn't teleport around the hall. Not that it would’ve achieved anything.

Alan hadn’t taken a single step since he had entered this place. He didn’t need to. His mana was heavy and solid, and his shadows were destructive enough to deal with almost anything. With one last wave of shadows, he bisected the corpse, then watched as it grew into one again.

“Foolish mortal, rejecting the bliss I offer. Worry not…” it taunted.

Alan grinned. Again and again, he harmed it just enough to force it to heal and it regenerated each time, sending the balls of red light that crashed against the shadow in fearsome explosions. It took a lot of concentration to withstand them and control so many shadows, but Alan had no desire to ruin his clothes.

His mana kept growing denser and denser and with it, his control over it grew. It seemed unlocked now as if its limits were going away with each tick of the potions. He didn’t know how long the effect would last but he didn’t care all that much. This was a revelation in itself.

“Oh, Lord of Flesh, Lady of Blood, pity this pathetic one and allow him a moment of wretched life.”

Here it is.

Alan barely let the corpse turn human before he acted. As the black robe fell the shadows churned and four humanoid silhouettes rose around the corners of the hall. Tendrils of darkness instantly wrapped around the [Flesh Bishop] immobilizing him. The shadow servants were brimming with life this time around, as Alan had spared no energy from his storage.

He wanted to see this as well. He wanted to learn and to experience. His skills, class, and growth itself was a result of his experiences. The relation between how he had developed and the path he had walked was clear as day to him now. And the more he learned, the more the System would reward him with what he needed most.

Power.

The Blood Corpse screamed and red energy briefly flashed around him before it was snuffed out by the devouring mana of the shadows. Alan let his will permeate it now, making it into a wild shapeless beast that consumed opposing energies slowly and surely. Given enough time it would even damage the Blood Corpse, but Alan knew this wouldn’t be enough to stop the creature.

“Let’s see what makes you tick,” he said.

The roles were reversed this time around. There was some sweet irony in that, and as the boss struggled in futility. Alan almost felt giddy about it. He was sure this was not how a dungeon encounter was supposed to go.

His hand shone as the symbol of his curse appeared hovering over his palm, and then slowly, as if he was giving a fragile gift, it sank into the Blood Corpse’s body.

The connection formed almost instantly. There was no resistance at all. Alan felt it all. A river of vitality that burned vibrant and strange. It twisted strangely in his perception like something was wrong. Something that should not be. His eyes widened and his heart started beating faster in his chest as he knew there was something else behind it.

It was not a God, nor a Patron. Could it be…?

It remained dormant despite its overwhelming size and power. It was life, and it was energy. Existence. Flowing, yet stagnant. A presence as far as his senses could reach. A presence larger than this soul and any being he had ever met.

Just the tiniest of trickles connected this grand thing to the Blood Corpse’s existence, and yet it felt as if that was what made it eternal.

The flow of all things… The System, or something else governed by it? The dungeon?

Was eternity just there for the taking? Alan doubted it. Every fiber of his being warned him that if he got greedy and tried to take what was not for the taking, he would be gone. A speck of dust in the grand scheme of the universe that would be quickly forgotten.

He pulled back, trying to focus his mind on what he needed. The vitality of the Blood Corpse was very different than others he had seen, but the curse didn’t care. Just like the hungry void, Alan relentlessly took the energy and stored it inside what he saw as a ‘second core’. It was the energy of life he had no use for, existing below his core of mana. Currently, it had only what he had stolen from Robert the ‘Immortal’ but now it was getting filled yet again.

This is good.

Soon enough the corpse shriveled up and fell to the ground, slipping between the shadowy constraints. Alan took a deep breath as the message came to him.

Congratulations. You have slain a Dungeon Boss of the Lower Buried Blood Fields 1/2

You have slain a Blood Corpse [Flesh Bishop] (135)

You have completed a quest: Slay the Blood Corpse!

May its suffering be eternal.

Reward: The First Scroll of the Blood Corpse Mantra

Level up!

You have reached level 125 in Tier Two [Shepherd of the Broken]

+5 Attribute Points

+5 to Mind, Will, Magic

This was it.