Chapter 240 - TFF

The forest sprawled before Alan, carrying with it the very needed sensation of being truly free from the burdens of the mind. It was something about the trees that reached for the sky, ignorant of limits and gravity. They were growing larger seemingly by the day as if the System had given them classes and attributes too. Biology and laws of physics were trivial in the face of the all-powerful overlord governing all growth.

For a moment Alan thought of all the Gods, the Patrons, and other powerful beings who had crossed his path. Even if some of them could twist the System, weren’t they too existing under its influence? Weren’t they too just mice in the grand experiment that was everything? In his eyes that made it the one true ruler of existence, although it did seem too man-made to be considered God.

How strange it all was.

Alan was aware he knew next to nothing in the grand scheme. This world didn’t seem made for humans anymore. In mere weeks since his return, the forest had become more dangerous yet again. The monsters inside were growing more and more diverse and strange, although he yet managed to remain the worst of them in his current state. The System was upping the odds, forcing all beings to adapt and grow. Those who failed and fell behind were made extinct or maybe closed into dungeons to serve as sharpening stones for the rest.

Alan stopped near a large tree and gazed upon the sea of green before him. It was easier to sense the flow of mana in the forest. He had dodged conflicts and scared off a few strange groups of monsters. Anything below tier two was worthless to him and just indiscriminately killing seemed like a bad idea. The unity of it all the mana in this place made for a clear picture in his mind. He was also familiar with these parts of the forest from before, and while they were almost unrecognizable, his senses could spread much further than they could in the newer regions he visited.

Was regional mana a thing? A signature unique to the land? It could be, but that would once again expand the enormity of this. Perhaps it had to do with density or currents. He wasn’t particularly keen on spending days examining the composition of energy everywhere. Plus, he had found what he needed. [First Pathfinder] had once again shone with its usefulness, as it specifically alerted him to the presence of spatial energy.

The entrance to the dungeon rested before him, swirling with energy. It was more hidden than before, surrounded by the unrestrained growth of shrubbery and trees that had taken over the stone, but it was still the same as he remembered it once he got closer. The steps in the dirt were still there too, and he slowly walked down.

A special kind of anxiety played in Alan’s chest. Like facing a problem that had supposedly long been resolved. A troublesome chance encounter with an old acquaintance who carried nothing but bad news. A foreboding feeling of meeting demons he had left behind once again.

I better get this over with.

You have entered the Lower Buried Blood Fields

It was the same old hall of dark stone blocks that had greeted them the first time. A blood-red chandelier hung above him, somewhat dull and much less imposing than before.

Alan followed the tunnel without stopping. All was the same, but he was sure the monsters wouldn’t be as easy this time around. Last time the blood imps had been at levels lower than 20. He expected that would be changed. The dungeon’s existence would be meaningless otherwise. It did suck for people who just started out, but there were plenty of weak monsters—mainly wolves for some reason—around the Sanctuary for the few coming of age and getting their classes. How they would last in the future was a mystery.

The System was not foolish. It wouldn’t cut off the chance for progress for anyone.

Alan soon reached the statue of the three-headed robed woman crying tears of blood. He tried to get some in an empty vial, but the blood refused to enter the vessel. The liquid acted almost sentient as it avoided his attempts to grab it. For a moment he thought of using force, but he gave up on it. Destroying the dungeon was one thing, desecrating it was another.

He was not even sure he could achieve this feat. Last time his mental state hadn’t been well enough, so he hadn’t asked enough questions. This time the doctor would be given no chance to avoid the conversation. And perhaps punishment.

Alan doubted he would be capable of letting the man go even if the dungeon was no more. Even if it was just a different magically constructed iteration of the same consciousness each time. The world had no place for mad werewolf-creating bastards. Well, it probably did. Not Alan’s though.

The three vials from last time rested forgotten in his inventory, so it was not much of a loss. He took them out for a moment, examining them closely. Their role was a mystery, but perhaps they were meant to be useful in the deeper or ‘higher’ parts of the blood fields.

Without further pause, Alan continued down the path they had picked last time. There was no sign of the shortcut that had brought them out last time, which was a shame, but maybe seeing the dungeon from the viewpoint of his current self would be useful. He was growing impatient and even more nervous. The oppressive atmosphere was nothing daunting to him, and it almost felt like a stroll in the park walking the stone path. The Jaderin Mines were way more dangerous in his opinion.

Soon enough many of the small monsters he had sensed well in advance parted the darkness and attacked him from all sides. Blood imps in great numbers lunged and snarled, promising to tear him apart, and were met with the fury of the shadows that cut them into pieces as if they were nothing. Alan walked unperturbed as the messages rained in his head.

You have slain: Blood Imp (59)

You have slain: Blood Imp (60)

You have slain: Blood Imp (57)

…

They were a few times stronger than before, but it was almost easier to dispatch them than it had been before.  Not enough for a level either. Their numbers were far greater too, and he saw how that could be a deterrent to most in tier one. A wave after wave of imps crashed into him until the tunnel ended.

Alan glimpsed at the carnage he left behind and sighed. It was almost a trivial thing to take so many lives. He hadn’t even moved his body—the shadows had done it all. They were hungry for more too.

The world bathed in red greeted him, and the fields of flowers moving in their strange patterns below once again grabbed his attention. They seemed almost more special now that he was stronger. Perhaps a resource to exploit? The dungeon hadn’t offered much but levels and pretty shitty loot last time. The fields making up for that made a lot of sense.

Alan tore his eyes away. This was not enough to hold his attention any longer. The large tower stood before him, and perhaps what he was aiming for rested on top of it, rather than below it. He planned to see the Doctor first, just in case.

As if scripted, the guardian of the bridge stepped forth aiming to terrify Alan with its appearance. The eight-armed monstrosity was still terrifying to look at, but sadly for it, Alan was beyond intimidation.

What was it… Petal Gatherer? Was it level 30 last time? Something like that. Let’s see how it fares.

Without pause, Alan rushed toward the creature. He didn’t bother with weapons or his fancier skills. [Shadow Creation] was enough for what he was doing, and with each kill his control over it seemed to grow, fueled by the shadow flame of the spirit. Maybe it would evolve once all was absorbed? That would be a decent treat, especially since the price was the worthless corpse of his enemy.

Darkness met the thing’s limbs and once by one, they were cut apart as if soft butter was met with a sizzling knife. He gave it no chance to resist as the shadows turned into blades that dismantled all of it, leaving only bloody pieces behind.

You have slain: Fallen Blood Petal Gatherer (91)

Alan continued his rush, having lost his patience. He killed all he met be they imps or gatherers. He didn’t see any elementals like last time but he also skipped the side rooms. The dungeon seemed overflowing with monsters, but none were a match or could resist his charge. None gave him levels too, and it was only two he needed for 125.

The hall with the pale heart attendants was next, and this time he slowed down. This was one of the mysteries that had confused him the last time. Just as before the constructs walked out of the corresponding doors, and the chalices were filled with liquid. This time, however, Alan didn’t waste any time taking it all, storing it in his shadow inventory.

The monocle Mr. Muge’s latest identification was based on hadn’t been able to tell him what this was, but this time around he had the improved version.

Blood Corpse Transformation Liquid Early Stage

Oh my. I was right on the money. Does it mean there are more of these liquids for the whole process, or does the early stage refer to the strength of the blood corpse? This might be of interest to Zirida. I should’ve waited for her… No. Removing this Oath takes precedence. I have Wuros to deal with too. I doubt anyone else will.

Dismantling the attendants was an easy job too. A thin shadow spike to the heart was all it took. They were of similar levels to the Blood Petal Gatherers and didn’t do much for him. Alan was sure the sheer number of creatures should’ve resulted in a level. This was getting a bit annoying.

He stopped for a moment to look at the room. This was the place where he had gotten [Monochrome Armor], the skills that had started a lot of things for him.

Alan shook his head and moved quickly through the passage. He passed the halls filled with copper tubes and attendant parts, and the arcs that led him deeper into the Dungeon. Last time it had taken them a while, but now his speed made it just a short trek.

He stopped close to the place where they had seen the most shocking sight of them all, and his eyes widened. There was no pale werewolf this time around. It was gone out of its prison. Could dungeons do that?

Could they just change things like this? Was it a piece of atmospheric décor or the actual monstrosity was set free to roam the halls of this place? This place was very obviously made to sustain some sort of a progression, unlike the Jaderin Mines which were a mess. However, a change such as this… what could it entail?

Alan felt himself grow excited. The danger he had felt from the dead creature last time was unlike any he had met at his level back then. Now, he was different, and the promise of such a foe… it excited him. It excited the shadows. His very mana yearned to be set ablaze against a worthy opponent.

And there was another part to it too. The black stake stabbed through the exposed heart had been a weapon that had seared itself in his memories. He had not seen another like it since then. Now it was out there too, waiting for him to claim it.

This might not be as boring as I thought it would be… I just hope I can manage to fulfill my oath in the end, but I can always postpone if the dungeon proves surprisingly useful. There’s no time limit after all.

Hopefully, the System wouldn’t be too pissed if he tried to play it. Only time will tell.