Kristoffer Pauly
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Loopshard - Chapter One-Hundred-and-Fifteen
🕑 Added 2025-11-04 00:02:04 +0000 UTC-Previous Chapter-
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Like with the introduction of the Tome Keeper and his abode, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.
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Chapter One-Hundred-and-Fifteen
Adam’s feet landed on something soft that felt like grass. He looked down at his feet and saw that it was not a normal kind of grass but instead made of long flexible spikes, like the quills on a porcupine, and they were red like freshly-spilled blood.
He lifted his eyes from his feet, seeing that the needle grass extended out in every direction around him, following the curvature of whatever thing he was standing upon. It was like the carpet on the outer layer of some vessel, though it had to be massive in size, given the gentle slope of the curve on either side of him. It ran down with the horizon, intermittently interrupted by bushes, trees, and various plants that were all made from some variation of spikes, thorns, needles, or a combination of all three. All were dyed red in various hues and minute differences that were somehow enough to make them stand apart rather than meld together into one.
In front and behind him, the landscape stretched far into the distance, none of the gentle slope of what he saw to his sides. Towers of woven and spiralling thorns rose high from the carpet of quills, rising up towards a ceiling that was like a thin membrane protecting the thorny garden from the void of space beyond. The sight immediately reminded him of the strange walls they’d found in Alepheria’s Tower on the laboratorium floor. It was unmistakeably made of skin.
Despite the inherent hostility of thorns, Adam didn’t find the place to be inhospitable, and as he wandered around aimlessly for a bit, he saw a certain beauty in it, albeit an absurd one.
Compared to the arboretum within the Fleshcrafter’s Abode, the Garden of Thorns felt organic and real, rather than artificial and purpose-made. It was like an artwork, though he didn’t fancy meeting the artist behind it, though it was surely an inevitability.
Suddenly the needle grass bristled, a wave rolling towards him from the horizon, raising every needle into the air briefly, before they fell down on the other side. It was a mesmerising sight, and he watched in awe as the quills flipped themselves in a synchronised pattern, the wave coming right at him. Even the hedges, trees, and towers underwent a change, with their thorns, needles, and spikes shifting positions.
When the wave reached Adam, the spikes he stood upon did not attempt to lift him, but all around him the quills flipped.
It’s like I’m standing on the back of a living creature.
He stepped off the patch of needles he’d prevented from flipping, and the moment his weight was off they rearranged themselves too.
Something he noted belatedly was that he hadn’t been forced into a cutscene when he’d arrived here, like with the Tome Keeper’s home. Adam appreciated that, because even after experiencing it so many times, he was unable to get used to the feeling of being controlled.
He reached the nearest tower and at his approach the thorns shifted to let him in. Inside were curling vines that provided an organic stairwell up to the top of the tower as well as down below the surface. Adam started by climbing it to the top.
From there he saw much further than before and he even spotted the end to the landscape in the far, far distance, though he could not see where the sloping sides led to, even from this vantage point. One thing was clear at least. He was standing atop something that was incredibly long and rounded on the sides. In his mind he pictured a sentient spike flying through the black of outer space, its quill-covered body bristling against solar winds.
When he placed his hands on the lip of the tower to look down over its edge, he realised that his blood sigils had returned. Aside from that though, none of his Relics nor his other weapon had come with him, and he was still wearing his original outfit.
Adam felt how the Garden of Thorns overflowed with blood that he could simply grasp and control, but it felt disrespectful to do so, and he was wary of the Lord who ruled over this strange realm hurtling through the void of space.
When he followed the vine-made stairs down below the surface, his mind did a flip to attempt to make sense of what he saw, because another floor of red quills carpeted what should’ve been the ceiling but which was in fact an extension of the ground. The space followed the gentle curve on the sides until they met to form another floor of red quills far below him. It was like he was on the inside of a bottle and the sensation made him uncomfortable. The proportions of things and the distances and angles between them did not make sense to his mind either, and it felt like he’d wandered into a non-Euclidean space dreamt up by a fever-induced hallucination.
Adam was afraid of letting go of the vine since he’d fall quite a distance before landing on his feet, but then the vine itself shifted him upside-down, placing him on what was surely the underside of the garden he’d just come from, and yet the gravity kept him from falling.
He looked around for some indication of where to go, but all he saw were more trees, hedges, and towers of thorns. And when he looked up, he saw the scenery reflected above him too.
Nevertheless, Adam ventured out from the tower that’d brought him, following the curvature that bent upwards until he reached another tower on what had moments before been the ceiling. The distance, although appearing great at first, shrunk exponentially with every step he took. He watched the shifting needle grass and trees as he walked, and he felt himself lose grasp on how much time had passed since he’d arrived in the Garden of Thorns.
Within the second tower was another stairwell and he followed it down, until down became up and things flipped again.
But unlike what he’d thought, he hadn’t arrived on the exterior surface opposite from where he’d come. Instead he had entered into a new mind-bending space, where the curving sides had flattened out but the long stretches ahead and behind him curved upwards, forming a massive ring that he could hardly fathom ever traversing to the other side. And unlike the other areas he’d ventured through, this one was quite a bit more gruesome, thanks to its inhabitants.
Large reptilian creatures of crimson scales and red thorns slithered across another garden with shifting needle grass and trees, but on their backs where spikes protruded, as well as on the plants they tended, were the screaming remains of humanoid creatures. None of their voices were heard and they were all without skin, flayed as if punished for a heinous transgression and pierced by needles that shifted and moved like they were alive.
Jesus…
The reptilians ignored Adam and seemed to go out of their way to do so, taking wide berths around him while they went through their miserable work. As Adam watched one of them, its long dexterous tail reached up to a spike on its back and grabbed the flayed and screaming elf-like creature there, only to pierce it through on a hedge made of thorns the length of Adam’s arms.
The red needle grass rippled, but this time it was only a sliver of it that moved. As Adam shifted his attention to it, the ripple flowed like a slithering serpent through tall grass, painting out a sinuous route towards a tree that was as large as one of the towers.
Adam didn’t question it and followed the path laid out for him, not sparing a second glance at the gruesome displays around him.
When he reached the tree, it was even bigger than it had looked from afar. It was formed from millions of interwoven roses with red thorns and stalks, as well as crimson petals neatly displayed. From its central trunk grew large limbs that reached out into the air around it, and upon these hung the brutalised remains of even more humanoid creatures. All of them skinned, and all of them screaming silently.
This must be what hell looks like, he thought.
“Adam,” said a kind female voice, startling him.
He looked up and saw that on a large limb further up sat a figure. It was a woman who reminded him a bit of the Elphin Queen, though she had no horns and her hair was made from long worm-like veins pulled out of her scalp. Her red naked body was lithe and thin, and around her waist hung pale-beige tatters that it took him a second to realise was skin. Her own flayed skin, worn like a skirt. Though she was flayed, her body seemed whole, as if the exposed bloody flesh he saw was her new epidermis. Her ears, which should surely have gone with the rest of her pale-beige skin, were long like an elf’s, and her eyes were large and pitch black with a single pinprick crimson pupil within both of them. Even without her skin she had full lips and a nose, and her mouth was shaped into a pleasant smile.
She scaled down the side of the tree made of roses, her hands unharmed by the countless thorns.
As she landed on the needle grass in front of him, he noticed how her crimson body was actually slick with blood, but it was structured to look like a layer of red skin, reminding him of how the flexible armour from the Beckoning Crimson spell made his own body look.
It also surprised him how tall she was, easily twice his height, and yet he didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest, which he barely registered as being odd. The skin that hung around her waist and covered the top of her legs and abdomen was somehow not unsettling to him at all, even though he saw how meticulously it must’ve been peeled from her body.
“The Blood has chosen you, and you have chosen the Blood,” she said.
“Are you the Flayed Lady?” he asked.
She reached out and put her left hand on his cheek. Her fingers were warm and soft.
“You were right to choose me,” she told him, affirming his question.
Her hand moved to his right arm and the fingers ran down to his hand and the sigil inscribed there.
“I have not had a Red Prince in a long time,” she said, and for some reason Adam felt proud of her acknowledgement of his achievement.
“I want to learn more about how to use my power,” he told her sincerely.
“First you must let go of your fear,” she said.
Her right hand grasped Adam by the chin. Her whole hand could encompass his head and crush it if she wanted. And yet she was so gentle with her movements.
Adam didn’t struggle as she leaned his head back and placed her left index finger on top of his lips.
He felt something warm push its way through his lips and into his mouth, before sliding down his throat. It was warm and filled his taste-buds with an overpowering taste of iron.
A momentary panic overcame him. A natural instinct when drowning.
But then it subsided.
Or rather, it was overwritten.
“The Trials of Defiance make a mockery of our power,” the Flayed Lady said. “It is theatre for the Seeing One. To birthe a Red Prince outside this silly game, many steps must be taken to first prepare the vessel. In here, you may simply become a facsimile by following the rules.”
As she spoke, more and more blood pulsed its way into Adam’s mouth and down his throat. It absorbed into his insides before reaching his stomach, and he could feel how it changed him in subtle ways.
“At the end of a Red Prince’s birth, a droplet of my blood is required. My eager children undertake quite the journey to obtain such a thing. To you, dear Adam, I give it freely.”
She pulled her finger away from his mouth and he gasped and sputtered as he could finally breathe again.
Her right hand still kept his head tilted back. It was as if she worried some of her blood would spill out from within if she let him move.
“I care not about the Godstone,” she told him. “It is part of the game that we Absolutes must play amongst ourselves. But the rules do not bind me like they do the rest. The Seeing One wishes to put me in its chains again, and it is not just you that it is challenging to defy its power.”
“What did you do to me?” Adam asked, not understanding what she was talking about.
“I unshackled you from your weakness. Do not let pain rule you, Adam. Embrace it.”
Despite the cryptic words, Adam knew exactly how she had changed him, and a part of him feared it.
“If you don’t want me to seek the Godstone, then what do you want me to do?”
“You may collect it on my behalf, but I do not wish to use it for myself. It would be no different than to bow at the foot of the Seeing One. The other Absolutes do not care about where power comes from, only that they can possess it. Their desire for the Godstone gives it tremendous importance and allows it to be used in more ways than one.
“To make good use of it, we shall prepare a ritual. First you must obtain the crystallised lifeblood of another Player in the Seeing One’s little game.”
Adam didn’t say anything or let any emotions show, but the Flayed Lady took a step towards him. The hand that held his head lifted him off the ground and up so that his eyes were looking right into hers.
“You have ventured around the coil with your power and seen what it is I wish for you to obtain. Instead of fearing my plan, you should embrace it. I know that the little boy sent you here to spy on me, but I do not care. All my children were once wary of me, but they came here nevertheless, and they never left me once they saw what I can gift them in return for their adherence.”
Adam swallowed. He had been afraid of this. After all, it had been unlikely that the Tome Keeper was the only one who knew everything that took place within his domain. And they had planned to betray the Lord of Betrayal. It would be like trying to hide a secret from the Tome Keeper. It was foolish, yet Adam had been too persuaded by his words to realise.
“Your blood sings all your intentions out loud for me to hear, even if you try to mask your emotions and thoughts from me. All that bleed sing to me. It is a symphony that resounds around me endlessly. The little boy thinks he is special, but there is no treachery and betrayal that I do not perceive. To attempt to betray me is an admirable folly, but you do not possess the mastery of your own blood, because your power is gifted through me. Even the little boy and his fleshcraft is but a poor facsimile of powers I wielded since before my Ascension.
“When you borrow power, such as how his mandate was given by the Seeing One, you are helpless to fight back. Let it be a lesson to you. As a Player in the Seeing One’s game, you must understand this truth if you wish to truly defy its rules.”
The Flayed Lady let go of Adam’s head and he dropped a metre to the ground, landing on the soft needle grass unsteadily.
“Bring me what I seek and I will give you the power that you yearn for,” she told him.
The needle grass rippled around him in a swirling pattern, raising up and blocking him from seeing his surroundings.
Then he blinked.
In front of him was an altar with a plinth and a round stone atop it.
The light and the air was different from where he’d just been, and it was a welcoming sensation.
He collapsed to his knees, the strength drained from him by the intense encounter with the horrific deity.
So much for the Tome Keeper’s designs reaching far into the future, when the first step of his great plan is foiled at the outset.
Adam looked down at his right hand. His Relics had returned to him and the Blood Bolt Ring was fitted around his finger.
With a nudge of his Mana, he changed the texture of his skin from soft to spiky, a poor imitation of the needle grass.
With another pulse he turned the spikes into scales and his fingers into claws, with the nails like talons.
It was no less painful than it had been during all his tests, but the Flayed Lady had been right.
Adam had no reason to fear the pain.
And she had given him the key to unlock the true potential of his power.
A little pain in exchange for a potential I never put to its full use.
Adam stood up and put his hand on the Altar.
The Flayed Lady’s voice filled his head, repeating the quest she had given him.
< < Altar Communion > >
< The Flayed Lady >
< Bring me a crystallised shard formed from the lifeblood of a Player killed by my magic. >
< Reward: Relic >
By her magic, she probably means the spell I got from worshipping her or blood magic in general. I wonder if the rings I have would count for that?
But Adam didn’t have any plans to kill other Players just to fulfil her request. His morals wouldn’t allow it.
With a sigh, he pushed the thought from his mind for now.
Then he flooded his own body with Mana, going until he reached exhaustion.
Even that couldn’t knock him down, because exhaustion was just pain given another shape.
With a running start, Adam leapt into the air, lifting his own flesh above the houses of Interim Island as he flew towards his Player House.
He had a lot of things to tell Beck and Gladwyn.
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Comments
Apotheosis
Bold to assume the tome keeper didn't see this coming
the ice man
fley lady wears her skin as a skirt, then would her red knight pawn armor be made out of hardened flesh or blood that looks like metal?
Kristoffer Pauly
Tripod mode activated! But no, i save those ideas for Madman Apocalypse, lol
Gilded Goblin
So... did she just manipulate his mind? Taking away his ability to fear pain is a pretty substantial shift in mentality that should absolutely concern him when (or if) it is removed on his next loop. Like seriously, she preaches a good game, but she is LITERALLY Lord of Betrayal, and she has one of the only factions that default to murder almost gleefully. It would make absolute sense that she twists your mind into a psychopathic version of yourself. He's probably gonna be a bit "off" the rest of this run, but it should be interesting to see.
Salty Waters
See, if this was a comedy, his first move with fleshcrafting wouldn't have been flight.
