Bainin
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Chapter 264: The Library Section
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 18:01:53 +0000 UTCAlistair watched as Riseth cut down the last of the Homunculi, Jack eagerly drinking in the blood—accompanied by an unsettling moan of delight.
"They can’t possibly taste as good as you’re making it sound," Riseth muttered, narrowing her eyes at the blood-soaked chainblades.
"Life force doesn’t discriminate," Jack cackled through the psionic link. "They’re not the richest vintage, sure—but still high-grade enough to savor."
"If you say so." Riseth dismissed Jack with a flick of her wrist, though a slightly conflicted look lingered on her face.
"I wouldn’t worry too much about it," King offered, arms folding as the last embers of flame curled from his claws. "Having an eager weapon’s not exactly a bad thing."
"I know." Riseth exhaled. "I just wish he was a little less crazed about it."
"I think it’s funny," Alistair said, entirely too casual.
"Of course you do." Riseth flashed him a toothy smile.
"We should collect some of the bodies." Riseth scanned the area. "The cybernetics look odd, but they might offer our crafters some insights."
Alistair crouched beside one of the corpses he’d cut down. Its arms ended in mantis-like claws, elegantly worked into the sleek joints. The plating and design had an old-world charm—more Victorian than modern.
"They’ve got a vintage style to them," he noted, tracing a finger along one of the segmented blades. "But as long as it works, I’m sure James and the others can upgrade them."
He stored the body with a casual flick of his wrist, then—out of habit—lifted several more with his telekinesis. The corpses hovered toward him in a loose cluster.
"Huh." His brow furrowed. "Apparently, I can use my telekinesis on dead bodies."
"Maybe you can lift parts of the broken platforms too?" Riseth suggested, watching the air around them. "Not as smooth as flying yourself, but it's something."
Alistair nodded. As the pile of bodies gathered behind him, he searched the ceiling and spotted a partially shattered platform. He reached up—wood creaked, cracked, and splintered, then tore loose and streaked toward them in a controlled descent.
Once the platform hovered before them, Riseth hopped on, stomping her foot down on the wood as if testing its stability.
"Moment of truth," Alistair murmured, stepping on beside her. Part of him half-expected the magic to fizzle out—but it held.
They turned to King, who stood there watching them.
The look they gave him was clear. He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Why do I need to jump too?"
"To see if you can—or if the magic fizzles out," Alistair replied. "Besides, we already checked all the doors on this level. And since falling’s easy in this place, up is probably the intended direction."
"I suppose you’re right," King grumbled, hopping onto the broken platform. It didn’t budge—not even a little.
"And if he’s wrong, we can just jump down the side," Riseth added, pulling out the device James had given them.
She flicked a switch. A cluster of LEDs lit up—blinking in rapid, furious red.
"If I didn’t know better," Alistair muttered, eyeing it, "I’d think that thing’s a bomb."
"James was in quite the hurry when I stopped by," Riseth chuckled. "Maybe he did give me a bomb."
"He wouldn’t be that out of sorts..." Alistair trailed off, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.
"Either way, let's get a move on." Riseth glanced at the blinking device. "The Homunculi did give a nice chunk of records, but I’ve still got a ways to go for my next level-up."
"Agreed." King’s gaze swept the damaged platforms above them. "I don’t sense any more Homunculi, though this space is strange. I wouldn’t be surprised if we ran into another horde."
Alistair smoothly lifted the platform up using his Telekinesis, and they quickly ascended.
As they climbed higher, Riseth and King began leaping off the platform at each level, checking nearby doors for any sign of change.
"These are more of the same," Riseth muttered, letting what had to be the hundredth identical door click shut behind her.
“Let’s be patient,” Alistair insisted, eyes still scanning the shifting stairs ahead. “Time’s compressed here—we can afford to keep going a while longer.”
Riseth sighed but gave a half-shrug. “Fine. At least we get to kill the occasional pack of Homunculi.”
King grunted in agreement, landing back on the platform with a thud.
They kept up the pattern for another hour, weaving slightly horizontal now, hoping the angle might shift their luck. Tension simmered beneath the routine—impatience, doubt—but their instincts still pointed forward.
When Riseth opened yet another nondescript door, her expression soured. She paused, then turned with a knowing smile.
“Do you know what the definition of insanity is?”
“I know,” Alistair chuckled. “But my intuition says we’re on the right track.”
“You know the annoying part?” Riseth crossed her arms, still frowning. “I’ve got the same hunch. Doesn’t make this grind any less frustrating.”
“I’ve got good news then,” came King’s voice from above.
He’d taken a winding stairway to reach a cluster of higher doors, while Riseth had veered off to check another set.
Riseth and Alistair traded a look—hopefully cautious—and moved quickly toward him.
King stood beside an open doorway, one hand braced against the frame. Beyond it stretched a massive, dimly lit library.
It resembled the Study Dungeon in structure—corridors formed by towering shelves, each flanked by polished woodwork and inset iron supports. Elevated walkways wound between levels, with narrow staircases and railings built into the shelving itself. But where the Study had rich decorations—painted ceilings, detailed flooring—this place was simpler. There was no artistry in the floorboards, though the rustic design and wood carvings on the shelves carried some appeal.
Alistair guided the broken chunk of the wooden platform down beside him. With a flick, he stored it away, then landed just outside the threshold, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward to get a better look.
“This is definitely the way ahead—or at least progress,” Alistair murmured.
“It feels dangerous. Like a trap I can’t quite place,” Riseth added, peering inside beside him.
King, still visibly irritated from the long search, stepped through first, casting a suspicious glance at the rows of towering shelves.
Alistair and Riseth followed. As the door shut behind them, Alistair paused, waited a beat, then reopened it—same place. There was no reset. They were still connected to the same door.
He frowned, inspecting the frame more closely. There, buried deep in the arcane substrate of the wood, were subtle differences—minute etchings, arcane layers that didn’t match the other doors they'd checked.
A quiet sigh escaped him. Finally—something distinct. If they needed to retrace their steps, they wouldn’t have to test every damn door again.
When he pointed it out, Riseth let out a long breath. “Maybe we can track the right ones that way,” she said, almost hopeful.
“It’s something,” Alistair nodded, closing the door once more before turning his focus to the space ahead.
There were far fewer doors in this space, and many of the platforms and staircases had shifted in style—closer now to the architecture of an ancient library. Rows of book racks lined the corridors, and delicate woodwork adorned nearly every surface.
“It looks pretty,” Riseth murmured, fingers trailing along one of the carved panels.
“It does,” Alistair agreed, brushing his hand across the spine of a nearby book. He expected dust—centuries of it—but the surface was immaculate. Pristine.
Curious, he pulled one free, only to find blank pages.
He frowned, exhaling through his nose as he sharpened his senses, reaching out for any hint of something different.
And there it was—further down the corridor, subtle but present. A faint pull. Some of the books felt… wrong.
He walked toward them and pulled the closest from its shelf. As he opened it, eyes stared back at him—and if he hadn’t reflexively robbed the damn [Lesser Ancient Mimic – lvl 205] of its momentum with Kinetic Grappler, it would’ve latched onto his face like a facehugger. Teeth erupted from the edges, snapping inches from his skin.
He torched it mid-grip with Flames of Purity, just before the barbed tongue could lash.
The mimic screeched as it curled in on itself, the sound wet and sharp—and it triggered a chain reaction. Along the shelves, books began to twitch, pages fluttering as more mimics started extracting themselves from the shelves.
However, the most worrying sight was the chunk of the library shifting in the distance—rising from its surroundings like a massive wooden golem built from bookshelves.
If it weren’t for all the teeth sprouting from its frame.
[Greater Ancient Mimic – lvl ?]
The thing radiated strength, but the real threat wasn’t just power—it was scale. Their movement was already limited here, and if Alistair wanted to keep platforms under himself, Riseth, and King while staying mobile, he’d have to forgo his own offensive nearly entirely, which would be less than ideal.
“Oh man, I know it’s just lesser mimics, but watching them crawl around inside that big one’s shelf is uncomfortable,” Riseth muttered with a visible shudder.
Dozens of the smaller mimics stirred across the greater mimic’s body, then took to the air—still book-shaped as they flapped toward the group, shrieking in unison.
Alistair stomped his foot down. A shockwave of force ripped through the air, rushing down the corridor and sending the first wave of lesser mimics tumbling. As the impact cracked the wood beneath him, he got a clearer feel for the terrain—and confirmation of what he’d suspected.
He shot King a look.
The grin that spread across the dragon’s face was all teeth and bad promises. His form surged outward, limbs shifting, body expanding—until one clawed arm punched into the bookshelf wall, partially crushing it as he let out a thundering roar straight at the greater mimic.
Alistair and Riseth were already moving.
Riseth launched upward, her chain whip wrapping around the balustrade of the upper shelves as she swung high along the library wall. Bone blades lashed out, carving through the flying mimics that swarmed to intercept her. Black blood sprayed mid-air—Jack drank greedily from every drop he could catch.
Alistair tore through the front line with ease. Each swing of his poleaxe discharged a crushing wave, the impact amplified through Kinetic Combat, tearing the lesser mimics apart in brutal, efficient bursts.
His weapon skill wasn’t at master tier—his strikes didn’t carve the air into flying blades—but with his kinetics and force-enhanced attacks, the results were just as devastating in their own right.
Above, King’s breath swept across the library, aimed squarely at the swarming mimics in the air. The cursed flames curled through the flock, catching dozens mid-flight. Screeches rang out as those caught flailed helplessly, some sprouting long, gangly limbs to try and slap the fire from their bodies—before eventually crumpling into ash.
Those hit by Alistair’s Flames of Purity didn’t fare much better.
He couldn’t help but notice the parallels. King's fire was darker, more chaotic— and twisted with additional effects by the Black Crown—but despite coming from opposite ends of the spectrum, the results weren’t all that different.
Alistair’s eyes caught the telltale shimmer of space tearing apart—Riseth moved like a storm through the flock of mimics, her blades squealing with glee as they carved their path. Space warped around her, distorting violently. Mimics that drifted too close were shredded—spaghettified and ripped apart instantly.
They tore through the thinning swarm, wild grins on their faces, the rush of combat surging in their veins. And beneath it all, the greater mimic stirred—free of the swarm that had clung to its body like parasites.
With every mimic that fell away, the massive creature grew stronger. Less burdened. More focused.
Were the lesser mimics feeding on it? Draining it? Alistair wondered.
Whatever the case, it was shifting fast. Powerful enough now that even King couldn’t afford to brawl with it head-on.
Alistair's smile grew even wider, finally a good fight.
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