Gleam - Chapter 138 (Patreon)

Chance followed the alleyway, enjoying the cold night air against his skin. He idly spun his urumi at his side and stared up through the purple smog twisting above him, watching the distant stars in the sky.

The longer he spent in the Old City, the more comfortable he became in it. Of course, a large part of that was probably because Ocie was making sure monsters didn’t catch him by surprise and he wasn’t actually trapped here like he once had been, but he still wasn’t sure if the musty, cracked alleyways should have felt as much like home as they did.

He stepped out of the tight passage and into an open, circular clearing. Aside from a few crumbling buildings in its center, it was fairly unobstructed. Tall, tilted walls of what had once been storefronts rose up all around him, curling inward as if trying to form a dome.

Floating in the center of the clearing, his legs crossed and back turned toward Chance, was Yamish. Running into the cultivator wasn’t much of a surprise. Chance had fully expected to hear from him sometime soon, and the Old City was still Yamish’s favorite haunt as far as he was aware.

“I’m back,” Chance said, coming to a stop several paces away from Yamish.

The unnaturally lanky man’s body unfurled like a flower in the tainted moonlight, twisting around his head – which remained perfectly still – to stand properly on the ground once more. Yamish turned to face Chance.

“So you have,” Yamish said. It was difficult to tell if he felt any motion at all about Chance’s return. His features were just alien enough that the difference between mild amusement, annoyance, and pleasure might as well have not existed. “Tell me of what you learned on your trip.”

“I’m not so sure it can be summarized in a sentence.”

“I did not say to summarize,” Yamish said, turning a palm up toward the purple sky and curling his long fingers in one by one. One of the walls at the edge of the ring clattered, bricks rotating inward to open a new path into their clearing.

A dull click echoed through the darkness beyond. Chance raised his urumi, lowering into a swaying fighting stance.

“I take it I’ll be training while we talk?” Chance guessed, calling Essence from his gate and letting it swirl around him.

“There is always Karma to be balanced,” Yamish said with a slight nod. “Getting ahead will not hurt.”

Yamish might not have been wrong about that, but Chance was pretty sure that the creature that emerged from the alleyway would hurt. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Long, gangly limbs jutted out in every direction, suspending a bulbous body.

It looked a bit like a spider, if a spider’s legs were four times as long as its body and it had them sticking out of random locations instead of just along its sides. The creature’s head was on the bottom of its tall form and was covered with far more eyes than anything ought to have.

A basketball sized hole made up its mouth, which was a tunnel of spiked teeth that oscillates in an unnerving pattern.

“What is that thing?” Chance asked, trying to keep the disgust from his voice. Even his Essence recoiled slightly at the sight of the warped monster.

“A Strandwalker,” Yamish replied. “They are horde creatures that typically hunt in packs of four to six.”

The Strandwalker skittered back and forth, a purplish-grey tongue flitting out of its mouth to taste the air as it tried to situate itself.

“It doesn’t seem particularly aware of me.” Chance watched the monster warily, prepared to throw himself out of the way if it suddenly charged him. “Why am I fighting this, and what is it doing in the Old City? Did you–”

“I did not create the Strandwalker, nor did I bring it to the Old City. They have made a nest of their own volition.”

Chance grimaced. “How many Strandwalkers in a nest?”

“Hundreds. I suggest you keep your attention on the one at hand, though. It is a more formidable foe than a Soothound.”

Chance nodded. The Strandwalker’s many thin legs were still skittering across the ground as it tried to get its bearings. He didn’t know what the monster was waiting for, and he didn’t particularly care.

Right now, I just want to figure out what Yamish is planning – and if I’m going to get anything for passing his test. I feel like that’s only fair, right? A few thousand gold wouldn’t be remiss, and it’s not like he’d miss it.

With a flick of his hand, Chance extended his urumi. The segmented blade whistled through the air, expanding like a striking snake – and rang off the Strandwalker’s flesh with a loud, ringing crack.

He yanked the blade back, his eyes widening in surprise. The Strandwalker’s random skitters stopped and it spun to stare straight at Chance, a low hiss coming out from its mouth.

“Shit,” Chance muttered.

The Strandwalker blurred toward him.

Chance threw himself out of the way, opening his Third Eye as he hit the ground in a roll and shot back to his feet, swaying to safety as one of the monster’s many legs slammed into the ground where he’d been standing, piercing a foot into it as if nothing was there.

Several more legs jabbed down for Chance, but he swayed and bobbed past them in a trance, not letting the peaceful shroud of his Essence crumble under the surprise attack. He sent energy through his body and into the blade of his urumi, striking out at the gangly monster once more.

For a second time, his blade scraped along the Strandwalker’s chitinous body, leaving nothing but a thin gray scratch behind on its black skin. Chance tumbled out of the way as the monster snapped at him with surprising accuracy for something that had been completely unaware of his presence just moments ago.

As Chance came back up, he swayed out of the way to avoid another piercing strike from the Strandwalker’s legs, then took a moment to study the strands of Karma running off the strange creature.

There were fewer than he’d expected. Only five gossamer strings of gold rose up from the creature, passing through the clearing and disappearing once they reached the buildings surrounding them.

None of them were particularly large, either – but Chance didn’t have time to wonder why. He brought his urumi down, severing one of the strands. Power flooded through Chance’s body, empowering him with its burning warmth.

He spun out of the way of another strike, then whipped the urumi out to spin around him, letting even more Essence flow into its many blades. They screeched as they struck the Strandwalker, and this time, Chance felt a little more resistance at the edge of the blade.

Drunkenly stumbling to the side to avoid another barrage of leg strikes, Chance retracted the urumi and sent it whistling out once more. He landed another deep scratch on the monster, but none of his strikes were having nearly as much affect as he wanted them to.

Golden mist seeped into the ground around Chance, reaching out and passing into the Strandwalker. It lunged for him, then skittered desperately as it lost its footing and went down in a tumble of uncomfortably long limbs.

“You know, this thing looks a bit like you,” Chance said, so caught up in the burning joy of his Essence that he didn’t have a chance to regulate the words that came out of his lips.

“I take offence to that,” Yamish said. The corner of his mouth might have quirked up in a hint of a smile, but Chance didn’t have the time to find out. He arched, vaulting into a backward handstand to avoid the Strandwalker’s tongue as it shot out for him, then jumped back again to land on his feet at a safe distance.

“Why is this thing so tough?” Chance asked, letting some of his Essence seep away. “It’s completely resisting my Essence.”

“Strandwalkers, like many powerful monsters, consume Essence,” Yamish said. “It is an effective form of cultivation for many wretched creatures. Consuming Essence does not require comprehension. It grants great power in the short term at the cost of your true potential.”

“Are you going to give me any hints on how I’m supposed to kill this thing other than scratching it to death?” Chance asked. The Strandwalker managed to get its feet back out from under it and charged him once again, moving so quickly that he barely had time to finish his sentence before he was forced to pirouette away from an attack.

“Such information would be aid requiring payment in turn,” Yamish said evenly. “It is beyond the scope of what I will answer without repayment.”

Chance dodged another set of blows, then slammed his urumi into the monster’s skin again. Once more, he left behind a thick scar that did nothing but anger the Strandwalker.

This isn’t working. I need to up the ante, and that means using my Knight Ranked ability. It worked against the Essence Eater, so I can’t imagine this ugly bugger will far much better.

As disgusting as the creature was, it was nothing in comparison to the wretched existence that had been the Essence Eater – and while Chance hadn’t had all that much practice with the abilities he’d unlocked upon hitting Knight Class, he had more than he did when he’d fought the Essence Eater.

Chance sent the Essence within his body toward his Center, and power answered his call. Gold mist erupted from his back with such intensity that it lit up the clearing with a small flash. A surprised screech escaped the Strandwalker and it tried to skitter to safety, but Chance didn’t plan to let it make any room.

Even as the golden arm finished materializing on his back, he leapt forward, burning through all the Essence he’d drained from severing the Karmic thread. Chance spun between the monster’s thin legs, arriving directly in front of its mouth and wide, terrified eyes.

With a roar, he drove the glowing hand into the monster’s face. Plates of chitin broke with loud crunches as the blow pulverized the Strandwalker’s face, digging deep into flesh beneath its defensive carapace.

It spun away, flailing as it hit the ground and rolled until it slammed against the wall. The monster’s limbs collapsed around it and it laid there, twitching for a few seconds before finally falling still.

Chance let his urumi lower and released his Essence, breathing heavily as he gathered his breath.

“Can you tell me what that was now?” Chance asked. “It’s dead, but it kind of reminded me of something else I fought a while ago.”

“The Essence Eater.” Yamish nodded. “They are similar in ways, though the Essence Eater is far greater of an opponent on its own. Strandwalkers follow a similar style of cheap cultivation. As I had mentioned, they consume Essence rather than cultivate it, filling their very body with Essence rather than empowering their soul.”

“What are these things doing in Gleam?” Chance asked, a frown passing over his lips now that his Essence wasn’t flooding his emotions anymore. “Is the Old City going to be okay if there are pests like that eating at her?”

“They are a nuisance for a being as powerful as the Old City,” Yamish said, shaking his head. “But they will be a scourge if they are not stopped.”

“To whom?”

Yamish’s lips quirked up. “Are you willing to pay for that information? The scales must remain balanced.”

Chance shook his head quickly. “No thank you. Not today, at least. Maybe at a future time. You said there was a whole nest of these things, though?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me where it is?”

“You will find it,” Yamish said with a small shrug. “Or they will find you. You have killed one of their own. You were informed that they hunted packs, were you not?”

Son of a – Yamish set me up!

Chance opened his mouth, then closed it again. He drew on a trickle of his Essence to keep himself from getting angry. Yamish was definitely trying to get a rise out of him. What was done was done – the question was why he’d done it.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Chance asked, choosing his words carefully. “And we haven’t really talked about the mission you gave me. I made it back and defeated Vex.”

“No. That is it. And yes – you indeed returned. What is the purpose of mentioning this?”

“Well… what’s next?” Chance asked. “A new training plan? Something else I need to do?”

“I would suggest surviving,” Yamish replied. He nodded to the dead monster. “Do not forget to partake in the spoils of your work.”

Then he vanished.

Chance’s eye twitched.

God, that guy is annoying. Who becomes a multiplanar entity capable of threatening the existence of entire worlds and chooses to be insufferable purely because they can?

Complaints weren’t going to solve anything, though. Chance shook his head and started toward the dead monster, cutting a chunk of its flesh free. He pinched his nose shut and pushed the meat into his mouth, swallowing as quickly as he good.

A shudder still racked his body and he resisted the urge to dry heave. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, Chance set off toward the dark alleyway that the Strandwalker had come from.

Ominous warning or not, Chance still had a lot of monsters to clean up before his work for the night was done.