"You want us to jump down there?" Eshrod asked, clearly not thrilled by the idea. "I don't get sick easily, but now isn't really the time to test my immune system."
They stood about five meters above the water's surface, and the only way across was to jump. Unfortunately, swimming in a pool of blood and rotting flesh wasn't exactly the most sanitary activity.
Though sickness was nearly impossible for an Unlocked, there was no telling what lurked below that cursed water.
Well, there was—at least according to Elion's affinity. He hadn't sensed any movement beneath the surface; it was perfectly still.
"Don't worry, a cough isn't going to kill us." Elion shrugged, stepping toward the ledge and peering down.
This is going to be disgusting…
"Hey, Talom. You're the one who can harden your skin like stone. Shouldn't you go first?" Elion said, trying to delay the inevitable.
Ironman didn't appreciate his joke.
"Fuck you."
"So dramatic…"
Elion looked down one last time, then let himself fall backward, performing an impeccable salute as if on a suicide mission.
He broke through the surface, immediately feeling the cold, grimy liquid against his skin. He didn't reach the bottom, forcing himself to tread water. Other than the gut-wrenching stench, it wasn't too bad.
"See? It's fineeeeee," he called back toward the opening in the wall.
He waited for the others to join him. From the looks on their faces, they'd rather see him torn apart by some monster than jump in themselves.
Farha followed first, then Eshrod, Leonard, Lumos, and Kellta—the last three were more hesitant than the rest.
Elion was about to throw out his usual snark to hurry them along when his skin began to itch—badly. The irritation quickly turned to pain.
Something's wrong.
He had scanned the water with his ability earlier and found nothing suspicious, but he tried again just to be sure.
And, in fact, something was very wrong.
Tiny particles of chromatic light clung to his body, with more rushing toward him and the others.
"Get out!" he shouted as pain stabbed through him.
They swam as fast as they could to the far side. Elion felt dizzy by the time he reached the entrance to the castle's water tank, dragging himself out as quickly as possible.
He collapsed to his knees in the darkness, coughing uncontrollably. Blood streamed from his lips as agony tore through his insides.
What the hell?! How couldn't I see that?!
His skin burned like fire, blisters swelling across his flesh. With his ability, he could still see the particles of light gnawing at his body—and the others'.
"Lumos, water!" he commanded, removing his jacket.
The sorcerer, who looked in far better condition—either because he'd been in the water less time or because of his status as a First Finger—stepped forward. His own skin looked rough, as though bleached by acid. A globe of pure blue water swirled into his palm.
Lumos poured it over Elion like an improvised shower, washing the lights away with ease.
But the pain in his guts lingered, forcing him to stay on his knees.
"Help… the others…" he managed through clenched teeth.
Without hesitation, Lumos cleansed the others—and himself. Farha was doubled over in pain, Leonard and Kellta too. Eshrod held up better, but it was clear she'd been affected.
Their affliction was obvious: when they dove in, some of the organisms had entered their mouths, eyes, and noses, wreaking havoc inside their bodies. The fact that Lumos was mostly unaffected meant the soul reinforcing a First Finger's body was resisting them.
Elion staggered upright, wiping blood from his mouth.
"We… need to reach the First Finger… it's close," he said, barely holding himself together.
The only reason he wasn't already dead was because he hadn't ingested much of the organisms. But death wouldn't make itself wait much longer. The First Finger was their only hope.
Eshrod glared at him but said nothing, saving her strength.
"Alright. We go," Lumos said, supporting Elion, who was in the worst shape after being submerged the longest.
The young cook led them through collapsed tunnels, following the golden thread. Every step sent new waves of agony through him. The brush of blistered skin against his clothes was like needles stabbing into his flesh, and blood coughed from his lips without pause.
The passage was pitch black. Kellta was too weakened to use her ability. Elion could still rely on his, since it taxed the mind, not the body. Coupled with his affinity, he was able to navigate the twisting paths well enough.
After several turns and a climb over rubble deep in the castle's guts, they reached a vast hall. The sound of heavy, armored footsteps echoed. Elion saw a figure made of chromatic thread pacing like a cursed sentinel. One of the Class V's minions. And a strong one by the looks of things.
Even at full strength, they wouldn't stand a chance. And, of course, the golden thread passed right beside it.
Elion frantically searched for another path, but he was at his limit. The organisms eating him alive weren't slowing down.
"Run…" he whispered, unable to raise his voice.
Lumos scooped up Elion and Kellta, sprinting. Eshrod, who was doing alright, probably due to her ability, carried Leonard and Farha. The latter looked one step away from collapsing.
Their footsteps drew the sentinel's attention. It charged after them, each step thundering in heavy metal clunks.
We're fucking dead…
It really didn't look good for them. The thing was slow, but they were on a strict timer—dying by the minute. And it was his fault.
If Elion hadn't rushed them to jump into the water. If he had anticipated the danger. All the signs were there in hindsight. He had just grown too reliant on his ability, trusting it completely. It had always kept him safe—until now.
Now they were all going to die because of him. Even Farha…
Get her out of your head, dumbass. Now's not the time!
It's not like it's all my fault; they're the ones who put me in charge.
They could have thought for themselves for once… yeah. I'm not the only one to blame.
He knew it was hypocritical, petty even, but he couldn't help it.
They all failed me before, right?
Well, except Lumos—but he owed me for pulling him out of that damn well.
Now that I've screwed up, we're even!
Elion coughed, gritting his teeth in pain as a wave of pressure from an unseen strike assaulted him.
Talom and those two lifeless bastards were the smart ones after all…
And I thought their hesitation was stupid.
Even with all his rationalizing, the guilt gnawed at him. They had trusted him with their lives. And he failed them. The excuse that he'd only ever intended to use them, to keep his guard up and toss them aside when necessary, rang hollow. It was not true anymore. It had never really been…
Even in the current situation, Elion was self-aware enough to admit it.
Despite everything, he cared about them. And leading them to their deaths cut deeper than the things devouring him from within.
Elion sighed.
"Hey! Don't give up on me now!" Lumos shouted, sprinting. "Where do we go?"
Elion forced his eyes open.
"Left…" he muttered.
His consciousness flickered.
"Then to the right… careful, debris…" He didn't even bother pointing.
They barreled forward. A massive blade cleaved the air above Lumos's head. He would have been decapitated if Elion hadn't warned him to duck.
The next strike, though…
Welp. This is it. Goodbye, shitty world.
The sorcerer pushed harder, bursting into another chamber—one seemingly free of the flesh coating the walls, or at least as far as Elion's affinity could sense.
At the center stood a glowing alloy podium, radiating an otherworldly light. Just like the Wretched Hand. The golden thread curled around it, vanishing into the relic before rejoining the overly complex weave.
That's what Elion assumed. He didn't dare probe it with his ability. He had the sickening feeling it wouldn't end all too well for his mind if he did.
They had made it. The goal of the entire expedition—right there before them.
If not for the thunder of armored steps closing in behind them, and the organisms eating him alive, Elion might have been overjoyed.
Alas, joy was never meant for him—not when agony had become his sole constant.