I Leveled Up Faster Than The Gods Themselves
Chapter 12: The Weight Of Being Seen
Ryn couldn't recall the moment of his descent. One moment he was kneeling on the unforgiving, frigid stone floor, blood trickling from his nose, while Seris gripped his arm tightly, her eyes wide with a mix of concern and urgency.
Then, in an instant, the ground beneath him disappeared.
It wasn't that the floor had collapsed rather, it felt as if it had released him, as if some unseen power had severed his connection to reality itself. The Guild Hall, a place steeped in history and dark secrets, enveloped Ryn in darkness, swallowing him whole with an insatiable hunger. He plunged into the abyss, the air whipping violently past his ears as the world around him transformed into a swirling void.
"Ryn!" Seris's voice pierced through the chaos, her scream tinged with fear and desperation, echoing in the empty expanse.
Instinctively, Ryn twisted his body mid-fall, invoking the ability known as World Anchor. He didn't do it to halt his descent but rather to navigate it with skill. The overwhelming pressure crashed against him, heavier than anything he had experienced before, as though the very essence of the Hall was gauging how much he could endure before succumbing to the weight of despair.
"Stay calm," he reminded himself, his mind racing despite the precarious situation. "Panic only drains energy."
Suddenly, the emptiness spat him out like an unwanted morsel.
With a jarring force, Ryn slammed into the ground, the unforgiving stone fracturing beneath him as pain radiated through his body, stealing the breath from his lungs. He rolled instinctively, gasping for air, a fiery agony flaring across his ribs. Yet, against all odds, he was alive-barely.
As he lay on the cold floor, he took in his surroundings. The chamber was immense and circular, its ceiling veiled in shadow and obscurity. Towering ancient pillars surrounded the room, each one intricately carved with vivid depictions of adventurers caught in the throes of battle. Some of these depicted glorious victories, while others conveyed the somber weight of defeat-lost souls forever trapped within time.
From above, chains hung ominously, swaying slowly, as if kept in motion by a malevolent force. In the center of the chamber, a symbol burned vividly upon the stone, revealed in stark clarity amid the shadows:
A broken crown.
Ryn's heart sank as recognition washed over him. He knew that mark well it was the harbinger of divine abandonment-a sign that those who bore it were forsaken by the very gods they had once sought to serve.
Suddenly, footfalls echoed through the chamber, slow and deliberate, reverberating against the stone walls and sending a chill down his spine.
Seris appeared beside him, landing gracefully in a controlled slide. Despite the hardship etched upon her face and the grimace of pain, she managed to stand tall.
"You alive?" she asked, breathless yet defiant, her eyes searching his for signs of vitality.
Ryn struggled to his feet, every movement accompanied by a sharp intake of breath.
"Ask me again when we're not standing in a room that looks like it devours souls," he replied, his voice laced with dark humor, masking the fear that threatened to consume him.
Then, a voice emerged from the shadows, smooth and calm.
"Oh, it does."
A figure stepped into the dim light, revealing not Vaelor, but a different man entirely. He was older, more imposing, and towered above Ryn with an air of authority that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His armor was ornamental rather than utilitarian it was engraved with divine script that pulsated faintly, seemingly resonating with Ryn's very presence.
"I am Executor Malreth," the man announced in a serene tone that belied the gravity of his words. "Warden of failed candidates."
Seris stiffened visibly at that title.
"Failed?" she echoed, incredulity mingling with dread.
Malreth's piercing gaze remained unwavering, fixated on Ryn as if he were the sole occupant of the room.
"They stop breathing," he stated matter-of-factly.
Ryn took a cautious step forward, the very act driven by instinct rather than rational thought.
"If this is another test," he said, his voice steady, "I would appreciate it if you skipped the theatrics and got to the point."
Malreth tilted his head slightly, almost curiously.
"This is not a test," he replied in a measured tone. "This is containment."
Far above, the chamber sealed shut with a resounding finality that echoed in Ryn's heart.
His pulse quickened, not due to fear of Malreth-who was frightening in his own right-but rather because the very air surrounding them felt charged with hostility, as if the chamber itself bore witness to every life that had been extinguished within its confines.
"So this is how it ends for most people," Ryn reflected bitterly, the weight of despair pressing down on him. "Quietly. Forgotten by the world and its gods."
But he rejected that fate-he would not be another lost soul.
Malreth raised a hand, and in that moment, Ryn felt the very fabric of reality twist around him.
Gravity surged, crushing him downward so violently that he dropped to one knee as if being punished for daring to defy the law of nature.
"Ryn-!" Seris's voice broke through the haze of pain as she collapsed beside him, fighting to keep herself upright.
World Anchor flared to life instinctively, grounding Ryn against the relentless pressure that threatened to overwhelm him, the stone beneath him cracking in protest to the exertion.
Malreth observed him with narrowed eyes, a shadow of intrigue passing over his face.
"So you are the anomaly," he remarked, his voice calm and collected, as if he were simply analyzing a peculiar specimen.
Ryn showed his teeth in a grimace, a blend of exhaustion and defiance. "I prefer to think of myself as a 'problem.'"
Blood flowed freely from the wounds on his face, pooling beneath him. Every breath he took ignited a burning fire within his chest, making it increasingly difficult to think clearly. World Anchor strained against the pull of Malreth's force, every fiber of Ryn's being screaming under the pressure.
As the imposing figure stepped closer, his calm demeanor remained intact. "You cannot win," he stated, the certainty in his voice startling in its clarity. "You are but one man, weary from the trials that have shaped you, and you are being watched by the gods."
A ragged laugh escaped Ryn's lips, a sound filled with a grim sense of irony. "Well, that's a refreshing twist of fate," he replied, fighting to maintain his composure even in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Seris, her strength waning, struggled to pull herself upright again, shaking off the effects of the oppressive force surrounding them.
"Ryn… if you keep this up, it'll kill you," she warned, her eyes wide with concern.
Ryn met her gaze, really looked at her-not fixating on the fear etched in her features, but rather the unwavering faith that shone through the darkness surrounding them.
"If I stop," he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, "it kills us both instead."
She offered no argument, understanding the stakes far better than she wished to acknowledge. She stepped closer to him, aligning her strength with his, anchoring their resolve together.
Ryn shifted his strategy in that moment. Rather than anchoring himself against the crushing force, he decided to anchor Seris, channeling the weight of the pressure toward her and thus redistributing it.
"What-?" Malreth barely had time to process the shift before Ryn surged forward, unrestrained by the paralysis of gravity.
With his sword drawn, he felt the world itself shift beneath him. The blade of steel clashed against the divine script of Malreth's armor, the force of impact sending a shockwave that resonated throughout the chamber like a bell tolling.
Malreth staggered back, only half a step, but that fraction was all Ryn needed. He pressed the advantage, channeling momentum and agility instead of raw strength, allowing the world to aid him rather than resist.
"I don't need to overpower you," he grunted through gritted teeth, every syllable strained. "I just need you off balance."
Just as Ryn pushed forward with newfound determination, Malreth's eyes darkened, and he retaliated instantly, the very air crackling with the energy of their imminent clash.
A blade of condensed light, an ethereal entity born from an unknown source, sliced through Ryn's side with a searing ferocity, propelling him across the chamber's cold, unforgiving floor like a ragdoll caught in a storm.
The moment was immediate and unforgiving as a wave of excruciating pain erupted within him, a violent rupture that radiated outward, threatening to consume his very being. Every nerve ending seemed to ignite in protest, leaving him gasping for breath, each intake laced with agony.
Seris, witnessing the horrific scene unfold before her, let out a piercing scream that reverberated off the stone walls, a cry filled with terror and desperation.
Ryn fought valiantly against the dark waters of unconsciousness threatening to envelop him, his instincts kicking in just enough to keep him tethered to reality, even as the edges of his vision blurred and distorted, warping his perception of the chaotic world around him.
Meanwhile, the imposing figure of Malreth exhaled slowly, the ritualistic calm he always embodied unraveling for a brief moment.
"Enough," he commanded, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the chamber with an authority that usually left no room for disobedience.
In a fluid motion, he raised his hand once more, ready to channel his formidable power-
But abruptly halted, caught in a spell of disbelief and terror.
The broken crown symbol, an ominous sigil etched directly into the very stones beneath Ryn's bloodied body, flared to life, a brilliant glow igniting the shadows that cloaked the chamber.
The room responded in kind, trembling violently as if the very foundations of Ashfield were quaking in response to an ancient awakening.
Malreth's eyes widened in sheer astonishment, the realization dawning upon him with an uncomfortable clarity.
"That mark…" he stammered, his voice faltering. "It shouldn't respond to you."
Despite the pain lancing through him and the fatigue pulling at his limbs, Ryn summoned the will to rise. His body trembled, a mixture of weakness and determination, but he stood tall, defiantly facing the looming darkness that threatened to consume him.
"Funny," he rasped, a hint of defiance coloring his words even as blood trickled from his wounds. "Everyone keeps saying that."
With a deafening crack, the ceiling above them fractured, fissures spiderwebbing through the ancient stonework.
Suddenly, light poured into the chamber from above-this was no divine illumination nor the soft warmth of a natural glow.
It was something entirely different, something far more potent and unearthly.
The chains that once held the secrets of this chamber rattled violently, as if disturbed by a force far beyond their understanding.
A voice, echoing and ancient, filled the air with an amused resonance, its tone dripping with both curiosity and menace.
"Interesting choice, little anomaly," it echoed, wrapping around Ryn and enveloping him in a strange embrace of recognition.
Malreth, suddenly on the back foot, began to retreat slowly, his bravado crumbling in the face of the strange and undeniable power that now surged around them.
"This chamber is no longer secure," he muttered, the weight of his words heavy with dread.
Seris, refusing to relinquish her grip on Ryn, crowded closer, her eyes wide with concern.
"Ryn… what did you just wake up?" she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
Ryn's gaze drifted upward, blood streaming down his face, exhaustion etched into every feature, yet a smile crept across his lips, a spark of fierce hope and defiance igniting within him.
"Whatever it is," he replied softly, each word a struggle,
"it noticed me."
In that moment, the floor itself began to rise, as if responding to the mysterious force unleashed within the chamber, shifting with the unsettling grace of a living thing.
The Hall screamed, a cacophony of sound that echoed through the ages, and as the world beyond Ashfield began to shift and pulsate in tandem with their awakening, it became clear that fate itself had taken notice.
To be continued...