From Moving Crates to Killing Gods-Chapter 112: A Little Messy

The notifications had been stacking while I fought.

I opened them standing in the middle of the slaughter field, because apparently that was when I had time.

Two items. A sterling greatsword and another sterling helmet, both flagged as requiring cleansing before appraisal. I moved them to inventory without checking the stats. That was a problem for later, preferably for Phinyx and his surprisingly versatile vibes.

I closed the notifications.

Jim was already closer, descending from his scouting altitude to a range where conversation was possible if you projected your voice. He stopped high enough to stay clear of the scene, studying the ground around me with the look of someone whose internal calculations had just returned an unexpected result.

"Allaran." He said. "Are you okay?"

It sounded like a question, but it felt like a report request.

"Yes." I said. "It got a little messy."

He stayed quiet, taking in the radius of dark liquid, the scattered silver, the opened tunnels, the severed remains of what had been a coordinated pack.

"I have taken care of it." I said. "Do not worry."

Jim watched me a moment longer, then adjusted his glasses slowly, deliberately, like he was filing something into a category he did not have before.

"Alright." He said. "Then I will head back."

He turned without another word and flew toward camp, steady, unhurried.

I watched him go for a second.

’Flying seems so cool.’ I thought as his silhouette got lost in the distance.

Then I remembered that I’d broken the agility treshold. Things weren’t bad for me either. I started running.

The first steps felt normal, the same rhythm built from months of runs. Then I pushed harder and... the limit I was used to hitting was gone. I drove forward and found a speed that felt slightly wrong in the right way, like a tool finally used for its intended purpose.

It sat between my normal top speed and Quickstep. Not explosive, not the burst pattern of the spell. But a sustained pace my body could maintain at no cost and with no backlash.

My own speed.

I passed Jim before I noticed, cutting across the wasteland faster than he could match. I glanced back once. He kept his steady flight while I pulled ahead.

Because of Sense, my mental pathways felt a little drained, so I decided not to use Quickstep right now, but I made a note to test it later. If fifteen agility changed this much, the combination might be awesome.

The corridor came into view.

I recognized it immediately, the silver embedded in the ground catching the light differently than the surrounding wasteland. I slowed as I stepped onto it.

The sound under my boots changed. A faint resonance with each step, the distinct feel of silver that was built to last. Finn had done it properly.

I ran its length.

Each step returned that same high metallic tone. A tone that the next exiles would hear. This place was meant to protect them, so that their lives didn’t go to waste.

I was still thinking about that when I saw Coll. I started slowing down as I reached the camp.

He was sitting on a rock at the edge of the corridor, watching the wasteland with patient focus. He turned at my approach.

"Hi Coll." I said before he fully faced me.

"Hi Alla..." He started, then stopped. His eyes moved from my head to my boots and back, taking in the dark fluid covering me. He stayed seated, just looking concerned in his usual quiet way. "Why are you covered in blood...?"

"It is not mine." I said, thinking that giving the full explanation now would take too much time. "Where is the clean water lake? I really need to wash this off."

He pointed without asking anything else.

I ran before his arm fully extended.

The lake was close, the same source Coco had been using for the corridor. I had no soap, but I had two helmets and the understanding that walking in covered in serpent fluid would lead to questions I did not want to answer while still covered in it.

I used the helmets as buckets. Filled them, poured them over myself, repeated and scrubbed with the least stained part of my sleeve. The water was really cold and the process inefficient, but by the end I looked more like a person. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

When I returned, everyone was outside.

Jim had already arrived, which meant he had gone straight back. The group stood near the bunker in the way people do when they are waiting for something.

Wip broke the silence.

She launched from Kira’s shoulder, walked in the air for a couple of steps, and landed on my head with practiced precision, claws settling into place, tail curling for balance. "Wip wip wip." She said, sounding pleased.

I reached up and steadied her.

Finn cleared his throat. "So." He said. "You cleaned the route?"

"Yes." I said. "There were some complications, but now the path is mostly clear."

"Mostly?." Kira asked, her tone making it clear she was surprised.

"Well, there’s a lot of dead serpents around the location." I said. "I didn’t get rid of that."

She looked at me, then at Wip, then back at me, and let it go.

The half-demolished silver building still stood beside the bunker, most of its material gone. They had been active. Finn shaping and laying silver. Kira weaving vines over the corridor. Coco keeping the dark water supply for the vines. The corridor now connected the most critical distance between Argent’s outer wall and the third outpost. Narrow and low, but functional.

Everything we needed.

Nothing more.

Two days later, it was finished.

We stood at the endpoint and looked back along its length. No one made a big statement about it. Finn sat on a rock and ate dried meat. Coco turned water into something that tasted like fruit. Coll said it was good work.

It was.

Two corridors remained. Third outpost to sixth. Sixth outpost to the exile point.

Compared to what we had just built through serpent territory and a Corruptor cluster, the rest was supposed to be easier.

Damian had given us the hardest part first.

Of course he had.