The Legend of William Oh-Chapter 250: We’re Doing This

William Oh set out on a journey to find someone faster than him. He eventually did meet someone faster, but it was himself on the return trip.

Jason Salazar

Vincent’s whole body itched. It felt like insects were crawling up and down his body, trying to implant their eggs and burst out of his skin.

That probably wasn’t an exaggeration, either. Insects were bursting out of everything else. Why would he be special? It was only his high resistance that physcially prevented the bugs from growing.

I need to leave.

He used Necrotic Balm to reshape his body and create wings from his back before jumping into the sky, trying to gain altitude again to look for a Key Site.

Like a living thing, barbed wires whipped out of the ground and dragged him back down to the ground.

Something tightened around his foot and dragged him into the underground where metal teeth bent and warped against his skin, as though a giant had begun chewing on him.

“ENOUGH!” Vincent shouted, exploding the contraption and leaping out of the ground.

I just need to find a Key Site. I just need to find a Key Site.

If he could just…get AWAY!

Fighting this…thing, was supremely frustrating. There was no direct contact at all. He hadn’t even seen the face of his opponent at all, and he’d certainly never heard of a Lord who relied entirely on traps.

If they could even be called traps anymore. They were more akin to ‘mechanisms’ or ‘machines’, built solely to vex him at lightning speeds underground by a swarm of insects.

His opponent seemed to favor braided steel wires and insects.

The onslaught of whipping wire and ever-shifting blades seemed to be thickest to the North, so Vincent pushed through it, relying on his sturdy body.

Despite his annoying ability to seemingly be everywhere at once, the mysterious trap-Lord couldn’t do enough damage to kill him.

Not nearly enough. The blades and whips only dug a fingernail’s width into his skin, not even straining his regeneration.

And of course, he got a little bit tougher with each of those thousands of strikes. Soon enough even this riot of blades and wires would be nothing more than an annoyance.

But I need to leave. I can’t stay here forever.

Vincent didn’t know how William Oh knew where he was, but the other Lords weren’t far off.

Even with his night-indestructible body, Vincent was vulnerable in other ways. All it took was one Lord with the right Ability and he was done.

Waiting in one place was death.

Which was why…

“GET…OFF…ME!” Vincent shouted, blowing the wires away from himself again, his vision stained red as the simmering frustration bubbled over. He needed to escape and this damned trap-maker was being a complete bastard!

If I find where this host is hiding, I’ll…

I don’t need frustration, it serves no purpose. Vincent thought. subduing the part of the host brain responsible for it with his paralytic mucus.

“FUCK YOU!” Vincent shouted, shoving constraining silk away from himself and detonating a boulder before it could land on him.

Still frustrated, Vincent thought, releasing the weak acid that dissolved the problem area.

Barely a step away and his leg dropped into a hole in the earth for what felt like the thousandth time.

“GAH!” Vincent smashed the earth below him with an uncontrolled feral punch, exploding the stone capturing his leg.

It’s…not working? Why is it not working?

Vincent’s skin broke out in a cold sweat as an uncomfortable squirming sensation filled his guts.

Fear is unnecessary. Vincent thought, dissolving it away.

The sweat and squirming guts grew stronger, burrowing up and paralyzing his lungs as he realized…

It’s not working anymore.

WHY IS IT NOT WORKING!?

In an instant, Vincent realized the problem, but it was far too late.

His scepter that boosted his Resistance was boosting the host’s innards as well. That included the brains.

…I’m trapped. Stuck inside this host.

He could destroy or relinquish the scepter, sure, but the only thing that would do is allow the trapper to render him into a fine paste in the blink of an eye.

The strikes that barely broke the skin now would bisect him in an instant without the scepter. He had to keep it on. The only option now was to escape…while suffering these vile host emotions.

The host’s heart began to beat for the first time Vincent could remember, his lungs gasping for air as the fear spread through his body.

No, no no no no no!

“Afternoon, Will!” Ghoul’s voice called from above. “I hear you’re having quite the day!”

Vincent glanced up and spotted the Lord’s colorful tattered robes through the canopy.

Thwip, thwip thwip.

Vincent heard arrows strike his undead an instant before several more arrows hit his body, barely breaking the surface. Another combatant.

I’m outnumbered four to three. At least.

William Oh, Marksman, this trapmaker, Ghoul…Ghoul is an undead!

With the desperation of a drowning man, Vincent reached out towards the undead Lord with everything he had.

Ghoul changing sides could turn this entire situation around in an instant!

Seize Undead (x200)

322 -> 122 Charge

A massive surge of power flooded out of him and arced towards Ghoul and then…

Nothing. His Ability was scattered to the winds.

“NO!”

Something primal flooded down his spine, gripped his legs and made him turn and bolt away, his body weak and at the same time light as a feather.

Only a few steps later, the ground crumbled under him, revealing a black pit glistening with steel, eager to pull him into the Abyss.

“Get away!” Vincent’ mouth shouted by itself as he laid about wildly with Unliving One, converting the traps to undead before detonating them.

I’m going to get away. I HAVE to get away!

…unknown to Vincent, his feet had stopped moving.

Across the jungle, Will glanced up and spotted the tattered robes of Ghoul as the undead Lord stood in the sky above them, waving.

A thick bundled rope of Miasmatic structures lanced out of the canopy from where Loth was fighting Vincent, shooting up at Ghoul like a snake striking its prey.

Ghoul flared with miasma and the rope was scattered, hundreds of threads dissolving into nothing.

The thread of miasma would’ve been invisible if not for my eyes. I’ve never seen that configuration before though. At least he hasn’t used it on me. It seems related to the Ability he uses to turn the terrain into undead and then blow it up.

A control undead Ability? Will made an educated guess.

Seems optimistic to think he could control Ghoul, but it would be stupid not to try at least once.

Control undead?

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Will habitually stored a sketch of the miasmatic structures in his legend as he turned his attention back to the duo of undead he was faced with.

They were having trouble, as their bodies were slowly filling up with glowing white arrows.

There was an explosion in the distance, and Ghoul swooped down beside Will, chains of miasmatic structures connecting his fingers to spots outside Will’s field of view further out in the forest.

“Oh this?” Ghoul asked, glancing down at his hand. “Just keeping an eye on things. Or a finger, in this case. How’s it going creating an original Ability?”

“It’s only been two weeks.” Will said, shaking his head. “I’m still gathering samples of other Abilities and looking for a solid theme. Although I have some rough ideas.”

“Well, lay ‘em on me.”

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

Marksman swept past them and dove into the woods as he chased the two fae away from their position. The archer’s bow was seemingly only a couple feet long. How it accommodated full-size arrows, Will had no idea, but it looked easy to carry.

“Well, the further up I go, the more ridiculous Stats and Abilities get.” Will said. “Something that could disrupt Miasmatic structures to deliver damage directly to the opponent would be good.”

“Gods!” Ghoul said, wiping his hand down his face, crumbling a bit of his nose.

“Simpler, start simpler!” Ghoul said. “Don’t try for the instant win Ability with your first creation. Make something simple, use the experience to design something more complex, and so on. Like a simple magic missile. Just a bead of force that shoots out in a straight line and hits the other guy.”

To demonstrate, Ghoul pointed a finger at a nearby tree and a coin-sized sphere of Charge wrapped in miasma shot out and bored a hole through the tree.

Will jotted it down in his legend.

“When you learn how to create a self-propelled projectile, use that knowledge as a foundation for your next Ability and so on. Or a simple shield, or a simple summon or a simple transmog. Something that only has two to three simple, easy to understand effects. You learn how to make these first so you can add them together later.”

“But…a simple magic missile won’t…cover any of the things I’m missing.” Will mused, reviewing his thought process and discovering the flaws therein.

Will’s rationale: He could already do huge amounts of physical damage just by shooting stuff out of Phantom Hand. He could already fly, create shields out of air, use telekinesis, and light-bending illusions. And all of it for free. Why spend Charge on recreating what would likely be an inferior Ability?

He had truly thought that his first self-made Ability had to be something that was both original and covered an aspect of combat he wasn’t already able to do.

Nobody had said that had to be the case. Creating simple Abilities that contained smaller parts of the finished product he was envisioning was a good way to make tangible steps forward, even if the Abilities were weaker than what he could do normally.

He didn’t have to do it all at once. Only his first Original Spell had to be original, not his first self-made Ability ever.

“Listen. The path of a wizard is mastering creations of ever-expanding size and complexity, but there’s a halfway point where you begin to pare down complexity and size in the pursuit of true mastery. Even I haven’t reached that tipping point yet, but I can see it on the horizon. You on the other hand, need to learn your basics and simply focus on amassing techniques. Start small.”

“Understood.”

Will pointed his finger at the same tree and wrapped miasma around a pocket of charge, sending it shooting forward, but the burrito dissolved before it even made it halfway. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

87 Charges remaining

Yeah, make something simple first.

“…Was that Miasma shaped like a burrito?” Ghoul asked, brow cocked.

“A perfect sphere is too much to ask for me at the moment,” Will replied.

“Picture pressure smoothing it out.” Ghoul said.

“How do you mean?” Will asked.

“You know how when you put your hand in water, you can feel how water is pushing in equally from every direction? A soap bubble is a perfect sphere because the interior and exterior pressure is in perfect balance. Picture that equal pressure you feel while underwater, pressing in and out from every direction at once, smoothing it into a perfect sphere.”

Hmm.

Will tried again, and this time, the burrito was much rounder and more stable, carrying the Charge all the way to the tree before it scattered against the wood.

86 Charges remaining.

“There you go!” Ghoul said, clapping Will on the shoulder.

“Gentlemen!” Marksman shouted as he swept past, firing half a dozen arrows of light in a heartbeat. “We are in a battle here!”

“Tsk.” Ghoul clicked his dry tongue in irritation.

That is true, Will thought, lunging forward to join the fight.

Will flowed through the jungle, overtaking Marksman, who was unleashing a steady stream of arrows without a tangible quiver.

Will thought he might be manifesting the arrows by sacrificing Focus the way Will did it, but the sheer number of arrows that hung around indefinitely seemed to suggest there was some other effect at play.

I wonder what would happen if I gave him Hammer of God.

…Probably wouldn’t synergize well.

Will left the two fae to Marksman and sprinted towards where Vincent and Loth were on his map.

The smell of burnt bugs let him know when he’d arrived.

The battlefield was covered in charred insects as Vincent laid about the forest indiscriminately, disarming Loth’s traps through extreme environmental destruction.

His line of reasoning was likely such: Wires can’t pop out of the ground if there is no ground. And to some extent, that was true.

Dust and shrapnel were flung out from Vincent’s location at a rate that made it impossible to see him directly. The only way Will know where Vincent was was the label he’d placed on him back at the wedding showing up on his map, placing him dead in the center of the continuous, ongoing explosion of rock, wood, and dirt.

Seems like the last thrashing of desperate prey, but I can’t assume he’s out of ideas. Could be a ruse.

Will just needed to confirm one last thing.

“I’m gonna check on how ripe he is,” Will said, arriving beside Loth’s symbol on his map.

He didn’t see her, but he suspected if he made his map included depth, Loth would be somewhere underground.

“Gotcha.” Loth’s voice said from a swarm nearby.

Will kicked a spear of hardened air into the maelstrom, creating a tunnel of clear air that lasted for a heartbeat, just long enough to study the scene.

Vincent seemed to be circulating his Ability through the environment to create a lingering series of explosions that didn’t damage him one bit due to his Resistance, and had the added benefit of disrupting Loth’s nearby traps, preventing them from striking as accurately or powerfully as she might’ve preferred.

Will shot a second air spike and followed it up with a chakram from Phantom Hand.

Clang!

In the brief instant of clear air, Will could see the blessed steel bounce off his target’s thigh, accompanied by the sound of struck metal from the manifested projectile.

Seems ripe. Stopping in one place and going full-defense, blinding yourself and thrashing mindlessly in an effort to ward off attacks…Definitely seems flustered.

“Now.”

Will couldn’t see where Vincent’s head was through the maelstrom, but he could see the label was on his map.

Will expanded his map to real-size, overlaying it on his vision.

His habit was to place the label on people’s collarbones, so Void’s head should be right…there.

Will stopped holding back and shot Phantom Hand forward, manifesting a steel cannonball at the hand’s full speed.

CRACK!

There was a harsh crack of air as the ball broke the sound barrier, piercing the cloud of shrapnel.

The continuous explosion ceased instantly, and the dust began to settle.

Will grabbed the air and tore it aside, clearing the lingering dust in an instant.

A dented blessed steel cannonball lay on the ground beside Vincent, who stared straight up into the sky, bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose. Behind him, the two fae, still riddled with arrows, were dissolving into skeletons. They had braced his lower back to keep him in one place, causing the force to be concentrated on his head.

“Is it dead?” Marksman asked as he arrived.

“Well, his heart’s not beating, but his Class is still there.” Will frowned. “Does the Class linger after death? I haven’t deliberately watched people die to determine that.”

It was possible that the Miasmatic Structures in a Class did linger, otherwise how could people get resurrected like Alicia did?

THWAP, THWAP, THWAP!

Marksman clustered half a dozen arrows in Vincent’s eyes and nose. An instant later, the arrows detonated. Normally, Will expected that would explode his head, but in this case, it only caused a gush of blood and brain to shoot out of his nose and mouth.

“Never hurts to be sure.” Marksman said, eyes narrowed, seemingly unconvinced.

“Let’s get his kit off.” Loth said, emerging from the ground beside Vincent and tugging his crown off and starting on his signet ring.

“Hold on there, kobold,” Marksman interrupted her. “That Set is mine.”

Marksman half-aimed the bow, causing Loth’s eyes to narrow and Will to find his favorite grip on the tomahawk.

Totally forgot about this aspect. The race to claim the set.

If it really came down to it, Will would grab Loth and retreat while the others fought.

“I don’t want the Set, milord, I want it off the worm’s host in case it still lives.” Loth said placatingly, tossing the crown aside and stepping away, clearly not wanting to get shot. She wasn’t well-off enough yet to join that fight.

“Marksman, you being weird?” Ghoul said as he arrived on a cloud of roiling miasma.

“I’m a Lord on the second Floor. I need the set to keep any semblance of balance against the higher-Floor lords.”

“I object!”

Will blinked as Carrie’s underling Lord, the tall, handsome one from the 6th Floor, emerged from the woods, stepping into the clearing Vincent had cut with his wild thrashing.

Chesmu, I think? Right, he was on the 8th Floor with the other two

“Where the Abyss have you been?” Marksman asked, taking a half-step backwards to keep everyone in his line of sight.

Ghoul groaned and rubbed his temple.

“I was spawned much further away.” Chesmu lied through his teeth. “In any case, the New Blood have a greater claim to the set. It’s original owner, Fabron, was a member of our faction.”

The absolute balls on this guy.

“No he fucking wasn’t.” Will replied before he could help himself. Marksman and Chesmu cast assessing gazes his direction, sizing him up. The tense moment stretched between them as they watched each other for any sign of movement.

“He must’ve asked to join and they accepted him into their faction posthumously.” Loth said, glancing up at Will’s expression, reading it in an instant. “Means ‘after death’.”

“Why not just say ‘after death’?” Will demanded. “It’s one less syllable.”

“That’s a blatant ploy to steal a treasure you didn’t even earn.” Marksman said.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Chesmu said, edging toward the crown that Loth had discarded.

“Ugh…” Ghoul groaned. “Can we just get all of his kit off him before-“

A bloody cough erupted from Vincent as he spasmed and snorted, sitting up and reaching into the mangled cavity that used to be his nose.

“That happens.” Ghoul said.

Void gave a guttural moan as he grasped something in his skull and began drawing it out. It was a long, pale…thing, a little smaller around than a pinkie finger and looking like the world’s biggest strand of snot.

With a final grunt, Void yanked the last of the worm out of his nose, along with a decent amount of black blood.

As soon as the worm was gone, Void’s nose and eyes began to re-form.

“Oh, hey, kid.” Void said, nodding towards Will as he struggled to his feet. “Ghoul, Marksman…I forgot your name,” He gestured towards Chesmu, his legs shaking under him as he leaned against a tree.

“Lord Chesmu.”

“…So are we doing this or what?” Void asked, scanning them with a wry grin, his teeth blackened by his own blood.

Will shared a glance with the other Lords. Void was a remorseless killer whose only leash had been his vassalship to Mark Wyrd. Void hadn’t wanted to kill young Climbers and hang their corpses up in a meatlocker on the second Floor, feeding them to a prototype Tangled…

But he wasn’t broken up about it either.

A man like that with immortality and the power of a Lord…

Will scanned the others.

Ghoul and Loth were indifferent to the set, but seemed ready to fight if necessary. Marksman and Chesmu clearly wanted any excuse to kill Void and claim his kit.

“Break a piece of the set right now, and you can go. I’ll help you escape to the Fifth Floor.” Will said.

Chesmu gasped like someone had insulted his mother.

Will wanted to remove the reason for conflict between Marksman and Chesmu, and he wanted Void to prove that he valued his own life above power.

“He’ll do it,” Ghoul said. “I give you my word as the Ferryman. I’ll stop these two from interfering.”

Void truly looked like he was considering it, his expression thoughtful for a fleeting moment before it was overtaken by the half-lidded stare of an executioner.

“Well…I guess we’re doing this.” Void said.