Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 69: The Scar
The colossal arm shifts.
The giant hand descends like a divine hammer. The sheer mass and velocity of the strike compresses the air beneath its palm, sending a localized hurricane whipping across the clearing before the physical impact even hits.
My soul practically leaves my body. But if I don’t do something right now, this is a literal death sentence. That strike is going to completely reconfigure the local geography.
Fighting every biological imperative screaming at me to cower and skirting the very edge of absolute madness, I throw my arms up and scream.
"Stop! Let’s talk!"
It is the most ridiculous, desperate, utterly pathetic thing I could possibly do. But it’s either that or sit here and accept the end.
I clench my eyes shut, bracing for obliteration.
A second, violent shockwave of displaced air sweeps the environment, blasting a wall of water, dust, and pulverized wood over us. I dig my boots into the riverbed, fighting just to keep from being launched into the tree line.
Then, the world fractures.
The impact isn’t just a sound. It’s a massive kinetic wave that reverberates directly through my bones, as if the planet itself is screaming in agony under the weight of thousands of tons of localized fury.
Seconds tick by. The roaring subsides.
I’m still breathing...
Frantic, I run a quick diagnostic over my own body, trying to process the reality unfolding around me. I flex every muscle, checking for fractures or internal bleeding.
I’m completely intact. How the hell am I intact?
Ironically, the god-hammer struck just over sixty-five feet to our right.
I glance to the right side to check.
The bioluminescent forest over there doesn’t exist anymore.
The landscape has been instantly obliterated, leaving a jagged, conical scar of pure destruction stretching a thousand feet—maybe more—into the impenetrable dark.
The ensuing rain of pulverized debris finally settles. For a long, terrifying moment, the biome goes dead silent. Even the ambient white noise of the glowing animals and flora doesn’t dare make a sound.
My scrambled brain supplies a useless fact: some Leviathans possess high-level social intelligence, a byproduct of millennia of absolute dominion.
"We’re still here," I call out, my voice barely carrying over the settling debris. "And we’d very much like to stay that way."
What the actual hell am I doing?
The mechanical god pauses. Its massive head tilts down. A sweeping wave of blue ocular light washes over the river, analyzing our bio-signatures.
Then, the amber core in its chest dims slightly. It simply straightens its posture, turns its colossal back, and continues walking away.
It could have crushed us. The strike landed sixty-five feet to our right. Not because it missed, but because we weren’t even part of the equation. We are just a cluster of critters making noise in its garden, and it decided the noise fit the scenery.
Pathetic. That’s what we are right now.
A bitter, metallic taste floods my mouth. The worst part isn’t surviving by the grace of a monster’s apathy. The worst part is knowing that somewhere out there, there are Divers who can actually destroy this thing.
Valerius is one of them.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat and turn to the squad.
"Sound off. Is everyone intact?"
Oliver pushes himself up from the water, hyperventilating. He stares blankly at the massive crater to our right.
"I... I think my soul just left my body. But my arms and legs are still attached. So... yeah. I’m good."
Rhayne lowers her trembling hand, her storm-cloud eyes fixed on the retreating titan.
"My mana core is completely destabilized from the pressure. I am unharmed." She pauses. "I never want to feel that again."
I wade over to where I dropped Eventide. Plunging my arm into the icy water, I retrieve the hilt. My hands are still visibly shaking as I clip it back to my belt.
I need to get stronger...
I point toward the massive trench the Leviathan just carved through the forest.
"Get your gear. We’re moving. We follow that trench."
Oliver blinks, still shaking off the shock.
"Follow it? Boss, walking down the apocalyptic murder-trail doesn’t seem like a great idea."
"Think about it," I say, my tactical mind finally rebooting. "If there was anything living in that path, it isn’t anymore. We can scavenge the localized loot drops and move forward without fear of an ambush."
I scan the group. Everyone is moving, except Lola.
She is still sitting cross-legged in the shallow stream, the water lapping at her waist. She’s staring blankly at her boots in total, unblinking silence.
I wade over and crouch down to her eye level. "Hey," I say, keeping my voice low and steady. "It’s gone. You don’t need to worry anymore."
She slowly raises her head. Her deadpan eyes lock onto mine for a long, quiet second. Then, she gives a single, tiny nod and climbs to her feet, the water cascading off her gear.
We march into the scar.
Further on, I spot small blue beads glowing with a light that feels like an entire world of energy. They’re right where the leviathan hit. Thinking they might be worth some shards.
I pick them up.
[OXI Beads: 12]
The devastation is absolute. Smashed crystal, pulverized wood, and crushed bedrock line the artificial canyon. About ten minutes into the trek, I spot the first piece of loot half-buried under a snapped root.
The [Trace] Passive Skill screams in my vision.
I pull it loose and realize what I suspected. This isn’t a monster drop. It’s a rare find, but not the kind I expected to see so soon.
It’s a localized Echo fragment—a death marker. And right next to it is a shattered piece of armor bearing a very specific insignia.
It’s one of the cadets who rebelled with Danton. He was crushed in the Leviathan’s collateral damage.
I clench the Echo fragment in my fist. A cold, cynical fury ignites in my chest, burning away the last remnants of dread.
I look back at the squad, my eyes narrowing in the dim light.
"Check your gear and stay sharp. We’re on the right trail." I drop the broken armor to the dirt. "And this time, we aren’t hunting monsters."
