Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

The air in the catacombs froze over as corruption surged out from beneath the second-level catacombs and into the Phantom Devourer. The statue expanded as it drank in the corruption until finally, it reached its limits; the statue shattered, revealing an intangible, many-mouthed creature with no flesh to speak of.

Measuring nearly a mile in length, the coiled creature occupied a significant portion of the area formerly reserved for the black disc. The air in the catacombs rippled as the Phantom Devourer's thousand mouths gnawed at the fabric of reality, disrupting mana, spirituality, and even space itself.

A feeling of dread washed over Sorin. "This… is an unsealed floor boss? I wouldn't stand a chance against this thing." It was, in all senses, the perfect counter to his abilities. Without a body for him to poison, Sorin would have to rely solely on manatoxins to deal with the creature.

"Everyone has creatures they counter and creatures that counter them," said Michael, shaking his head. "For us, this is a terrible opponent, but for Melinoë, this creature is prey."

God Light emerged from Melinoë's graceful body as she sauntered over to the terrifying three-star demon. Weak as it was in comparison to other demons of the same caliber, it possessed a horrifying aura that clashed with Melinoë's God Light and attempted to suppress her.

In the world of cultivation, challenging a Bone-Forging Realm cultivator while still in the Blood-Thickening Realm was theoretically possible. But when it came to challenging a Flesh-Sanctification cultivator as a Bone-Forging cultivator, one didn't just have to overcome the difference in power but its aura and majesty as well.

The Phantom Devourer, as Melinoë had dubbed it, seemed greatly interested in devouring Melinoë. It also seemed equal parts wary, and that wariness increased when nightmares emerged from around the God Seed and charged at the creature with no regard for their lives.

To Sorin's surprise, these nightmares proved to be paper tigers; they collapsed upon contacting the creature's many mouths and even became fodder for the creature instead of harming it. This continued for many waves until suddenly, an abnormality appeared in the creature. It began jerking and twisting in the air and even went so far as to attack itself.

"This isn't even a fair fight," said Michael, shaking his head. "Out of the three of us, I'm next best suited to fight it. Charles would maybe stand a chance, while you, Sorin, wouldn't last more than a minute."

"There's nothing my poisons can't affect," said Charles proudly. "Though 'affect' when it comes to creatures might be a generous term. At most, my poisons would display 10% of their original potency."

The match grew even more lopsided when the Phantom Devourer, having eaten up several waves of nightmares at great spiritual cost to Melinoë, suddenly bit its own tail. Its body twisted and contorted as its many mouths did the same.

She poisoned it on a spiritual level, Sorin thought as he observed the result of her tampering. Unlike my poisons, hers are primed for mental control. It's not that she's forcing the creature to kill itself, but that the creature would rather die than be taken over.

Despite having clinched a victory, Melinoë did not let up. Its spirit body gradually shrank as it repeatedly destroyed portions of its own body. Eventually, it was reduced to only a tenth of its original size; only then did Melinoë approach the creature to attack it with a distortion-filled palm. Its body scattered and reassembled, only to scatter again and repeat the cycle. It continued shrinking until it was no larger than a mason jar.

At first, Sorin was concerned that Melinoë might change her mind and enslave the creature, but fortunately, this did not happen. Instead, she tightened her grip on the tiny spirit and scattered its essence.

The creature's death provoked a chain reaction in the surrounding air space, collecting the scattered spirituality and converging it onto a single point to produce a golden wish-fire orb that landed safely in her hand.

"I wish you all the best, gentlemen," said Melinoë with an exaggerated bow. "Do be careful, Sorin—I anticipate that your challenge will be especially difficult." Golden light flashed and whisked her out of the catacombs.

"Charles, you go up next," said Michael.

"What happened to drawing lots?" asked Charles. "Not that I'm complaining."

Sorin was also concerned and wondered if Melinoë's words were just a taunt or served some other purpose. Is it a trap? Did Melinoë tamper with the next challenge and is trying to lure me in? Or does her scheming run deeper than a single match?

"I agree that Charles should go first," said Sorin after much deliberation. "This will increase the time gap between my match and Melinoë's, making it more difficult for her to tamper."

Charles shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll take that hairy elephant demon if you all don't mind."

"It's a woolly mammoth, and you know it," called out Michael as Charles flew over to the statue with surprising speed. "What a clown. I hope that creature hurts him badly."

Though Charles's behavior and words were exaggerated, his combat style proved careful and calculated, further reinforcing Sorin's opinion of him as a deadly snake. Unlike Melinoë, he didn't clash directly against the woolly mammoth's aura. Instead, he used his God Light to contaminate the mammoth's aura. His aura didn't directly clash with the wooly mammoth demons. Instead, it infiltrated them like an oily film, greatly reducing their resistance to poison.

Spell circles appeared all over the ruined city, half of which were aligned with poison and half of which were with space. Sorin had to admit that the display was impressive since, as far as he knew, Charles was a pure plague mage, and casting off-mana spells was known to be challenging.

Every time the woolly mammoth charged, Charles teleported away at the last minute, buying just enough time to cast an S-Tier spell that resonated with the poison-aligned spell circles in the room. These were short, ranged spells of great power, but thanks to the spell circles, their range was extended such that they struck the mammoth despite the great distance between them.

"Charles's approach is bold but risky," Michael analyzed. "He has powerful base resistances to skills and spells thanks to his cultivation technique, which is why he dares infiltrate the mammoth with his God Light instead of countering this aura.

"Combined with his adaptive poisons, which ensures that the spells he casts automatically tailor themselves to their targets, he stands a good chance at winning."

Sorin shook his head when he heard this. "What you're describing doesn't resemble what I'm observing."

"How so?" asked Michael.

"It would be more accurate to say that his poisons are just benefiting from his resistance-lowering ability," said Sorin. "It's not that they're tailored—they're performing as they originally should."

"I fail to see the distinction," said Michael. "Then again, I'm not a physician. Or a poison user, for that matter."

"The distinction is that he can't target specific weaknesses," explained Sorin. "He can't formulate a suitable poison to counter his opponent. His poisons must function as they originally should, regardless of their suitability."

Though Charles was a natural counter to the woolly mammoth, there was one factor that the three of them hadn't anticipated: the creature's overabundant vitality. It was so great that any damage caused by Charles's poisons was quickly healed over.

Combined with the fact that Charles had to teleport to avoid the speedy creature, the mage's resources quickly fell to dangerous levels. "He can't do it," said Sorin. "He won't make it. Not that I mind seeing him fall in this dungeon."

Charles tried desperately to overcome his opponent, but in the end, the creature was too tough. It was like Sorin said—he wasn't targeting its weaknesses and was instead targeting its strengths. Overcoming resistance mattered little when the mage was effectively pitting his small pool of mana against the mammoth's vast ocean of vitality."

"You don't seem too concerned about his safety," Sorin observed.

"That's because I have a little more information than you do," said Michael. "You're only somewhat favored by your family's demigod; conversely, Charles is their only hope."

As Michael spoke, Charles finally seemed to come to terms with his situation. He firmly pulled out a needle from his robes, coughed a mouthful of blood on it, and then tossed it at the creature.

The needle was only a foot long—tiny compared to the mammoth—but it easily pierced its defenses. Once inside, divine light invaded the creature's system and began breaking it apart from the inside out.

"What a cheat," muttered Sorin.

Michael rolled his eyes. "His ancestor already had a foot in the grave. I can't imagine how much vitality crafting this single-use treasure cost him."

The needle was orders of magnitude more effective than Charles's poisons. The mammoth's flesh melted off its bones, and it could not fight back.

That said, the introduction of a demigod's energy into the catacombs was not without consequence. Spatial cracks began appearing inside the ruined city, and runic lines appeared and began attacking the demigod-level energy, threatening the formation's stability.

Fortunately for Charles, the demigod weapon had already fulfilled its purpose. By the time the needle was destroyed, only half the mammoth remained, and that half was greatly eroded and weakened. It took no effort at all for Charles to land the finishing blow, but he didn't at all seem pleased by the result.

"Confused?" asked Michael. "He's unhappy because his treasure nullified much of the creature's essence." As he spoke, a silver wish-fire sphere appeared and settled into Charles's outstretched hand. "It technically counts as a victory, but losing out on a Divine-Tier reward is a great loss."

"I'm more concerned about the state of these catacombs," said Sorin as he glanced about the ruined city. Corruption was oozing out of the spatial fissures created by the needle, and the remaining statues were slowly absorbing corruption. "I believe our challenges will be much harder due to the aftereffects of his battle."

"Indeed, they will," said Michael, "How about you go next?"

Sorin thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "If you don't mind, I have a few more secrets I'd rather not reveal to anyone. Besides, isn't the door to the lower levels already open? My success or failure means nothing to you."

Michael shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's not like my abilities aren't public knowledge. But that's the price we pay for producing so many God Seeds."

Having made up his mind, the archer drew his bow and flew over to the statues. That's right. He flew. On his back was a pair of waxy wings that allowed him to move at several times his original speed.

It was common knowledge that only Flesh-sanctification cultivators could fly, and even then, only at a much-reduced speed. But as a God Seed, Michael was able to ignore this common sense rule, putting him at a great advantage against the Mole Lord he picked as his opponent.

What followed was a one-sided barrage of sun-infused arrows. The arrows seemed to strike at random, but thanks to Patient Viper's Analysis, Sorin could tell that each one was precisely aimed at an acupoint or key bone rune, thereby maximizing the damage of each shot.

It only took twenty minutes for Michael to whittle the creature down. "Good luck with your opponent, and watch out for any traps!" shouted Michael as a golden wish-fire sphere appeared. "And most importantly, don't die!"

A golden light whisked him away just as he grabbed the wish-fire sphere, leaving Sorin alone in the catacombs with an oddly familiar opponent.

"A dryad, huh?" said Sorin, looking over the statue. "A creature of wood and nature. Somewhat of a counter to my abilities, but not overly so." His eyes flitted to a mark that had been covertly left on the statue by Melinoë. "To be able to stealthily hide this mark white fighting your opponent, your powers are even greater than I'd originally estimated." A fire lit up inside his eyes as Sorin stepped up to the statue. "But that just makes it all the more fun."