Sworded Affair

Chapter 41: Dive to the Heart

Interestingly, Emma proved buoyant enough to swim with minimal exertion despite her status as a suit of armor; far better than she had in life as a matter of fact, now that the water no longer stung her eyes closed. Following the path laid before her, Emma descended sharply into the depths, finding it almost as bright as the surface; the contribution of massive anglerfish that swam all around, the glowing lures upon their heads providing her with some much needed illumination.

There was only one direction to go, down, down and further down; accompanied by a procession of fish who occasionally bumped into her, more curious than hostile. The further she descended, the greater the pressure Emma could feel forming around her. By the two minute mark, Emma could notice some minor discomfort. By five minutes, spasms of pain lanced through her; none truly debilitating or even distracting to the Revenant but notable all the same. Ten minutes in, cracks began to form upon the surface of her armor as the descent continued, yet all throughout there was a surprising lack of notifications for Anima loss.

[Your condition makes you ideal for the current trial. A living man would need to breathe, and their fleshy body would have long since collapsed under the pressure of the deep. An Undead, on the other hand has no need for air, and your hollow form allows intake of water to fill your insides, mitigating the crushing pressure much like these deep sea fish swimming alongside you. For the average apprentice, this would be a grueling struggle for survival, requiring them to sustain a shield spell for protection and conjure a constant supply of oxygen. All this, whilst making their way through unforgiving terrain for almost an hour, keeping in mind most apprentices are hardly paragons of physicality. For you, on the other hand, this is more of a jolly than a true test.]

Well I'm certainly not complaining, Emma thought, once again vindicated in her decision to live in death, much like a certain terrorist from Command & Conquer. Indeed, the swim was almost relaxing, putting aside the stabs of pain from what she now knew to be an immense amount of water filling her up. Emma let her mind drift, following the fish on autopilot as ten minutes became thirty, then an hour then two, until finally her path took on an upward incline, then a sheer climb. As her head breached the water, a disappointed sigh could be heard faintly in the distance.

[Floor 3 completed!

100 EXP gained.]

“Well that was boring,” The Overseer complained to nobody in particular. “I would have selected something a bit more challenging, were I allowed to, but all trials are randomly selected to avoid issues with corruption. You got a very lucky draw just now from the pool of choices, no pun intended.”

“I don’t even have a Luck stat either,” Emma laughed. “Do I?”

[You don’t. Active fate manipulation is a difficult art, and quite frankly invites more trouble than it’s worth. Take good fortune where you find it, but otherwise there’s no need to dwell upon it. That way lies conspiracy theories.]

Nodding along in agreement, Emma emerged fully from the water, finding herself before an obsidian gateway that resembled the original approach to Scholomance, at least superficially. Seeing that there was nothing else of interest in the small cave she’d emerged in, Emma wasted no time approaching the portal. Pushing it open with a light shove, Emma took a single step through the threshold and vanished in a beam of light.

—

For the first time since he left the Army, Noah awoke to the sound of gunfire. Blinking away the remnants of a dream best forgotten, he instinctively attempted to draw his sidearm, before a sharp pain in the arm reminded him of his present injury and forced medical leave. That didn't make it easier to listen to the rattling of rifles, nor the shouting and occasional screams as a fierce firefight raged outside. Whilst a part of him urged that he stay out of it, to rest and recover, Noah simply wasn't willing to accept that as an excuse.

"Someone get me out of these!" He yelled, catching the attention of a guard, who walked into his tent with a tight frown on his face, both hands wrapped around a handheld radio so tightly his knuckles were white.

"You're not going anywhere," The guard replied immediately. "How do you plan to help anyway, with an injury like that. Can you even aim a gun properly, with your hand wrapped up like a mummy?"

"I don't need a gun," Noah retorted, summoning a flicker of flames in his good hand. "I won't throw myself into the fray either, but judging by the sounds coming from outside, a bit of fire support wouldn't go amiss."

"Huh, thought it was only your daughter who could do things like that," The guard muttered, before another burst of radio chatter drew his ears.

The transmission quality was poor, leaving Noah unable to hear the words exchanged, only able to see his captor's expression turn progressively grimmer with every passing second. Finally, unable to bear what he was hearing any longer, the guard drew a combat knife and cut through Noah's bedside bindings without another word.

"Thanks," Noah nodded to the guard as he slowly stood, working the feeling back into his limbs.

"We're dead if we lose you, so stay in the back," The guard instructed, clipping his radio back onto his belt and unslinging his own rifle. "Target the big ones; they're the most resistant to our bullets."

"Got it."

—

“Been a while since the last one of those,” Emma remarked, as her eyes adjusted and she found herself in a large, circular arena.

Unlike the Colosseum created by her brother however, there were no gaudy gestures to human history in the makeup of the arena. Pure white walls devoid of decoration surrounded them, the roof following suit in a total lack of personality; no cheering crowds here, only pure practicality.

“Oh good, looks like I’ll get an actual fight on this floor. All that swimming didn’t give me much experience, considering the amount of time invested.”

[Fourth floor reached. Begin mid-boss encounter?]

"Do it." Emma ordered at once, smiling as the blank serenity of the stage was shattered from below.

A viscous black mass surged from the ground, forming the barest outline of what might resemble a human being, if they were made of clay and bathed in the blood of giants. Towering over Emma, whose head only reached its knee, dagger-like fingers clenched, eager to throttle. Most notable of all was its head; a bulbous thing with eyes in every which way, eight in total arrayed equidistant, unblinking and glowing a dull red as they stared vacantly into the distance.

[Earthbound Immortal - Level 13]