System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 270: A Mirror Forged in Blood
Roy did not waste time chasing the illusory glass mirrors left in the remaining towers. Instead, he strode straight into the fountain basin.
He crossed it in a few swift steps and stopped before a pale gray stone wall pressed close against the pool.
He shut his eyes and pressed an ear to it. The surface felt smooth and hard. Behind the marble wall, water flowed merrily with a soft, rippling murmur.
A look of relief spread across the young man’s face.
“The path shifted a little, but the final way to solve the riddle hasn’t changed. Once I break this wall and let the water flood the fountain basin, Gaunter O’Dimm, you won’t wriggle out of the wager!”
“Then try it,” the man replied, casual as ever.
Roy drew a blue equilateral triangle with his right hand. Power surged from his palm, and he slammed it toward the wall.
A thunderous boom rang out. The violent blast of air struck the stone, dust shaking loose in sheets, yet the water he had expected did not come pouring through.
Because the wall still stood there, stubborn and unmoved.
The Witcher’s Aard Sign had failed to break it.
“Everything was supposed to go to plan. I’ve come all the way to the final step...” A flicker of panic crossed Roy’s face. At that point, less than a tenth of the sand remained.
He had five minutes left.
Two seconds later, the Witcher struck the wall again.
A chill spread through every limb. The wall still did not move in the slightest.
Roy’s heart lurched, and his breathing turned ragged.
Yet the truth was right in front of him. Reason told him plainly, his mastery of Aard was not enough to shatter the wall.
That was the detail he had ignored all along. Even counting the Elder Blood’s bonus, his Signs were at most around level two.
Failing to break the wall was unexpected, yet entirely reasonable.
“The Viper School hasn’t been rebuilt. The Brotherhood of Witchers hasn’t been founded. I haven’t even had the chance to say goodbye to Old Mole, Susan, Coral, Ciri ... No, I cannot lose!”
“Haha, face reality!” Master Mirror began mocking him again without restraint. “Friend, the chance to solve the riddle was right before you, and you failed to grasp it yourself. You cannot blame me now. Come along obediently, with Aryan beside you, to a world more wondrous than anything you have ever seen!”
“No!” Roy shouted. Master Mirror’s inscrutable face seemed to rise before his eyes again. What would happen if he was taken away by that creature?
Would his soul be devoured?
Visions surged before him. Endless darkness and void rolled over him like a tide, drowning him utterly, erasing every trace of his existence.
The Witcher rushed to the wall and began pounding it in a frenzy, one blow, then another.
Dull thuds sounded, blood splashed.
Very soon his fists were flayed open, flesh shredded and smeared, white bone showing through. Even with a Strength of ten, twice that of a normal man, trying to smash solid marble with bare hands was still a fool’s dream.
“Hahahaha!” Master Mirror sneered. “I remember how confident you looked at the start. Wagering with me, trying to snatch a soul from my hands ... oh, such admirable courage. Yet when death arrives as promised, you are still a coward!”
“Why not accept my gift calmly, with a little dignity?”
“Shut up! I haven’t lost!” Roy glanced at the sandglass draining away at terrifying speed, yet still refused to yield. “There’s still time!”
“There has to be another way!”
Master Mirror savored the performance. In a shrill, vicious tone, he said, “I forgot to mention, once I take your soul, this nourishing body of yours should not go to waste. Why not leave it in my world as fertilizer? I will use your flesh to grow the loveliest, deadliest flowers.”
The words struck home. Suddenly the Witcher lowered his head and went utterly still. He stared blankly at the glaring blood on the back of his hand, and understanding dawned on his young face.
“An unbreakable mirror ... water ... liquid, blood, shatter the Crimson Reflection...” he muttered, repeating the phrases to himself. “Shatter the Crimson Reflection, so that’s it!”
“Poor thing, can’t take it anymore, have you snapped...” Master Mirror’s voice broke off mid-sentence.
The Witcher suddenly dashed to the center of the dry basin.
Not a drop of water remained there. The structure that had once supported the fountain was layered like a cake, narrowing as it rose.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.