The Oracle Paths



At nearly the same instant Jake decided to take matters seriously, a man, covered in blood – predominantly his own, was fleeing with all the desperation of a hunted creature.

His once handsome face was pallid, beaded with sweat, his gaze wild. Every now and then, he would cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder, his expression momentarily relaxing with relief each time he confirmed he wasn't being pursued.

The man teetering on the brink of despair was none other than Sigmar Aelsinire, also known as Hade.

Whenever his thoughts strayed back to the events of just minutes prior, a chill would ripple down his spine, cold sweat prickling his flesh.

'I felt it coming, but those traitors still managed to catch me off guard.' With a shake of his head, exuding an air of bitterness and disillusionment, he cautiously circulated his Vitality Aether to heal his injuries.

However, judging by the continuous flow of tainted blood from the gaping wound in his stomach, his efforts weren't proving successful. Thankfully, he hadn't made the same mistake as Lucia.

His past in a scientifically advanced world had alerted him to the danger in time. At the first sign of symptoms, he had stopped indiscriminately circulating his Aether, individually manipulating his killer immune cells to produce antibodies, and triggering self-destruction in the cells infected by the virus.

This required an extremely precise control of his Aether and terrifying perception, but due to his swift reaction, he had temporarily stemmed the virus's progress in his body.

Unluckily, it also came with a wicked catch. The gaping wound in his stomach, the very source of his contamination, could not regenerate properly without risking upsetting the delicate equilibrium he had painstakingly established.

Furthermore, something about that gruesome wound interfered with his mental sense, preventing him from precisely controlling his Aether in the injured area. If he rashly used his Aether to boost the metabolism of cells in that area, he would likely be playing into the virus's hands.

'How did things go so terribly wrong…' Hade sighed in trepidation, his words cut short by a violent bout of bloody coughing, temporarily shattering his stealth.

Thud, thud, thud!

Shrrrriii!

The monsters he thought he had painfully shaken off returned instantly, like a swarm of piranhas, their heavy footsteps distorting the metal ceiling of the ventilation ducts they were moving in.

BANG!

Suddenly, the corridor ceiling where he was fleeing collapsed without warning, forcing him to skid to a halt. Hade's pupils narrowed in focus and with a swift left-right sweep of his hand as if swatting a fly, the Sinewshades regurgitated by the vent were telekinetically smashed into the corresponding walls, opening a narrow passageway.

Daring not to slacken his pace, Hade swiftly ventured into the breach, a supersonic boom squashing the less robust monsters gunning for him against the corridor walls like insignificant bugs.

For an infinitesimal moment, the former Fluid Grandmaster believed he might escape their confinement circle again, but no sooner had he passed the cumbersome Sinewshades than two familiar humanoid figures appeared at the end of the corridor, blocking his path.

Recognizing them, despair washed over his spirit, although on the surface, he managed to maintain his sternest stoic facade.

"Drakon and Epsilom," Hade spat out, his body bracing for the imminent deathly clash.

He pronounced their names with such bitterness, but whether they were still the same two disciples of Cekt he had met a few hours earlier was up for debate.

At first glance, their appearances hadn't changed much, if at all in Epsilom's case, who was still a blurred cloud of energy in a roughly human outline. The only significant alteration was Drakon's eyes. The once ruby irises laced with golden veining had taken on a grey hue, his slit pupils pulsating with an eerie silver glow.

The Draconian had lost a few of his scales, his blood-red flesh visible underneath, but his body held up much better than Lucia and the other virus victims. Perhaps, this was owed to his draconic bloodline, renowned for its formidable physical attributes.

By contrast, their auras were almost unrecognizable. No matter how Hade perceived it, the energy surrounding them undeniably reminded him of a Digestor's aura. If he closed his eyes and relied solely on his mental sense to distinguish them, he would likely be unable to tell the difference between the two disciples and the relentless monstrous creatures chasing him.

Were they traitors? Or had they fallen into a trap like him? Indeed, this uncertainty was the primary reason Hade was in such a pitiful condition.

He dared not fight with all his might for fear of unjustly killing them. But as the situation continued to deteriorate, it seemed his hesitation might soon cost him his life.

Upon this realization, Hade's expression hardened, a resigned severity erasing any remaining traces of sympathy and hesitation on his face.

As if to remind him that he should have made up his mind much earlier rather than waver in indecision, a horribly high-pitched, ultrasonic sound suddenly echoed down the corridor where he was cornered. The sound originated from somewhere behind him, and the menacing thud of grating footsteps followed it, making him realize that what he feared had happened.

The orchestrator of this masquerade had caught up with him.

"There's no use in running," Nigel voiced sardonically in his inhuman, gravelly tone. "I admire your tenacity and bravery, I really do. That's why I'm asking you to cease this pointless resistance while you still can. If you comply, I promise to keep these Sinewshades off you."

"Why should I trust a traitor who's just betrayed his co-disciples?" Hade sneered disdainfully in response.

He had no intention of revealing the Gorgonite's wrongdoings, but this conversation was the perfect ruse to buy him time while he racked his brain for a solution. The mineral alien wasn't fooled by his act, but strangely, he chose to play along.

"You're right to distrust me," Nigel chuckled amusedly, spreading his arms grandiosely. "Why would I make such a promise to an enemy who might backstab me at the slightest opportunity? Simple. Even if I do nothing, it's too late for you. You're already infected, so I only need to wait, and you will join my ranks on your own. The only reason I didn't let you escape is because I'm exceptionally cautious. Rather than give you a chance to purge the virus from your body, I chose to keep you busy. But now that I'm here speaking to you, it only means one thing: It's already too late for you. You can't turn the tide."

Hade's heart chilled hearing these words. Somewhere deep within, he knew the Gorgonite wasn't lying. He could feel in his very bones that his immune system was losing the battle.

"Where does this virus come from?" he questioned coldly. Doomed as he was, he decided to gather some information to satiate his curiosity. "I've lived a long time and consider myself a scholar, but I've never seen a virus this aggressive."

Instead of answering, the high-frequency sound that Hade had begun to loathe sounded again, and this time he managed to see the urchin-like silver spongy device in Nigel's palm that he had just pressed.

As soon as the piercing sound was emitted, the heavy footfalls of the massing Sinewshades echoed from all directions, setting his skin crawling. Simultaneously, Drakon advanced towards him, brandishing a heavy lance menacingly, while Epsilom raised his hands, freezing the surrounding Aether, an invisible yet very present domain expanding rapidly from the ethereal being as the epicenter.

This ultimate combo of raw strength and supreme control of Aether and energy had overwhelmed all of Hade's offensive and defensive tactics.

Faced with the unstoppable pairing, he had found himself with no other recourse but to beat a hasty retreat, his tail tucked between his legs. It was an aberrant Digestor, distinct from the rest, that had grievously wounded him at the worst possible moment, when he was at his most vulnerable.

To his relief, that nightmare spawn was not present. Otherwise, he would've given up on the spot.

Inside Epsilom's domain, the Fluid Grandmaster could not employ any of his lethal techniques based on his manipulation of Aether or energy in general, be it his telekinesis, his hybrid black lightsaber techniques, or his Zero-Aether-Density domain that had troubled Ael and Felphi in his Fourth Ordeal.

Trapped within, the once formidable warrior was now just a man, his mighty mind rendered futile, his Body Stats nothing more than adequate. Against common Evolvers, such capabilities might have sufficed. But when pitted against an Oracle Knight of Drakon's caliber, a master of close combat?

It was simply suicide.

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