Weapons of Mass Destruction

Chapter 534: The last question

Not long after getting all his answers, Kyralon stops me, “This will be your last question and I won’t be asking any more of you.”

“This has come out of nowhere.”

“Yes. I’ve changed my mind, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t ask why. I won’t ask anything of you either and you can spend the rest of your Beyond Quest here in the tower or seated in that spot you seem to like or on the stairs outside of the tower. Nowhere else.”

There are plenty of questions I want to ask, especially why and what could have made him change his mind.

I replay my past answers and behavior, and I don’t think I have done anything to offend him. But it’s not like I can force an Absolute to do what I want, no matter how disappointed I feel.

Sure, I may have decided not to ask him anything about my training because I want to grow my own way, and the cockroach will probably be more of a help than he will. But there is only so much information I can gather by myself.

Pairings, Earth’s awakening, the system, coalitions, what is black mana, questions about some of my other skills, eternal fragments. Questions about the different races and their origins after all I already know that the vyssari are rumored to have been created by one of the Rulers. Then there’s the Last Elf he mentioned, the Magi he mentioned. Where I can get a Spatial Cache of my own, subclasses, and the influence they have. What causes pairing, the world-devouring wolf Biscuit’s disciple mentioned, how to become a Champion or an Absolute, and more.

Many more.

There is no way he doesn’t know that, and we’re still just over a day into my five-day stay.

Surprisingly, there is a part of me that is annoyed at myself for being disappointed that he won’t be serving me these answers on a silver platter. But there is a strong impulse I feel, my frustration straining to show through.

He knows I’m annoyed, but I’m not some toy he can just do whatever he wants with.

Fuck this guy.

“Thank you. I have no more questions for you.”

These few words make him freeze for a moment, his eyes widening the tiniest bit in surprise before he regains control, wiping away that minuscule, barely noticeable break in his expression.

“I understand. You still have some time remaining, so you can ask later if…”

“There is no need.”

“Are you su… I understand. I will be here then.”

“Got it.”

After a moment of hesitation, he stands up and leaves.

Day after day, I sequester myself away in my own mental space, sitting on the stairs within their strange energy suppressing field. However, I also take moments to watch the night sky peeking through the fragments of the moon from the loggia. I follow the rules, never leaving the tower and avoiding prolonged looks at the items around me, knowing they would only fuel my curiosity, with no way to ask questions or inspect them.

Within my mind, I build my array and dedicate parts of my mind to keep them active while also working as much as possible to keep Fracture from simply breaking out.

There are no questions asked, no answers delivered. And when the day comes to leave, Kyralon, for the last time, opens his mouth to say something before he shakes his head and smiles at me, changing his mind.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Nathaniel. Thank you for answering my questions.”

He’s clearly prodding me to ask my remaining question. But I do not ask.

“I understand. Thank you for answering mine. We might see each other after I leave the tutorial. One day.” I say.

“That… that would be an interesting meeting.” He smiles and reaches his huge hand toward me. He grabs mine while shaking it. “Is this not how you greet each other on Earth?”

“Yes, but don’t squeeze so hard; you broke something.”

“I apologize.”

“It’s fine. It will heal… slowly. See you then.”

“Farewell.”

Turning around, I open the door that appeared just moments ago, and pass through once again, reappearing in my handler’s office.

As always, she is sitting behind her desk and immediately asks, “Satisfied?”

“It could’ve been better.”

“Absolute Kyralon can be like that,” she smiles, “Since my allowance of information is nonexistent now, there is no need to hold you here any longer. Don’t die on me, attendee Nathaniel.”

I just give her a nod and keep looking at her, even as I feel the pull of the 7th floor. She watches me in return, amusement flickering across her face.

Then the cold, chilling wind and snow gnaws away at me once more.

POV Warden of the Parallax Eyes, Kyralon

Kyralon spends a moment staring at the spot where the young attendee once stood before letting out a long, frustrated sigh. It had been a long time since someone so much weaker than him had treated him that way, carefully skirting the line between reward and punishment.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He waits for a minute before heading toward the loggia where a young woman is already waiting, seated in one of the free chairs—long red hair, and yellow eyes, laced through with an array of strange patterns.

“Lady Greed,” Kyralon greets her carefully.

“Please sit,” she states, gesturing to him like she were in her own home rather than his.

The atmosphere hums with a slight tension as Kyralon pulls two glasses from his pouch, along with a transparent bottle of golden liquid that swirls like a living whirlpool. He pours a serving into both glasses, whereupon the liquid resumes its motion, and they drink in silence.

In the end, it’s Kyralon who breaks the silence first, “He left without asking the question he had every right to ask. It’s the first time that’s happened. He decided he’d rather annoy me than receive an answer to one of the many questions he must have had.”

The red-haired woman laughs shortly and sips, “The great all-knowing Kyralon, treated like an annoying grandpa. I’m glad I lived to experience it.”

“That human is petty beyond belief. He decided to waste a question for such a silly reason. From me, of all people—Warden of the Parallax Eyes, the last of my bloodline and one of the oldest Absolutes in the system! Who does that?!” His voice ramps up as he complains, putting his disbelief at the situation on full display.

“What could you have done to set him off like that?”

“I decided to end our game of questions prematurely.”

“Why would you do such a thing, dear Kyralon?”

The huge velnar settles into his chair and takes a long sip, watching the golden liquid swirl in his glass. “I didn’t want to stain him, to feed him all the answers, even if they would help him, or make him stronger... or keep him from making our mistakes.”

Taking the bottle and pouring herself another drink, the red-haired woman takes her seat once more, “And what do you think? Would he be able to serve as the weapon we need?”

“How can a human like him succeed where Master Lissandra has failed? That one who started in the Beyond would be a better choice, Lady Greed. Lyraen and Nyssa also show promise. Any of the three would make a better weapon if you absolutely insist on having someone from that particular tutorial. And that’s not even considering the many others already in the system or caught within their own tutorials. But the chances are slim to nonexistent for all of them. That man is too monstrous.”

“No mention of a certain Absolute going rogue?”

“No matter what Master’s imitation does, she won’t make it out of the tutorial. There were versions that made it further, those closer to the original, with more of her incredible power. Yet all of them failed.”

“I see, you’re the same as ever, letting your incredible sight blind you.” The red-haired woman nods, seemingly in agreement, despite the slight smile on her lips.

Right after, she stands up, “Thank you for indulging in this short discussion, dear Kyralon. We will see each other soon.”

She leaves as if she had never been there, and much like he did with his prior visitor, Kyralon watches the place where she disappeared.

POV Nathaniel

There are four “levels” of mimics on the 7th floor. The weakest are Lesser Mimics, then Mimic Spawns, Greater Mimics, and above that, Champion-grade Elder Mimics. Of course, there is one more level, the Absolute-grade Mimic, also called the Progenitor Mimic.

Lesser Mimics and Mimic Spawns are no problem at all. I could keep killing these guys for weeks. A Greater Mimic could cause a problem, especially the ones over level 350. In certain situations, or if more of them group up, things could become… interesting. Especially if they found a host that made them stronger and more intelligent.

Well, it’s not like I have to worry about it now. The place I’ve appeared is incredibly full of mana radiation and none seem to be around. There are enormous holes in the ground, already filled by the never-ending falling snow. The floors or mountains that used to dot the landscape are gone. Kaput, evaporated.

On a whim, I delve into the area with the high mana radiation and rely on [Eclipse] and [Mana Domain] to keep me safe. The experience from the 5th floor certainly helps as well.

While doing so, I quickly exchange messages with Group 4, who don’t seem to be in anything resembling a good state after five days of fleeing the 2nd front and the battle between Champions that apparently took place here.

The Exoria Deployment Outpost is gone, destroyed, along with most of the lumorans who hung back until the bitter end. Their Champion appeared only at the last moment and, according to Tess, utterly crushed two Mimic Champions, both with hosts.

Group 4, Hed’s group, and a few more are currently hiding after a lot of near-death situations and some members of the expedition have been poisoned by something that apparently isn’t quite as serious as whatever killed Ardenyx’s pilot despite being remarkably similar. Among the poisoned are Dennis and Maya. And then Sophie’s been unconscious for the past few days after controlling Ardenyx for an hour after the attack started, in an attempt to give everyone a chance to escape.

But those guys are scary in their own way, so I’m not really worried about them. Group 4 has survived worse dangers. What’s grabbed my interest for the moment is just a whisper of mana wavelength I recognize. My Mana Wavelength Iris spots it even within all the mana radiation surrounding me and the messed-up aftermath of the war.

It’s the signature of level 7 technician Leth.

So I head in that direction, avoiding any areas that seem too dangerous. For instance, there’s an area where the snow just doesn’t enter. A zone the size of a small city, and the snow swirls around it. Inside, patches of twisted, charred trees stand eerily still, and from their branches hang the corpses of lumorans and Mimics alike.

Another such area is a massive crater that melts any snow that falls within, there’s a pool of glowing lava at the bottom. And around its edges, lie more corpses, items, and scraps of tents. I even recognize parts of war armor, though I can’t tell which suits they came from.

To my enhanced eyes at least, these places look about as inviting as a presentation in a class full of extroverts.

Though, perhaps they are a bit more inviting, if only because at least they’re interesting, and I can’t help but feel a strong tinge of curiosity, but I refuse to let it blind me to the danger. Just the way mana moves and twists around them is enough to convince me to avoid them.

Gradually, I am forced to use more and more mana to fight back the radiation in the area, but my body is topped off with mana, as is my crown. Even the damage caused by Fracture, which messed up my mana pathways, and Fracture’s own rebellion pose no threat to my mind, supported by the effects of my mid-arcane passive.

Soon, I catch up and finally lay eyes on Leth. He’s wearing a suit of metal armor that covers the entirety of his body, likely to fight back the mana radiation that I doubt he could endure otherwise. He pushes against the wind, crawling through it at times, each of his steps slow and tired.

Very slowly, he approaches a pile of snow and starts digging. I extend one of my [Ley Lines] and tie it to him. Though it’s more difficult than usual because of the state of the area, but with a bit more focus, I manage to do it.

Leth uncovers part of one of the white tents and enters, after which the snow he removed falls back, covering the entrance once more, hiding it from all my senses. To the point that Iʼm sure I’d never be able to locate it unless I stumbled on it by accident.

I teleport through the [Ley Line] and appear inside the mostly collapsed tent. The noises outside immediately grow quiet, but it’s still very cold in here. I now stand in the remains of one of the larger tents, with a few parts of the workshop intact, along with a few sections of war armor I don’t recognize scattered about all around us. They have a black coating, and scars on their surface reveal the silver metal underneath. A bit farther away lies the damaged war armor on its back, its cockpit open.

Right away, I identify it as Exoria. Unlike Ardenyx, it’s ugly and it looks almost primitive. But the edges of my vision blur when I try to look too closely with my Mana Wavelength Iris.

Leth finally notices me and still wearing his armor, he turns around, pulling a dagger from his waist that immediately becomes covered in pale blue mana. His hand is shaking, and showing me just how weak he is.

Yet still he steps to the left, placing himself between me and the unconscious body behind him.

The body of Feroy, the lumoran Champion.