Rise Of The Worthy [LitRPG System Apocalypse]

Chapter 291: Not Just the Fumes


Listening to it hurts.

Little by little, its words scrape away at my mind until I have to retreat to just barely hearing it; as if I'm eavesdropping on a conversation that I'm actively supposed to be a part of. The construct talks and walks as if nothing's wrong. Pearl whines in pain and covers her ears. I… I think I can hear my bones shuddering and struggling against my ligaments to try and rip their way out of my body.

To escape.

I wince and hold my hands up to my face. How… how long has it been? I'm pretty sure I'm still walking. But my legs… I can barely feel them any more. And my hands are shaking like dry leaves in an autumn tornado. Just barely hanging on. Just barely hanging on.

Just barely hanging on.

The sound of coins shattering at my feet brings me back to reality. A half dozen purifications, all seeping a salty mist that thrums with power. More than I've ever used before. I don't want to look at the coins I used. They're too valuable to be wasted on something like this. Something I… I… wait. What's happening?

My legs aren't moving. Where are my hands? Colours blend together into one giant mass, red and grey and silver and black and everything swimming in my vision like some kind of sick, twisted public pool filled with a collective noise that makes it impossible to make any one thing out.

Salt hits my eyes. I instinctively open my mouth to scream, but there isn't any pain. If anything, the horrible sensation of burning is actually… refreshing. Moisture returns to my tongue. Feeling seeps down my throat and into my stomach like a cup of warming hot cocoa. It spreads through my nerves with the insistence of the tide coming in, filling in the nooks and crannies to make the beach whole again.

Pearl sighs in relief. She pats my cheek–or a blob shaped like her does–and she turns to look at the stain on the other side of the room. The stain that's… trapped in a sphere of glass. One that ripples with Pearl's magic.

"Pearl…" I mumble through a dry mouth. A tooth falls out. One of mine. I dumbly reach up and feel at the hole–but the very tip of a new one's already growing in. "What am I…?"

"We made a mistake." Pearl says… softly, but it looks like she's yelling. "The construct… it was… she is…"

"A mistake." A clicking, motherly voice cuts through everything. "One that I should have seen coming from a mile away, but I… got too excited. Something like me… born from what I am… well, I suppose I'm antithetical to life."

Anti…something. The opposite of. Maybe. My brain's not… working so well right now. But… why? What the hell happened? I remember hearing the construct talk for the first time, then it… uh… 'filled itself out'... and then it said something about starting and finishing the quest. After that, though… after that… it's just bits and pieces that I can't remember.

I groan and try to sit up. Except I already am–back to the wall, eyes facing forward, and the soft sensation of warmth filling my stomach. Something about this is oddly familiar. Almost like I've felt this before. Not quite the same, though; this is both way worse and slightly better. An idea rumbles around the hollow corridors of my brain as I stare forward, images finally coming into view to process in all their un-glory.

Pearl on my shoulder. The matronly construct trapped in a smaller version of Illumisia's prison. And all that material… the metal mixed with construct mixed with red… it's gone. And there are fumes slowly dissipating into the air. My lungs burn from looking at them. Then they burn when I look away.

The idea pings around even harder. I slowly pull out my Class Card to make sure, swipe to my inventory, and… my reservoir's almost full. Of something called 'wasteblossom nectar'. Even with the flowery name it's damn obvious what's inside there.

I stare down at it until everything feels normal-ish. It takes a while. "So run me through what we did. Because I think I completely lost the memory of it."

Pearl nods slowly as the construct winces. "I think so, too, Shelby. We thought one purification would be enough, but… um… obviously it wasn't. You breathed in too much of the fumes, and then you started shaking, but–but that wasn't even the worst part! Because then the subquest showed up and the stuff started–"

"Let me tell her, sugar star." The construct says quietly, its–her–voice no longer scything directly into my brain. "Halfway through, the subquest popped up. I expected that… well… I'd be the one in charge of it. Unfortunately for all of us, I was exactly right. Because when that notification hit your card, those fumes grew ten times stronger. And the material itself finally showed its true colours."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She motions down at herself with disdain. "The very same material that's making up my luscious body at this very moment. If you hadn't struggled through the casting fumes and the horrible radiation to get all that horrible stuff tucked safely away… well… I… you'd…"

The construct sets her jaw and slams her fist against the glass. A bright light flashes at the impact. My awareness screams danger. Not in a hostile way, but like a tornado siren screeching out a warning to shelter in place. I wait for the construct to finish, but she just continues to shake.

"She's unstable, Shelby." Pearl explains. "The material's leaking radiation that's way worse than the stuff outside. If that stuff is the lingering radiation from near the blast… then she's the reactor in the process of melting down."

I blink and raise my hand. All my clothes are still here. I'm… probably going to have to dump them if they're this radioactive. Unless purification can do its thing. Judging by the absurd value of hexagonal coins scattered around me… it better.

"So did we at least complete the subquest?"

The construct shakes her head. "No. The subquest's clear condition was to remove and… dispose of all the hazardous materials. We don't know how you're supposed to dispose of them yet. Or how you were supposed to remove them if you didn't have a reservoir."

"Well, we got the reservoir from this district's trial subquest, so… maybe that's it." I say as I use the wall to stand up. "Pearl, any holes in your memory?"

She confidently shakes her head. "I can account for every second since we got here. What's the last thing you remember?"

"The construct's third or fourth sentence."

Both Pearl and the construct wince. …It doesn't seem like that much time to me, but judging by their reactions… hoo boy. I take out my Class Card again and look over to my stats. Twenty-two Fate stares back at me. Meaning I've lost way too much time. Shit. Ward… Jumble… Dani… I have to get back.

"Nevermind how long I lost." I say dismissively, even though it's really starting to bother me. "You, uh, construct-mother."

The construct raises her chin. "Yes, Shelly?"

I frown. "Shelby. My name's Shelby. How'd you get in there? And what was that… magic when you punched the glass?"

A somber smile crosses the construct's lips as she nods at Pearl. "Sugar star made it for me out of the remains of my older prison and a healthy dose of her own magic. Her own magic, not the system's prescribed doses you call 'spells'. Why, I never thought I'd see anything like that ever again. Not after… well… I'm not sure if I can say much of anything."

"Give it a try." Pearl coaxes the construct. "You're still connected to the quest. Maybe… maybe you can say things without being censored."

The construct bites its lip–a screeching motion that somehow doesn't end with a razor-blade of a tooth for a fresh piercing. Her strange eyes lock with mine, and something like regret passes over her all too quickly. Something about her… it isn't right. She talked to me normally without the need for one of my coins to free her. All she needed was a 'vessel', not freedom.

She sets her jaw. "I suppose I can–"

"Who are you?" I cut her off harshly. "You aren't a construct. So what the hell are you?"

"Oh… you… forgot that, too. Ha… ha…" The construct chuckles weakly. "It wasn't pleasant to say the first time… but… I'm… one of the people you're not supposed to be looking for. One of the first experiments."

"The first… are you a… heretic?" I say slowly. "But the one we saw earlier… with those strange proportions…"

The construct shakes her head. "The system didn't use us all in the same way. I was used as a basis for a… living construct. One with all the capabilities of a living being, but… under the system's absolute control. It didn't work. I died. And the system discarded me here–a multiplying mass of metal and construct and crystallized blood that it never wanted to see the light of day."

"You died." I state.

"In a physical sense, yes." The construct confirms. "But my mind… my nerves… my thoughts… everything got trapped in the mix. Except I couldn't do anything. And the system couldn't do anything with the metal. But after all those years, all those repairs it did after __________________ _____________________________________ _____________…"

Censorship. Shit. I hold up a hand, and the construct nods knowingly. Because… it already said that, apparently.

"Well, long story short, the system rebuilt this place. And once it put the quest in place, it did something magical that created the subquests and assigned things to them. I was one of those things, and somehow, it separated me from the metal." The construct taps her head for emphasis, her fingernail digging deep into her metal flesh. "Now I'm here. I don't know how, or why, or why I still exist after what happened, but I'm here. And I hurt you. For that, I'm sorry."

I wave off her apology. "Pearl didn't destroy you, so we're fine. But you. Heretic. Explain now, please."

The construct nods. "It's actually far simpler than you'd think. Any paindne who still practiced the old way of magic after the system instilled the… well… 'system' was branded a heretic. And anyone who watched them perform, or gave them shelter, or anything of the like was branded a sympathizer. Just like those other constructs you rescued from the apartment."

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