The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

When they appeared in the new isolated space, Raymund Ballast looked at the ground and bared his fangs in distaste at what he found. The new location was a reed-filled marsh, so he was suddenly up to his knees in murky water. Bubbles inexplicably drifted up in the surroundings, popping silently before his distaste. Snorting, Raymund ignored his discomfort and looked around.

The location was rather desolate and empty; it appeared that the deeper they went, the larger the isolated spaces became. But Raymund could see that the far side of the space was filled with explosions and reverberations as a contingent of Nether Gatekeepers and Nether Heralds attacked a token force from the Engraving Guild that appeared to have been left behind by their superiors to delay the Nether forces. In between where the Ghosthound and his group were standing and where the battle was happening, Raymund could see large mounds poking out of the surface of the water. Torn limbs of Nether Beasts could be seen grasping out of the dark liquid.

The marsh, to Raymund’s eyes, suddenly seemed dyed the color of rust. Apparently, the Engraving Guild had encountered a defensive Nether encampment and had forcibly penetrated the defenses. Even if they were confident in the defensive barrier they used to block the Pinnacle Seekers, it seemed they were in a hurry for a different reason.

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The continuing shockwaves drew Raymund’s attention back forward. It seemed that with the heavy hitter proceeding to the next spatial island, the remnants were about to lose and were mustering their final stand. Each disparate impact sent waves of dark water splashing. Low clouds of stinking mist hung over the far side of the battlefield, keeping the details blurry.

But Raymund was sure that neither Techetadore nor the Shal that the Ghosthound knew were still present. He could vaguely sense the images being used and he recognized none of them.

“You proceeded second through to the space? That means you have the honor of leading the battlefield to pacify this area. This is a test of Seeker Ozaer, I expect,” Seeker Thunder Wing said with a wry smile toward Randidly. He gestured toward the far battle. “Luckily, it appears our foes are content to exhaust one another. And if you need any further assistance-”

Randidly waved his hand lightly. “Thank you, but some exercise will do me good. Helen, Raymund, DiOrtho? Warm yourself up. Let’s see if we can capture some Engraving Guild members alive.”

All three nodded. Raymund flexed his claws, shifting his feet before they sunk too deeply into the grimy mud of the marsh beneath him. The four of them waded calmly forward, heading toward the flank of the Nether forces. The Ghosthound had chosen their path so they avoided the largest mounds of Nether Beast bodies. As they crossed the distance, Raymund glanced up to avoid seeing the floating flesh and was at once transfixed by what he saw in the sky. His eyes widened and for several seconds he could not move.

The training he experienced under Randidly Ghosthound thrown Raymund into a crash course regarding Nether. Halfway through their three-month boot camp, the Ghosthound had designed some sort of construction that funneled Nether through the unsuspecting recruits in the same way that nature occasionally felt the urge to dump rain runoff over an otherwise inclined piece of geography. And just as sure, that flow of Nether gradually wore down the recruits’ bodies to the point that it now could naturally house quite a volume of Nether.

Most others didn’t really notice many effects because such benefits were almost indistinguishable from the significant gains they made during all the physical fitness training, but Raymund was in a somewhat special role to appreciate the changes. His ability to briefly plunder the Skills and images of other individuals relied on a complex, interrelated series of factors. And perhaps the most important of those factors was the amount of significance that Raymund could safely contain in his body.

If he could successfully take a bit of his target’s significance, grounding the stolen image within himself was much easier. The resulting attack he could unleash was much more powerful.

So Raymund took his ability to house Nether very seriously. During his five years within Randidly’s Alpha Cosmos, that Nether flow had been cut off, but he had carefully taught himself some primitive methods of manipulating Nether to continue to hone his abilities. Several years of such training meant that he could accurately read the power of Nether based individuals.

Randidly Ghosthound remained the most inscrutable of the owners of Nether that Raymund had encountered. He even could favorably compare against Nether Heralds. Obviously, the Nether Heralds possessed more aggressive force within their compact forms. But the Ghosthound somehow managed to add a dimension of irresistible suction to the Nether he utilized. To use a barely relevant metaphor, Nether Heralds possessed the force of a waterfall, while Randidly Ghosthound was a whirlpool.

But even the whirlpool that the Ghosthound possessed couldn’t compare to the horrifying waves of significance that crashed back and forth across the dim sky above the marsh. The drab and slightly yellow clouds were a facade hiding a grand Nether working that the Foxman could barely comprehend. As soon as Raymund observed that flowing significance, it seemed to become aware of him in turn and apply an overwhelming mental pressure on this presumptuous flesh bag that dared to observe it.

I had believed my small discoveries had meaning… Raymund thought in a daze as he experienced the equivalent of having his mind caught in a vice. Yet my observations only concerned the effect of Nether. The true test of Nether… the actual truth of this energy relates to the grand pattern by which it moves, not how it shapes the host.

Yes… across the recruits, through the Ghosthound, the complex methods of our bond…

Raymund’s mind raced as several things happened at once within his body. The pain of enduring that heaven-sent pressure only seemed to quicken the changes within himself. He could feel some sort of paradigm shift occurring at his core. To his surprise, he sensed that his Class was rapidly undergoing a metamorphosis and ravenously devouring the energy in his body. Soon the Foxman went from frozen in shock to feebly attempting to remain standing as all his previously abundant energy was absorbed.

Even as he began to grow dizzy with weakness and pain, his own significance left his body and was siphoned up into those chaotic waves in the sky. The Vulpine had stumbled headfirst into some grand pattern that completely overwhelmed his senses. So even while one part of his energy was being pulled inward to fuel a transformation, the other portion was sucked outward and devoured by the ravenous pattern above.

Strung out on a thin and fraying line between two paradigm shifts, Raymund couldn’t breathe. His eyes bulged and he could almost hear the sound of his cornea drying out.

He may very well have been metaphorically torn in half if there wasn’t suddenly a warm hand on his shoulder. The Ghosthound looked at Raymund with a concerned frown and squeezed his arm lightly. “Careful there. This thing is bigger than you can handle.”

While he was speaking, the Ghosthound did two things. First, he established a warm canal of energy that flowed between them. The formerly abundant energy that had been drained away was replaced even more quickly than Raymund’s Class could absorb it. Which finally allowed his Class to grow and swell into its true, new form.

In addition, the Ghosthound spun his own Nether around them in a protective cocoon. The dangerous connection to that pattern in the sky was briefly screened by the aura that the Ghosthound projected into the surrounding area. Raymund was barely able to suck in a shaky breath.

Which was when the notifications started.

Congratulations! Your Class Cultural Protector is evolving! Please see your Village Spirit for details-

Congratulations! Your Class has evolved into a Unique Class, The Descendant of Fiero! Stats will adjust to incorporate your new Class!

Congratulations! You have learned the Skill Adaptive Mimicry (L)! You have learned the Skill Significance Capture (M)!

While Raymund’s head continued to spin as he attempted to adjust to the changes, the Ghosthound gave him a long glance. “Looks like you should sit this one out. Being exposed to that pattern up there shook your core significance-”

“N-no,” Raymund managed to stammer out. He carefully swallowed again before he spoke. “Truly, I am capable of this. And right now… I have a strong desire to fight to my limits.”

“Don’t we all,” The Ghosthound answered wryly. But after raking his calm emerald gaze across every inch of Raymund, he nodded evenly. “Alright, fine then. Follow up.”

And with that, the Ghosthound produced Acri and lowered himself into a crouch. Helen grimaced and hopped backward with a splash while DiOrtho and Raymund remained standing in place, looking at their commanding officer curiously. The Foxman was still settling into the new sensations he experienced; he wasn’t ready for this strange action.

By the time Helen landed and visibly rolled her eyes at their proximity, Raymund’s expression shifted to a grimace.

But by then, the Ghosthound had accelerated.

A wave of nettle-filled water slapped Raymund face and left him drenched. What could only be a severed foot of a humanoid smacked against his arm, sent tumbling by the explosive displacement. The Ghosthound rushed forward, the force of his passages practically splitting the still water into two waist-high walls as he advanced. His momentum rapidly drew the attention of some of the Nether Gatekeepers on the fringes of the battlefield. They turned around and roared in challenge at the Ghosthound, but their resistance proved to be short-lived. As a powerful image of the World Tree appeared in the sky above the marsh, Randidly Ghosthound performed split-second vivisections on three unfortunate Nether Gatekeepers that were in his way.

By the time some of the Nether Heralds that were crushing the last of the Engraving Guild’s resistance noticed the Ghosthound, he had built up a veritable slipstream of howling wind behind him that flattened the displaced water back down to its normal height. Most Nether Gatekeepers were blasted away by these same winds, which allowed the Ghosthound to approach the Herald directly and simply bludgeon them into the ground.

Wiping pond gunk off of his snout, Raymund wondered how much physical power his Head Drill Sergeant actually possessed.

A thunderous rustling of leaves sent ripples across the settling water across the marsh. Yggdrasil unleashed a pulse of energy that filled Raymund with vigor, but he knew from first-hand experience how oppressive that image could be against its enemies.

Seeing the Ghosthound move, Raymund discovered a strange new instinct inside of himself. His limbs shifted into an imitation of the Ghosthound’s precise and brutal spear form. Without any conscious thought, a spectral fox tail condensed on Raymund's back and formed into the shape of Acri. He thrust the spear forward and a misshapen blade of water emerged from the marsh in front of him. Then he grinned down at his hands.

Just barely, he had managed to catch the Drill Sergeant’s shadow-

Congratulations! Your Skill Adaptive Mimicry (L) has grown to Level 2!

Scanning target… Randidly Ghosthound: Level 63, Class Hidden. A Transcendent Tier Target.

Error! Unable to properly perceive data on the target. Skill fails.

Congratulations! Your Skill Adaptive Mimicry (L) has grown to Level 3!

Raymund continued to look toward the Ghosthound with burning eyes. He stepped forward, rapidly accelerating behind Helen as the two rushed forward to intercept the Nether Gatekeepers that the Ghosthound had blown to the side. As they moved, Raymund felt those instincts rising again. This time, he looked at Helen’s capable back as she spun a spear in her hands.

Scanning target… Helen Willammie: Level 89, Class Hidden. A Legendary Tier Target.

Error! Unable to properly mimic the target. Skill fails.

Congratulations! Your Skill Adaptive Mimicry (L) has grown to Level 4!

Congratulations! Your Skill Adaptive Mimicry (L) has grown to Level 5!

Raymund’s face twitched. No meaningful edifice was ever built in a day, as they say...

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