The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randidly’s thoughts began to rapidly align once he had found the method for ripping his way free of this trap.

The rotations of his Nether Core accelerated into a tightly compacted spiral, moving perpendicularly with the tight flows of Nether around Randidly. The faster he revved himself into motion, the more sturdy the little bond between the two opposing flows became. The stronger that bond was, the more energy he could force into it without the bond collapsing in a messy implosion.

And with the density of Randidly’s Nether, even a little energy could force back the relatively uncontrolled flows that the trap used against him.

Of course, with any increase in speed also came the pressure. Yet pressure was Randidly Ghosthound’s oldest friend from the System.

Without it, he wouldn’t have grown nearly as quickly.

Faster and faster, wilder and wilder, the axis of the rotation beginning to tremble from the constant flux of pressures. Within Randidly’s chest, that violent sea of the Grey Creature’s emotions shivered with a strange joy. He felt the soft presence of Yggdrasil and the constant hunger of the Stillborn Phoenix moving on either side of his most problematic image. It released a crooning note, turning all that acidic bile on an outside source.

With the support of his images, the space he had to himself widened. He rapidly wove together a Nether Ritual running directly counter to the binding around himself, a tiny horizontal rotation within a vertical rotation within a larger constricting horizontal one. His Nether Core buzzed uneasily, ground from both the inside and the outside.

The Grey Creature crooned its mad support, urging him forward. Randidly stuff more Nether into the energy buffer, giving him more and more space to utilize. Pressure continued to mount against him, but the more he worked the more glee he felt. He had found a way. Now he just needed to stop the trap.

His Nether Ritual rapidly spread and pressed itself open. He felt it ripening to fulfillment. After saying a silent apology to his Nether Core, he ripped out the buffer area. The massive Nether Ritual fueled by these hands and his own rotation came directly in contact with each other, each with its own momentum.

His Nether Core groaned with the strain, sputtering and wobbling. Essentially, Randidly bet that his Nether Core could withstand more of the pressure than the massive columns of black hands around him by setting both rituals against each other.

For a strained moment, Randidly felt his Nether constricting and twisting against itself. His internal rotation slowed, unable to keep up with the force of the trap. So much pulled against him, yanking on the significance that had been unspooled by those hands. He felt his memories stretch and waver, beginning to tear at the edges.

Within him, through the pain and pressure, the Grey Creature reached out and seized upon the movement of energy and his strained memories, desperate and snarling. Its long claws sunk into the essence of Randidly and squeezed.

This time, some of the black hands stuttered and stopped due to the sudden interference. The flow of the trap became uneven as some currents moved more quickly than others. The intersection points teetered off their balance. In a single moment, Randidly reached out and yanked back some of his pulled Nether, freeing up almost a third.

However, the hands seemed to become aware of what was happening. A Nether Ritual that must have been prepared as a fallback slammed into Randidly’s Soulspace, briefly distracting him. But it wasn’t enough; just as the trap tried to restart itself, Randidly took his liberated Nether and slammed it into the energy that was being pulled back into the pattern, jarring both himself and those unfortunate black hands.

More and more of his energy came free. With the liberty he had restored, he created a new Nether Ritual, riding a huge surging wave of power to crunch the last of the resistance. And Randidly’s eyes physically open, suddenly panting and feeling deliriously happy and also somewhat achy. A slew of Level Up notifications popped up in front of his face.

Congratulations! Your Skill Marred Yet Reliable Foundation of Yggdrasil (T) has grown to Level 880!

Congratulations! Your Skill Yearnings of the Nether Heir (P) has grown to Level 792!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Left Hand of the Nether Oracle (M) has grown to Level 938!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill the Wandering Deity Demands (T) has grown to Level 810!

Congratulations! Your Skill Motif of the Hungry Deep (P) has grown to Level 995!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Yearnings of the Nether Heir (P) has grown to Level 847!

His eyes refocused as he scanned the surroundings for threats. His vision spun for a bit, but rapidly his surroundings began to settle.

What he saw around him made Randidly blink in confusion. He felt like he was standing in a cosmic nebula, surrounded by motes of teal and soft gold light. As though while in the Nether trap, he had taken a stroll into a gorgeous nebula. The lights swirled and danced, moving in a complex pattern that even Randidly had to pause briefly to admire the arrangement. Above the light show, Pullas’s image laughed gaily and swayed to some noiseless music, her hands flickering back and forth to redirect six massive fingers of fake Nether.

Randidly’s expression turned solemn as he felt the emotional force within Pullas’s image. How the hell did she become so powerful-

“Ah good, you are back,” Fiona slapped Randidly’s shoulder. “Xershi, let’s group up. We need to reach the edge as quickly as possible. Randidly, can you get us out of here?”

Before Randidly could answer, the layer around them began to rumble. That ominous mechanical voice rang out over the whole tableau of their resistance. “Intriguing. What trick did you utilize to handle your people’s habit of working yourselves to death? Did you have a pattern previously prepared for this? However… in the end, all I really needed to do is slow you down. Because more than any pattern, I have something you dearly want. You will stay here and help me escape from this prison, whether you want to or not.”

Randidly could see a dozen of the massively long fingers, previously managing that distant spot of Nether, whirl themselves around and rush toward their position. Even in the immediate surroundings, the three fingers lashing out at the group unleashed devastating blows that Randidly wasn’t sure he’d be able to withstand.

Seeing these attacks, he felt inclined to believe the voice. Yet despite the intensity of the assault, the group remained unscathed. All due to one woman.

Pullas didn’t even bat an eyelash as her image projection whirled in an imaginary ballroom, knocking back each attack with an intense conviction that Randidly almost envied. Each collision shook the surrounding air, making it almost impossible to hear. Beyond them, the army of dark hands began shifting once again, attempting to drag out Randidly’s Nether from his body. He had to fold and spin his energy inward to avoid it, several restricting his Nether senses. Xershi’s liger image raised its head and unleashed a howl.

Only the droning, recorded voice of Elhume could overwhelm the chaos. “Did you know that he kept some remnants from the sacking of Wyndaos? Almost a hundred little seeds, cultivated over the last several hundred years to become Nether Princes. The history of the Nexus’s greatest Nether city… kept in a cave, as insurance. To be an irresistible bait.

“Is it not for these answers that you have so long resisted and fought against me? For the keys to discovering your lost history and culture. For a short period after this message is read, the defenses will deactivate. Come to Sonara’s Core. A portal there will allow you to travel directly to me. If you agree to cooperate, I will gladly give you these Nether Princes.”

This message, intended for another recipient, sounded strange to Randidly for two critical reasons. First, because Elhume spoke so normally. To have the monstrous villain so long lurking at the end of the Nexus’s tunnel seem so mundane made his skin crawl. Secondly, the offer seemed quite genuine. Right after the words finished booming out across the layer, the massive fingers paused in their movements. They didn’t withdraw entirely, but they certainly ceased looming directly above the group. The hands of twisted Nether crouched against the ground, waiting spiders that almost blended into the ground.

The shift was so abrupt that it took a while to actually acknowledge.

Randidly and Fiona exchanged a glance. Next to them, Xershi scratched his head. Pullas remained the most vigilant, even as the brilliant light of her image faded somewhat. For almost ten seconds, they simply stood like that, waiting.

Randidly broke the silence. “Anyone recognize the term Wyndaos? Is this not just a ploy to make us lower our guard?”

Pullas answered, her voice strangely hoarse. “It was from when I was much younger, but we studied how Wyndaos was definitely the seat of Nether power in the Nexus. It wasn’t just their greatest city, but also their greatest weapon: a mobile fortress of immense power. During the Second Cohort, after a Nether attack on one of the larger established countries, a small group snuck into Wyndaos and helped Elhume and his Patrons track it down. It was the first joint action of the various Aether factions and the victorious attack on Wyndaos helped cement his leadership at the end of the Second Cohort.”

“The last Nether city, huh,” Fiona frowned and looked down at the ground. “I’m not… quite as old as Pullas. And Wyndaos definitely sounds familiar. But that’s not really how I heard it happening…”

“But based on this inertness,” Randidly gestured vaguely at the stillness around him. Even the towers had settled. “Elhume definitely believed Nether Princes obtained from that location would be enough to draw the Nether King into what is definitely another trap.”

Congratulations! Your Skill Ghosthound’s Acute Nether Nose (M) has grown to Level 1029!

Randidly narrowed his eyes as he tried to peer up into the vast emptiness above them. Distantly, he could sense the ‘palm’ that was the source of the fingers. He also had a pretty good picture of the area where that horrifying drop of Nether was being tainted by an unending torrent of dark emotions. Yet his estimations put the coverage of his senses at only a tenth of the whole layer. Perhaps even less than that.

The area to which the call drew the theoretical Nether King was outside his vision. The core remained distant, one more ominous secret casting a long shadow across the group.

“Good thing we aren’t actual Nether Kings then,” Xershi observed. “If this shit is distracted, let’s just get out of here.”

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