Chapter Eleven: Ambush
Dusken took a step forward, his expression stiffening as a faint pressure pressed down on him.
Though it was nothing compared to the pain from Ashahell's attack, Dusken arched an eyebrow in acknowledgment.
He suspected that with every step forward, the pressure would grow, intensifying until it became unbearable.
'This pressure won't stop me. My aim is the strongest legacy, and I must get it.'
This thought fueled Dusken's resolve. Without hesitation, he stepped forward again.
Just as he suspected, the weight pressing on him increased, though it was still manageable — for now.
He cast his gaze around, observing the other children. Some had pained expressions as they advanced, while others remained as composed as he was.
Many had already chosen statues to inherit their legacies, placing their hands on them.
Whenever a statue was touched, it turned transparent, and the children's faces lit up with excitement before they vanished.
In some cases, multiple children touched the same statue, and the results were the same.
The statue would turn transparent, the children's faces would brighten, and they would vanish together.
Dusken wasn't sure what made them excited, but he assumed they were undergoing the statues' tests.
Paying little mind to these happenings, Dusken focused on the path ahead.
He walked leisurely, though the lifelike statues lining the corridor gave the eerie impression of being watched.
He recognized many of the statues from his memories but dismissed them — they were not the strongest.
As he moved, the pressure continued to mount, sometimes accompanied by vivid illusions of his flesh being torn apart and his bones breaking.
Still, Dusken pressed forward with determined steps.
"Argh!" A girl groaned loudly, spitting blood as she collapsed to her knees.
The blood vanished instantly from the pristine marble floor, leaving no trace.
Dusken glanced at her briefly. She was slender, pale-skinned, and had bright brown eyes that now winced in pain.
Her clenched fists trembled as she struggled to rise.
'She must have pushed herself beyond her limits,' Dusken thought with recognition.
One had to know their limits in a trial like this; overexertion could be fatal.
However, this girl was one who pursued her human desires for power. She chased what made her human, what made her whole, and although she failed, she had still done her best.
The girl eventually staggered to a statue Dusken recognized — the God of Depths.
The deity was rumored to drown battlefields in despair, driving enemies to madness and self-destruction. A powerful legacy, but not his goal.
Dusken's focus returned to the corridor.
His target was far ahead — the legacies of the ten strongest gods from his past life's mythologies. Or rather, the nine that remained. He shook his head, banishing unnecessary thoughts.
Of the roughly 200 children gathered in the corridor, fewer now pressed onward.
Most of the others had chosen statues, recognizing the increasing pressure as a signal to stop. Only the most determined — or foolhardy - continued forward.
The corridor grew dimmer as Dusken walked further.
The pressure had transformed into sharp, unrelenting pain, slowing his once-leisurely pace. Each step felt like a trial in itself, but it was still bearable.
As the pain escalated, Dusken took note of the gods whose statues lined the hall:
The God of Travel.
The God of Anger.
The Goddess of Wind.
The Goddess of Shape.
He recognized them all from memory, though their names eluded him.
It felt as though they were on the tip of his tongue, yet impossible to speak aloud.
He realized the hall was tampering with his mind, suppressing his knowledge and leaving him with only fragments.
Dusken's steps faltered as a sudden tug pulled at the back of his mind — a warning.
His instincts, honed from countless training sessions and deadly battles, screamed danger.
In a blur of motion, steel flashed. Dusken tilted his head back just in time, the blade grazing his cheek and slicing a strand of white hair.
Blood trickled down his face — a superficial wound, but a wound nonetheless.
He scanned his surroundings, and six figures stepped forward, encircling him. 'They've planned this well,' Dusken thought, his gaze darkening.
Ever since his parents vanished, his clan had been a target for opportunistic enemies.
With no clan able to attack directly due to humanity's unity against alien threats, the Ethereal Land became the perfect battleground for covert elimination.
Here, deaths went unaccounted for, leaving no evidence of foul play, and today, Dusken was the one who would be on the receiving end of such schemes.
The other children watched the ambush unfold but did nothing. They merely continued walking, uninterested in interfering.
Dusken assessed his attackers:
A boy with short blades protruding from his elbows.
Another with glowing blue light on his hands.
A lean boy wielding a whip made of crude rope.
A fat girl with a round face, grinning maliciously.
A boy with mismatched eyes, smirking foolishly.
A girl in a pointed hat, wearing black opera gloves.
Dusken's gaze narrowed on the last girl.
"Jessica. So, your Sound Clan betrayed us?" he asked coldly, though a flicker of excitement laced his tone.
Jessica smirked. "Hmph! Your clan is too shortsighted. By now, my clan has already betrayed yours in the real world." Her chuckle echoed through the hall.
Dusken's heart grew cold, bitterness welling up inside him.
Elder John's worried expression flashed in his mind, but Dusken suppressed any outward reaction.
'I must survive,' his determination steeled.
The five others surrounded him, malice etched on their faces. Without warning, they attacked.
Dusken ducked as a blade sliced the air above him, stepped back to avoid the whip, and dodged a blue light that shot past his shoulder.
The fat girl leapt high into the air with unnatural agility, crashing down on him before he could move.
Her weight slammed him to the marble floor, leaving him dazed.
Dusken snapped back to his senses and shoved her off, albeit with great effort, only to find himself cornered again.
Jessica's kicks struck with precision, while the others closed in, forcing him into an unrelenting barrage.
Blood dripped from his wounds, vanishing into the marble like it had never been there.
'Six minutes. I just need to survive six more minutes,' Dusken's mind raced as he anticipated that being's arrival.
He analyzed his enemies' abilities, his grim expression hardening into one of dark amusement.
His siblings had also faced such ambushes and were all killed off.
After all, it wasn't a bunch of level zeros who had attacked them but beings at level nine and even Preeminent ranks.
He gritted his teeth, trying to survive under the merciless barrage of his enemies.
He counted down time while anticipating a being his father had only mentioned in stories.
A punch to the ribs from the boy with mismatched eyes sent him falling to the ground.
Dusken suppressed a groan as blood trickled from his lips.
With no time to think, he rolled away as a blade stabbed his previous location. He hoisted himself up.
The fat girl once again leaped at him, but this time, he was ready. What awaited her face was a vicious kick that sent her reeling backward.
"Argh! Do you dare? I'll kill you!" the fat girl screamed, her nose bleeding.
The sound of air tearing apart was heard as the whip of the lean boy charged at him.
Dusken ran swiftly, barely leaving the range of the whip.
Although the pain from the hall intensified, he didn't care. He had finally broken out of their encirclement.
His eyes blazed as he scanned his opponents, his breath coming in hitched, ragged waves.
"Nice job, Dusk, as expected of the number one prodigy. But for how long can you run?" The boy with blade hands sneered, a cold smirk on his face.
Dusken didn't respond. He simply stared at them, noting his findings from the earlier battle.
The fat girl's side ability involved great agility, especially in the air — she was Benita from the Sky Clan.
Jessica had a weird side ability; she was capable of dancing expertly while fighting, intensifying her attack power — she was from the Sound Clan.
The boy with short brown hair, who transformed his hands into blades, was Drake from the Wrath Clan.
The boy with mismatched eyes had super strength, and his punches were formidable - he was Alex from the Twin-Eyed Clan.
The other male with azure eyes and blue lights around his hands could shoot those lights out - he was Joel from the Silverstrike Clan.
The lean boy with the whip had the side ability to accelerate his weapon's speed, but Dusken didn't recognize him.
Under the dimly lit path of the corridor, the stale air pressed heavily as a grim expression appeared on Dusken's face.
Their powers were already great, but six against one was too much to handle right now. A look of cold contempt flashed past his eyes as he smiled with dark amusement.
His heart surged with fighting intent as excitement rippled through his veins.
'Fools. You think you can kill me? Let's see how far you get in two minutes.'