Gacha System: Reborn In The Hardest World
Chapter 71: Soldier of The Enemy

Chapter 71: Soldier of The Enemy

While he was hesitant, the person hardly seemed to be of any threat, completely lacking any hostility, especially with the wounds he walked with.

"Gael," he gave his name, lowering his weapon. "What happened to you? Get in a run in with one of those sharks?"

"Yeah," Elijah answered, walking into the shop as he sat down by one of the shelves, leaning on it. "Damn thing took a chunk right outta me. Realized armor wasn’t of much use against these things."

Gael held a pink seashell in his hand, touching its rigid form before setting it down, "Good call. Those things are no joke. Did you find out anything about them?"

"Not much besides the fact that Atlantis is a nightmare now," Elijah answered with a sigh, picking himself up as he held his side.

"Are you alright–I mean, are you bleeding out?" Gael asked, staring at the bloodied bandages around the man’s abdomen.

Elijah chuckled, patting his own wound, "Oh, this? It looks bad, but the bleeding isn’t so bad. I’m not dying, if that’s what you’re asking."

"Just making sure," Gael said.

In the abandoned seashell shop, there wasn’t a whole lot in the way of useful resources, though it did make for a good souvenir stop, if one planned on surviving the mission.

Elijah stepped closer, curiously looking at the capybara sitting on the Outlander’s shoulder as he stuck his finger towards it, "This creature...May I ask what it is? I’ve never seen one of its kind."

"Oh, Pucha? He’s a capybara," Gael answered.

The brown-furred mammal wasn’t too fond of the gesture from Elijah, snapping its teeth at the finger as the blue-eyed boy withdrew his hand with a laugh.

"Guess he doesn’t like me," Elijah remarked with a smile.

"How long have you been down here?" Gael asked, brushing off the encounter as he looked outside of the shop at the crossroads beneath the sea.

"About three days, I’d say...though, it’s a bit hard to keep track of time. Just going off the old internal clock here," Elijah answered, tapping his own forehead.

"Three? That’s not that long, is it?" Gael wondered.

The wounded Mastornian fiddled with a shell, looking at him, "You...haven’t been here long, have you?"

"Huh?"

"Three days here—it’s felt like an eternity. There’s no chance to sleep," Elijah explained, leaning against the tabletop. "You haven’t seen it yet."

"Seen what, exactly? The man-sharks? Those giant ones near the castle?" Gael asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, no—those are just the byproducts of the real problem down here. It’s something...ungodly," Elijah recalled.

"What’re you talking about?" Gael asked, looking right at the wounded soldier.

A peculiar sloshing sound echoed outside of the shop, steering their focus from the conversation.

"...You might find out rather soon, actually," Elijah quietly said, staring at the shattered windows.

Whichever reservations he held about the Mastorn soldier were put aside as he turned his focus towards what was out there. Keeping his fingers wrapped around his dagger, he took slow steps, drawing forth not a single sound as he approached the front of the seashell establishment.

It was right as he stepped on the glass that he saw it—

A black mass like that of a slug, crawling across the carved, stone street with a repulsive squelching sound. Tendrils extended from its abnormal flesh, grabbing hold of the corpse of a man-shark laid out on a stone bench.

"What is it doing—?" Gael whispered, watching with curious disgust.

Elijah stood beside him, peeking out, "Watch."

The black tentacles brought the shark-headed body inside the enigmatic creature, completely absorbing it. As the corpse was taken in, the abyssal enigma pulsated, humming with a pale, blue light within it.

"It’s...eating that?" Gael whispered while watching.

"Worse," Elijah answered. "It’s assimilating it."

The words of the soldier were vindicated as the Outlander witnessed the black mass change, warping its shape as if being molded by unseen hands. It was a disgusting sight; the abyssal entity took the very same form as the thing it consumed, completely replicating the physique of the man-shark.

"What the hell–?" Gael quietly witnessed.

"Heads up–" Elijah warned.

Gael found the abyssal man-shark launching right towards him and the other at that moment, sliding to the side as Elijah did the same. With both hands, it crashed through the establishment, using its fists like bludgeons tools the stone pillars holding up the seashell shop were crushed.

"I’ll provide backup!" Elijah shouted, holding his side as he slipped past the abyssal pretender, getting some distance on it.

Gael was left in the path of the creature of black flesh, hopping on the table as he plunged his dagger into its head. It felt like sinking the blade into a pool of formless goo, though felt the steel being sucked in.

He maximized his dagger-wielding arm, withdrawing the blade just as he flipped over the abyssal horror as it lashed out in front of itself. The table was flung against the back wall, shattering into countless chunks.

As his feet touched the ground, moving back as he reunited with the wounded soldier, he kept his eyes forward on the abyssal creature, "Any clue on how to even hurt this thing?" Gael asked.

"I’m not sure exactly," Elijah answered with a dry laugh. "I didn’t stick around long enough to try much last time."

"That’s helpful," Gael muttered under his breath.

The abyssal savage charged out of the shop, crushing the panels that once held the glass as it slammed its feet and fists towards the two. He flipped back, avoiding his skull being split by its wild haymaker, countering with a quick slash to its forearm.

All that came from the blade’s edge was a slight disruption in its pitch-black form, quickly mending itself.

’Nothing?’ He thought.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he ducked down, touching the carved, stone tiles as its arm passed above. It took an unnatural shape in that moment; the fist bore no fingers, only formed like that of a hammer.

As he looked up, its chest gave way to multiple tendrils that lashed out towards his body. The only action he could take was slamming his boot down, producing a howling shock wave–

It rippled against the part-liquid body of the creature, repelling its tentacles back into its body as it stumbled back.

’That was somewhat effective, at least,’ he thought.

The damage hardly lasted long as the abyssal formation raised its left arm, shifting it into a claymore ready to be swung down–FWOOSH. A crimson flame roared in from the creature’s flank, dashing across its form in its burning grip.

He looked over, finding embers at the tip of the Mastornian’s extended hand, who exhaled sharply. The fireball seemed much more effective than blades; the malleable flesh of the horror sizzled, releasing a concert of screeches across its form.

"That seems to be working–!" Gael shouted.

"It’s not enough, though! Watch out!" Elijah warned.

The Outlander watched as the pitch-black fiend writhed in the fire, warping its shape as it charged right towards him. He waited for it to come, waiting until the last moment before sliding right between its legs.

As it ran straight over him without noticing, he expelled the invocation from his lips, "Summon: Skill."

[Permanent Skill Summoning Initiated.]

’Nothing I have is going to do much against this thing. A skill–it’s a toss in the dark, but there’s bound to be plenty that can be useful here,’ he thought, jumping back to his feet.

The moment he rose, he witnessed the black-fleshed creature expel the fire from its body, pushing air out of orifices opened across its form. As its abnormal flesh reconfigured, closing the holes and returning to the shape of a bipedal shark, he felt no closer to understanding it.

Elijah mumbled from across the subaquatic courtyard, "It can just expel my fire like that? That stings."

This time, its attention turned to the wielder of flame magic, crushing the cobblestone beneath its feet as it dashed with vicious speed. Though Gael moved over to help, intending to shout to his unlikely ally, he found the young man moving nimbly despite his wounds.

Elijah flipped onto a spherical statue in the center of the courtyard, hopping off just as the fiend’s hammer-fist slammed through it. The false fish-man turned both hands into maces, swinging them wildly as the Mastornian moved like a spider across the ground, slipping past the crushing blows.

For a moment, Gael stood and watched, not finding an opening amidst the thrashing of the abyssal fiend, though more surprised at Elijah’s agility. As one of the mace-hands swept over, Elijah jumped, curving his body around it, snapping his fingers at the same time, releasing a point-blank blast of fire.

’Forget just being hurt, even if he wasn’t–the way this guy moves, there’s no way he’s just a standard soldier. I’ve fought them–they’re skilled, yeah, but this–? No way,’ Gael observed.