Unchosen Champion
Chapter 387: Unrealized Gains

That Coop had already been pushed to use Inheritance of the Mists was an ominous sign for the future. The Horned Demon was still only the equivalent of a normal enemy, but with it being surrounded by allied Hellhounds, Golems, and Imps, combined with its clearly superior stats, Coop felt he had no choice other than unleashing his ultimate ability. In that sense, the Apparition of the Fated Hero was right to suggest Coop needed to keep growing.

Coop shook his head, disappointed with himself and simultaneously trying to shake off the wave of exhaustion that swept his consciousness before the fight was completely over. The creeping doubt that nipped at the back of his mind was unwelcome, but distracting thoughts were worse. He shifted his grip, lunging forward so that his blade bit at the burning stone skin of a surviving Hellhound, willing himself to leave the weariness behind.

He was increasingly worried that he would reach the limit of his current ability before rising beyond the first few levels of the Ark tower. They were only three levels up, with the ground floor still visible as a mosaic of hexagonal tiles if he peeked over the outer edge of the platforms. There were thousands more levels to go and he had already utilized the most powerful skills he had collected, from Call of the Void, Lucid Dreaming, and now Inheritance of the Mists. He simply didn’t have the time to drag his feet when he had so much more ground to cover, but it was starting to seem impossible to live up to his expectations.

The forces of mana were excessively powerful. He had no idea if he was capable of rising to the occasion against even stronger enemies, especially without the system providing clear numerical values to his status. He was only sure that it was absolutely necessary for him to be strong enough to get to the top, regardless of what stood in between. The only alternative was admitting defeat and letting Earth be successfully tamed by the legacy of the Exiles.

“Not happening.” He muttered through clenched teeth as the Hellhound’s head was severed by a gliding sword strike, mirrored by a pair of phantasms who followed in his wake like physical shadows, reinforcing his temporarily diminished strength with absurd precision, the level of which could only be explained by psychic connection.

Coop wasn’t ready to give up. He was sure he had already earned a few levels worth of experience, but he wasn’t sure what that meant in a practical sense anymore. Yes, he could take down a Hellhound without prolonging the battle, shortening the amount of time it took each time another one challenged him, but was that level of incremental progress good enough?

What had started as an oppressive enemy was much less complicated after just a dozen repetitions. Give him a few thousand more and he’d promise to make them look like Ancient Defenders. Even while experiencing the feedback caused by an excessive possession, he was already comfortable enough to fend them off. Did that actually mean he was stronger and faster than before? He shook his head with skepticism as he faced one of the last surviving Boxing Golems, one that carried a gash that still burned with golden fire, apparently catching just a sliver of damage that was enough to permanently cripple its form.

If only Coop would be highlighted in the shower of heavenly light that represented another level, at least for confirmation of his efforts. He lamented his inability to pull his up status and apply some unallocated attribute points to Mind after defeating the challenging enemies. The mental action was a reward by itself, even though he had grown to do it with barely any thought, often in the middle of battle in order to grasp every possible advantage at all times. Every time he leveled, he added the points to Mind and whenever he stopped to really analyze his status he could sense the tangible growth of his resonance with mana. It was proof that his accumulated power inched forward with every effort he took.

Mana was still present, and all of his accomplishments remained, but without the acknowledgment of his resources, Coop had barely any sense of further improvement. It was like he had been trained to only recognize when his numbers went up, unable to truly appreciate the actual victories. But even without the stats, couldn’t he see that the Hellhounds were getting easier to kill?

He hadn’t been aware as it happened, but the structure of the system was activating some subtle psychological tricks to keep its charges from straying from their designated paths, whether intentionally or not. Without the flashing lights, he could easily overlook regular gains.

Breaking down large tasks into smaller, more achievable parts was always more rewarding. It created opportunities to feel more successful, more often. For someone like Coop, it was always a great motivator for productivity. He wondered how much of that was deliberate and how much the system had inadvertently established such a fulfilling structure. Human psychology might have been an unexpected variable in that sense, which would explain why they so effectively overachieved based on galactic standards.

If he wanted to recreate that feeling, he’d need to come up with his own way to form personal checklists and gauge his progress. Whether that was regular weigh-ins or chasing new PRs in the gym, he would have to work on something. The quests and titles might be missing, but that was all decoration anyway. He could make his own. Defeat 10 Horned Demons had to be next. Someone better prepare him a ‘Demonic’ title.

On the bright side, successfully utilizing Inheritance of the Mists at all confirmed he could not only generate manifestations from the collective imagination of humanity, but that they were still extraordinarily effective. It was a satisfactory consolation prize to essentially clear out an entire platform with one skill, expensive as it was.

He had been worried that channeling a simulated entity without the system would result in something going wrong. Maybe they would be too weak because he lacked the personal knowledge necessary to properly define them, but even without his awareness, they continued to exist in the collective records of mana. The mists were merely his window into that power.

It was also possible that the Apparitions might have been too independent when freed from the guard rails placed by the system. Even when it was still in place, they more or less did what they wanted, disregarding the capacity of their vessel, even deciding to send him on paths of their own whims.

As he watched the empty fingers of his offhand shake uncontrollably after wielding a single strike that should have been nothing for his experience, he suspected that he might not have been completely wrong. He closed his hand into a fist and tried to stabilize the tremors. If he wanted to repeatedly cast Inheritance as he had in the Underlayer, it would take some practice. Currently, it would be a bit of a gamble that he would summon an apparition wielding the correct level of power, strong enough to destroy his enemies, but not overwhelming his own capacity.

At the moment, all of his muscles were subtly vibrating from the strain of tapping into the imaginary power manifested through mana. His hands were barely able to grip his sword as he contended with the remaining Hellhounds and Boxing Golems. Still, he was making a show of his contributions to avoid being subjected to Lyriel’s complaints, concentrating instead on recovering as much as he could while the fight tapered off.

If Inheritance of the Mists hadn’t wiped out most of the demons on their particular section, he would have been relying on Lyriel to protect him, and they most likely would have had to retreat back down. It was the only thing he didn’t want to do. As long as the Ark was spawning enemies, he was accomplishing something. Even if he didn’t defeat them, removing them from the pool of enemies for the surface was a benefit, no matter how small in the grand scheme.

Coop held on, pushing through the fatigue while fully securing their position with enough pomp that Lyriel wasn't demanding to retreat before they were finished. Instead, they completely cleared the last of the demons that had been waiting on the platform and were left with a lull in their battles.

He needed the breather, but he couldn’t admit it if he wanted to keep climbing the tower. Not to himself or his alien companions. The responsible strategy would have him returning to the bottom and resting until he was fully recovered. However, sacrificing the little bit of progress they already made was unacceptable in his mind. Instead, he would embrace the limited break before the other forces of mana from the lower platforms they had skipped caught up with them.

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What he actually wanted to do was keep practicing. If he was going to handle more Apparitions he needed to reinforce his control of mana or else risk being incapacitated every time he was pushed into a desperate situation. Being so weak that he couldn’t use his own abilities was equally unacceptable to stagnation or retreat.

Lyriel brushed her hands off as she approached. “How did you summon such power?” She questioned, sounding almost skeptical that he had actually done it, but the proof was in the lack of demonic enemies.

“I borrowed it.” Coop answered honestly. “From the mists.”

She hummed, tapping a finger right beneath her lower lip, somewhat in awe that he had such an ability. “It was amazing.” She admitted after a brief contemplation.

“Was it?” Coop wondered modestly. “I guess you hadn’t seen me do that before.”

“Yes.” She confirmed while Palisteon nodded in a surprisingly human way. “It was fascinating and deeply disturbing. I’ve never witnessed even a smaller scale event so potent it momentarily unravels the fabric of perceived reality… It’s no wonder you were able to open multiple windows for us to reach your planet. It seems like you’re capable of contending with enormously powerful forces.”

Coop made a face like he thought she might be blowing smoke, uncharacteristic as it was. “It’s just an upgraded skill.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure of your perception, but in my mana sight, the ambient energies are usually a predictable mesh of interwoven vibrational frequencies. When you attacked, they stuttered at the moment of impact, as if a fundamental constant was overridden by your manifestation of power. The entire blast was a discordant resonance that rippled outwards from the epicenter, or maybe it was more of a rupture.” She shuddered, nearly interrupting her own train of thought. “It was actually terrifying, like unexpectedly coming face to face with something completely transcendental, or a force of god.”

“Come on. You’re talking nonsense.” He dismissed her mana-babble.

“The sheer density of energy was suffocating.” She persisted. “I would have kneeled if it was directed at me.”

Coop shrugged, though it was nice to see the former Avatar of the System awe-struck every once in a while. “Maybe it was just that particular Apparition. I don’t think I did anything that special this time, though I’m a bit stronger overall.”

“Even now, the residual echoes linger, the vibrations repeating in the underlying fabric of reality, the mana is distorted. I’m afraid a second demonstration would have significant consequences” She leaned a bit closer to him. “You’re saying there are other of these ‘Apparitions.’”

Coop chuckled. “There’s so many… it kinda feels like they’re constantly jockeying to have their turn, but I can’t just keep bringing them out.”

“What are they?” She queried, genuinely curious.

“Seems like they are the subjects of collective human belief that temporarily let me borrow their strength if I can handle it.” Coop answered. “Gods and fictional beings, myths, that sort of cultural stuff.”

“How positively alarming.” Lyriel muttered, perhaps giving humanity yet another thought.

Palisteon interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention to the reinforcements that were rushing up from the sections they had skipped. The parasites were the first group to get within sight, rounding the corner of the enormous tube of mana, though they were still some distance away. Coop stretched his back as he got a better look at them than he ever had before, then glanced at Palisteon with a questioning look before continuing to warm back up.

He did a double take, going back and forth between the parasites and Palisteon before he had to ask a question. “Uh, are you and those things related somehow?”

Palisteon chirped at what must have been a rude thing to ask. They were obviously different in many ways, but there were enough strange similarities that it was almost like they shared a common ancestor. Coop didn’t think anyone would be surprised if an alien wondered if the great apes were cousins to humans, and that was the sense he got when he really perceived the parasites for the first time.

Their taut, carapace-like skin varied a bit from the softer seeming worm companion, and they had far more limbs than the zero that he did, but there was something about them that made them seem analogous. Pop a few claws on one of Palisteon’s bodies and it could pass for a cuter miniature plush version of the horrible monsters. It was as if instead of forming an individual colony, they all went their own way and evolved independent monstrous bodies.

Palisteon may have been slightly offended, but Lyriel scrunched her nose as she considered the idea without immediately dismissing it. He watched as she did the same silent comparison, and Palisteon squeaked in disbelief, though she declined to make a vocal association out of respect for her friend.

“They are supposed to be based on the original Exiles, right?” Lyriel finally commented.

“Right.” Coop confirmed.

“Then they can’t have anything to do with us.” She concluded, her words satisfying Palisteon, though by her partially masked expression, Coop could see that wasn’t the end of it. “Neither of us can claim to be a part of those original Exiles, but to be honest, the basic forms of the angels are not unlike a stage that my people experience during their life cycles.” She continued, like such a revelation was hardly worth mentioning.

“Wait, what?” Coop interjected as the parasites wrapped around another hexagonal platform along the mana tube and drew a bit closer. More than 20 horrible alien predators with needle-like limbs shoved each other out of the way as they eagerly approached what they must have viewed as food, judging by the way they drooled.

“It’s true.” Lyriel added. “I thought the similarities were uncanny when I first witnessed the illumination from an angel.”

Coop shook himself out of his stupor, specifically remembering the time he mistook the angelic Icon of Mana for Lyriel herself. “Aren’t you some kind of Icon of Mana expert? These monsters are from the armies of Irrevocable Condemnation and those angels accompanied Fatal Reckoning. We’ve specifically talked about both of them before, but you didn’t know what they looked like?”

Lyriel frowned at his question, equally exasperated by her limited information, especially after the dynamic between the system and the Ark was exposed. “Our knowledge was painstakingly collected from the testimonies of individual victims from lost worlds. I was only personally introduced to Monolithic Destiny and the demonic legions that turned my planet into smoldering ashes.” Palisteon chirped as she continued. “Palisteon’s memory includes the one called the Ultimate Decree which doesn’t seem to be here at all.”

Coop winced, being confronted with the possibility of even more types of enemies when he was still struggling to develop familiarity with the demons, and still had the other three armies to test.

“Just how many Icons are out there?” He wondered.

“I am personally aware of over a hundred that had been recorded by the Exiles. Malsteron had been working on a report that theorized the center of the galactic community based on patterns of their appearances, as if they radiated in linear paths from the core.” Lyriel stated. “It would be easy to assume that there are significant numbers that have gone unregistered.”

“Well, let’s hope we don’t have to deal with more than what we have in front of us.” Coop sighed. “You ready to jump to the next level?”

“Are you?” Lyriel wondered, more aware of his status than he thought.

“Of course.” He responded while his sword morphed into his spear. “Let’s try skipping multiple levels. Maybe we can save even more time.”