[07: 08: 46: 41]
…
Cassian went utterly still, breath held tight, the moment the heavy footsteps halted outside his makeshift barricade. For a heartbeat, he thought the monster might simply wander away like the rest then—A forceful push rattled the frame, followed by another—closer, more forceful. His heart lurched.
It's trying to get in… Fuck does it know?
Instinct overrode caution as Cassian dragged himself, ignoring the sharp protest of his wounds, and positioned himself behind the desk. Bracing his back against the splintered wood, he felt the metal panel tremble with each strike from the other side. Sweat trickled down his neck as he strained to hold the door shut.
Don't let it open… hold it together!
The first few shoves were powerful, but erratic. The Monster was most probably curious about why the door was not opening, snorting and hissing as it found the barrier unmoving. Cassian's heart hammered.
It's only one, I think at least only one who is pounding at the door… Should I kill it… NO!…if they realize I'm in here, I would be swarmed by them…
Cassian swallowed hard. His legs shook from the effort of pressing against the desk; every bruise on his body flared with renewed pain.
For a heartbeat, there was no push—only a suspended silence broken by the creak of the door as it strained against Cassian's force. Then with full force a shove rattled the frame, leaving him trembling. The metal squealed, and for a terrifying moment, he thought the entire door would come off its hinges. Then, from somewhere beyond the hallway, a deeper hiss sounded—a sharp command that echoed through the corridor. The monster pushing against the door stilled; the rhythm of its pushes faltered.
"What was that?" he thought, a mix of dread and reluctant awe tightening his chest. "That hiss… It felt like a call or a command. An elite, perhaps—a variant higher in hierarchy." The smaller ones were bad enough; the thought of a stronger variant leading them made his stomach turn. But at least it had saved him this time, calling the beast away from the door.
When he finally allowed himself to breathe again, his body sagged from exhaustion. His body, already battered and burning with exhaustion, barely registered the slow, rhythmic pulse of his shallow breaths, every muscle quivering from the strain of keeping the door shut.
"Just a few more minutes," he whispered, half to himself. He needed to check his status. With bleary eyes, he summoned the system.
[ ESSENCE DEPRIVATION STATE ~ 01 minutes ]
[ MINOR ESSENCE POISONING ~ 01 minutes ]
[ EFFECTIVE ESSENCE WELL ~ 3/6 ]
only one minutes left until the debuffs are cleared… and his essence well at 3/6. He swallowed a frustrated groan. "It's taking way too long for my essence to recover," he muttered.
Normally, I'd be nearly full by now… I think I take somewhere around 5~10 minutes for a single point to recover
Fuuuu~
"If I'm not wrong it's easily close to an hour since I got an Essence deprivation state." he mused bitterly, eyes half-lidded with pain and exhaustion. "Is the Essence Deprivation state slowing my recovery?"
Cassian braced his palms against the floor, pushing himself into a proper sitting position. Then, inch by inch, he scooted the desk back so it sealed the door more firmly.
No more accidental gaps. I'm not giving them any reason to barge in here again.
When the barricade felt solid, he let out a long breath, closing his eyes to steady his racing heart. The last encounter proved that the monsters weren't a mindless beast.
They can share information, or at least they can coordinate, he mused. But it's not a complete hive mind—otherwise, they'd all come pounding on the door together
"They know," he admitted in a low whisper, "they know what I'm capable of. The moment I raise my hand, they assume I'll be launching sorcery."
He'd also noticed they weren't invincible. A few well-placed strikes, or a single direct hit with his [lightning bolt], could kill them. Their exoskeleton looked menacing, but it hadn't stopped him from cutting deep with a machete.
"High strength, low defense," he murmured. "They rely on numbers and that weird coordination."
"Lightning bolt," he repeated, letting the words roll through his head. The card was still the strongest weapon he had, though it was draining to use. Deals direct [4] damage plus a lingering effect. He remembered how the bolt traveled in a straight line, branching out over distance. "No bending or guiding it after the cast," he reminded himself.
One shot, one line.
At times, he'd misjudged his aim or fired too soon, watching in frustration as the lightning branched out and struck less effectively. But in close quarters, it was devastating.
"If only it weren't so essence-hungry… no the problem is my limited Essence well" he muttered. He stared at the corner of his system, where the [3/6] glowed faintly.
"Maybe it's time to rethink my strategy," he considered silently, glancing once more at the digital display " Regardless, I'll need to make a decision"
But for now he closed his eyes, taking slow, measured breaths.
Inhale, exhale.
His chest still felt tight, but at least the adrenaline spike had eased. He tried to block out the flickering light overhead, the faint chemical smell in the air, the ache in his limbs.
Just breathe.
"Whaaa?" Cassian jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings: the cramped storage room, the battered desk blocking the door, and the toppled metal racks looming overhead. His entire body felt stiff, as if he'd slept in an awkward position. He blinked, squinting at the faint illumination in the ceiling.
"Did I fall asleep?…."
He glanced around, eyes roving over the dim corners of the space. A soft glow revealed dusty boxes, random debris, and the scuffed floor where he'd collapsed earlier. One glance at his wristwatch him all he needed to know: [09:01 PM]
"Guess I did…" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Tick tock on the clock," he muttered to himself, a small grin playing on his lips as he tried to shake off the remnants of exhaustion. "I've got stuff to do."
The first order of business was to check his status. "Status"
________________________________________________________________________________
WELCOME TIMEBOUND, CASSIAN CAINE
________________________________________________________________________________
A Story Nearing Its End: [07: 08: 29: 41]
Age: 17 years
Ascension: 0th
Origin Card: LOCKED
Current Level: Trial of Worth
Life Crystal State: LOCKED
[STATS]
❂ CREATION: 0th Star [0/10]
❂ DESTRUCTION: 0th Star [2/10]
Substats:
Strength → 5
Modifiers:
Power → 2% increase
❂ KNOWLEDGE: 0th Star [0/10]
Substats:
Essence Source → 5 » 6 (+1)
Essence Conversion rate → 1x Destruction (1:1)
Effective Essence Well → 5/5 [Destruction]
❂ SACRIFICE: 0th Star [0/10]
❂ VOID: 0th Star [0/10]
________________________________________________________________________________
Status Effects: <
Remark: A stupid hooman, slowly gaining some power but still fights like cavemen.
________________________________________________________________________________
Finally…haaa those debuffs are gone… fuuu I do feel much better but there is still tightness around my chest… It's very faint though.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. It wasn't strong—just a faint feeling. Shaking his head he exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the cold air for a fleeting moment. With deliberate calm, he drew an infinite symbol in the air—to summon his Soulkeep. The grimoire materialized out of thin air, unfolding with a faint, fiery glow.
"Let's see…" Cassian muttered, focusing on his soulkeep. He then tapped the Attunement slot where it displayed the blazing red sigil of Destruction. Taking it out he took the Creation attunement card and placed it in. The moment he did, the fiery glow surrounding him dulled, replaced by a gentle, soothing radiance.
"Alright, The Heal card should be available now… I have 21 charges left"
"[Heal]"
A soft glow emanated from his hands, wrapping around him with soothing warmth. The golden energy seeped into his battered body, soothing the sting of cuts and the ache of bruises. He watched with quiet focus as the magic worked, a gentle tingling spreading through his skin, coaxing raw flesh to mend and pain to fade.
The glow faded, leaving him feeling marginally better but not fully recovered.
"Not enough," he muttered, assessing the dull ache in his side.
Weird… Why do I know that I need likely 2 more casts of [Heal] before I am fully recovered?… Possibly this is the card's effect…
"[Heal] "
So he cast Heal again, wincing slightly as the second wave of warmth washed over him. This time, the relief was stronger. He inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulder. The tightness eased, and the deeper wounds started to mend.
One more, he thought, bracing himself.
"[Heal]"
A third cast enveloped him in that same soft glow. He flexed his arms, testing his range of motion. "Finally," he smiled as the pain was gone.
Now came an important decision.
Should I stay with Creation, or switch back to Destruction? Creation gave me access to healing, but if I encountered a monster, I'd be left without the raw offensive power of lightning bolt… getting close to the monster scares me.
"And I don't want to be caught without a way to fight back."
Steeling himself, he swapped the attunement back to Destruction. The serene white aura flickered, replaced by a subtle, crimson glow that shimmered around his fingertips. He exhaled, feeling the now-familiar surge of power. Pushing himself up from the cold floor, Cassian stretched lightly, his muscles protesting the movement as he went through a series of quick warm-up exercises as he felt the slight warmth in his body. His eyes then flicked over to the computer terminal stationed in the far corner of the cramped room. Excited, he made his way… looking for any power source he found bizarre crystalline wiring that snaked from the back. A chunk of that crystal strip lay shattered on the floor, glittering like broken glass.
"Wow…Umm I have no idea what those are and it looks like it's not turning on anytime soon," he mused, running a hand over the dusty keyboard. There was no power hum, no flicker on the monitor—just cold silence.
He sighed, stepping away. "Figures. This place is abandoned… by humans at least" Glancing up at the ceiling, he noted the overhead lights were shattered, but a faint glow seeped through the cracks in the panels. It wasn't bright enough to be comforting, but at least it helped him see without a flashlight.
"All right," he muttered, surveying the racks and boxes. "Let's see if there is anything of worth… man give me more cards!"
He rummaged through the first few boxes, only to find piles of papers. The text on them was indecipherable at first glance—strange symbols and lines that meant nothing to him. He frowned, flipping through page after page.
Great, an alien language… what was I even expecting…
A sudden ping echoed in his mind, almost making him jump. A system notification flashed:
[DING! YOU HAVE BEEN IN CONTACT WITH AN ALIEN SCRIPT! AS A TIMEBOUND, YOU HAVE BEEN PROVIDED "MYRIAD TONGUES" TRAIT BY THE SYSTEM]
Cassian paused, his eyes narrowing as the unexpected message registered on his screen. "Huh…" he murmured, a quick, stabbing pain surging through his head as if the message had struck him directly. The pain was brief, vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind a residual warmth on his forehead. Rubbing the spot with a puzzled frown, he turned his attention back to the scattered papers. He stared at the papers again, and to his shock, the symbols morphed before his eyes. The once-unintelligible text reassembled itself into recognizable words, though their structure was still odd and stilted.
"That's… convenient," he breathed, flipping to a random page.
"System? You can do that?"
The first paper now read:
{Log 112: Testing of Subject 47 successful. Minor tissue rejection observed but under control. Further enhancements scheduled. Risk factor: minimal.}
Cassian's brow furrowed. Subject 47? Tissue rejection?
The next few lines were mostly data, referencing chemical compounds and scheduling for "further acclimation." He frowned, turning the page. More logs, each detailing some experiment or procedure, all stamped with official facility seals. The dryness of the writing made it sound almost mundane, but the content was anything but.
He set that paper aside and grabbed another:
{Log 130: Security breach in B1 - Wing C. Unauthorized presence of unknown life forms. Preliminary classification: E-variant. Lethal potential: medium to high. Facility lockdown initiated. Staff ordered to remain in designated safe zones.}
His heart quickened at the mention of "unknown life forms." They must be talking about these monsters. If the facility had recognized them as a threat, that might explain the ruin around him.
He dug deeper, rifling through the stack with mounting curiosity. Most logs were short, often referencing coded projects or experiments with cryptic names. Words like Bio-Enhancement, Dimensional Overlap, and Essence Transfer popped up repeatedly, though the context was murky and most was technical jargon. Many of the pages ended abruptly, as if the writers never got a chance to finish.
One particularly alarming entry read:
{Log 172: Command override has failed. The E-variants exhibit rapid mutation, surpassing earlier predictions. Full quarantine recommended. Civilians evacuated. Experimental subjects missing. Likelihood of total containment failure: 89%.}
He let out a low whistle. "Total containment failure. Great."
On a whim, he lifted another page:
{Memo: Do not approach the newly mutated forms without authorized equipment. They have developed heightened senses and exhibit partial telepathic connections. Security teams are to engage only with lethal force. Casualty rate stands at 37%.}
Cassian grimaced. Partial telepathic connections? So they are basically confirming a collective consciousness. His mind went to the hiss that had called the monster away from the door. Perhaps that was how the elites directed the rest—some advanced form of mental link.
He moved on, checking another box. More papers. Most of them were routine logs: staff rosters, shift schedules, notes on supply deliveries. Boring. Then he spotted a smaller folder labeled Top Priority. Inside were scattered notes, barely legible:
…
*Project ☊⌰⟒⏃⋏ : Preliminary ⟒⏃ Trials.
Data suggests advanced regeneration in successful subjects.
Risk of mental collapse remains high.
Command warns: DO NOT CROSS MERGING THRESHOLD.*
…
The rest was water-damaged and impossible to read. He exhaled, frustration gnawing at him.
So many half-answers…
Finding another box as he went through, the this contained various reports:
[REPORT: Facility Entry Log]
— Subject: Unknown intruder detected at main ingress.
— Timestamp: [08:47 PM].
— Outcome: Entry denied; intruder fled.
A second report followed:
[REPORT: Anomalous Energy Fluctuation]
— Description: Unscheduled burst of arcane energy detected in Sec-D.
— Timestamp: [08:53 PM].
— Outcome: No further disturbances noted.
A third entry was even more perplexing:
[REPORT: Structural Integrity Compromise]
— Observation: Lateral displacement in the west wing wall; possible breach.
— Timestamp: [08:59 PM].
— Outcome: Containment protocols activated; breach status unknown.
And then another:
[REPORT: Personnel Misconduct Log]
— Note: Unauthorized access by non-sanctioned entities confirmed.
— Timestamp: [08:56 PM].
— Outcome: Warning issued; further actions pending.
Eventually, he reached the final box, half-crushed and shoved into the corner. Tugging it out, he brushed off a layer of dust and pried it open. A musty odor wafted out, mingling with the stale air of the facility. Most of the contents were more papers—yet again—but these were smaller, folded sheets. He flipped through them. The first few were mundane, listing building maintenance requests or personal diaries that ended mid-sentence.
I guess they didn't get a chance to finish…
Then, at the bottom, a single folded paper caught his eye. It was stained with what looked alarmingly like dried blood. The bold words on the front made his pulse jump:
"WE ARE DOOMED!"
…