Apocalypse Healer - Path of Death

The starry, cloudless sky greeted him as his eyes shot up. He sat upright, pressing his hand firmly against his chest, and shuddered.

What the hell was that? David cursed and shuddered as a gust brushed against his sweat-drenched clothes.

He cast [Purify], knowing it wouldn't remove the sweat seeping into his clothes, but using the Rune made him feel cleaner nonetheless. Did it affect my mental state as well? he wondered, but the answer did not come to him. Even so, it made him feel better.

Maybe it was just the placebo effect.

But while it felt like the Rune helped, it did nothing to ease his confusion—let alone the frustration weighing on his heart.

"Keep your anger in check?" he hissed in a low voice. What was that about? Did Asmodeus really waste the limited amount of Essence he could use in the Earthen Union just to tell him to relax?

David doubted that had been the Ruler of Blood's priority, but was he implying a fight was coming? He tilted his head, trying to interpret Asmodeus' words—but it was harder than he expected. Was there another bloody battle waiting for me?

Odd. His heart wasn't racing at the thought of another massacre. Not this time. After everything David had experienced—what he had seen—in the crimson world, he did not feel like fighting.

If anything, he shuddered. Was it fear? Hesitation? He couldn't tell.

"Lost," he muttered. Maybe that was the most fitting.

He considered talking to Zachariah about everything but quickly decided against it.

Will talking about the Cycles give 'them' power as well? David couldn't tell. He was certain Asmodeus had said something about mentioning them and their actions granting them power. Since it seemed like the Cycles were used to avoid utter destruction, talking about them was probably already problematic.

It was probably best to stop discussing Zachariah's past and the things he had experienced. But that thought opened another string of questions.

Was it important who talked about them, or did they receive a certain boost in power regardless? David recalled Fortress avoiding any discussion with Zachariah about their past encounter. The Dwarven God had not stopped Zachariah from speaking, but he had stayed silent—hinting that who talked about the last Cycles and 'their' actions mattered.

Regardless, David couldn't be certain.

"Whatever." David adjusted himself on the mattress, crossing his legs.

He activated [Meditation]. His pores opened to the ambient Aether, flooding his body in an instant. Once he was full, he activated [Mind Palace] for the first time. The Class Rune stirred, forming a strong suctioning force that drained his natural Aether rapidly.

David quickly noticed that [Mind Palace] required even more energy than [Reinforce], but he could sustain it by drawing in the ambient Aether surrounding him.

He tested his newest Class Skill before following the Rune's guidance. He entered his mind space, watching torrents of Aether crash against each other.

David observed the torrents first, but they revealed nothing useful—so he forced them into submission. Controlling them wasn't as easy as expected.

Why does Aether turn so violent after leaving [Mind Palace]? he wondered, inspecting the natural Aether being sucked into the Class Skill and how [Mind Palace] changed its properties as it emanated from the Rune. It was almost entirely different—wild but also tangible.

But while the torrents of Aether were chaotic, David could still control them. It strained his mental capacity, regardless. Maybe that was the point.

David willed the torrents and stretched them out, creating tangible streams of Aether. Following [Mind Palace]'s guidance, he intertwined the streams, weaving them into a delicate web. At first, it resembled a cobweb, but the gaps in the structure filled quickly as more Aether streams formed.

Time was not perceptible in the mind space. A few minutes or whole days could have passed as the twentieth Aether stream formed. David stopped channeling Aether into the Class Skill, completing the first step in building the palace that would fortify his mind.

It was hard to tell how a simple net of Aether would form the Mind Palace, but David knew it would strengthen his mind. As he progressed in building the Mind Palace, its foundation would grow stronger—at least, that was what he had learned from the Class Skill's knowledge.

Pinpointing changes to his mind's foundation was difficult, especially when he was mentally drained and on the verge of sleep.

But there was no time to rest. He was certain Zachariah would thrash him if he wasted the precious time they had left under the Blessing of the World by sleeping.

It was already late morning when David opened his eyes again. The mattresses around him were empty. With a sigh, he got up.

The previous night's events still weighed on him, but there was nothing he could do about it. Everything was changing—fast. Maybe too fast. David could barely keep up… or was he falling behind? It was hard to tell. All he could do was give his utmost.

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He shrugged and turned to look at the Rift leading to the prehistoric valley. Occupying the Rift Core and absorbing as much Origin Essence as possible sounded promising. But before he could dwell on the thought, the ground trembled nearby. A loud bleat rang in his ears. David turned and found himself face-to-face with a Xenoceratop staring at him.

He recoiled. What was a dinosaur doing inside the Dwarven Sanctuary? And it wasn't alone—he sensed two dozen Xenoceratops, along with Utahraptors and other prehistoric creatures.

"Did they tame them?" His hair stood on end. He abandoned the idea of entering the prehistoric Rift—for now.

Instead, he chose to roam the Dwarven Sanctuary, investigating the changes. His strides led him to the Sanctuary's center. It was as crowded as Arc had been, but the atmosphere felt different. Arc's former residents seemed incredibly tense, even as they conversed with the dwarves. He saw dozens of them assisting in various tasks, including former Protectors.

David spoke to some people, listened to their complaints, and patted their backs absentmindedly. But his attention kept drifting to the dwarves riding prehistoric monsters through the Sanctuary. The sight of creatures pulling carriages was intriguing, but the concept of taming prehistoric beasts lingered in his mind.

The more he thought about it, the more appealing it became—yet he lacked the means. Furthermore, he knew himself well; he would get attached to the creatures. Losing them, which seemed highly likely given last night's revelation, was not something he wanted to experience.

After gathering enough information, he left. From what he had observed, everyone was being treated well. The real problem was the rent. Nobody expected to stay in the Sanctuary for free, but the astronomical fees in currency slates made many former residents uncomfortable.

They had lost everything when the winged serpent destroyed Arc, and the Dwarven Sanctuary didn't have the means to offer jobs to everyone. That was a problem they would have to solve soon. After all, Arc's former residents were skilled in various fields. David was certain Fortress and his zealots wouldn't simply throw them out. No matter how greedy they were, they would keep the experts.

At last, David spotted a familiar face in one of the few newly constructed workstations. The Tirac Artificer was alive, unscathed, and working hard.

He stepped inside the open workstation and waited patiently until she noticed him.

She put her tools away, her scales chittering. "How can I help you?"

"I just wanted to check on everything," David said. "But seeing that you're already back at work, I suppose it's fine to ask about my Blood Storage. You have spatial storage, so I doubt you lost the Bloodstones and other materials needed to build it. So…"

The Tirac Artificer grimaced. "You want to know when the Blood Storage will be ready? Honestly, I don't know. Two days ago, I would have said a week—but now? Everything's changed, and I have to pay Ulakan rent just to use his workshop."

"Two or three weeks, then. At the very least." David groaned. "In that case, can you use the Bloodstones to craft other things? Artifacts? Or more Blood Storages, if possible? It would be even better if the Bloodstones were small. The smaller, the better."

He noticed someone to his right stir at the mention of Bloodstones, finally turning to see a dwarf working on the other side of the workshop. Their eyes met, and the dwarf spat on the ground.

"Are you the rude bastard who killed the Giants with the Prime?" the dwarf asked.

"Prime? Oh, you mean Torb," David nodded.

"Yes, the Prime, you beansprout!"

David ignored the jab and smiled at the dwarf.

"You're interested in the Bloodstones, aren't you? How about you work with my lovely Artificer to craft me something good? I use Blood—an energy source derived from life force and Aether—to empower my Skills. Blood is roughly five times more potent than ambient Aether… or ten times, possibly even greater, depending on how much life force I use to produce it." David glanced at the dwarf. "Can you make something strong enough to withstand that? Even better, something small and compressed that can hold a shitload of Blood."

The dwarf pointed at him and shouted something in a tongue David couldn't understand. He didn't need to, though—judging by the tone, the dwarf was cussing him out. That was fine.

If the dwarf was anything like Torb and the others, he probably hated David for his little bout with Fortress—if it could even be called that.

But contrary to David's expectations, the dwarf nodded after his shouting match in the dwarven tongue ended.

The dwarf spoke, but David barely registered it. A sudden shout made his ears perk up, and he spun around.

"Natives at the gates!"

What? He frowned. Natives… so, humans? What were they doing at the gates?

That could only mean more trouble. Was this what Asmodeus was talking about? David sure hoped not.

He rushed out of the workshop and made his way toward the gate, heading for the area with the most life signals. Leaping atop the wall, he looked down at a group of seven humans clad in armor.

David scrutinized them intently for a moment but shrugged dismissively when he realized they were too weak to be a real threat. The seven humans weren't weak by any means—if anything, they were strong enough to defeat most Protectors—but David was confident he could kill the entire group in less than a minute if necessary.

That didn't seem to be the case, though. He couldn't sense any killing intent from them. If anything, half of the group—especially the small woman in the back—looked afraid.

"What do you want from Fortress' Sacred Sanctuary?" Torb's voice thundered across the wall, making David roll his eyes.

A young, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, giving a slight bow. "I apologize for bothering you and your people, but we would like to talk to Peter Walter and his people. We know they traveled this way, but our Scout lost their tracks."

Peter Walter? Why did that name ring a bell? David wondered.

"I don't know anyone with that name," Torb responded sharply.

"But I do," David muttered, recalling the name from a few days ago. Torb glared at him, but David ignored him.

David approached the edge of the wall and smiled at the group. "What do you want from this guy and his friends?"

The young swordsman's expression shifted, unveiling a trace of anger. "We want to kill them!"

Oh? So Asmodeus was wrong. Looked like there was no problem after all.

"That won't happen. Sorry about that, buddy," David responded lightheartedly.

"Why?" one of the older men in the party asked coldly.

"'Cause I killed him and his buddies." David shrugged but retracted his words a moment later. "Well… I didn't land the killing blow—Zachariah did. But I don't think the details matter. Fact is, we worked together to kill those idiots."

"They were… dead?" one of the women asked, relief washing over her face.

"Yup."