Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 113: Truth Eater Sword

Time waited for no one; it flowed endlessly forward, dragging all toward the doom they would inevitably be forced to face.

The sudden meteor fall, the barrier break, and the beast tide had taken the entire settlement by surprise. Battle had risen into the air, chaos swallowing sky and earth alike, but what followed next was even more shocking.

They all found themselves sucked into the so-called Legacy Event, pulled into a separate and gigantic dimensional space.

All groups were separated and then thrown across a dark and cold dungeon, made for giants and titans alike, identical to the one Uriel had landed in.

And there... they were forced to face challenges.

Horrifying ones.

...

TOH! TOH! TOH!

Steps echoed across a wide and empty tunnel.

The curved walls were smooth, impossibly so, and made to host giants, the cold, dark-silver surface covered in shimmering dark-purple runes.

The runes faintly shone, casting the tunnel in an eerie amethyst glow.

Enoch walked across it, alone.

His black hair was slicked back, clean and elegant. His piercing green eyes were as calm and indifferent as always, and the light beige martial tunic he wore remained unblemished, perfectly complementing his rosy skin.

He walked with no hurry, his back straight and his mind at ease, his inhales and exhales summoning swaths of fog into the frigid air around him.

He walked, and he walked.

Eventually, he stopped right before a tall, looming circular gate that perfectly fit the tunnel’s width.

It was made of dark steel, its hue ancient, its inner mechanisms overflowing with aether.

Unbothered, Enoch pressed a palm onto the gate. A loud CLICK! echoed. The gate shook—

KAH!

—and then he vanished.

He left the tunnel dark and quiet.

And yet thousands of bodies lay in his wake, rivers of blood flowing in the distance, flesh splattered across the curved walls.

The air stank of metal.

...

Enoch blinked and found himself teleported away.

Loud chatter immediately reached his ears as the smell of sweat and blood assaulted his nostrils, thick and potent.

He stood amidst a rather large crowd, full of awakeners of all kinds, all gathered in groups, tending to each other’s wounds and gear.

The ground was made of cold, old cobblestone. The walls were of dark crystal, rising high and far to form a vast, cavernous hall lit by hundreds of torches that glowed with a warm golden hue.

It resembled a large encampment.

Enoch’s gaze slowly panned across it. Inwardly, his eyes narrowed.

’Where are all these people from?’

The days leading to the barrier’s fall had seen many die. In fact, on the first day, the day they met Thoryl for the first time, more than half of them had perished.

Then the meteor fall occurred and then the beast tide.

By all means, they should have barely numbered in the hundreds.

So why was he counting more than five thousand humans around him?

His gaze sharpened.

"Hey." Enoch called out.

The man he addressed was of average height but so ridiculously large that it almost seemed comical, like a caricature brought to life. He ballooned like a human-sized sphere of flesh.

Yet instead of fat, he was nothing but a mountain of coiling muscles, layered so densely they almost resembled folds. Across his bronze skin, golden runes were etched.

His eyes were a radiant blue, his head bald, gleaming and perfectly groomed.

The aether pressure he emitted was... impressive.

The hulking man turned at the sound of Enoch’s voice. The people he had been speaking with fell quiet and turned to stare as well.

"Huh?" the man frowned. "What do you want? If it’s about the protection program, go talk to Ricky or something. I’m part of the vanguard."

He was already beginning to turn back when Enoch shook his head.

"No," he said, stepping closer to the group. "I’m looking for my little brother."

"A bit of a shy lad. Mid-length white hair. He’s blind. Talks a lot and—"

PAH!

A sharp smack echoed, loud and dry.

...

Enoch froze.

He slowly raised a hand to his face, caressing the cheek that had just been struck. His rosy skin reddened, arcs of foreign aether pulsing faintly across it.

The slap had been so loud that the surrounding area had momentarily fallen silent, all eyes turning toward the scene.

Laughs followed, accompanied by sneers.

How foolish was it to antagonize Malish Mo, fourth hand of the Mountain King?

Many looked at Enoch with pity, visions of his imminent, gruesome death flashing through their minds. Others grew excited, finally given a chance to witness Malish’s might in action.

It was said that Malish could flatten a forest of dozens of trees with nothing but a clap of his hands. How could they not be eager to see that?

Malish fully turned to Enoch. Though a head shorter, he still cast a shadow over him, his presence heavy and violent.

"Bastards should—"

"I had forgotten," Enoch nodded to himself as he spoke.

He lowered his hand from his cheek. In a blink, the wound healed, redness and swelling fading as though they had never been.

Malish Mo’s eyes widened. But instead of frowning, he grinned, sensing the torrent of aether roaring through Enoch’s veins.

His battle lust unshackled. The atmospheric aether tensed—

"Thank you for reminding me."

It seemed spending so much time with Uriel had softened him. In what world would he ever be so cordial with strangers?

The thought made him chuckle.

Smiling faintly, he met Malish’s gaze. His palm slowly extended, pressing against the man’s skin...and then sinking through flesh.

Enoch’s hand slipped into the man’s chest as if through butter, closing around his heart without hesitation.

His core shuddered. In a blink, Malish Mo was no more.

And in his place, a sword lay in Enoch’s hand.

The crowd blinked. Malish had vanished.

"I’ve been needing a Truth Eater Sword anyway."

Enoch’s smile widened as he glanced toward Malish Mo’s companions, who stared back with eyes brimming with fear.

"Oh well," he murmured lightly, adjusting his grip on the blade. "I suppose a couple more won’t hurt."