SSS Awakening: I Can Create Skills By Will-Chapter 22: Where Noise Gathers

The skill no longer felt wild.

It was rough, basic. But not unstable.

When his intent was clear, the projection came out clean and sharp. When his thoughts drifted, it weakened. Short range felt natural now while mid range took focus and a bit of strain. Anything farther than that pulled at him in an uncomfortable way, like stretching a muscle that wasn’t ready yet.

But this was fine. It was good to know his limits.

And in a real fight, this skill gave him options.

He could weaken enemies before stepping in. Break formations without risking his body. Create space when movement alone wasn’t enough.

And most importantly, he could kill without putting himself directly in danger.

Arthur exhaled slowly. "That changes a lot."

He crouched and began collecting what he could. Monster cores, usable weapons, anything intact enough to carry. His makeshift storage was already packed tight, straps digging into his shoulders, and weight pressing down harder than he liked.

Still, he made room.

Every piece mattered.

By the time he stood up again, the dungeon felt even more different.

Quieter, in one way.

Heavier, in another.

He rolled his neck and started walking. He didn’t rush, letting his instinct guide him, It wasn’t blind instinct, but pattern instinct.

The way the spawn density shifted, the direction corridors curved, the subtle thickness of mana as he moved deeper.

"If I were the problem," he murmured, "I’d hide where everyone ends up anyway."

He walked for several minutes before he heard it.

Noise.

Metal striking stone.

Shouts that cut off too suddenly.

The sharp crack of skills going off in a tight space.

Brief flashes of light reflected against the walls ahead, then disappeared.

Arthur slowed.

"So I’m not alone."

It made sense.

Anyone who survived long enough would reach the same conclusion. Endless clearing meant nothing. If the dungeon wasn’t thinning out, something was feeding it.

And people, no matter how careful, moved toward noise.

Toward others.

Safety in numbers. Or at least the feeling of it.

Arthur followed the sound.

The corridor widened gradually, and the noise grew clearer.

Ahead, the dungeon opened into chaos.

Awakeners from different paths had been forced together, not by plan, but by pressure. Monsters had pushed them from every direction, sealing off escape routes until there was only one option left.

Forward.

Now they fought in a wide chamber torn apart by spells and blood.

Dozens of monsters poured in wave after wave. Kobolds darted low and fast, slipping between legs and shields. Skeletons advanced behind them in rough lines. Archers stood along broken ledges, firing arrows with steady, unsettling accuracy.

The awakeners were barely holding.

"Left side’s collapsing!" someone shouted.

A barrier flickered, then shattered under repeated blows. A warrior stumbled back, his clothes torn with blood soaking through it as someone dragged him away.

"Hold the line! Hold it!"

Fire swept across the ground as a mage burned through a cluster of kobolds. The bodies hadn’t even finished falling before more rushed over them. A spear of ice pinned skeletons to a wall, but the caster dropped to one knee, gasping as backlash hit.

There were more awakeners here than before. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

But it still wasn’t enough.

"Where’s the healer?" a voice yelled, panic creeping in.

"I’m out!" someone snapped back. "You want miracles or bodies?"

Curses filled the air. Thrown at the monsters. At the dungeon. At the stronghold that had sent them in.

"I told you this was a death run!" someone shouted. "They knew!"

"Shut up and fight!" another voice roared. "You want to die screaming or standing?"

They fought like strangers forced into cooperation.

Clumsy.

Desperate.

Warriors formed uneven fronts, shields overlapping where they could. Rogues slipped in and out, cutting tendons, striking weak points, retreating too slow and paying for it. Support skills flashed constantly, small reinforcements, bursts of speed, shallow healing that barely kept people upright.

Talent showed quickly in a place like this.

A woman with combat affinity swung the blade she made do with from the dungeon in wide arcs, sending monsters flying with every heavy strike. An elementalist froze entire lanes at once, buying precious seconds. Somewhere near the back, an archer loosed arrows that pierced through multiple targets in a single shot, each one clean and efficient.

But even they were slowing down.

And the monsters didn’t hesitate, instead they adapted.

New waves arrived before the old ones were finished. Archers shifted positions, forcing the awakeners to reposition constantly. Kobolds began throwing themselves forward just to create openings, allowing heavier skeletons to push through gaps.

"Fall back! Slowly!" a commanding voice cut through the chaos.

A man forced his way to the front, his presence steadying those around him. Orders became clearer. Movements tightened.

For a moment

Hope flickered.

The awakeners pushed together. Skills overlapped properly. Wind fueled fire. Light strengthened steel. As their coordinated charge tore through the monster ranks, scattering bodies and opening a visible gap.

Cheers broke out.

But the dungeon answered immediately.

More monsters flooded in, filling the gap like it had never existed. The opening disappeared under sheer numbers.

Cheers turned into screams.

The front line buckled.

"No... no, no..." someone whispered.

As a body fell and didn’t get back up.

Another followed soon.

Each death made the line thinner, and each second drained what little hope remained.

But they kept moving.

Because stopping meant dying.

So no one there could afford to give up.

Arthur heard all of it.

He hadn’t stepped into the chamber yet. He only listened from the corridor, the sound of desperation echoing toward him.

The fury.

The exhaustion.

The stubborn refusal to disappear quietly.

He stopped walking.

Listened carefully.

"So this is where they gathered," he said softly.

His fingers curled at his sides.

If he stepped in now, it wouldn’t be subtle. It would either change the flow completely, or accomplish nothing.

There was no middle ground in a fight like that.

Arthur took a slow breath.

He steadied his thoughts.

Movement.

Execution.

Projection.

Those were his tools.

Whatever sat at the center of this chaos was pulling everything toward it. Monsters. Survivors. Even him.

He felt it now.

The pressure, the pattern.

He smiled faintly.

"Guess I’m right on time."

And he stepped toward the noise.