Sumatra's Greatest Fan-Chapter 85: You’re In Cruise Mode

GRAAAHHHH!

Torq screamed in frustration as Bitala was vaporised by the needle. He was frustrated, because not only did he lose his marbles from a short encounter, but he could literally accomplish shit and had to kill his vessel.

Once he regresses the timeline, the Bitala would be perfectly fine, as originally. That was the cause of his frustration.

He was frustrated, for this was pretty much Bitala’s fate during every regression, until the timeline appeared where Torq became Bitala. None of his vessels would have the means to not only obtain a decent level of strength but also travel to the Dralh Sea and save Bitala, all in less than three months.

Not only was it unrealistic, but since Nusantara’s Celestial was aware of Bitala’s identity, it would be closely watching Bitala. If anyone new were to appear at the scene to save him, it was bound to be Torq.

And voila, another of his vessel’s identity would get leaked to the enemy.

Effectively, it was a game of hide and seek between the two sides. Once Nusantara’s Celestial figures out the identities of all seven vessels of Torq, it could casually camp at the spawnpoint and put an end to Torq.

This was what Torq had lost, because of one mistake he had committed in hurry. And now, Bitala would pay the price in every timeline that followed suit.

"SHIT!" Torq kept pummelling the floor until his hands shattered, stopping only when his wrist made contact. Everything beyond it had turned to paste.

The injury hurt, but wasn’t in the slightest painful when compared to the shame he felt, ’I’ve reincarnated so many times on Sumatra. This isn’t my first time facing a dangerous situation.’

’I’ve lived through multiple eras, all for what?’ He slammed his head into the ground, "All to make a rookie mistake!"

"FUCK MEEEE!" This time, he kept slamming his head into the floor until blood splattered out. Only when he slipped into unconsciousness did Torq stop, plopping into a pool of his blood.

Slowly, his injuries healed as Torq lay in the sloppy mud mixed with his blood. A few minutes later, his hands gripped the murky mud and squeezed with force. Slowly, his eyes opened and streamed out tears, "I’m fucking useless."

In a daze, he got up and walked through the tunnel, dragging his feet like a zombie, "I am indeed useless."

"Boiboi..." He uttered, "A truly fitting name for me."

"A worthless, overconfident idiot that keeps messing up." He leaned on the tunnel wall and smeared the blood covering his clothes on it. And then, he condensed the same cylinder as before using Gentle Coral and stuffed it to the brim with pressurised steam.

Slowly, he launched it into the air using psychokinesis, watching the Gentle Coral break free from his psychokinesis once it hardened. At that exact moment, he uncorked the nozzle, allowing the steam to thrust out and propel the container forward.

Like a rocket, the container flew through the air and hit the ceiling, spewing out the remaining steam. And then, it plopped to the floor, making a dull thud. There were no changes to the surroundings, and with the thud, plopped his mental sanity even further.

"Even you...aren’t here." There was a wry smile on his face. His cheeks quivered as his lips curled up and then bent downward, alternating between the two as Torq’s emotional state switched from manic laughter and sombre sorrow, "That’s it."

"This is the end." He slid and fell to the floor. His right hand touched his chest, moving towards the heart as he seemed intent to find something there, ’I’ll just regress nonstop, until I cannot endure the influence anymore.’

"I’m sorry, Sumatra." He uttered and seemed to grasp at space. But just as he was about to pull his hand out, something appeared to hold his arm in place, preventing his action.

It was a thin arm, belonging to a human man seemingly in early twenties. Even though his arm was thin, it didn’t budge in the slightest at Torq’s efforts, as if using the weight of an entire mountain to anchor its pose in place.

Slowly, Torq turned his head and eyed the other party that had appeared to stand beside him at some point in time. A slightly oval face with a thinly angled jaw, cheeks with baby fat and a large pair of eyes blinking with hitherto levels of innocence.

"Stop it," The man said and maintained eye contact, followed by silence.

Subconsciously, Torq found himself letting go of what he had grabbed. He retracted his hand as the swirl of energy around his chest dissipated like it never existed in the first place. Then, as he blinked a few times, he noticed he was seated comfortably on the floor now.

Seated beside him was the man, who waved his hand once and cleaned all traces of blood on Torq. "Are you feeling better, now?"

"We meet again, Torq." The man extended his hand for a shake.

"You’re here," Torq’s expression beamed with a trace of hope, "I despaired when you didn’t answer my summons. Thank you, for arriving to my rescue,"

"Inala."

The powers on Sumatra were classified under the Grades of Iron, Silver, and Gold. Expert Gold Grade was the limit to natural birth on Sumatra. Empyrean Tusks and Empyrean Snappers fell under this category, born at the ceiling level of power.

However, there were existences on Sumatra that pierced through the ceiling and reached the pinnacle state to become a whole new being of power. The appearance of such an existence pretty much defined the respective era.

The appearance of such a being signalled the birth of a new era. And the man seated next to Torq was the individual holding the record for taking the shortest time to grow from the weakest into reaching the pinnacle state of being.

The Royal Zinger–Inala!

He was the reason Nusantara’s Celestial was scheming around to collapse the powerful societies of Sumatra instead of personally entering the Continent to finish things for good.

And in the original timeline, Sumatra Continent’s defeat became final the moment Inala was pronounced dead.

Iron, Silver, and Gold were the three Grades a living being could naturally attain through birth. And the select few individuals who break past their natural limits were classified as part of a whole new level of existence.

Mystic Grade!

Inala had taken merely two decades to become a Mystic Grade existence.

There was silence between the duo for a few seconds before Inala leaned on the tunnel wall and uttered, "Why have you become a mess?"

"Nusantara’s Celestial..." Torq bit his lips and cursed in despair, "That bastard remembers the past. And he’s now aware of my Mystic Human vessel."

He pointed at the end of the tunnel and recounted what had happened, "I had to kill Bitala."

"So?" Inala tilted his head, "Why are you despairing for something this minor?"

"Minor?" Torq slowly turned to face Inala, asking with an incredulous expression, "This is minor?"

"Yeah, it is." Inala nodded casually, "You’re still alive. And if your existing plans have been compromised, just make new ones."

"Your only issue is that you’re still in cruise mode." Inala chuckled, "Only the fittest survive on Sumatra, remember?"

"So, until you have a breath of life in you, struggle to survive. The longer you live, the more you’ll waste that feathery bitch’s power to regress the timeline."