Chapter 47: Traps

Intense heat seared the entire facet of Eren’s left arm, as if a blowtorch aimed its billowing fire directly at him. An incoming attack threatened to shatter his bones in half.

He bent his right knee, twisting and ducking as a heavy block of stone whizzed past behind him, just inches above his black body suit.

Celeste immediately turned back to Eren, eyes widening. A hammer-shaped block of stone swung with an accompanying clacking of gears back up to the hidden rectangular slot in the ceiling. It missed Eren from a hair’s breadth.

She didn’t have any time to worry about him as a fast moving object zoomed in the corner of her eyes.

A cylindrical pillar rotated from its hinges at the right stone wall beside her, aiming to sweep her off her feet. Her instincts took over. She jumped up to avoid it, before landing on all fours like a disturbed cat.

This passageway was narrow. Enough only for three people to walk together side by side. They didn’t have much space to avoid these traps.

Around them, the sounds of mechanical whirring echoed out from behind the walls. Clicking and clacking and humming.

They had seemingly triggered one of the traps that were hidden in the Subterraenean Burrows.

Eren and Celeste became tight with tension as they warily watched their surroundings.

It was the only sign of the mechanisms that were hidden inside this cavernous tunnel.

Silence permeated them both for a few more seconds as they waited for what could come next. But it seemed that there were no more surprises in store for them. At least, before they moved forward.

"Are you okay?" she asked Eren.

Eren nodded, though he didn’t take his focus away from the four walls encasing him.

The ceiling above had a rough surface, but it was seamless. Without any edges to line where the stone hammer had swung from.

Behind them, the tunnel gave no signs of the hidden mechanical trap that they had inadvertently triggered. No pressure plates, no tripwires. He was a hundred percent sure about that.

There must have been a Ræzoň detector somewhere in the entrance. There was no way for them to have avoided it.

"Keep your eyes peeled," he warned Celeste. The vibrating gears around the walls meant that this was only the first surprise it had in store for them.

Celeste snapped one of her emergency sunspores she stored in her black suit.

"I have a feeling they don’t want us to dodge these traps," she said.

With that illuminating light, her vision became ever so clearer. She focused on her fists.

Immediately, red particulate matter bubbled up from atop her skin. They accumulated in a hazy mist, with only some Ræzoň globules dissipating to the air.

Then, it condensed and coalesced into a smoky aura that enveloped her fists entirely. Thick claws formed behind her hand, curving to the top of her knuckles.

Zenith of the Feline... Eren recognized.

It was a Martial Manual that focused on speed and responsiveness.

He remembered Amarantha teaching him its basics, once upon a time. Unlike Athan, she was receptive to his desires to learn cultivation. Even when he failed to cultivate even its foundation, she didn’t lose patience with him.

She was more of a teacher to him than his own master was.

Middle Proficiency mastery at least, he thought to himself as he observed Celeste.

Plummeting tens of meters would be no problem for those who used this technique.

Its cultivator would gain immense speed and flexibility. But like the [Masochist’s Dream], this Martial Manual had very strict requirements.

As he thought, Celeste wasn’t as simple as she appeared to be.

"You chose a bad time to ogle at me," she said, playfully teasing him. "Don’t waste the light."

Amarantha’s warm visage fizzled out of his mind as he focused his attention back to reality.

The sunspore in Celeste’s hands illuminated his body’s entire facade.

He focused on his fists until Ræzoň seethed like turbulent smoke around his hands. Manifesting his Primal Strike took only a moment longer than Celeste’s.

This was the normal difference between a 5-star Martial Manual and a 7-star Martial Manual.

But in truth, he could have made it much faster. His meridians acted like a highway. A straight path for Ræzoň to flow from his Dantian to his fists.

No excess Ræzoň particles would have been expended.

But of course, there was no reason for him to reveal his cards right now. He followed the processions of a typical 5-star talent Awakener.

"Primal Strike...," Celeste muttered, staring at his fists. "Yeah. You seem more like the type of guy who likes the basics."

Eren shrugged. "As long as it does the job. Yours?"

Smugly, she replied: "Zenith of the Feline. A 7-star Martial Manual."

Truthful, this time around. Both his and Celeste’s Reinforcement tainted the walls a translucent red hue.

Cautiousness had them inching their way forwards. Meaning, they had to expend a lot more sunspores with less distance travelled.

They could walk in the dark to save light. Their Reinforcement could remain active for a good long while without them having to replenish it with more Psions.

But they opted to keep the lights on. Challenging the traps of the Subterranean Burrows without it seemed like the idiotic thing to do.

Slowly, they edged forwards. Celeste led the way, confident of her own skills. "No offense. But my Martial Manual is faster than the Primal Strike."

He didn’t disagree. The prideful man would have insisted on taking point. But Eren had long grown out of such chivalric thoughts.

Stone beams from both sides of the wall swept at Celeste, forcing her off her feet. Two hammer pendulums oscillated to intercept her jump.

She twisted her body, turning almost horizontal as she crossed her arms and met the stone hammers with her fists.

Her Ræzoň-infused claws clamped onto their rough stone surface, stopping its momentum completely dead.

She hung on till the sweeping stone beams retracted back to the walls, before letting herself fall back onto the floor.

She looked back towards Eren and made a V-shape with her fingers.

But it was at that moment that a huge stone flail swung from behind Michael, heading straight for his head.