NOVGO.NET Chapter 52: Back to reality
Chapter 52: Back to reality
The blinding golden glow of liquid fire roared inside the Chimera’s throat, illuminating every jagged tooth and glowing scale with terrifying intensity.
The colossal, obsidian-plated paw descended like a falling mountain, blocking out the sky and plunging the riverbank into suffocating darkness.
The sheer atmospheric pressure of the strike slammed into Atlas before the claws even made physical contact, pinning him flat against the ice-cold mud of the riverbed.
His lungs collapsed under the sheer force, his ribs groaning under the weight, and his vision swam with brilliant white spots.
’Move! Move, damn it!’ Atlas screamed internally, his mind frantically thrashing against the paralysis of his exhausted limbs.
Beside him, Skull let out a sharp, desperate bark, casting off his stealth to throw his small skeletal frame directly over Atlas’s chest, acting as a fragile shield against the incoming destruction.
The heat hit them first. The rushing water around their legs instantly vaporized into a blinding wall of scalding steam.
The Chimera’s razor-sharp claws broke through the curtain of mist, six inches of glowing, molten steel reaching out to tear them both into raw particles.
Atlas squeezed his eyes shut, his hand instinctively flaring a spark of remnant shadow energy — not to fight, not to block, but to force a violent, last-second spatial displacement.
The Chimera’s massive paw slammed into the riverbed, shattering the mossy boulders into thousands of flying shards and creating a massive crater in the earth.
The impact sent a wave of boiling water and mud soaring forty feet into the air.
Atlas didn’t feel the impact.
Instead, he felt a violent, stomach-churning tug at the center of his soul. The simulated physical world of the Forest of the Ancients buckled and tore like wet paper.
The roar of the Chimera, the blinding heat of the green flames, and the freezing bite of the mountain river dissolved into a chaotic swirl of fading colors and rushing wind.
His consciousness was ripped backward through the spiritual plane at breakneck speed, tumbling head over heels through the dark void of his inner core.
"GASSSSSSSSSS—!"
Atlas snapped upward into a sitting position, his back arching as a desperate, heavy breath burst from his throat.
His chest heaved violently, his lungs burning as if he had just spent three hours drowning in scalding water.
Hot, heavy sweat poured down his face, dripping off his chin and soaking straight through the collar of his shirt.
His heart battered against his ribs like a sledgehammer, its rapid, frantic rhythm echoing loudly in his ears.
He blinked hard, his blurred vision slowly taking in the warm, ambient surroundings of Room 150.
The intense, terrifying glare of the Chimera’s fiery maw was gone.
In its place was the soft, crimson light of late evening, filtering through the clean glass windowpanes and casting long, peaceful shadows across the smooth wooden floorboards.
The room smelled of clean laundry, faint floor polish, and the comforting scent of dinner being prepared somewhere down the corridor — a stark, overwhelming contrast to the acrid smell of burnt sulfur and wet mud.
"Whoa! Easy there, killer!" a voice chimed in from the side.
Atlas whipped his head around, his dark eyes wide and wild as he instinctively reached toward his hip for a sword that wasn’t there.
Derrick was lounging near the edge of his bed, casually tossing a small apple into the air and catching it.
He paused mid-throw, staring at Atlas with an expression of pure shock.
Over by the main study desk, Eric was seated neatly under the warm glow of a mana-lamp, a heavy textbook open before him and a quill held precisely in his right hand.
He had frozen mid-sentence, his sharp eyes narrowing as he adjusted his glasses to inspect Atlas’s sudden, explosive revival.
And on the large, clean rug in the center of the floor, Claus lay entirely motionlessly on his stomach, buried under a light blanket like a corpse that had been left behind by time itself.
He didn’t even twitch, though a faint, muffled grunt escaped his mouth at the sudden disturbance.
"Atlas?" Eric asked, setting his quill down onto the desk with a quiet click. "Are you alright? You look like you just fought a war in your sleep."
Atlas sat frozen on his mattress, his hands trembling slightly as he raised them to wipe the heavy layer of cold sweat from his forehead. He stared at his palms, flexing his fingers one by one.
There was no mud, no blood, no burns. His soul essence reserves were completely intact, though his mind felt deeply drained from the sheer mental strain of the intense simulation.
"I..." Atlas rasped, his throat dry and scratchy. He cleared his throat, taking a slow, deep breath to steady his hammering heart. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m... I’m fine."
"Fine?" Derrick scoffed, tossing the apple again and taking a crunchy bite out of it.
"Dude, you’ve been lying on that bed like a dead man since one in the afternoon. You were twitching, groaning, and sweating so much we thought about calling the medical ward again. We figured you were having a nightmare about Inspector Ted."
"I wasn’t having a nightmare," Atlas muttered, letting out a long, shuddering breath as the lingering adrenaline from the Chimera’s final attack finally began to recede from his bloodstream.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands.
’The Soul Forge safety action,’ Atlas realized, a wave of profound understanding washing over his mind.
’When my physical condition inside the trial reached critical risk — when death was absolute — the domain forcibly ejected my consciousness back to the real world.’
It was a brilliant, protective mechanism built into his unique ability, but the memory of those six-inch obsidian claws descending toward his face still made his skin crawl.
"You really had us worried for a second there, Atlas," Eric said softly, his stern expression softening slightly as he closed his textbook. "If you’re feeling unwell from yesterday’s incidents, you should rest. You don’t need to force yourself."
Atlas raised his head, looking over at his roommates.
Eric’s desk was neatly organized, his notes stacked in pristine order. Derrick was grinning, kicking his feet back and forth off the bed frame without a care in the world.
Even Claus, lazy as he was, shifted slightly on the rug, pulling his blanket up higher to stay comfortable in the cool evening draft.
The room was clean. The beds were dry and fresh. The threat of Inspector Ted’s write-up had been completely neutralized by Claus’s clever protocol hold.
And Lady Aurelia was currently pulling the central council building entry logs to track down the person who had actually stolen her butterfly bangle and framed them.
For the first time in two days, the overwhelming, chaotic pressure surrounding Room 304 had completely dissolved.
A small, genuine smile slowly broke across Atlas’s face.
"I’m really okay, guys," Atlas said, his voice regaining its steady, confident tone. "Just... pushed myself a bit too hard during my meditation."
"Meditation, huh?" Derrick chuckled, leaning back against his pillow. "Looks like intense work to me. If meditation makes you sweat like a pig, I’m definitely sticking to my current routine of doing absolutely nothing."
"You already do nothing, Derrick," Eric pointed out dryly, picking up his quill again. "In fact, you’re an expert at it."
"Hey! It’s an art form, Eric! Not everyone can master the delicate balance of resting while looking busy!"
From the floor, a muffled, raspy voice grumbled into the rug fabric. "Will you two... shut up... some of us are trying to sleep forever..."
Atlas let out a quiet, genuine laugh, the last traces of terror from the Soul Forge trial completely evaporating from his chest.
He leaned back, sinking into the soft, clean mattress and staring up at the ceiling. The evening light grew softer, turning into a deep, peaceful violet as dusk officially settled over the academy grounds.
Though the simulated trial in the Forest of the Ancients had ended in a forced ejection, it hadn’t been a defeat.
He and Skull had successfully cleared seven hundred forest beasts in a single session. They had pushed their synchro-rate up to an incredible eighty-two percent.
They had defeated the first Forest King — the massive Frost-Spine Ursus — and had learned how to seamlessly combine their movements into a dangerous, unpredictable combat style.
Most importantly, he now knew exactly how the second king — the Ember-Scale Chimera — fought, moved, and hunted.
’Next time will be different,’ Atlas thought, his dark eyes sparkling with quiet determination in the twilight. ’I know its range. I know its hunting style. Tomorrow night, when I enter the Forge again, that Chimera isn’t getting the jump on us.’
With Mr. Crosswell’s high-intensity private training starting the next evening, and his synergy with Skull reaching new heights, Atlas felt a surge of grounded, unshakeable confidence.
The administrative traps, the noble plots, and the upcoming intra-departmental tournament were looming on the horizon, but for tonight, he was safe, surrounded by his friends in a clean room, ready for whatever came next.
Atlas closed his eyes, pulled the soft blanket over his chest, and let a deep, peaceful sleep wash over him.