NOVGO.NET Chapter 315: Another one
Chapter 315: Another one
A thread.
Thinner than before, but closer now. Like it had remembered him. Like it hadn’t severed—it had just… receded.
His breath hitched slightly.
’There.’
He reached for it—not with fingers, not even with thought, but with alignment. Letting the hum of mana pass through his lungs, letting the rhythm build like a heartbeat beneath his own.
Then—voices.
“…shen rae-tir…”
Low. Beneath the breath. Beneath the hum.
“…veilth sah…”
His eyes snapped open.
And the world shifted.
RUMBLE.
A deep, distant vibration trembled up through the earth, shaking through his legs, his spine, his teeth. The motes scattered instantly, flickering outward like birds from a snapped branch.
RUMBLE.
The sound grew louder—no, closer.
Not sound. Pressure.
He turned slowly, head rising toward the far edge of the plateau.
There it was.
The sky cracked with silence, and the horizon buckled beneath weight too immense for comprehension.
The colossus.
It moved again.
That same writhing mountain of flesh and obsidian, veins pulsing with black light, its limbs dragging as though time had to catch up with each of its steps. Eyes opened across its form in uneven waves. Too many eyes. All watching.
All aware.
“…again…” Damien whispered, voice barely audible over the low quake.
The colossus hadn’t come for him.
But it had come again.
And the earth remembered how to be afraid.
Damien squinted, jaw clenched as the tremors swelled. Dust and brittle fragments of ancient glyphstone rose around him, carried by a breath of the world that wasn’t wind—just anticipation. Recognition.
The colossus crept fully into view now, dragging half its body like the land itself recoiled from hosting it. But it was different this time. The raw flesh that pulsed beneath obsidian shards had thickened—armored over by growth. Living vines curled along its back, shifting in unnatural rhythms. Tumors shaped like lesser creatures squirmed across its shoulders, eyes blinking from buds that hadn’t been there before.
Creatures. Living things. Not passengers—extensions.
The colossus had fed. Adapted.
And then—Damien froze.
It looked at him.
Not all its eyes. Just one.
A massive, oozing orb just left of center, buried between plates of bone and vine. It twitched once. A ripple spread across its massive pupil.
Damien felt it—like a string pulled taut between them.
And in that moment, something ancient whispered in his gut:
It sees you.
Then—
SWOOOOOOSH!
The wind didn’t just strike.
It slammed.
A concussive wall of pressure hit the plateau, whipping grit into Damien’s face, nearly driving him backward. He dug his heels in, shielding his face with an arm—and then lifted his gaze.
The clouds above, heavy and unmoving for so long, split.
No sound.
Just light.
And then something fell.
No.
Descended.
Another form, just as massive, even more twisted. Taller. Narrower. Covered in plates like carved slate, burning with violet lines of energy pulsing like veins in a god’s corpse. Its head looked like a crown of roots, faces screaming silently from each side of it. Wings—not wings—constructs of bone and light spread wide, pulsing.
Another colossus.
And it was diving.
Straight down.
Damien didn’t even have time to react.
CRRRRRK-KRAAAAAAAM!
It hit the ground like a planet colliding.
The plateau heaved.
Cracks spiderwebbed out from the impact, shooting through ancient foundations and ruptured pylons. Damien staggered, barely keeping his footing as stone tilted beneath him, entire sections of the horizon dropping by meters in the quake.
The two titans—if they could be called that—clashed with no ceremony. No roar. Just movement. One swung a limb, the other countered with what looked like a spear formed from itself. The sound was silence breaking, the world groaning like it was being bent backward.
Dust erupted into the sky.
RUMBLE.
A fresh shockwave tore across the plateau, and Damien’s boots skidded—grinding back a meter as gravel and old glyph-dust flared around his heels.
“Fucking hell!” he snarled, crouching low to brace himself as the force tore through his gut like a blunt hammer.
The air wasn’t just heavy now—it was alive, saturated with force so dense it clawed at his skin, pressed into his ribs like a second atmosphere. Every breath came with resistance. Every blink stung from the grit-laced wind.
Up ahead, the two colossi didn’t pause.
They escalated.
SCREEEEEECH!
The first one—the flesh-veined, vine-covered giant—arched back, and its central eye split wide. Energy gathered like a storm caught between nerve endings, a violet-red pulse charging in the center.
And then—
A beam.
Not fire. Not lightning.
A clean, surgical cut of pure force lanced out, searing through the air with a sound that bent the sky. Everything in its path evaporated—stone, shadow, debris—ripped into nothing.
The second one didn’t hesitate.
It responded in kind—its own central cavity bursting open with light that was wrong, unfiltered, too sharp to be color.
Their beams met midair.
And the sky cracked.
A pressure so violent Damien’s ears went numb. The two energies collided, neither yielding, and for a brief, pulsing moment—they held.
Then they snapped sideways.
BOOM.
The recoil burst downward—both beams redirecting as if reflected from some invisible surface, screaming toward the earth.
One beam carved a trench through the mountains behind.
The other?
It veered toward the plateau.
The beam tore through the plateau like a divine scalpel, carving a molten scar across the earth. It didn’t hit Damien—but it didn’t need to. He felt it.
Heat surged through the air like a tidal wave, raising the temperature in an instant. The dust around him ignited into brief, flickering sparks. The edges of the glyphstones cracked and curled as the intense energy passed by, liquefying soil and turning solid rock into glowing slag.
RUMBLE.
The fight above continued—each clash sending tremors through the very crust of the world. Damien staggered from another shockwave, caught himself on one knee, breath short.
Then—
CRACK.
His head snapped down.
A web of jagged fissures spread from beneath his feet, each one glowing faintly orange. Not from heat. From depth.
“Fucking hell—”
He pivoted, eyes tracing the line of the beam’s trench. And that’s when he saw it.
The land wasn’t just cracked.
It was splitting.
The beam had carved through the plateau’s spine, and now the weight of it—the sheer structural pressure—was collapsing inward. Rock split. Pillars shattered. Stone dropped by the slab, sucked into a rift that was growing wider by the second.
He turned back toward the direction he’d come.
The crack was chasing him.
“No fucking shot—”
He didn’t waste time.
Damien ran.
Boots slamming hard into unstable ground, dodging fresh fractures as they peeled outward from the main rupture. Chunks of earth tumbled into the abyss behind him, vanishing without a sound.
And the bottom?
It was filled with Lava.
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