The Villain's Story

Chapter 680: [680] Climb.



The climb felt simple at first, even achievable. Alan felt that he would take no longer than a day at most to scale this titanic spear, which was more akin to a monument than a weapon. The cold was beneficial to him, empowering his strength and making the arduous climb

easier.

It took him no longer than a few hours to climb the first section of the shaft, the spear, merely inches beneath the fog. His hands were still encased in ice, gluing him to the surface of the spear. The winds here were especially sharp, but durable.

They would only be a hindrance if his hands were not glued to the spear, and he was climbing it the traditional way, but he had a feeling that was soon about to change.

All he could hear was the howling of the wind as it desperately tried to make him fall, taking a deep breath, he murmured.

"Focus..."

[Dragon Eyes have been activated.]

Yet, it was futile, dragon eyes failed to pierce through the impenetrable, mysterious fog. Alan sighed, cancelling the skill and giving his eyes a moment of rest.

He was wary of it, if even dragon eyes could not pierce through it had to be exceptionally special, frighteningly so. He simply hoped that it would not have any malicious effects.

Taking a deep breath once more to calm himself, he continued his climb, venturing into the deep, mysterious fog. Soon, he could not even see a meter in front of him, all he could see was half of his body and the pristine surface of the spear he was glued too.

He continued climbing, relieved that the fog was simply...fog, for now at least. He was sure it was going to do something to him, but was glad it was not now.

He would rather he made some progress in the foggy area before encountering something and retreating, then encountering it as soon as he entered the fog.

He lost track of how long he was taking soon enough, the fog was now denser, he could barely see his hands. The winds were especially fierce now. He had almost been thrown off, a fatal mistake. Thankfully, he only fell for a few meters before encasing his hands in ice to a greater degree this time.

The winds here were harsh, and now posed a significant threat. The fog was unperturbed by them, but he was not. Now, every movement of his was strenuous, struggling against the force of the wind inching to throw him and send him plummeting down.

'How long have I been here?'

He thought, pausing for a moment. He had taken a few hours to climb the first section of the fog, but this? How long was he stuck in this abominable fog? Was he even going in the right direction?

The fog was finally revealing its true colors, or abilities in this case.

Nonetheless, he focused on going forward, slowly but surely.

It was becoming more arduous by the second, not only was the wind rushing to tear him apart, the unknown was tearing at his mind.

The attributes it may have possessed, were all unknown to him, but he was clearly feeling its effect as he ascended.

Overtime, he knew what was happening to him, he was losing his sense of direction, his sense of touch, his sense of time, and was feeling incredibly nauseous.

It was doing something to his senses. Alan stopped for a bit and collected himself, taking deep breaths to deal with the nausea.

His regeneration was proving useless in treating this nausea.

"Shit."

But it did prove useful against the wind, it was now sharp, and made many cuts on his body. His scales had resisted them for a long time, but their resilience fell short.

Small cuts appeared all over his body, threatening to expand. But his regeneration stopped them in their tracks.

It was now a battle of attrition. His regeneration against the winds.

Alan steeled his resolve, and continued his ascent, this time, at a faster pace. The howling wind tried its best, baring its fang, but his regeneration trumped it. The small cuts were gone as soon as they appeared.

'Alan.'

He began to hear voices, murmuring his name from all directions, their identity unknown for now. But that was merely the beginning. Soon enough, he recognized the voices.

'Alan, help!'

"Shut up."

Maxwell, Alice, Alex, Olivia, his grandparents, Kazikato, Sabrina, even Master Arken, and Sage Oliver.

He laughed at that, he could never even imagine his master calling for help like that. Whatever effects the fog had achieved prior were all gone due to that mistake.

Arken would never call out for help, not like that, never. The fog was calling out to him, using the voices of the people he knew, unfortunately, he knew them better.

'This won't work on me.'

He hurried his pace, achieving almost a blinding speed, draining his muscles that suffered the wrath of the wind again and again.

The voices did not stop, however. The fog may have realized that using the voices of certain people was having an adverse effect, he didn't hear them for a while.

But, eventually, it was going to reach the voice of one person who would definitely have an effect, and it did.

'Al, help!'

Alan paused, his hand touched the surface of the spear, but he failed to encase it in ice in time, caught off guard by Samantha's voice calling for help.

But it was too late, he had made a mistake, and this time, he fell down, descending at blinding speeds.

The wind finally had its way with him, throwing him around, thrashing his body against the spear, and all of Alan's attempts to glue himself off onto the spear proved futile.

Worst of all, the pristine surface of the spear was resilient, incredibly so. The bones it was made out of may be so, but his was not. Every time the wind threw him against it, he felt his bones fracturing, his injuries were adding on.

If not for his regeneration, he would have already been in dire straits, thankfully, using aura to enhance it was proving sufficient.

"Damn it!"

He cursed, and braced himself for the next time he would crash against the spear, intending to use his claws to burrow into it, or destroy his hands trying.

He needed only a second, a mere second, in order to use ice magic to stabilize himself.

The fog was becoming clearer, and the voices had long since stopped, only his descent was continued. His painful descent. The wind threw him against the wall once more, and this

time, he met it gladly.

As he was about to crash into it, he straightened his arms and pushed forth, his claws...enhanced as they were with mana and aura, failed to do anything to the spear and only

destroyed themselves.

His claws split apart, dug into his fingers and leaked out blood as Alan grit his teeth in pain.

'Damn it all!'

He cursed, but he had done it, he had gotten his second of contact with the spear, cold ice encased his hands once more, whatever they were like now.

He stopped, a small trail of blood and nails above him, unfreezing one of his hands at a time in order to let them heal, he sighed in relief.

This time, he froze his legs too, as uncomfortable as it was, and took a moment of reprieve. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he had not fallen deep, he was still in the fog... albeit it was

much clearer than before.

The voices, the loss of direction, touch, and disorientated sense of time along with the nausea were all gone, he was alright, for now.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

He knew it was coming, since the voice was using the voices of all the people in his life... he knew Sam's voice was also coming. Just... he had not expected it to cause this much disarray.

His sister calling out to him for help really did a number on his mind for a moment.

It was expected, yet unexpected at the same time.

"Alright, so voices, nausea, loss of senses... that's what it does at that point, and I don't even

know how much of it is left..."

That was the bad thing, he was unaware of how much of the fog he had actually traversed. What if that was just the beginning? What if he wasn't even halfway there.

What else would it do? Show him phantoms, illusions of those people asking for help whilst being trapped in harrowing situations... He knew that was going to get to him, and it won't just be Samantha that would get to him.

The voices, most of them he could ignore, but actual illusions of them...would prove to be

difficult.

The fog was like a mental hex, and Alan was weak against mental attacks. Very weak against

them.

Regardless, he still had to continue.

'I'll build up some sort of resistance after a few more attempts...'