A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Western Outskirts]

"So adaptation, hm?" Victoria murmured under her breath, the words almost lost to the wind as she stood atop the low rise overlooking the current battle. The hill wasn’t far—close enough that every impact, shift in pressure and violent surge of mana reached her in waves—but she didn’t move, not even when another tremor rolled beneath her sabatons and up through her stance.

The force pressed against her armor, tugged at her hair and dragged loose strands across her face. She clicked her tongue softly, brushing them back with a small, irritated motion, though her attention never truly left the scene below.

"This is more than I expected," she added quietly, more to herself than anyone else, her tone thoughtful rather than alarmed.

Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she tracked the creature.

("This Abyssal Creature is certainly far more different than the others.") The conclusion came easily; she was witnessing as much firsthand, after all.

Below, the creature moved again.

Its arms—if they could still be called that—elongated unnaturally, then split, dividing into dozens upon dozens of writhing appendages that lashed outward like a swarm of blackened whips. They tore through the air with sharp, cutting force, each one snapping forward with enough power to break stone.

Victoria watched carefully as Lucinda moved immediately.

There was grace to it, she slipped between the strikes, her steps light and her body turning just enough to avoid each incoming appendage. The ground around her cratered again and again as the creature’s attacks landed, each impact sending debris scattering in violent bursts.

"Good, keep reading it," Victoria muttered, almost unconsciously, her gaze sharpening.

Lucinda pivoted on her heel, the movement smooth as her blade followed, carving a wide arc through the air. Every appendage within its path was cleaved apart, they fell in pieces, writhing briefly before dissolving into that same dark, unstable matter.

("Smart.") Victoria’s lips curved slightly, a small, approving smile. ("She’s not relying on one method. She’s layering elemental properties into her strikes, adjusting each time so the creature can’t fully settle into a single form of resistance.")

Her eyes turned, tracking the small changes.

("She’s forcing it to keep adapting and that means it never fully stabilizes.")

She exhaled softly, almost impressed.

"I do appreciate that you’re not just ending it outright, Lucinda," she said under her breath, tone light but genuine. "As much as I’d enjoy the immediate solution, this is far more valuable."

Below, the creature recoiled—but only for a moment.

Its severed limbs didn’t remain severed.

They shifted as new appendages pushed outward into more refined in shape, the violet patterns along its body pulsing brighter for a brief instant before settling again.

Victoria’s expression didn’t change, but her gaze hardened just slightly.

("There it is again, faster this time.")

She folded her arms loosely across her chest, posture relaxed despite the intensity of the battle unfolding beneath her.

("Against the average sorcerer or even a trained knight, something like that would be impossible.") Her thoughts grew quieter. ("Adaptation at that rate, combined with regeneration on that scale, unless you completely erase it, it simply doesn’t stay down.")

Her fingers tapped lightly against her arm, an unconscious rhythm forming.

"Most wouldn’t even realize what’s happening until it’s already too late," she murmured. "They’d strike, see it fall and then watch it stand again, stronger, faster and more resistant." She let out a soft breath through her nose. "And by then they’d already be dead."

The wind shifted again, carrying another wave of force up the hill.

Victoria didn’t flinch.

("And that’s just one.")

Her gaze lifted briefly—not to the sky, but to the edges of it. To the countless tears scattered across that dark expanse.

("Despite how much Abyssal Energy it must have taken to create that single entity, there are far too many tears.") The thought lingered. ("An army of these could be formed.")

Her jaw tightened ever so slightly before relaxing again.

("And yet that isn’t what’s happening.") Her eyes returned to Lucinda. ("Instead, it’s numbers. Smaller, weaker creatures. Endless waves.")

A slow, thoughtful tilt of her head followed.

"...Which is the smarter approach," she admitted quietly. "Inheritors, Descendants... individuals like that—they can erase armies if they’re present." Her voice softened, losing its earlier sharpness. "But they can’t be everywhere."

Her gaze dimmed just a fraction.

"And that’s all it takes." A brief pause followed. "One place left unattended."

She exhaled again, longer this time, then straightened slightly as if dismissing the thought before it could settle too deeply.

"No," she said under her breath, firmer now. "Speculation won’t help if it spirals."

Her attention snapped fully back to the battle.

Below, the creature shifted again.

Its entire body twisted unnaturally, mass redistributing as it lunged forward toward Lucinda. This time, its right arm didn’t simply extend—it expanded grotesquely, swelling to several times its original size, the mass thickening and becoming something closer to a hammer than a limb.

It came down hard. The impact split the ground apart with a deafening crack, a shockwave bursting outward in a violent ring that tore through the grass and broke the earth beneath.

Victoria felt it reach her a heartbeat later—the tremor rolling underfoot, the air itself shuddering.

"Ah, there it is," she murmured, eyes narrowing. "It’s adjusting not just defensively, but offensively as well."

Below, Lucinda had already moved.

She wasn’t there when the strike landed.

She had slipped away just before impact, her movement almost too smooth to follow, her form shifting to the side with minimal effort. But even she felt it—the tremor traveling through the ground, the instability it caused beneath her footing.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

("So it’s escalating.")

The creature didn’t pause.

It tore its arm free from the crater it had created, the ground crumbling around it as it shifted again, its elongated frame rebalancing with unsettling speed. The violet patterns across its body pulsed once more, brighter than before, as if reacting to the exchange.

Lucinda adjusted her stance, blade lowering just slightly as she studied it.

Victoria’s gaze turned to the sky for only a moment longer before she exhaled slowly, her expression shifting as something reached its conclusion. The dark tears above, those wounds in the world, no longer poured with the same relentless intensity. The flow had thinned, more now, like something straining to maintain itself.

"It’s happening exactly as I thought," she murmured under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.

Before her, the battle continued.

Lucinda’s form cut through the air again, even at a distance, Victoria could follow the rhythm of her movements. The Abyssal Creature, however, had abandoned any semblance of stillness.

It surged forward again, its elongated limbs tearing through the air with a violent distortion. The ground beneath it broke with each step, its body reshaping mid-motion, compensating. It had learned—if not consciously, then instinctively.

Lucinda did not turn her head when it came.

She simply lifted her hand.

The air compressed for a fraction of a second—and then the creature was struck.

An invisible force crashed into it with crushing power, folding its distorted frame inward before launching it backward. The impact alone tore a deep trench through the earth as it was sent flying, its body skidding, reforming even as it moved.

Victoria watched that without surprise, her attention already shifting back to the sky.

"The liquid flowing from the tears has lessened," she noted again, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tracked the small changes between each tear. "They’re diverting their energy, still feeding that thing and prioritizing it."

Her fingers tapped lightly against her arm as she folded them tighter, posture relaxed but mind anything but.

"Which means this is the window."

Her gaze turned back to Lucinda.

The spawn of Octavia stood her ground, blade held low at her side, her breathing even despite the escalating intensity. The creature had already begun to recover from the last strike, its body stitching itself together with fluidity. The violet patterns across its form pulsed brighter.

Lucinda’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching it reform, tracking every movement.

"You’re getting faster," she said quietly, Victoria lightly smiled at how unbothered the girl was.

The creature didn’t respond—couldn’t—but its body reacted all the same.

Its limbs split again, branching outward into multiple appendages that lashed toward her from different angles, faster than before and seemingly more coordinated.

Lucinda stepped forward instead of back.

Her blade rose in a single motion.

Every appendage that reached her was severed in the same breath, she didn’t stop or hesitate, her body continuing forward as the remnants of those limbs collapsed behind her.

"Then I can’t afford to drag this out much longer," she added, more to herself than anything else.

There was a shift in her stance.

From the hill, Victoria caught it immediately.

Her lips curved, just slightly.

"There it is."

She uncrossed her arms, letting them fall loosely at her sides as she raised her voice—not shouting, but projecting enough for it to carry.

"Lucinda."

The name cut cleanly through the noise of battle.

Lucinda’s eyes turned briefly in her direction, not turning fully, but enough to acknowledge.

Victoria tilted her head slightly, her expression composed, but her gaze sharp.

"We’re done observing," she said, her tone light. "You’ve gathered more than enough. Any further testing is just wasting the advantage we’ve created."

Lucinda didn’t respond immediately.

Her eyes returned to the creature as it rose again, its body twitching and reforming.

"It adapts to everything I use," Lucinda said after a moment, her voice carrying just enough to reach. "Every variation slows it down—but doesn’t stop it. Not completely at least."

Victoria nodded once, already expecting that.

"Yes. Which means the conclusion is fairly straightforward," she replied. "Stop giving it the chance to adapt."

There was a brief pause.

Then, more pointedly—

"Overwhelm it."

Lucinda’s grip on her blade shifted slightly.

"And the tears?" she asked.

Victoria’s gaze turned upward again, tracking the weakened flow and the strained threads invisible to most but clear in her mind.

"Ordinarily, they’d just reconstruct endlessly."

But now—

"They’re stretched thin. Feeding this thing and maintaining the connection."

Her expression sharpened.

"Destroying them wouldn’t matter," she said plainly. "But right now? They’re overextending themselves to a staggering degree." She lifted a hand, gesturing loosely toward the sky. "Which means for this moment—this very specific moment—they’re vulnerable."

Lucinda exhaled slowly, her shoulders settling as the weight of that sank in.

"So I can actually do it," she said, more to confirm than to question.

Victoria’s smile returned—small, but certain.

"Yes. You can destroy them," she said. Then, after a brief pause, her tone shifted. "Or if you’re careful enough you can seal them."

Lucinda’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"I’m guessing sealing would be better," she said.

"It would," Victoria agreed. "But it’s also far more demanding. You’ll need to maintain control while outputting a significant amount of power. And you’ll need to do it quickly—before they readjust." Her gaze turned back to the creature, which had already begun to move again, its form stabilizing.

"And that thing," she added, her tone flattening slightly, "is not going to politely wait while you decide."

Almost on cue, the Abyssal Creature surged forward again.

Faster than before.

Its body compressed, then expanded, launching itself toward Lucinda with a violent burst of force that shattered the ground beneath it.

Lucinda didn’t move immediately, she watched it come.

"Right," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "No more testing."