The Apprentice of Ouroboros [Monster Evo LitRPG Adventure]

“No goddamn way.”

Felix had said that at least three times in the last five minutes. This day had turned from bad to shit in that little span of time.

First, the hobgoblins had run screaming into their reinforcement group, saying Academy students had ransacked the mine. That had gotten him, two hundred goblins, and the hobgoblin and gnoll tactical directors moving at a breakneck pace, in an effort to reinforce the site before the Academy could discover the hive.

Then, they said the hive was under attack and was burning. Felix gritted his teeth and pushed forward, determined to kill these interlopers once and for all.

If there was one thing he had come to expect, it was the creativity of Academy students to utterly massacre the Varadur if they ever gained the slightest tactical advantage. They relied on strategy and organized efforts to destroy the more singular-minded monsters. Goblins could strategize, but it was typically limited to them throwing waves of frenzied goblins in multiple directions to overrun a position. Unfortunately, it was now a tactic the academy routinely defeated through positioning and nerves of steel.

In fact, gathering any large number of dangerous monsters created new logistical challenges: how to keep them focused on their foes and prevent them from killing or eating each other.

The goblins' morale always broke in the assaults before they were close enough to do meaningful damage. Villagers would fall, sure. It might work on the occasional low-Tier group of undertrained soldiers. But against trained professionals, they cut them down in droves.

“Warwick, get these shitheels moving faster,” Felix growled. “You didn’t tell me there was an Instance core buried there!”

“Need-to-know information,” the hobgoblin retorted, baring sharpened teeth. “I was instructed not to circulate this until the last minute. The humanoids have spies in our ranks with a few select classes. It doesn’t help that a few of our brethren have, indeed, deserted or lost a connection to the Collective.”

Felix let the words roll off him like water beading during a rainstorm. There was no way Warwick knew he’d lost the connection. He was clever, but he wasn’t an unparalleled genius.

He picked up the pace. The only reason he wasn’t there already was that taking on disciplined Valos military members or Awakened was a death wish without superior numbers or High-tiered monsters to soak damage and attention. “Warwick, get these shitheels moving faster. We only have so many of those goddamn things, and the Powers That Be can’t grow any more. So every time we lose one, guess what happens?”

“The Collective gets strained. I know. Then more of it rides on us,” he said, gesturing to himself and Felix. “Do you know the Powers That Be?”

“No.” He did, however, have a few theories put forth by the professors during his time at the Academy. The most prevalent theory was that a new Divine had spawned in the moments of the Sundering, one of a malevolent mind, unstable and uncontained. The other prevalent theory held that the Umbral Shoal harbored denizens other than the Divine Beasts. One may have used the opening to infect the world with their nightmarish hordes in the early days.

Or the one Felix personally believed in: Lachmir gained the power to defeat death and became something monstrous, then summoned the initial horrors from the Shoal during the Schism. Worse, he was the one who now drove these monsters. The clarity of silence, ever since the damn snake severed his connection, had him thinking. It was rather strange how even the Varadur didn’t fully understand, either.

How could they blindly follow such a force unless they were completely under its spell? Or worse, not question their tendency to become meat shoved into a meat grinder against the Valosians and the Juiksens, plus the other organized nations?

Thinking was dangerous. The unknown unsettled him. But, what did he care about the source of the Varadur? He’d reveled in the violence and the reward of power after he shed the inconvenience of his humanity. Now that was taken, too.

What did he have left? What kept him going? A futile hope that killing this snake would fix the connection? He knew the answer even though he hadn't said it aloud: It was highly unlikely that her death would undo this loss.

He would never be whole again.

He snarled and shoved the doubts aside. This task, dealing with the Academy and possibly members of the Valos military, was the only thing he could focus on.

Later, as they approached the mine, Warwick kept wincing. “The hell is up with you?” Felix demanded, tired of seeing the same expression crop up. There was no time to lose focus.

The hobgoblin said nothing, but kept holding his skull. Felix focused on the path ahead, pushing past dense overgrowth with several swipes of his claws.

Warwick finally broke his silence. “There’s…something interfering. The Collective is muddled. I can’t…what is…” he growled, and his pace faltered.

He wasn’t the only one. The goblins all looked around in confusion, and Felix felt an itch on the back of his mind.

He heard something that could only be described as chainmail sliding over gravel. And the sound of a stringed instrument in the background.

What is this? Where is this coming from? The sound reminded him of something from his childhood–a mandolin playing on a cold winter night, and the warmth of a hearth on his back as his father played the instrument, hardened hands still capable of subtle dexterity.

And that undercurrent of a chant…it almost sounded like…

Like the trailing hiss of a snake.

He came to a dead halt, focusing on the sound. What was it? Was it an ability? Some strange acoustic phenomena, or perhaps the hive itself? He'd been so focused on it that he'd zoned out on all the other surrounding sounds.

When he turned, he was shocked to see the others sprawled out on the ground, reeling in pain. Worse, everyone but him was lying on the ground, screaming and clawing at their ears and eyes. He stood there, dumbfounded about why everyone was holding their heads in agony.

“The hell is the matter with you?!” he growled, kicking one goblin who refused to rise, clutching his ears so hard he might accidentally tear them off. To Felix, it might be an improvement for them. "On your feet, you useless shitstains!"

“Something’s wrong! The hive–the voice from the hive just went silent!” Warwick moaned. He struggled to one knee, forcing himself to a staggered position. “Leave this useless fodder. Felix, you’re with me!”

They darted through the woods, Felix’s wolven legs propelling him at great speed; his silky fur provided no resistance, deflecting sticks and branches in his path. He sprinted until his breath ran ragged, and Warwick lagged, panting and unable to keep up.

The fact that he kept up for this long was a testament to the hobgoblin’s endurance.

By the time they got to the site with an overlook on the mine and the presumptive hive beneath it, Felix had already caught scent of humanoids. There were a fair number of them, organized in about five or six other groups, with a few in each.

By his estimate, there were probably several groups, their scents muddying together. He didn’t know if their position was compromised, considering he was downwind of them all.

Warwick staggered and practically collapsed as soon as he got to the vantage point, wheezing and holding his chest. “The hell…I caught a scent–”

“Warwick. The hive is fucked.” Felix knew what had happened the second he saw Academy students emerging from the mine entrance. All he could do was look, unable to change the outcome as the battered youth exited, and he leered at the one in the middle, cut up and exhausted, but alert.

He knew that goddamn hat from his days at the Academy. He also knew by heart who the snake wearing it was when he realized they looked similar to the one that had roasted him a few weeks ago.

Neska Aksen. Holy shit. Sure, it was a lamia, but the coloration of her scales was the same as the snake he’d come across only weeks earlier, plus the facial features and the venomous green eyes. He was at a rather extreme distance. They probably wouldn't spot him.

Watching that goddamn snake emerge from the smoky ruins of the site filled him with a clenching dread. His chest felt tight, and his mouth grew parched. She should be dead. This hive should have eaten them all alive, given that he knew the Academy faced strained manpower issues.

She was, no doubt, injured. His eyesight served him well at this distance; they all were. More student teams were closing in on them after seeing the smoke.

"How high Tier was the queen?" Felix finally whispered.

"Tier three. But that's not the whole story, the Instance core--"

Felix drew his bow, aiming at the snake, calculated a rough trajectory, and nocked one of his few steel-shaft arrows. The weight of the projectile and his own strength should carry the shot the distance, though he was at the extreme viable range of this weapon. He might be able to hit her. Maybe.

And then he, and all the rest of the goblins, would be dead where they stood. The remaining teams were uninjured and had team leads from the Valosian military. He recognized Corvin, standing next to the snake.

Good man, good tactician, too. Felix had never been able to outmaneuver the stalwart warrior. People called him the living wall for a reason: he was an immovable object. He couldn't find fault with that man; he'd treated the Awakened well.

All that training would now be put to good use as Felix drew the arrow back. He'd end that lamia-sized threat. He didn't have all the facts, but more importantly, he didn't need them.

Damn it, Hadley was blocking the shot now, interposing her body by chance. All the team members looked exhausted and relieved at the sight of reinforcements coming in from the opposite side.

"Felix, you do this, we're all dead in seconds. Who are you aiming at?" Warwick whispered.

"That lamia in the middle. She's a bigger danger than every other person in their group combined."

"Don't. You won't kill her, not from this range."

"Like I give a fuck about your lives?"

Could he make this shot at this distance? The smoke drifted straight up, so there was no wind to alter the arrow's trajectory. These steel arrows flew truer than anything else he could make by himself, and flew further, with more impact. It would skewer Hadley, maybe injuring the snake. If he aimed high, he might hit the snake in the head. Assuming she didn't have any regenerative abilities, it should be lethal.

All sound around him faded as he sank into his focus, save for two: his own heartbeat, and that strange song echoing through the air. It emanated from her, not a sound, but a radiant energy, almost. He had no idea what it was or how she did it. It felt like the same sensation as the Collective, but instead of bloodshed and promises of power, this was something different. Soothing. It brought a discomforting clarity, as if he were aware of the ugliness and terrible nature of this world.

He knew one thing with certainty: something fundamental had shifted here, and there would be far-reaching implications. His aim remained steady, but that urge to kill was gone. Why couldn't he allow himself to murder this snakey witch? Why couldn't he will himself to let this arrow fly? She'd burned him; that made her an enemy. Didn't it?

"No one wants their death to be meaningless, Felix. But fighting for memories of ghosts won't serve you well, either.

"Fight for the living. Fight for something you believe in."

Hand trembling, Felix relaxed the bow, the arrow falling to the ground. He sat on his haunches, panting.

That damn memory. Why couldn't it have stayed silent a moment longer? "Uh, buddy? You okay?" Warwick nudged his shoulder.

"I'm out of reliable firing range," Felix answered, keeping his hand steady even though his nerves were ready to give out. "You were right. I couldn't take the shot." Inwardly, he was still cursing himself.

Risha Aksen had said those words to him once. He could still picture her. Flowing red hair, the large hat, and that jovial presence about her. How was it possible to despise someone so thoroughly, yet the ghost of a woman caused his wrath to falter?

Why couldn’t he rouse his fervor and rightly earned hatred for the snake and the dead witch? His claws dug into his palms, and he bit the inside of his muzzle, using the pain to break his train of thought.

“Um…shit.” Warwick had no words to describe the sight as he peered through a small spy scope. Likely, a trophy from one humanoid village. “They burned it. They burned all of it. Well, I never liked her anyway."

“Would you shut up, and let me think?” Felix’s claw wrapped around Warwick’s shoulder, nails digging in. “The hive is done. But our objective is not.”

“Which is?”

He pointed to Neska. “That lamia is our new quarry. She is now the most direct threat to the Varadur that I’ve ever seen. We need to study her, follow her, and take her alive.”

A plan was forming. Plans, contingencies, and hypotheticals replaced his aimlessness of the past few weeks. Now he had an objective:

To find something worth fighting for. He needed purpose more than he needed to kill all those who wronged him, because by the time he was done, the only companions he would have would be the ghosts surrounding him.

Warwick looked at him, eyes alight with fear. “You want to kidnap her, here and now? There are dozens of Academy members nearby. That's not a plan; that's suicide with extra steps."

“Not here, no. We’re going dark behind the lines. And the person who knows how to skulk his way all the way into the academy’s heart?” He pointed a thumb at his chest, a grin spreading across his muzzle. “We do this, and this barbequed hive will be brushed off as a minor inconvenience compared to the prize of delivering this little snake alive.”

“Shit.” Warwick sucked in his breath, hands trembling. “But, how?”

“Easy. I need to talk to a certain spideress acquaintance of ours.” Felix withdrew to the forest, a plan forming.

Maybe there was an alternate path here. Maybe, just maybe, this snake could do more for him alive than if he killed her, here and now.

That aura around her. She'd killed the core, almost certainly. She fought with more than just blind hatred and rage for the Varadur. What was it that she said? She fought for the memory of Risha?

She fought with purpose. She had something to fight for. He needed to find that again, too. What better way to find that than by studying your mortal enemy?

Neska? Are you there?

That’s a silly question, isn’t it? Neska tried to turn on her side, wincing when the bruises and cuts that weren’t fully healed flared up as she coiled her body. I’m not exactly sleeping. Healing potions don’t cut away at the pain, only recovery time.

They were at the same rest stop they’d taken on their way from the academy. The trip back was slower, and the news had slowly spread about what they encountered in the mine. Corvin and the others had sent messages on the relay for the Valos military to begin a cleanup operation.

Neska thought about the samples in her satchel, sitting in a dimensional chest carried on the cart for further study. If nothing else, she’d gotten some materials for Trevor to use in his efforts, and some new venoms to test out and incorporate. She hoped she found a venom evolution that would enable her to permanently add venoms to her ‘cookbook’ of toxins, but so far, Vivi hadn’t seen anything.

She couldn’t stay focused on that thought–the planning, the alchemical experiments she’d write out procedures for, obtain data, and infer conclusions. All that felt trivial as she recalled the words of the queen wasp, Veelah. An entity that chose death over continued subservience to the Radiant King. She had a lot to unpack from that battle.

I know there probably isn’t any good time to bring it up, but…the battles in the Instance did provide a lot of growth in various avenues.

How many?

Pretty much most of your abilities. It was worth it. In theory, anyway.

Not right now, Vivi. For once, she wasn't enamoured with the prospect of power.

Thoros had died today. They’d died following along with her plan rather than getting out of the mine–

No. A retreat would have solved nothing. It would have made the problem worse and left a swarm of parasitic wasps that was on the verge of escaping en masse and terrorizing the area. The logic sounded right…

But why did she feel like thousands of wasps were crawling over her scales, unable to sleep?

She sat up, stretching out her spine and repositioning herself to watch the crackling campfire. Hadley and the other team leads were gathered around, talking quietly. Most of the students were resting for the evening.

Alright, Vivi. I guess it can’t hurt to review. Her Interface flickered to life, and she gazed wearily at the display again, taking her time to read it.

Witchery. She appreciated the portmanteau of the witch and archery bits. It felt like a whole new roster of options for her combat style had just become available.

Mana bolts with armor-piercing arrowheads. Instant ignition Ember hexes. Roots sprouted up without having to concentrate them. She was certain her other hexes and those she'd been eying for a while might be useful. Being able to combine penetrating blows with on-hit hexes would up her offense capability. Maybe even her supportive functions, too.

There is also one more title.

New Title Gained: Determination - You are unstoppable. Odds mean nothing to you, no matter how many foes or challenges are thrown your way, and your willpower withstands against magical and mental onslaughts. +10% Base Soul.

Wait…seriously, 10%?! This is absurdly broken, Neska.

Even the lamia was wild-eyed at that information. This…is completely broken. Did I get this before or after the battle?

After your little speech to the others. I think it’s a factor of a lot of other things, like the Titles attributed to your tactics. The fact that I don’t know the specifics suggests this information is deliberately withheld from local instances of the Interface, such as myself, to avoid…how does one put this…

Scamming the Interface for specific rewards? Neska rolled her eyes as she put it together. Let’s say I’m not aiming to be an exterminator of insectoids.

Clearly, you were traumatized by stinging nuisances as a child at one point.

Neska let out a soft chuckle. She had to hand it to Vivi; that was likely an accurate assessment…if she ever recovered all the voids in her memory. Well, what else have we got, Vivi?

There's the matter of Blood of Ouroboros Title changing. Neska I tried to warn you. You're lucky you're still alive, you know that?

There's something changing in you. I'm not sure even I understand it yet.

You're strong willed enough, that maybe you don't have to be. Ouroboros represents balance. The cycle of life, death, and rebirth. There's that to consider.

Hopefully I have a choice in what aspect I represent. She let out a soft sigh, turning her gaze skyward. She still hadn't calculated what this reveal to her classmates and professors might result in. Or the new and unknown dangers. That could wait until they got back.

Juni mumbled nearby, tucked in her sleeping roll. “Are you still up?”

“I am.” She twisted to see the mouse yawning, all the day's efforts still weighing on her movements. “How are you holding up? There wasn’t a lot of time to talk today.”

“I’m alright. Better than I have a right to. Getting stung with venom multiple times kinda hurt, even with my geo affinity,” Juni answered, showing several welts on her arms. “When I heard you fell deeper into the hive, my first reaction was to tunnel in and find you. I couldn’t believe it when your response was relayed, as if you planned on taking out the whole hive by yourself.”

“I took out a portion of it. But the circumstances were aided by a lot of factors.” Neska’s thoughts drifted to the words of the hive queen once again. “Juni, did you hear what the Instance core said?”

“It was audible through the whole hive. And I’m not going to be scared off by some insane usurper god who claims my best friend is some destined destroyer of worlds.” Juni held her hand on Neska’s shoulder firmly. “You got my word on that.”

“Still…he put a target on my back. How did he even know I was there?”

Juni tapped her snout for a minute. “The Interface connection. Each Instance core is like a piece of him installed somewhere, growing roots deep into reality. It’s like a pathogen, infecting our world. That’s why the Instances are treated so seriously. If we failed to take that thing out, I guarantee you the Valos military would have charged in and left nothing standing for miles to leave nothing to chance.”

That level of destruction did not come lightly. “Juni…I don’t say it often, but…I’m worried.”

“About him being right? Or the hive queen? The only one who controls your fate is you, Neska. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you let yourself be controlled by power. In fact…sometimes I think you’re holding back just a little, working for a better outcome.”

Neska let out a small hmm of acknowledgment. “The queen’s mannerisms changed from before and after the fight. She was ready to stop fighting. The Instance core made her fight. And I think…”

She trailed off. “I think there’s another power I have that is changing them. I want to test something out, if we get an opportunity.”

“What’s that?”

“Reverse the corruption process. Because I don’t think it’s limited to the Awakened. I think all the Varadur are corrupted, influenced by this distributed control of the Radiant King.”

Juni’s ears perked up. “Now, how, on Galwein, are you going to do that?”

“Easy. We’re going to find a corrupted Awakened, or another hostile Varadur…and we’re going to experiment to determine if the Corruption can be stopped, or even reversed. That means we need to take a few alive.”

Juni let out a low whistle. “Yep. Of course, this plan would be crazy. I’m in. But first…let’s get healed up and have one damn normal week at the Academy, first?”

Neska let out a contented laugh. “I don’t think we’ll ever have a ‘normal’ week. But we certainly will have some interesting weeks ahead.”

“Yeah. I guess after a self-declared god-king with an ego the size of Mount Sarutove mobilized an army of parasitic wasps. Then goblins armed with homebrewed alchemical explosives charged at us like suicide bombers; normal’s kind of a dead concept, isn’t it?”

“Need a snug?”

“Yeah. The trauma on this one is going to take extra snugs to work through.”

“Hey, I can hear you two! Share the snugs!” Syra protested, glaring at the two of them. “Brent, group snug!”

“Uh…I don't know how to feel about this. Should I?” The wolfling grumbled. He bore more than a few bandages from the skirmisher wasps' attacks, and his face hovered between confusion and discomfort.

Neska let out a hissing laugh. “Only if you're comfortable with it.”

Five minutes later, the four of them settled down. “This is snugs without benefits, right?” Brent asked uneasily.

“Yeah. It's been a long day. Consider me a security snake–or blanket,” she said, feeling the warmth of her friends against her coiled body.

Juni yawned as she curled up. “Never change, Neska. Never change.”

She wished her sleep were as assuring. The moment she closed her eyes, she saw the Radiant King. Seething, maddening rage coursed through that faceless, bodiless presence, promising death to everyone she held close.

He was coming for her. The Radiant King had been denied his kingdom and lordship over a world, and now, she might be the only thing between him and his goal.