The Leviathan System

Chapter 28: Dying is Bad For Your Health

"What's wrong, Silas?" Lyra asked, her voice gentle, filled with concern.

Silas, startled from his reverie, turned to face her. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... everything. There's so much I want to do, and it feels like we don't have enough time to do it."

"Like what?" Lyra asked.

"Like saving my mother," Silas said.

"We have more than enough time to save your mother. We killed a basilisk in a week. We got this," Lyra said.

"You're probably right. Let's go rejoin the others," Silas said.

After their respite, Silas looked around at the statues of people petrified by the basilisk.

"Guys. Let's unfreeze all these people," Silas said.

With the gallons of basilisk secretions they had stored in Lyra's pocket dimension, they covered the people head to toe in the liquid and watched as they came back to life.

Most of them, were overjoyed to be saved and restored to their former selves, but one of them said, "My name is Elias Whitecliff. I'm the prince of the nearby kingdom. If you ever need anything, give a guard this coin," Elias said, handing Silas a distinctive coin. "And tell them Elias gave it to you."

"Ok, thanks," Silas said. "I don't know the next time we'll be back, but I'll keep that in mind."

They found a door in the back of the room that seemed to lead outside. After the people had all left, Silas said, "There's something I need to do before we go back. Lyra, hand me the basilisk core."

Lyra gave Silas the core. Silas activated his essence extraction ability and watched as the silvery essence drained out of the core. He took the test tube out of his chest and put a small amount of the essence in his mouth, before putting the tube back in his chest.

Swallowing the essence,

Silas swallowed the basilisk essence, bracing himself for the impending transformation. The familiar searing pain consumed his body, causing him to collapse to the ground. His friends rushed to his side, their faces etched with concern as they watched him writhe in agony.

The skin on the back of Silas's hands began to change, taking on a scaly appearance. The scales, a deep emerald green, glimmered in the dim light of the room. As the transformation progressed, the scales spread, creeping up his arms.

As the pain subsided, Silas drew in a shaky breath. He looked down at his hands, marveling at the scaly texture that now adorned his skin. He could feel the essence of the basilisk flowing through him, imbuing him with newfound strength and resilience.

[You have acquired a new skill! Petrifying Stare]

[Petrifying Stare: Activating this ability while making eye contact with someone or something, will cause the target to turn to stone. (cost 150 mp)]

Silas checked his stats. His strength had gone up by 6, now sitting at 26. His other stats were unchanged.

Finally, Silas and his friends gathered around the altar that held the staff. Placing all their hands layered on top of each other, they all touched the staff at the same time. A brilliant white light flared, and they were gone.

Silas Blackwood and his companions materialized in the training room, their bodies tingling with the residual energy of the magic. They glanced around, taking in the familiar surroundings, a sense of relief washing over them as they realized they had successfully completed the scenario.

Lyra, her brow furrowed in concentration, reached into her pocket dimension, her fingers grasping at the air. A moment later, she withdrew her hand, a triumphant smile on her face as she held up the tiny angry slime in a jar and the remaining stomach secretions.

"It's all here," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "Everything we collected, it's still in my pocket dimension."

Silas nodded, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. They had not only survived the challenge but had also managed to bring back valuable resources that could aid them in their future endeavors.

However, their sense of victory was short-lived. As they made their way out of the training room, they noticed a commotion near the potion evaporators on the outside of the building. A group of students and instructors had gathered around the machines, their faces etched with concern and frustration.

Silas and his friends approached, curious to see what had caused such a stir. As they drew closer, they saw that the potion evaporators had been damaged, their delicate components twisted and broken.

Jace, his eyes narrowing, stepped forward to examine the damage more closely. "This wasn't an accident," he said, his voice low and serious. "Someone sabotaged these machines deliberately."

Nadia, her face darkening with anger, clenched her fists. "Damien," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "It has to be him. He's the only one who would stoop so low."

Rowan, his expression grim, nodded in agreement. "He must have done it while we were in the scenario," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "He knew we wouldn't be able to stop him."

As Silas and his companions stood amidst the gathering crowd, a sudden realization struck him. Despite the hours they had spent battling their way through the Temple of Aleron, no time seemed to have passed in the real world. The sun still hung in the same position, and the bustling activity around the university grounds remained unchanged.

Lyra, her eyes widening with understanding, turned to Silas. "The training scenario must have been in some sort of temporal bubble," she said, her voice filled with awe. "We could have spent days in there, and it wouldn't have made a difference out here."

Jace, his face breaking into a grin, clapped Silas on the shoulder. "You know what this means, right?" he said, his voice filled with excitement. "You still have time to make it to your duel with Damien."

Silas, his heart racing at the prospect, nodded slowly. He had been so caught up in the challenges of the Temple of Aleron that he had almost forgotten about his impending confrontation with Damien. But now, with the knowledge that no time had been lost, he felt a renewed sense of determination.

Rowan, his expression serious, stepped forward. "We'll come with you," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "You don't have to face him alone."

Nadia, her eyes flashing with anger, nodded in agreement. "Damien needs to be taught a lesson," she said, her voice cold and hard. "And you're going to be the one to do it."

Silas and his companions approached the dueling grounds, which were an open air version of the training rooms. The health potion evaporators were funneled under the ground, so the mist rose up through the floor.

They were greeted by a large crowd of students and faculty members, all eager to witness the impending confrontation between Silas and Damien. At the center of the gathering stood a university official, his face stern and his posture rigid.

"Attention, everyone," the official called out, his voice cutting through the excited chatter of the crowd. "The duel between Silas Blackwood and Damien Devereux will soon commence. However, before we begin, let me make the ground rules clear."

He paused, his eyes scanning the faces of the assembled students. "This duel will be conducted in accordance with the university's guidelines for magical combat."

"The use of lethal force is allowed and encouraged to determine the winner of the duel, but gratuitous violence such as dismemberment, decapitation, and disembowelment are strictly prohibited. Any violation of this rule will result in immediate disqualification and disciplinary action."

Silas, his heart pounding with anticipation, nodded his understanding. He had no intention of using such methods against Damien, but he knew that his opponent might not share the same restraint.

As the official stepped back, Silas and Damien took their positions on opposite ends of the dueling grounds. They faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then, without warning, Damien summoned a pair of blood whips, one in each hand. But these were no ordinary whips. Each one split off into four separate strands, each ending in a wicked, scythe-like blade that glinted menacingly in the sunlight.

At the sight of Damien's weapons, Silas pulled his war hammer off his back and activated his berserker rage skill.

The two opponents circled each other, their weapons at the ready. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, Damien lashed out with one of his whips, the blades slicing through the air with deadly precision.

Silas, dodged the attack using his pounce skill, rolling to the side and coming up in a crouch. Using his enhanced speed, he rushed towards Damien, getting a swing ready.

Within range, Silas swung the hammer into Damien's side, shattering his ribs and sending him to the ground. Damien had tried to defend but his weapons were primarily for creating and maintaining distance, not for fighting within arms reach.

Getting up slowly, by the time he was standing, Damien's ribs had healed and he was ready to go again. The university official along with two people standing beside him, were keeping track of the blows for point tallying.

Damien started whirling the whips out in front of him as a defense against Silas getting up close and personal. If he could maintain distance, he could control the fight.

Once again, Silas was too fast for Damien. Silas ran and dove straight through the whip field, spinning to deflect the scythes and prevent the whips from wrapping around his body.

Making it safely to the other side, Silas slammed the head of the hammer into Damien's sternum, knocking him to the floor once more. Tired of getting knocked around, Damien pulled the whips back into his wrists and he unsheathed a sword on his hip and pulled a shield off his back.

Then out of his back burst the whips with the scythe tips still attached. Now he was prepared to fight Silas close, medium, and long range.

The scythe-whips sliced through the air towards Silas, but he jumped back, just out of reach. Running through the range of the whips, Silas dodged and rolled and jumped, eventually making it to Damien.

He swung his hammer down at Damien, but this time he blocked it with his shield and stabbed at Silas's midsection with the sword. Silas was able to dodge to the side to miss the sword, but he wasn't prepared for what came next.

A stabbing pain jolted through Silas's back, once, twice, three times, eventually ending at 8. While he was distracted fighting him up close, Damien had stabbed all 8 scythes into Silas's back.

Having won that round, Damien threw Silas back 20 feet and off his scythe blades, to get ready for the next round. Silas took some time to get up, the familiar pain of punctured lungs stabbing through him.

With the beginning of the next round, Silas made a mental note to keep track of the whips while fighting. Keeping this in mind made the difference he needed to not get stabbed in the back again.

At this point the fight became fairly even, with both parties attacking and parrying in turn. A minute went by without a single blow dealt, until something changed.

All of a sudden, Silas felt a strange force within his body. It was as if the blood inside his body had frozen in place, preventing him from moving.

At first, Silas thought it was Damien's doing, but as he struggled against the unseen bonds, he realized that Damien couldn't be maintaining so much control over his body while fighting as hard as he was.

Silas's eyes darted around the dueling grounds, searching for the source of the magic. And then he saw him. Alastair Devereux, Damien's younger brother, was standing at the edge of the crowd, his eyes fixed on Silas and his hands moving in a complex pattern.

Silas's heart sank as he realized what was happening. Alastair was using his own blood magic to hold Silas in place, secretly aiding his brother from the sidelines. And because Damien and Alastair shared the same blood magic affinity, they could easily argue that it was Damien who was responsible for the magic, not Alastair.

With a roar of defiance, Silas summoned every ounce of his strength, pouring it into a desperate attempt to break free of Alastair's hold. And break free of Alastair's hold he did, at the expense of significant blood loss.

Silas ripped himself free of the blood frozen in his veins, essentially ripping his circulatory system out of his body. He fell to his knees due to losing all of his blood.

The health potions started to heal him, but they couldn't heal him fast enough. Damien seized the opportunity to strike. He sent one of his blood whips hurtling towards Silas, the wicked strands wrapping around his body like a serpent.

Silas gasped as he felt the whip tighten around his neck, the blades digging into his flesh. He tried to break free of the whip's hold, but he was too weak and it was too late.

With a sickening crack, Damien pulled his shoulder back, and the whip constricted with brutal force. Silas felt a moment of searing pain.

For a moment, Silas experienced a strange sensation of weightlessness, as if he were floating above his own body. He watched in horror as his head flew away from his shoulders, spinning through the air like a grotesque ball.

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