Eldritch Guidance-Chapter 116 – Animal Remains

Alan arrived at the outskirts of the city, his heart racing as he stood before the imposing structure of the UG Processing Labs. The building loomed large, its stark, metallic facade reflecting the fading light of the evening sky. He had taken a transport out of the city, but the urgency of the situation compelled him to run the final stretch, channeling his magic to enhance his speed. Now, as he paused in front of the lab, he leaned against the cool metal of the fence, struggling to catch his breath.

He would have brought Joe and the others along, but Cid's warning echoed in his mind: he had mere hours to locate Jafar before something terrible befell him. The weight of that urgency pressed heavily on Alan's chest, forcing him to act quickly. Time was not on his side, and every second counted.

As he steadied his breathing, his gaze drifted to the large sign that marked the lab's entrance. Beyond the fence, he could see the outlines of a chemical processing facility, its machinery humming in the twilight. But that was not where he needed to be. Alan turned his attention to the left, where a dense thicket of trees bordered the facility.

Cid had specifically instructed him to search the forested area to the west of the lab. It was there, amidst the shadows and whispers of the trees, that Jafar was likely taken. But Cid's warning lingered in Alan's mind like a dark cloud, heavy and foreboding: lurking in that forest was a confrontation with a nightmare that would likely haunt him for the rest of his days. The words echoed in his thoughts. Yet, Alan knew he had no choice. Jafar’s life depended on him.

With determination, Alan pushed off from the fence, his resolve solidifying with each step. Every second counted; he could not afford to let time slip away. He had to find Jafar, regardless of Cid's cryptic warning, no matter the cost. The image of his friend’s face, desperate and pleading, burned in his mind, driving him forward.

As he ventured toward the forest, the air grew cooler, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The trees loomed tall and ancient, their gnarled branches twisting skyward like skeletal fingers clawing at the heavens. The forest seemed to breathe, its rhythm slow and deliberate, as if it were alive and watching. Alan's senses heightened, every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sending a jolt of adrenaline through him. His hand instinctively brushed against his arm guard, a small comfort in the face of the unknown.

He stepped cautiously into the underbrush, the ground soft and damp beneath his feet. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature—the distant call of a bird, the skittering of small creatures in the undergrowth—but there was an unsettling undercurrent, a dissonance that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Shadows danced between the trees, shifting and flickering in the dim light, and Alan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. The sensation was palpable, as though the forest itself had eyes and they were fixed on him.

Pushing aside his unease, Alan steeled himself and focused on the task at hand. He had to find Jafar. With each step deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to close in around him, their trunks growing thicker and more twisted, the light filtering through the canopy dimming to a muted white. The air became heavier, thick with the scent of damp moss and something else—something metallic, faint yet unmistakable. Blood.

A wave of nausea washed over Alan as the smell triggered memories from his childhood, memories he had long tried to bury. He recalled the chaos of the civil war in Gix, the destruction that had ravaged his hometown, and the acrid stench of smoke mingling with the coppery tang of blood as lives were extinguished around him. The images flooded back—screams, flames, and the haunting faces of those he had lost.

Shaking his head to dispel the memories, Alan forced himself to concentrate on the present. He needed to determine the source of that unsettling smell. Pushing through a thicket of bushes, he stumbled upon a gruesome sight: a dead rabbit lay sprawled on the forest floor, its intestines grotesquely exposed. It had likely fallen prey to a fox or another predator, a victim of the relentless cycle of nature.

Alan: “So that's where the smell came from,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned away from the lifeless creature, a shiver running down his spine. The sight was disturbing, but he dismissed it as irrelevant to his search.

As Alan turned his back on the lifeless creature, he was suddenly jolted by an eerie sensation.

The rabbit's eyes flickered to life, glowing an unsettling shade of blue, and with a jolt of unnatural vitality, it sprang back onto its feet. Before Alan could fully process what was happening, the undead rabbit lunged at him with a ferocity that defied its small size.

Time seemed to slow as Alan heard the creature's frantic movements, turning just in time to see it hurtling toward him. Instinctively, he raised his arm, bracing for impact. The rabbit's teeth sank into the protective arm guard of his uniform, the metal clinking against its jaws. Alan felt a sharp tug, but the guard held firm, absorbing the brunt of the attack. The rabbit dangled from his arm for a brief moment, its eyes wild with an unnaturalness that sent a chill down his spine.

With a sudden motion, Alan flung the creature away, sending it crashing into a nearby tree. The impact was jarring, and a grotesque spray of guts and blood fell out of the rabbit across the ground, painting the forest floor in a macabre display.

Alan: “What the fuck!” he yelled, disbelief and adrenaline coursing through him.

But the horror didn’t end there. The undead rabbit, seemingly unfazed by the violent throw, shook itself off and sprang back to its feet. Its glowing blue eyes locked onto Alan once more, and it began to sprint toward him again, its movements unnaturally quick and agile.

In a flash of instinct, Alan reached for the pocket knife he always carried—a small but reliable tool that had seen him through countless challenges. Its weight in his hand was familiar, a grounding presence amidst the chaos. He focused his energy, drawing on the aether that flowed within him, and channeled it into the blade. Wind aether, swift and sharp, surged through the metal, and the knife seemed to come alive in his grip. A faint, light white glow emanated from its edge, shimmering with an ethereal energy that hummed softly, like the whisper of a distant storm.

The creature lunged at him, its movements unnervingly fast for something that should have been dead. Alan’s heart raced, but his training kicked in. With a swift, determined swing, he brought the blade forward, aiming directly at the oncoming abomination. The knife sliced through the air with a resonant whoosh, the wind aether amplifying its speed and precision. In an instant, the blade met the undead rabbit, and the result was both shocking and grotesque.

The knife cut through the creature as effortlessly as a hot knife through butter, cleaving it cleanly in half from the middle of its distorted face down through its entire body. A spray of dark, viscous blood erupted from the wound, splattering across Alan’s uniform and face. The metallic tang of decay filled his nostrils, making him gag, but he held his ground, his grip tightening on the knife.

The two halves of the rabbit fell limply to the ground, each side twitching and writhing as if still possessed by some unnatural force. Alan watched, a mix of horror and fascination gripping him, as the severed pieces struggled to stand, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. The blue energy that had animated them flickered weakly, like a dying flame, but it was clear that whatever power had reanimated the creature was not yet fully extinguished. The halves dragged themselves forward, their grotesque forms leaving trails of black ichor in their wake.

Alan’s stomach churned, but he couldn’t look away. The sight was repulsive. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the glow faded completely, and the movements ceased. The undead rabbit lay motionless on the forest floor, its unnatural existence snuffed out.

Alan took a step back, breathing heavily as he processed what had just happened. His hands trembled slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, though the stain seemed to cling stubbornly, a grim reminder of the encounter.

Alan: “Was that an… undead rabbit?” he muttered to himself. The words sounded absurd, even to his own ears, but there was no denying what he had just witnessed. The forest, already ominous, now felt even more alien. “What the heck is going on here?”

His mind raced, struggling to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him. The presence of undead creatures was a clear indication that a necromancer was at work, and Cid’s warning echoed ominously in his thoughts, amplifying his sense of dread. Just as he began to process the implications of this dark magic, a sudden rustle in the nearby bushes snapped him back to reality.

Emerging from the underbrush was a skeletal bovine, its eye sockets glowing with the same eerie blue light that had animated the rabbit. Behind it, two more skeletal cows followed, their bones clattering together as they moved with a menacing purpose.

Alan: “Damn it!” he yelled, his heart pounding in his chest.

The group of undead bovines charged at him, their hollow eyes fixed on their target. Alan quickly assessed his options, realizing that there was no way he could outrun these creatures in this dense forest. His gaze darted upward, and he spotted a large branch hanging overhead, a potential escape route.

With a surge of wind infused aether, he called upon his enhancement magic, channeling it to improve his physical abilities and decrease his weight. In an explosive leap that defied human limits, he soared into the air, grasping the high-hanging branch with both hands and pulling himself up. He landed securely, now at least ten feet off the ground, just as the undead cows barreled beneath him, their charge missing its mark.

The skeletal creatures collided violently with the tree, their bony frames smashing against the trunk in a futile attempt to knock him down. Alan grunted as the impact sent vibrations through the branches, causing him to sway precariously. He steadied himself, focusing on the threat below.

With one hand gripping the branch, he released the other and summoned his magic once more. He conjured bolts of wind-infused aether, the energy crackling with power as he aimed at the undead bovines. The bolts hissed through the air, striking the skeletal cows. Each impact sent a jarring rattle through their frames, causing some of them to shatter and fall apart, their bones scattering across the forest floor.

Alan felt a rush of adrenaline as he continued to unleash his magic, determined to fend off the relentless onslaught. The remaining skeletal cows stumbled, their movements becoming erratic as they struggled to regain their composure. He knew he had to act quickly; the necromancer behind this dark magic would not be far behind, and he needed to find Jafar before it was too late.

With a surge of determination, Alan dropped down from the branch, his movements swift and precise. He landed squarely on the back of the last remaining skeletal cow, the impact sending a jolt through the creature’s brittle frame. Before it could react, he drew his knife, its faint white glow shimmering with the wind-infused aether that coursed through its blade. In one fluid motion, he brought the knife down in a swift, decisive strike, cleanly decapitating the undead abomination. The creature’s head tumbled to the ground, its jaw snapping uselessly as the blue light in its eye sockets flickered and faded, leaving nothing but lifeless bones in its wake.

The skeletal cow collapsed beneath him, its bones clattering against the forest floor like a macabre xylophone. Alan leapt off its back, landing lightly on his feet, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. He brushed off the remnants of the battle—flecks of bone and dust clinging to his clothes—but there was no time to dwell on the victory. The forest was far from safe.

As he straightened, a sharp whistling sound sliced through the air, cutting through the eerie silence like a blade. Alan’s instincts kicked in immediately. He raised his hand, reinforcing the translucent ward he had conjured moments after dispatching the undead rabbit. The barrier shimmered faintly, a barely visible shield of energy that hummed with protective power. Just beyond his line of sight, a barrage of jagged bone spikes hurtled toward him, their jagged tips gleaming ominously in the dim light.

The spikes struck the barrier with a resounding crack, shattering upon impact. Fragments of bone ricocheted off the ward, some embedding themselves into nearby trees with a sickening thud. Alan felt the barrier weaken slightly from the force of the attack, a subtle but unmistakable indication of how dangerous his situation had become. His muscles tensed as he braced against the onslaught, his mind racing to assess the threat. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

In that moment, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the grueling hell training Mitra had put him through. The sharp whistling sound had been unmistakable—a lesson learned from countless hours of Mitra hurling projectiles at him to hone his warding abilities. She had been relentless, her methods brutal but effective. “If you can’t react in time, you’re dead,” she had said, her voice cold and unyielding. “The enemy won’t wait for you to catch your breath.”

Her words echoed in his mind now. If he hadn’t reinforced the barrier in time, those bone spikes could have easily pierced through, leaving him vulnerable to a fatal blow. The thought sent a chill down his spine, but it also steeled his resolve. He had survived Mitra’s training, and he would survive this.

Heart racing, Alan steadied himself, his eyes scanning the shadowy underbrush for the source of the attack. The forest seemed to close in around him, the trees looming like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches twisting into grotesque shapes. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the faint hum of unnatural energy prickled at his senses. Somewhere in this labyrinth of shadows and whispers, the necromancer responsible for these horrors was lurking, watching, waiting.

Alan tightened his grip on the knife, the faint white glow of the wind aether providing a reassuring presence in his hand. The energy pulsed gently, a rhythmic thrum that mirrored the beat of his heart, a reminder of the magic he wielded and the grueling training he had endured to harness it. The blade felt like an extension of himself, a tool and a weapon, but also a symbol of the path he had chosen. Just as he was preparing for the next wave of danger, a figure emerged from the underbrush, and Alan's heart skipped a beat.

It was Sandra, the gray-haired head librarian, draped in a flowing gray cloak that seemed to blend seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. The fabric rippled like mist as she moved, giving her an almost ethereal quality, as though she were a specter conjured by the forest itself. Her piercing eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto his, and for a moment, the chaos around him seemed to still. Alan had anticipated her arrival, yet a part of him was still taken aback by the sight of her. Her presence was both familiar and unsettling.

Sandra: “I see you survived that,” she said, her voice smooth and measured, with a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. Her tone was calm, almost casual, as though they were discussing the weather rather than the horrors Alan had just faced. She stepped closer, her movements graceful and deliberate, her cloak brushing against the forest floor without a sound. “I suppose I should have expected as much from someone hailing from the renowned Arcane Eye College, even if you’re just a student.”