The Mudflat's Abyssal Gaze
Kyle closed his eyes and focused his mind.
Resonating with the tower goblin, Fragment. No complex spells or rituals were needed for that. He'd already met Fragment and heard his "proposal."
Imagining a knock on a door in his mind, a clear bell-like chime soon rang in his head.
When he opened his eyes, the surroundings had completely changed. Fenris embedded in the center of the cold marble floor. The jade throne. None of it was visible anymore. Instead, a lavish, spacious room came into view.
A plush red carpet covered the floor, and a crystal chandelier on the ceiling scattered a soft glow. Kyle stood with his hands behind his back, surveying the room.
Among the interiors of the Sword Tower he'd seen over the past six years, this room was the most opulent. Was the emperor's bedroom like this? Kyle glanced at the abstract paintings of incomprehensible meaning on the walls, then spoke.
"You like things flashier than I thought."
"This isn't to my taste."
Fragment, seated on a large red sofa, replied. He swept back his red hair and stared at Kyle.
"It's the Dragon King's taste."
"Isn't the Dragon King's taste your taste?"
Kyle grinned and plopped down on the sofa opposite Fragment. Just as the Sword Tower wasn't an ordinary tool, Fragment wasn't an ordinary goblin. He'd introduced himself as Pyeorin—Fragment—and referred to the Dragon King as "my true self." In other words, he was a being dwelling in the tower as a part of the Dragon King.
"I'm different from the Dragon King."
Fragment spat, furrowing his brow in displeasure.
"Don't lump me together with that old monster trapped in his obsession. It's true I'm a part split from him, but I'm not like him."
"Hmm, if you say so."
"Did you wrap up your little family playtime nicely?"
Fragment asked, tilting his head sideways.
"Calling heartwarming family love 'playtime'—that's harsh."
"Hmph."
Fragment snorted and beckoned with his finger. A full-length mirror appeared in midair and slowly descended in front of Kyle.
"Behold."
Kyle looked at his reflection. A handsome boy with golden eyes and red hair, dressed neatly and carrying a wooden sword. It was the same face he saw in the mirror every day, but something was different now.
A single strand of pure white thread protruded from the crown of his head, connecting to empty air. It looked like a string attached to a puppet, but the light forming the thread felt somehow sacred.
"What's this?"
"The lifeline."
Fragment rose from the sofa and stood beside the mirror, pointing at the glowing thread on Kyle's crown.
"You ignorant brat. You entered the Layers of the Capital without hearing a single piece of information."
"Is that a big deal?"
"Not particularly. Your age is exceptionally young, though. Anyway, you Alastors mostly have more muscle than brains crammed in your skulls and love reckless challenges. To accommodate types like you, entrants to the Layers normally receive a 'guidebook' upon entry."
Fragment beckoned with his other hand, and a thin book with a red cover appeared.
"Normally, you have to read this cover to cover and sign that you 'understand' before entering the Layers. But since you can commune with me... I'll personally explain the rules of the Layers for you."
With a wave of his hand, the red-covered book vanished.
"Listen well, brat. The Layers of the Capital are part of the Sword Tower, but unlike the tower you've lived in for six years, this place isn't kind. Deadly, perilous trials await here, and those who enter must become ascetics staking their lives to overcome them."
"Hmm. You called this the lifeline, right?"
Kyle tried to grab the thread on his crown, but no matter how he swiped, he felt nothing touch his hand.
"Even with talk of deadly perils and staking your life... having this lifeline makes it feel pretty kind to me."
"Don't be arrogant. Without it, even those muscle-headed Alastors would have sealed the Layers as a forbidden zone."
Fragment fixed Kyle with a serious gaze.
"The place you're about to enter is a land that permits no living souls. It's perfect for shattering flesh or corrupting minds into madness."
Fragment tapped the lifeline reflected in the mirror with his finger.
"The lifeline is a safety device. If you suffer a fatal wound leading to death in the Layers, or face mental collapse losing your sense of self... the lifeline will forcibly summon you back to this room."
"Hmm. So it revives you if you die? Convenient and kind."
"Not revival—rescue. It pulls you out just before death."
Fragment added sternly.
"But the lifeline isn't infinite. It takes a week to reconnect once severed."
"A week..."
"Yes. If you die a dog's death inside, you'll spend that week in this room, twiddling your thumbs, unable to do anything."
Kyle fell silent in thought. It wasn't one-use, but there was a penalty for safety. Opportunities were limited. A mistake right at entry wasting a week would hurt.
Kyle's eyes grew serious.
"What if I enter with the lifeline severed?"
"Don't."
Fragment's eyes flashed. An explosive golden glare pressed down on Kyle.
"The lifeline doesn't just protect your flesh. Its true role is safeguarding your mind."
"I don't quite get it."
"No need for me to explain. Even ignorant barbarians will understand naturally once inside."
Fragment paused, then eyed Kyle oddly.
"You might understand it even better. Though that's far from good news."
So he'd get it once inside. Kyle nodded, heart pounding. Fragment retracted his glare but shot Kyle a dissatisfied look.
"You look like you've twisted my words to suit yourself."
"Nah, I got it fine."
"If you don't want to waste time... value your life. Unless you want to blow a week after coming this far."
"As long as I don't die, it's all good, right?"
"You talk big."
Fragment sighed deeply and waved his hand. A door appeared in one corner of the room.
"Not trying to scare you, but etch this: That ice spirit girl who entered before you barely lasted a month here, half of it with her lifeline severed, just sitting in this room."
"Pfft! Aunt Erica sat idle half the time after saying she'd give advice?"
"Nothing to scoff at. Most of your relatives did the same on first entry. To survive without dying, you need at least twice your age. Even that's assuming you follow the 'rules.'"
"Rules?"
"The Layers span floors 6 to 9 of the Sword Tower. Each has different environments and rules. You're entering the Mudflat."
"Mudflat?"
Kyle blinked. He'd imagined climbing tower floors, but "Mudflat" sounded out of place.
"The seaside kind?"
"Yes, that mudflat."
Fragment smirked at Kyle's baffled expression.
"The mudflat has two times: high tide and low tide."
Fragment drew a circle in the air, summoning an illusion of a gray mudflat filled with muck.
"Now's low tide. The water's receded, exposing the bottom. Fight the monsters in the mud then. Fight, kill, survive—that's low tide's rule."
"High tide?"
"Run."
Fragment's voice dropped low and cold.
"When indigo mist swirls and wave sounds approach, don't look back—run. To where? The white bone pillars scattered across the mudflat. Climb them for safety."
"If water rises... can't I just swim?"
"Ha, swim?"
Fragment scoffed incredulously.
"That's no ordinary seawater. It's venom corrupting all it touches—flesh and mind."
"..."
"But the real danger isn't the water. Beneath it lurk things no human should face. Locking eyes alone shatters minds, severing lifelines."
Kyle met Fragment's gaze silently. No trace of jest in his expression.
"Remember: Fight at low tide, hide at high. That's the prime survival rule for the 6th floor Mudflat. Best is turning back to this room, really."
"Hmm..."
Kyle tilted his head.
"Got the gist. What about food?"
"Normally, return here to eat."
"Nothing edible in sight..."
"Depending on how many monsters you kill in the mudflat, claim rewards here. Even drinking water."
"Lifeline severs, starve a week?"
"Not that harsh. Minimum sustenance for survival is provided. Raise your hand and request food."
As instructed, Kyle raised his hand, thinking of food. A forearm-sized hunk of bread dropped from midair. He chuckled dryly, picking it up. Hard as a club.
"Lifeline snaps, too hungry to fight properly."
"You won't worry about food."
Fragment approached past the mirror.
"The Layers offer fair trials and rewards to entrants. Killing monsters, absorbing their essence to strengthen the body—that's the reward."
Fragment's hand tapped Kyle's chest.
"But you're no ordinary human. You bear the unprecedented freak spirit root of chaos, don't you?"
"Yes."
"So kill and devour the mudflat monsters."
"Pardon?"
"I told you yesterday? Gain a body suited to the technique I'll complete as you pass the trials."
Fragment slowly raised his arm. Kyle's body, touching his hand, floated lightly into the air.
"The power in those monsters' flesh would collapse your body if absorbed raw, even with your spirit root. But with my blessing added, it'll strengthen your root further and optimize your flesh for it."
Zzt!
Kyle shuddered as if electric currents raced through him. Golden light bloomed from Fragment's hand, piercing skin, racing through veins and mana circuits. Not mere infusion—it reinforced the vessel of his body from the foundation.
"This blessing refines the impurities from flesh you swallow. Filters dregs, leaves pure power and essence to integrate."
Fragment's eyes glowed gold.
"Be grateful. In 500 years, I've never intervened this much for an Alastor human."
The light faded; Fragment withdrew his hand. Kyle looked down at his chest. No outward change, but deep inside, it felt like a solid core had been embedded.
"Oh..."
Kyle caressed his chest in admiration.
"Definitely different. Feels... sturdier somehow."
"Don't delude yourself. No immediate strengthening. Just stomach medicine to digest what you'll cram in ahead."
Fragment replied curtly, flopping back onto the sofa.
"I've said all, done all. More questions?"
"No, that's plenty."
Kyle grinned. His floating body descended slowly.
"Don't waste time dying."
With that, the door in the corner slid open.
Kyle took a deep breath and stepped toward it.
*
Squelch.
A damp, unpleasant sensation clung to his sole. As vision cleared, Kyle instinctively grimaced.
"What is that smell..."
The nose-stinging stench rivaled Aslan's after 12 years locked in the training chamber. Rotting fish guts? No—human corpses? Ancient ones, burrowing deep into his lungs.
Endless gray mudflats stretched around. Indigo mist shrouded the sky; no life stirred anywhere.
This is... the Mudflat...
Kyle glanced back. The door he'd entered through stood shut, alone.
The lifeline from his crown linked to the doorknob. He understood how to return to that room.
Can't stray too far from the door to get back.
Food and water only from the room. To venture far, hunt mudflat monsters, secure ample rations there, prepare, then explore.
But I don't need to obsess over room rations. I can eat monsters.
Water's the issue. Could monster blood substitute? Kyle crouched, fingering the gray mud.
Damp and sticky. No sea experience, but he knew seawater wasn't potable.
Need to hunt first to gauge. If blood undrinkable, hunt nearby today... return for water, head out again.
Plan set, Kyle rose.
Then—
Chill prickled his skin.
"...?"
He froze. Couldn't move. Fear? No—primal, instinct-deep revulsion surged.
Steadying breath, he looked up. No sky. Only writhing indigo mist.
To his eyes, the mist veiled something. He rose slowly, staring piercingly. The lifeline thrummed.
He realized the source. A gaze. Something beyond human ken peered from beyond the veil.
What the hell?
His heart raced wildly. Unease unlike any past battlefield boiled in his gut. Unlike foes who'd felled the Sword Ghost—those held hostility.
This gaze held none. It wasn't even on him. Just overlooking below. Observing tiny creatures: how they moved, lived, died.
A buzzing tinnitus rang. Incomprehensible whispers. Wet mud squelching disgustingly.
Understand once inside, he said.
Fragment's words: Lifeline guards the mind. Now clear. He could gaze up because it protected him.
And why he'd grasp it "better"—his chaos spirit root, awakened a year ago, sensed it keenly. Like first feeling mana then.
"Hrrk."
Kyle stifled retch. Stomach churning. The ground felt not Sword Tower floor 6, but some vile otherwhere.
Maybe literally. Dragon King's gift to Ruin Alastor. Alastor purebloods' tower. Why linked to this madness?
Where is this?
Instinct screamed. "Layers" felt deceptive. Training ground? Kyle wondered where he truly stood. Mudflat, tides—rules defied common sense. Not his world.
Anxiety gripped: balanced on a plank in vast dark. One misstep, plunge into abyss, devoured by gaze-owners.
"Ha..."
Gasping roughly, he gripped his wooden sword.
"Hahaha...!"
Revulsion crept. He grasped it: fear. Flight impulse.
"Me?"
Absurd, infuriating. He smacked his head with the flat of the sword. Thwack! Skull throbbed. Head cleared.
"Fuck that."
Blood trickled from the gash—hit too hard. Kyle wiped it with his hand, squelching through mud.
Long-buried fury and spite surged.
Fleeing in terror didn't suit him.
*
Squelch, squelch.
Feeling vile mud cling, Kyle checked his condition.
What a shitty place.
Born to greatness, loved from youth, he'd curbed past-life profanity. But here? Only "shitty" fit.
Mana flow's sluggish.
Mana in circuits stuck like hardening mud. Tried others—no change. He focused on lower dantian mana. Already rigid.
Hm...
Frowning, he breathed per technique. Fetid air tasted foul too. Gulping deep, Yormungand in mid dantian screamed.
"Ugh... Uwaaaah..."
Terror-screech. Yet dutiful—Yormungand refined mana descending from mid dantian. Pathetically scant.
This world's... air? Suppressing my mana.
Frowning, he persisted. Raising lower dantian mana to mid eased flow slightly.
Now I see why Intent Realm entry's minimum.
Without mid dantian control, no mana operation here.
"What a shitty place."
Kyle muttered wryly. Flow stiff, breath-yielded mana minuscule. Even with chaos root and Yormungand optimizing—still this little. Most couldn't accumulate here.
Food from room, mana recovery too. Can't roam freely at high tide.
Restrictions galore. Layers lived up—but excessive. And this lowest floor.
"Ugh... Uuugh..."
Vibration deep in chest. Yormungand, coiled in mid dantian, head buried trembling.
"M-Master... M-M-Master. Th-this place... s-s-so scary..."
Stammering voice terror-stricken. For mana spirit, this space horrific. Yormungand endured only lodged in Kyle's mid dantian.
"Th-this... f-full of corruption, t-twists... Sc-scarier than hell..."
Yormungand whimpered, burrowing deeper—like a child under blankets.
Indeed childlike. Kyle patted his chest soothingly.
"Don't freak. I'll handle fights anyway."
"B-but... M-Master... U-up there... s-so scary ones..."
"Ignore 'em."
Kyle glanced up. Chaos root made gazes too vivid. Yormungand, influenced by it this year, felt terror amplified.
But Kyle crushed rising fear. Fresh blood trickled from cracked scalp. He smeared it away, squelching on.
What was that Dragon King thinking, linking tower interior to this shit?
Floor 4 residential vast as non-tower, but Layers? Another world connected.
Gift to Ruin. Lavish artifact's innards tied to horror. Complex doubts.
True favor? Test? Malice to screw Ruin and heirs? Fragment called Dragon King "old monster trapped in obsession." Walking here, seemed mad.
Squelch, squelch.
Mid-thought, subtle incongruity underfoot. Not plain mud—soft with hard core inside.
Sensing it, Kyle leaped back. Rumble! Mud bubbled, exploding outward. Black somethings crawled from the hole.
Like nails on iron.
Mud rained down; horrors emerged below.
"Whoa..."
Landing far back, Kyle's face twisted. Past-life monsters aplenty slain—but these felt alien. Visually repulsive, yet deeper loathing.
Like primal disgust incarnate.
Crab-like, shell-less. Bloated, rotting gray flesh clump body. Dozens of eyes embedded in cracks, rolling independently.
Twisted legs aside; finger-like wigglers like bound hands. Claws? Human arms attached.
Central fissure gaped, fangs bared; yellow slime dripped.
Sight alone: headache, vision warping nauseously.
"You guys are ugly ugly."
Understood? One screeched horrifically, charging. Finger-legs quick for bulk.
Kyle drew mana. Still stiff, but combat no issue. Shing! Thin aura coated Lucia's wooden sword.
Thin-looking only. Max-condensed sword aura in harsh environs sharpened beyond wood's limit. Slash! Writhing claw-hand lunged; Kyle dodged with torso twist.
Stench wafted from claw inches from nose. Kyle wrinkled it, swinging. Splurch! Sword cleaved fissure clean.
Bisected horror toppled. Kyle vaulted it, toward the rest.
First monster fight reincarnated, but sword same for man or beast.
Thrust, slash, thrust, slash.
Mana limited. No breath-replenish. Fights here hinge on sword skill, not aura.
Mudflat entrance. Varied horrors? These crab-things: "Handcrabs" for now.
Dismantling carefully, seeking weak points.
Bisect kills.
Most things.
Claw-arms, legs regen. Back useless—eyes swivel rear.
Thrust sword.
Core pierce kills too.
Good enough.
Ten Handcrabs butchered in blink; Kyle's breath steady. Amid mangled flesh, he shook gore from sword.
Hiss...
Black smoke rose from chunks, drifting not dispersing—to him.
No need breathe or circulate. Smoke seeped skin into body.
"Mm..."
Brief agony like hot needles; then refreshing.
Like this, huh.
Swinging barely tiring, but minor stamina drain recovered.
Body strengthening subtly. Mana rigidity easing too.
Difference minute... air less sickening.
As Fragment said: Layers reward body fortification. Kill, absorb smoke—adapt slowly.
Universal reward, but Kyle could go further. He crouched by reachable Handcrab flesh.
"..."
Fragment: kill, eat. Kyle closed eyes briefly. This life: gourmet feasts. Past: starved, ate anything.
"Looks bad, might taste fine..."
Muttering self-suggestion, eyes open—new issue. Handcrab no crab—rotting flesh blob, no shell.
"Ugh..."
Sigh escaped, but eyes calm. Blinking, golden irises gleamed mad.
Raw? Sickness or death maybe—but blessing prevented.
Hand extended, lifted chunk.
"Urk..."
Vile taste. Kyle clamped twitching lips, forced jaws.
"Uwaaah! M-Master! Wh-what're you eating?!"
Descending esophagus, flesh dissolved to pure power, reaching mid dantian.
"Do it."
Contract since spirit fledgling. Year-fed mana.
No refusal for Yormungand.
Whoosh!
Heat spread from mid to lower dantian. Denser, fiercer than skin absorption—circuited body.
Spirit root stimulated. Crack... Deep twisting sounds.
Mana still rigid, but circuits moved.
Aha...
Dantian-centered circuits. His special root: more, complex than most.
Separate still. But now, they shifted subtly.
Devour more, move circuits—fuse, connect?
If so: No picking efficient/shortest for technique. All linked—optimal instant routes.
"Gotta cram lots."
Chuckle; reached next chunk. Vile taste unadaptable, effect real. Better than any elixir.
*
Mudflat not just crabs. Diverse, grotesque monsters abounded.
"Handcrabs taste best? Makes sense?"
Incredibly. Kyle sighed, gut stuffed nauseously.
No clue how long till circuits link.
Dozen types sampled. Progress, but no fusion.
Body gains tangible now.
Superior swordsmanship eased hunts. Today's haul beat week's outer grind.
This year: library for technique. Less body training.
Fragment handles tough development. Kyle: hunt, eat diligently.
"Hm?"
Belly full but force more? Moving—
Rumble...
Mud quaked. Not monster burst. Whole flat shaking like quake.
Whoosh—!
Distant waves roared.