Reborn: Apocalypse (Volume 3): (A LitRPG/Wuxia Story)

by L. M. Kerr

  No one made a sound…

  …yet.

  As the huge Dragon flew about overhead, radiating utter horror, a quiet moan caught everyone’s attention.

  All of the adult Byrens remained still with lips sealed, not even making a peep. Almost everyone here knew that if they drew the attention of the deadly Drake, they would die, plain and simple.

  However, among everyone here, there was one being that was not aware of that.

  “Uhh…” The small, baby Byren cried out quietly, tears streaming from its face as it tried to understand what was happening. The small green gem on its forehead lit up faintly, picking up even more keenly on the terrifying energy that the Dragon gave off.

  The roaring Dragon overhead continued to fly about, soaring back and forth as it scanned the area for the presence of a Toren. While it did that, Micheal watched it throw out two separate meteors of deathly fire, corroding flames that gave off a feeling of death, presumably at creatures that moved or made noise.

  Everyone’s gaze turned to stare at the little baby Byren. The parents of the baby, the Guide, the various members of Micheal’s group and the half-dead group…

  Tension and fear colored everyone’s gaze as they stared at the baby, not only battling with the intense Dragonfear, but also desperately praying that it would remain silent.

  The baby cooed quietly several times. For a few moments, it seemed as if it might fall into silence, frozen stiff like everyone else. Its parents were unable to cover it up or comfort it, physically unable to move due to the Dragonfear.

  The Dragon continued to roar about overhead. By this point, several minutes had passed and it had flown over much of the area already. In fact, it was close to turning around and returning to sweep the other way, still yelling about a Toren.

  “Uhh…UHH…” Just as things seemed as if they might work out, the baby began to shake once more. Its eyes opened wide as it stared at the fearsome image of the Drake up above them, its hands trembling.

  As this took place, in the darkest depths of his own body, Micheal could vaguely sense Yvvtal's presence beginning to stir.

  Everyone watched in slow motion as the baby opened its mouth, its tiny hands clenching tight as the child prepared to scream.

  Just before it could do that, however…

  Micheal leaned over and punched the baby.

  His blow to the chest was as light as possible, infused with Ki energy that rushed through the baby’s body. Micheal guided this precisely, doing his utmost to prevent any actual harm from coming to the small Byren. He used the Ki to try and flush out the erratic energy waves that were knocking into the baby, causing its body and mind to panic.

  Micheal grunted silently as he felt a huge feeling of strain settle upon him.

  At the same time, the baby’s eyelids fell closed as the erratic energy was successfully forced out, sending the baby drifting off to sleep.

  Just pushing the Dragonfear-inducing energy out of a tiny baby had cost Micheal a full half of his energy reserves. Still, the move had worked, just as he had hoped.

  Of all of the people present, Micheal had stuck near the two parents and their child, figuring that they would be the most likely ones to endanger him. His initial plan was to force out the Dragonfear energy to protect the baby’s mind and stop it from making noise, while his backup was to simply cover its mouth.

  As the baby fell asleep, the Dragon above twisted and turned for a few moments.

  It then roared loudly again and began to fly to the south, its presence slowly leaving the sky as it left their line of sight.

  Yvvtal's presence vanished once more, burrowing so deep that it seemed as if the Fallen Deity's spirit might never appear again.

  The terrible fear began to leave everyone as the mood calmed. The panic and horror fled from the present Byrens’ eyes as the situation returned to normal.

  Well, mostly normal.

  Almost everyone present was currently glaring at Micheal, half with outrage, half with gratitude, as if they couldn’t make up their mind what to feel. The mother of the baby looked like she wanted to rip Micheal's throat out as she huddled down, hiding the child from him, as if he might attack it at any moment.

  Micheal simply shrugged.

  He had just punched a baby after all.

  He couldn’t really fault them.

  Even if they knew he had saved their lives by doing that...well, it still looked awful.

  Upon considering this further, he decided that, should there ever be a next time, he would instead knock the baby's chest with a couple of his fingers in a much less offensive-looking strike. In the moment, he hadn't been completely sure he would be able to handle it without going all out, and had thus focused purely on control, ignoring appearances.

  Regardless, the two groups rallied forth and immediately fled from the mountains, finishing up the last bit of their journey without any more hiccups. The towering undead Dragon was left wandering the area of the Tansol Pass, ineffectually raging and trying to find the Toren hidden within Micheal’s body.

  Meanwhile…

  The only thought on Micheal’s mind as he finally left the Dragon Mountains, moving onto a large, sweeping grass plain was a simple one.

  ‘Let’s go.’ His eyes gleamed, a small smile appearing on his face as he parted ways with his group.

  He’d finally made it to the territory of the Silent Sword Sect. From here, it was only a short journey to reach where the majority of Farians were living: The Woolen Forest.

  There was only one thing left to do after that...

  Set a trap.

  .

  Chapter 32

  The Woolen Forest lay at the southern border of the territory of the Silent Sword Sect. It got its name from the odd, wool-like leaves that coated a unique species of tree that populated this forest, Wooka trees.

  This forest was not a Magic Forest. As a result, the number of Magic Beasts here was fairly low. The strongest type a person might find would be Low-Tier Magic Beasts.

  The forest stretched for more than 200 miles, a large forest that was teeming with life. Apart from the odd trees, however, what stood out most about this forest was something located at the very center of it.

  A second forest.

  Tens of thousands of odd, evenly spaced-out trees set unnaturally at the center of the Woolen Forest.

  Another Spawning Ground-like area, almost identical to the place humanity spawned in from when they left the First Layer.

  Currently, this area was swarming with activity. Thousands of humanoids could be seen, moving back and forth in a flurry. One and all, these humanoids gave off a type of pure feeling. Fluttering wings could be seen, drawn-in and clinging tight to the back of each Farian as they walked.

  New Farians popped up all the time, teleporting in out of nowhere next to the oddly spaced trees. Just like humans, these Farians were dressed in all assortments of clothes or gear, though most of them tended to wear either robes or a set of armor. The moment they arrived, they typically looked around in confusion for a few moments.

  After they gathered their bearings, new arrivals would be greeted or would move over to several large greeting areas that had been set up evenly all around the Spawning Grounds. Each greeting area was a large wooden platform with several colorful flags depicting a specific symbol, differing by platform.

  These were the 13 Tribes of the Farian Race.

  The Farians were a Tribe-based society that had originally inhabited a world that was swathed in forests. Despite the large number of differing Tribes, each with their own culture and history, most of the Tribes had friendly relations with one another.

  This had to do with the long history of the Farian Race.

  Thousands of years ago, there had been 15 Tribes of the Farian Race, not 13. One of those 15 Tribes, however, had fallen to ‘The Dark’ as the Farians called it. They betrayed the Farian Race and began to experiment on their own kind, using the Farians’ Bloodline Magic for da
rk purposes.

  In the end, the Dark Tribe, as they came to be known, swallowed up and annihilated another entire Tribe, the Kinwen Tribe. This forced the other 13 Tribes to band together to defeat the Dark Tribe.

  The war lasted for more than a century, but eventually the Dark Tribe was vanquished and the 13 Tribes ended up victorious. This led to the establishment of the position of Lord Justiciar, the ostensible leader of the 13 Tribes, a position earned by both power and honor.

  Things did not end perfectly, however. Of the 13 Tribes, the strongest among them, the Kowalsi Tribe, broke with the other 12 after the war ended. They had been the Brother Tribe of the fallen Kinwen Tribe, and partially blamed the other 12 for not saving their sworn allies.

  And this led to the troubled present. In the midst of these troubled times, the Farians had been dragged into the 7 Layers, rudely torn from their home planet to fight in a death-match that none of them had asked for.

  Myla sighed as she rubbed at her tired eyes, her gaze resting on the Farians that were spawning in to the Second Layer.

  The elderly woman was currently leaning on a plain Wooka tree, dressed in a plain grey robe that hid her figure.

  “Tanin, are we too hard on them?” Her voice echoed softly in the air, dainty and fresh.

  As she spoke, she pulled back a hood that had hidden her face, revealing an elderly, lined appearance that still held a hint of this old Farian’s former youthful beauty. She had a small nose, peaceful blue eyes, and deep red lips that gave off a feeling of warmth.

  “These worlds hold great power, Wise Lady. If we coddle the young, our species will perish. Even the weakest must learn to hunt, that law of life has not changed.” From seemingly nowhere, a grey-robed figure appeared right behind Myla.

  This warrior had on a featureless black mask that blocked his appearance, giving him a slightly intimidating air. While his body was hidden behind a robe, one could still make out the bulging muscles and raw feeling of power he emanated, marking him as a deadly fighter.

  “I know you are not wrong, Tanin. I just…” Myla raised one of her wrinkled arms, looking at her aged hand. She sighed again.

  “I fear we may lose sight of that which truly matters.” She shook her head as she turned away from the Spawning Grounds.

  Tanin immediately followed her, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings as he stayed at her back. In the shadows of the nearby trees, four other robed Farians followed from a short distance, members of an elite, secretive fighting force that served directly under the Lord Justiciar, the Shadow Guard.

  As for Tanin… not only was he a member of the Shadow Guard, he was one of its three Captains, a First Rate Warrior whose mighty strength was beaten only by his even mightier defense. Among all the Farain warriors on the Second Layer, he was definitely ranked within their top 8.

  That ranking was still a rather flexible one. It largely depended on which elite warriors had arrived on the Second Layer and how much time they’d had to adapt and grow. Nevertheless, the Captain remained a force to be reckoned with.

  “I see this world as both a blessing and a curse, milady.” Tanin’s voice was respectful when he spoke to Myla.

  “Oh? How so?” Myla’s wise eyes turned to stare at Tanin as they began to journey through the forest.

  “Our kind has been stagnant for so long, wallowing in the miseries of our past. These new worlds have granted our species the opportunity to vastly increase our strength. Our Bloodline Magic has evolved to explosive new heights, growing stronger with every Layer we cross.” Tanin’s voice gained a hint of passion as he spoke, genuine excitement budding.

  “Is power all we should seek, Tanin? I daresay you are pleased with that, and that is your right. But what of those that want other things? Should they be damned to a life of misery and violence?” Myla’s tone took on a sharp edge.

  Tanin blinked several times, opening his mouth and then closing it, as if unable to respond.

  Myla sighed for a third time, a small smile cracking her stony visage as she reached over and rested a hand on the huge Farian’s shoulders.

  “These are merely questions, old friend, worry over them naught.” She patted him on the shoulder.

  “Come, my assistant tells me she’s on the verge of an important breakthrough. There’s only a few more days till the Life Festival, perhaps we’ll have some good news to share with the Lord.” Myla and the Second Captain of the Shadow Guard moved swiftly away from the spawning ground, their figures gradually disappearing into the foliage as the early morning marched on…

  .. .. .. .. .. ..

  Micheal breathed in.

  He exhaled.

  He breathed in again.

  He exhaled again.

  Cool fog rose from his breath as he slowly opened his eyes, looking at the world around him.

  He was currently lying down in a comfortable-looking green sleeping bag, wrapped up and warm. His bag was situated in the upper area of a large Wooka tree, hidden from plain sight for those down below.

  Micheal yawned as he got out of his bag and began to roll it up. After he finished brushing off any stray leaves, he stored it in his Spatial Ring.

  He then brought out a bottle of water and splashed some of it on his hands. He used that to wash his face, clearing away a few specks of dirt and grime. The huge, splotchy birthmark that he had added to his face was as obvious as ever, impossible to ignore.

  He grimaced as he looked down at the grey robe he was wearing with a sigh. He definitely didn't smell stellar.

  5 minutes later, and Micheal was wearing a new set of grey robes, including a new set of brown leather pants underneath, as well as new underclothes. All of his old ones were stored away in his Spatial Ring to be washed at some later date.

  He had then pulled out a large circular mirror and wedged it into the main trunk of the brown Wooka tree he was sitting on. Right after that, he’d crossed his legs as he began to examine his face.

  A dull gleam of red light glimmered along Micheal’s right hand as he raised it to his face and carefully began to shave. He used Advanced Tier Sword Energy to get in some fine-control practice, knowing he was still not perfectly used to controlling his newly strengthened body while balancing the delicate process of applying Sword Energy to himself.

  “Hmm… hmm…” He hummed to himself quietly as he gradually molded a small, but sharp-looking brown beard with a smile. He typically preferred to be clean-shaven, but he was supposed to look like someone that wasn’t him, after all. He also cut his brown hair relatively short, going for a well-put-together look. He ended off his styling session by wrapping his forehead once again, disguising himself as a Byren.

  The sounds of various animals waking up began to echo all around him as the rest of the forest came alive.

  After he managed to escape the Dragon Mountains and avoid the Draconic Lich, he had made a beeline for the land of the Farians. He hadn’t even decided to stay a night in the small town that was located at the end of the Tansol Pass, immediately breaking off from his group.

  As long as he stayed close to the Dragon Mountains, the chance of him running into any patrols by the Silent Sword Sect was miniscule.

  The journey had taken him slightly longer than he had expected. He might have essentially perfect recall now, but his memories of journeying to this forest from so many years ago were rather vague.

  Still, in the end, as darkness swarmed over the land, Micheal had reached his destination.

  The Woolen Forest.

  After he reached the outskirts of the forest, he’d found himself a relatively comfortable looking tree in an out of the way location. He’d then set up camp high in its branches, pulling a sleeping bag out from his Spatial Ring. He didn’t need to worry about running into anyone; most Farians avoided being too close to the Dragon Mountains, which were still in sight.

  And now, after a surprisingly relaxing night of rest, he was awake and feeling more refreshed than ever.

  “A
lright. Focus, Micheal.” He talked out loud to himself as he finished getting ready.

  He still had a great deal of time until Myla Hannis was attacked. As long as he prevented her death, he should be able to obtain the method to track down at least a decent portion of the Vile King’s Seeds.

  Myla was revered with the title ‘Wise Lady’ by the Farian Tribes, an extremely intelligent independent researcher. Her work was viewed as especially important by the Lord Justiciar of the Farians. As a result, Myla was heavily guarded by some of the Farians’ most elite warriors.

  Micheal took a moment, then, to review the basic state each race was currently in.

  Humanity, after gaining so many newfound Abilities, Types, and Artifacts, had rapidly begun to expand its strength. Humans adapted to their new environment, some at alarming speeds, especially given how unassumingly normal their home-world was.

  The Farian home-world, on the other hand, was filled with its own version of Magic Beasts. Vicious predators roamed the forests that covered their planet, a world their people affectionately referred to as a paradise.

  They grew up practicing their Bloodline Magic, hunting down any of the many predators that dared to attack them. Deadly creatures that would’ve been monsters on Earth were regarded as prey by the Farians.

  The Farians were not only strong as a race, most of them were also much more experienced in battle. Because of that, for all but the most elite warriors, the Farians currently held an advantage or were on par with humanity. It was only at the highest level that the reverse was true, with the exception of the Lord Justiciar.

  What the Farians lacked in explosive growth they made up for in reliability, ranking them among the most irritating of enemies in Micheal’s first life.

  If the Vile King had waited just four or five more months before striking, the Wise Lady’s guard detail would’ve drastically risen in overall power. As always, the vaunted genius seemed to account for everything.