Extra Borne: Transmigrated Into A System Apocalypse Soulsborne Novel-Chapter 53 - 51: Grief

Everything stilled. The world around me remained the same yet felt altered, as though the rain fell heavier, the mud clung more insistently, and the air tasted sharper with the tang of decay. My body pulsed with a new vitality, a strange equilibrium settling within me as the chaotic storm of transformation subsided. My sight sharpened, the horizon stretching farther than ever before, and my senses expanded like ripples on water, detecting even the faintest movement or the most subtle shift in the air.

The newfound clarity was almost overwhelming, yet I pushed it aside. I didn’t have the luxury to explore the changes... not now, not yet.

I turned to where Gary, the Roamer, had lain. His massive, battle-worn body was gone, dissolved into the rain-soaked mud. He had left this forsaken world, his final echoes lost to the storm.

I exhaled slowly, releasing the mist I’d used to suppress my emotions. It flooded back into me like a torrent, sharp and raw. I stared at the empty space where Gary had once been, the ground darkened by his dark blue acidic ichor, now diluted by the relentless rain.

I hadn’t known him long, barely a few minutes to an hour, yet he felt… different. Different from any other Roamer I’d encountered. There was something about him, a lingering impression that spoke of humanity, of goodness buried beneath the beast.

"If life gives you another chance…" I began, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling as the words formed. "I hope… I pray… that you don’t come back to this forsaken world."

I paused, my chest tightening as my voice faltered. The words felt heavy, as though they carried the weight of the grief this world could no longer bear. "I hope you get to live your life to the fullest… somewhere else… somewhere better."

The rain battered against me, cold and relentless. I knelt down, scooping a handful of the blackened, muddy sand into my palm. Slowly, I let it fall onto the place where Gary had lain, a silent ritual in a world that had long forgotten what it meant to mourn.

It felt like a funeral, though no one would ever know. No one would remember.

Death here was like an unwanted advertisement.... a fleeting interruption, scrolled past and forgotten.

I turned away, my chest aching as if bound by iron chains. My eyes stung with the slight prickle of tears, though I didn’t fully understand why. Yet deep within, I knew.

I thought of Ithelvaire’s grieving grassy plains, the once-lush fields now a plain of ash and gloominess. The souls of those who are trapped there, in an endless cycle of grief, cried out for freedom, their voices forgotten.... lost in the wind.

I thought of the Roamers, humans turned to forsaken beasts by the cruelty of this world, forced to adapt, to kill, to survive. And though they had become monsters, their eyes still betrayed a lingering humanity, a flicker of who they once were.

I thought of what I might find if I delved deeper into this world.... horrors beyond imagining, grief so profound it would rend my soul entirely.

The thoughts weighed heavy on me as I lifted my gaze to the sky. The ashen gray clouds churned, darker now, as though the heavens themselves mourned. The rain fell harder, soaking through my clothes, each drop cold enough to bite.

Lightning illuminated the sky in fractured brilliance... streaks of red, white, and yellow tearing through the oppressive darkness like cracks in a shattered mirror.

"This world…" I murmured, my voice fading into the storm. "It’s nothing but a grief that cannot be lit."

I blinked and stared at the glowing screen before me, its stark light cutting through the gloom.

[EVOLUTION]

SECOND EVOLUTION (70%)

One thing remained.

"Yadred," I muttered, my jaw tightening as I steadied myself.

The parasited mutated Uricott approached, its massive body heaving as it knelt before me. Its weight caused the ground to tremble, mud rippling outward from where it stood. I climbed onto its back, the texture of its rough, chitinous skin cold and unyielding beneath my hands.

It rose, its towering form shaking off the rain as I settled onto its back. It felt unnatural, riding this hulking beast like a strange parody of a knight on a steed. Yet there was no time to dwell on it. My destination was clear, my path set in stone.

The Uricott began to move, its powerful legs churning through the mud with an effortless stride. Then it ran, its speed increasing as the landscape blurred around us.

A thought echoed in my mind like a mantra,

A thought that had lodged itself deep within me, unshakable and persistent:

Kill Yadred, Emperor of the Forsaken. And Devour His Larvae.

The Uricott thundered forward, its pace relentless as we raced toward the heart of grief itself.

Destination: the Forsaken Heart.

Yadred’s palace.

The war waits.

****

Somewhere near the Forsaken Heart

Boom!

An explosion ripped through the air, the sickening sound of flesh bursting following closely behind. The ground trembled under the force, and the battlefield stretched like a grotesque painting of chaos. Pools of red ichor spread like malignant veins, congealing into viscous mud that stained the land.

Above, the ashen gray sky churned ominously, heavy clouds rolling in waves like the ocean during a tempest. Streaks of multicolored lightning... red, white, and yellow... split the oppressive gloom with violent tenacity, illuminating the carnage below in flashes that felt almost mocking.

But here, there was no rain. Only the thick, choking air heavy with the stench of decay, burnt flesh, and ash... a suffocating miasma that clung to the lungs like death’s grip.

The battlefield was alive with the cacophony of war. Shouts of men... desperate and broken... mingled with the guttural roars of beasts, each sound punctuated by the violent cracks of lightning.

In the distance, a seething tide of monsters surged forward like a black wave, grotesque amalgamations of Uricotts and other damned beasts. Their forms were an affront to nature... twisted limbs, bulbous eyes, jagged teeth... and they charged with a singular purpose, converging on one point like moths to a flame.

And at that point stood a figure... a woman.

No, not just a woman. Something far more imposing.

She stood unmoving, her frame slightly taller than the average human, her presence suffocating like a storm bearing down on the battlefield. Her armor, dark as the void, shimmered faintly with ash-gray patterns that pulsed like a heartbeat, giving the illusion of something alive. She wore no helmet, exposing a face that was strangely calm amidst the chaos.

Her crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, the color stark against the pale, bloodless hue of her skin. Her eyes, a piercing brown flecked with molten gold, held an unyielding intensity.. a gaze that seemed to see through flesh, bone, and soul alike.

Around her, an aura of ash-dark energy swirled in rhythmic waves, a quiet, lethal force that rippled with suppressed power. It was not raw or chaotic but controlled... an assassin’s blade resting in its sheath, poised to strike with unerring clarity.

This was Geralda.

She stood amidst the carnage, her sword absent, her hands empty. Yet the battlefield bent to her will.

Splat! Boom!

More beasts exploded as the ash-dark energy rippling around her surged outward in invisible waves. They came in droves, hundreds of thousands of them, but they fell in greater numbers.

It wasn’t a battle. It was a slaughter.. a one-sided massacre.

The ground quaked under the weight of dying monstrosities. The air resonated with the wet sound of ruptured flesh and the last cries of creatures born only to kill.

And then, silence.

The battlefield lay quiet, blanketed in death. Pools of blood and ichor widened, merging into grotesque lakes. The decayed remains of monsters littered the land, steaming in the cool air as though the earth itself rejected their presence.

A knight approached, his heavy boots splashing through the mud. He knelt before Geralda, his armor battered but his posture reverent.

"Commander," he began, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

Geralda didn’t turn. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her expression as calm as a still pond. "Speak," she said, her voice low and measured, carrying an authority that required no raising.

"The southern enemy forces have been eradicated by General Geralt," the knight reported, his head bowed.

"And my brother?" Geralda asked, her tone unchanged. She paused, as if weighing her own words. "Where is he now?"

"He has moved east to hunt the remnants of their forces," the knight replied.

Geralda inclined her head slightly. "You may leave."

The knight rose, bowing deeply before retreating.

Geralda remained motionless, her gaze lifting toward the sky. Lightning continued to crackle, streaks of red, white, and yellow slicing through the oppressive ashen expanse. The world seemed to hold its breath.

Her eyes shifted to the horizon, narrowing as they fixed on a distant object.. a floating structure.

It was no mere tower.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

The Tower of Rebirth loomed in the distance, its presence a blight against the already desolate landscape. Its form was jagged and unnatural, a construct of dark stone that seemed to ripple as if alive. Massive, twisted spires jutted upward like the claws of some forgotten god, while the base of the tower pulsed with an ominous, crimson glow.

Below the tower, a beam of crackling energy stabbed into the earth, carving deep into the ground like a surgeon’s blade. The energy twisted and writhed, digging into the soil with relentless speed, the very air around it shimmering with unholy power.

This was no simple portal... it was a wound in reality, a gateway forged by the Void Hands to bring forth their unholy creation.

The Tower of Rebirth.

Within it, Yadred was being remade.

A notification appeared before Geralda, its pale light cutting through the darkness.

[NOTIFICATION]

TIME BEFORE YADRED’S REBIRTH: 28 HOURS REMAINING

Her lips parted, her voice barely audible against the storm.

"Where are you… 0924?"

The words faded into the air, lost amidst the crackling lightning.

Crack! Boom!

The storm raged on.

[END OF ARC_2: GRIEF]