Extra Borne: Transmigrated Into A System Apocalypse Soulsborne Novel-Chapter 70 - 68: The Shift of Doom (2)

The space trembled, a violent shudder that felt alive, as if the world itself recoiled from what had just emerged. My breath seized in my throat, trapped as if by invisible hands, my lungs burning for release. My veins bulged, tightening like chains across my body, my mind numbing under the weight of a suffocating presence. My detection screamed... shrieked, each pulse of warning like shards of broken glass piercing my consciousness.

I clasped my hands over my head, the edges of my vision darkening. A scream clawed its way up my throat, desperate for freedom, but I bit it back. Not out of bravery. No, this wasn’t courage. This was something raw, something broken.

The grief... it was unbearable. A thick, consuming fog of sorrow that pressed against my very soul, threatening to drown me in its depths. It wasn’t just sadness; it was a force, a living, breathing thing that clawed its way into my mind and hollowed me out from the inside.

I slammed my fist into the ground. Again. And again. And again.

The ground wasn’t even solid anymore. What was once a blood-soaked, muddy battlefield had dissolved into something incomprehensible... an endless void of dark nothingness. Each strike sent ripples through the empty space, the impact reverberating through my bones. My knuckles split, blood pooling in the cracks of my skin, but I didn’t stop. Not until my body betrayed me, trembling with exhaustion.

I didn’t scream. I couldn’t. Even the madness threatening to consume me was silenced by the sheer, oppressive weight of grief.

And then, it stopped.

Everything.... everything stopped.

I lifted my head slowly, muscles aching with the effort, and stared at the towering figure before me.

It was Yadred. Or, at least, what was being rebirthed of him.

The Tower of Rebirth was gone, its unsettling spires and jagged edges consumed by the transformation. What stood in its place was a monstrosity... a massive, unholy figure bound by two enormous void chains.

The chains wrapped around its ashen-black wrists, pulsing faintly with a malevolent void energy. The figure didn’t move. It loomed, idle but alive, its pale, tarnished gold hair shimmering faintly in the dim, oppressive glow.

And then, a voice.

"So, this is what fate sends me?"

The words were calm, deep, and unyielding, but they carried with them an indescribable grief. The air trembled with each syllable, as though the voice itself was tearing through the fabric of existence.

Grief struck me like a hammer. I staggered, clutching at my chest as the weight of emotions I had never known consumed me. It wasn’t my grief... it was his. A tide of sorrow so profound it threatened to crush me under its weight.

I fought back, filling my subconscious with mist, blocking out the emotions. I couldn’t let them take hold. Not now.

I forced myself to look up again.

Stepping out from the veil of oppressive grieving darkness, a figure emerged.

He wasn’t like Yadred’s towering form. He was closer to human, though slightly taller than an average human. His presence, however, was anything but human. His form radiated an aura of cold, unyielding grief. The air around him rippled with an oppressive grieving energy that made it hard to breathe.

His body seemed wreathed in grieving darkness, his movements slow and calm. His face... if it could even be called that, was featureless, a hollow pale mask of darkness save for two faintly glowing blue burning embers where his eyes should have been.

[System Notification]

+

ALTER YADRED HAS DESCENDED

+

I couldn’t stop the thought that rose unbidden in my mind.

How? How are there two Yadreds?

Before I could process it, the voice came again.

"A wanderer," he said, his tone calm yet filled with infinite grief. "Clad in weakness, draped in the rags of survivability and indecision."

He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, like the grinding of ancient stone. The grieving space seemed to warp around him, bending to his will.

"I see it," he continued, his glowing blue Burn gaze locking onto mine. "I see it in those formless eyes. You carry bravery… yet it is hollow. Insignificant echoes and whispers you cannot see."

He began circling me, his presence like a cold wind that seeped into my bones.

"Tell me, child of the fleeting mist," he said, his voice low and grating, "what do you seek in this pit of forgotten grief? Redemption? Evolution? Power?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came.

"No..." he said before I could even try. "You have neither the spine to claim it nor the strength to wield it. You are nothing but a frail bone, staggering through a world that has long since cast you aside."

He stopped, standing directly in front of me, his hollow gaze boring into my soul.

"Do you even know the weight of your own existence?" he asked, his tone almost mocking. "You are but a dust.... specks scattered in the winds of inevitability. You think yourself a hero, a savior, yet all I see is a man too afraid to confront his own grief."

He let out a laugh then, low and calm, but it carried with it the weight of countless sorrows. The sound resonated in my mind, shattering what little defenses I had left.

"Come then," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Oh wanderer. Show me the strength of your pitiful boldness. Let us see how far a broken spirit can crawl before it shatters completely."

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating and final.

And then,

Alter Yadred raised his arms, the grieving space recoiled. Slowly, intentionally, his fingers clawed at the air, and an oppressive sorrowful energy began to gather around him. It wasn’t just power... it was grief, tangible and suffocating. The air grew heavy with it, as though every sorrow ever felt by every soul in existence had congealed into this one, horrifying moment.

I could feel it pressing against my chest, stealing my breath, clawing at my thoughts.

Then, it began to take shape.

From the grieving darkness around him, tendrils of darkness coiled together, writhing and twisting like serpents caught in a death throe. The sorrowful energy condensed, solidifying into something terrible...

A massive, jagged sword, blackened and raw, as if torn from the marrow of some ancient, grieving god. Its surface was veined with streaks of pulsing blue sorrowful light, glowing faintly, like the final heartbeat of a dying star.

Alter Yadred’s voice deepened, resonating with a divine sorrow that rippled through the empty space.

"Oh Grief… become my blade once more. Let your lamentation carve through the marrow of this fleeting existence!"

The words struck like a thunderclap, reverberating through the empty expanse. Even the nothingness around us seemed to grieve, shuddering with unrelenting sorrow.

And then, I felt it.

My soul grieved. My body grieved. Every fiber of my being stood before him and grieved.

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I didn’t want to. I didn’t choose this. But the grief wouldn’t let me go. It dragged me under, drowning me in its tide, crushing my thoughts and breaking my resolve. My detection screamed, a distant wail barely audible through the crushing despair.

I acted without thinking. My Mist Sword materialized in my hands, its edges shimmering faintly as if even it were reluctant to face what stood before me.

I lunged forward, my body dissolving into mist, instinct driving me to move, to act, to do something. The mist spilled out from me, spreading like a flood, covering the entire space. I vanished into it, letting the fog consume me, hide me, protect me.

But Alter Yadred didn’t move.

He stood there, motionless, his form wreathed in the oppressive aura of his grief. He didn’t track my movements. He didn’t even seem to care.

From the distance, a vortex of swirling blue energy formed, an arrow shot from my mist clone... a distraction, a feint one.

It tore through the void, streaking toward him with an insane speed, defying all logic

For a moment, I thought it might hit.

Swoosh.

But the arrow dissolved the moment it neared him, swallowed by the grieving darkness that surrounded his form.

I rematerialized behind him, Mist Sword raised, swinging in a fast, precise arc aimed at carving through his unholy frame.

But before the blade could connect...

Dum!

An unseen force deflected it, the impact reverberating up my arm. My Mist Sword shattered, the energy dissipating as if it had been devoured.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Both of my fists ignited with mist energy, glowing faintly as I launched into a relentless assault. Blow after blow rained down on him, my fists striking with all the force I could muster.

Dum! Dum! Dum!

Each strike was nullified, deflected by an invisible force that refused to yield. The harder I hit, the more futile it felt.

My breaths came in ragged gasps, my body trembling with exertion. Desperation clawed at me, screaming for me to try harder, to push further.

But deep down, I already knew. None of my attacks would ever work.

I dissolved into mist again, retreating into the fog, hoping to find some kind of advantage, some kind of opening.

And then he spoke.

"Try harder," Alter Yadred said, his voice calm, almost bored. He raised one hand, his jagged blade hanging idly in the other.

Before I could react, I felt it... something dragging me out of my own mist.

It was like a hand, invisible and impossibly strong, yanking me back into my physical form. I rematerialized, my body slamming into the ground with a force that left me breathless.

And then it hit me.

An unrelenting, crushing weight, like gravity itself had turned against me. It pressed down on me, driving me into the empty void beneath me.

The grief wasn’t just in the air anymore... it was in me. It crushed my body, my soul, my mind, my very existence. Every thought, every feeling, every shred of will I had left was ground to dust under its relentless pressure.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.

All I could do was scream.

A Grieving Scream....

"Aaaargh!!!!"