Reborn With A Technology System In A Fantasy World-Chapter 117: Rising Tensions

In a distant corner of the universe lay a vast chamber steeped in an aura of dark sanctity.

Its walls stretched into an oppressive gloom that seemed to devour the flickering light.

The ceiling towered far above, and black candles lined the chamber, their flames trembling as if afraid, casting wavering shadows that fell across the floor like living things.

At the center stood an altar, its surface scarred with intricate, spiraling runes that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, radiating a presence that pressed against the soul.

Kneeling on a coarse mat before the altar was a being unlike any other.

Its skin was a rough, greenish hue, textured like fractured stone.

Four powerful arms sprouted from its broad frame, each ending in clawed hands that twitched with power.

Two pairs of eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, one set stacked above the other, their golden irises burning with fervent intensity.

Its face, though terrifying in its alien design, was etched with deep reverence, its lips moving in a low, guttural chant.

{O Great One, hear our call. Bind us to your will, guide us through the dark...}

It remained still, head bowed and lost in its ritual, until a sudden tremor shook its frame.

All four eyes widened in horror and the being rose, its rocky skin grinding as it moved.

{No... it’s not possible...} it muttered, its voice a deep rumble that vibrated through the chamber.

Its jagged teeth ground together, the sound like stone on stone. In a surge of fury, it raised one of its legs and slammed it down with earth-shattering force.

~KRRRAAAAANNGGG!~

The impact echoed through the floor, a deafening clang that reverberated for hundreds of meters, shaking the walls and toppling candles.

The metal floor buckled and a massive crater was formed beneath the being’s foot.

Without a word, the being turned and strode toward the chamber’s entrance, its four arms flexing with barely contained rage.

It reached the massive metal door and slid it open with a single, forceful motion.

The groan of metal echoed as the door parted, revealing a corridor lined with similar creatures, though smaller in stature.

Their green, stone-like skin and multiple limbs marked them as kin, but none carried the same commanding presence.

Their eyes, some with two, others with four, were fixed on the towering figure in stunned silence, their calm and peaceful nature shaken by the violence of the sound that had drawn them.

This race was known for its tranquility as their culture was rooted in harmony and devotion.

For their leader to snap in such a way was unthinkable. The gathered beings stood frozen, their glowing eyes wide with unease.

The silence stretched, until a slimmer figure stepped forward with graceful movements, exuding a different aura.

It bowed slightly and said in a soft voice. {O Honored One, Light of Our Path, what stirs such wrath in your heart?}

The towering being paused, its massive frame looming over the smaller figure. Its four eyes narrowed, the golden glow flaring with a mix of grief and fury.

{Our Father... He is gone.}

The words fell like a hammer, each syllable heavy with finality. The gathered beings froze and their breaths caught in unison.

The implications were staggering. For countless cycles, their leader had poured its will into forging a connection with their god, a divine force that had shaped their existence.

Despite endless trials and failures, they had held fast to the hope of one day communing with Him. The thought of His annihilation was beyond comprehension.

A low murmur rippled through the crowd, a hum of disbelief and dread. The towering being raised one clawed hand to silence them.

{Spread the word to all. We will begin the Ritual of Mourning at once.}

It paused and its eyes blazed with fierce determination.

{But know this: our Creator was not merely lost. He was destroyed. Yet I can try to sense His last presence. We will find where this blasphemy occurred, and we will exact our revenge.}

The beings exchanged glances, their serene facades cracking under the weight of their leader’s words.

The slimmer figure, the one who had spoken before, hesitated before stepping forward again. Its voice trembled, laced with reverence and fear.

{Forgive my boldness, O Honored One, but can we stand against a force capable of slaying our Creator?}

The towering being’s four fists clenched, the sound of grinding stone filling the corridor. It turned to face the speaker, its eyes burning with fury.

{Do you question the strength of our people? The might of our will?}

Its voice was a low growl.

{Our Creator was weakened, His essence diminished by the trials of the cosmos. Even if this foe is a god in its own right, I care not. We will not let this crime go unpunished.}

The slimmer being bowed deeply in submission, while the others remained silent, their faith in their leader unshaken but tempered by the enormity of the task ahead.

The towering figure turned as it resumed its stride.

{Make the announcement now,} it commanded without looking back.

{The Ritual of Mourning will begin, and then we prepare for war.}

They dispersed quietly, their minds racing with the implications of their leader’s vow. Somewhere in the universe, a force had dared to strike down their god. And now, this calm, peaceful race would rise to answer that crime with a fury that could shake the cosmos.

***

Deep within the Mages’ dorms, a boy with jet-black hair sat cross-legged on the cold floor of his room.

Unlike the Knights who shared rooms, each Mage was granted their personal room.

The boy sat in solemn silence and his face was etched with a cold, unyielding focus.

His dark eyes were half-closed and his hands rested lightly on his knees, as if he were meditating on something profound.

Suddenly, his body stiffened and a faint tremor ran through him. His eyes snapped open and a flicker of alarm almost broke his icy composure.

"It’s happening too quickly," he murmured to himself, his voice low and steady despite the urgency in his words. "It’s time."

Without hesitation, he reached behind him and retrieved a slender brush. From a small vial, he dipped the brush into an inky liquid that shimmered with an unnatural sheen.

Moving with grace and precision, he began to draw a complex pattern on the floor. The strokes were fluid, each line and curve interlocking in a mesmerizing design.

When the pattern was complete, the boy reached into a pouch at his side and withdrew a strange stone, no larger than a coin but pulsing with a faint, otherworldly light.

He placed it carefully at the center of the formation, his fingers lingering for a moment as if to ensure its placement was perfect.

Closing his eyes, he extended his hands over the stone and channeled his Mana into it.

The air was filled with energy, the room vibrating as the formation began to glow a radiant purple.

The light intensified, the runes on the floor pulsing in sync with the stone’s heartbeat-like rhythm. The boy’s expression remained cold and unshaken, as he rose to his feet.

What he did next was unthinkable, a feat only dreamt about by everyone.

He stepped onto the glowing formation, his boots touching the center where the stone lay and the air shimmered, bending around him like a mirage.

In an instant, the purple light flared blindingly bright, and the boy vanished, swallowed by the formation.

The glow faded and the runes dimmed until the room was left in silence, almost as if nothing had happened.

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