Unchosen Champion-Chapter 296: Lord of the Abyss

Mists were coursing into the Underlayer and Coop flowed along with them. He practically danced through the billowing clouds, letting the rhythm of his strikes dictate his movement. The streaming motions added a transformative hint of elegance to the Revenant’s typical brawling.

His stats had been elevated to such high default values compared to his opponents that his actual combat style was altered. As a result, he was developing a measure of gracefulness that would have surprised his friends back home. Pure aggression was giving way to something approaching refinement.

The natural distribution of his stats firmly established the Revenant as a brutish skirmisher with all the advantages that came from superior power and durability. He had twice as much Strength compared to Agility due to the differences in their respective passive skills. Adamance applied a Strength bonus at a one to one ratio with Mind, but Practical Application only added half the value in exchange for reducing flat mana costs as he repeated actions.

As a consequence of the disparity in his stat distribution, he typically forced his opponents into submission with more muscle than technique. Planting his feet and digging deep into his well of power or leaping into his attacks to go all out were his routine methods of leveraging his attributes.

There was nothing wrong with doing things his way. He thought it made perfect sense to lean into his greatest strengths when faced with a challenge. It kept things simple.

However, in a situation where all of his stats were far beyond what his opponents could hope to achieve, he could afford to truly express his lesser advantages and practice with a bit more complexity. He didn’t need to put all his power into his attacks to defeat something that was 300 levels his inferior. It was complete overkill and lacked the efficiency that he was always overtly chasing in combat situations. Of course, overkilling was fun, but there was a time and place for such things.

Back during his earliest grinds, he had grasped another angle for development. Managing his resources by letting go of some of the savage attacks in favor of enhanced precision to avoid wasting energy had already proven to be more efficient. He was applying that philosophy to his current battles, but it went beyond merely conserving his stamina and moved into the economics of movement.

He didn’t smash through the Elite Primal Construct bulwarks, leaving craters in the battlefield as he had before. Instead, he engaged them with Presence of Mind and Fog of War at the forefront of his strategy, minimizing his motions and effort while accurately targeting weaknesses. More often than not, he found it easier to avoid a guard than to simply crush it.

It wasn’t necessarily as intricate as it seemed before he got into it. Basically, Coop’s current strategy involved more slicing and less smashing. No need to overcomplicate things.

Coop twirled through his mists, skipping into a backswing that cleanly severed the protective shield arm of a Ruin Construct, bypassing the solid defense in favor of an easy strike. Then he crushed its exposed triangular head with the edge of his round gladiator shield, maintaining his spinning momentum with a flourish before using the impetus of his motion to dive into the rest of the Construct’s freshly exposed party.

His ethereal short sword flashed as it caught a hint of the external illumination, raised above the fog. A slight red tinge highlighted the streaks of aquamarine spectral mana that chased the blade, providing a colorful deviation that contrasted with the dark shadows of abyssal mana that dripped from its edges. The sword sheared the air before repeatedly cutting his targets down with whirling slashes. The party of Constructs fell to the most elegant iteration of the Champion of Ghost Reef yet.

The next party of alien invaders experienced something completely different, meeting Coop as his debuffs faded and Inheritance of the Mists became available for the first time since Gangcheon. The Apparition of the Autumn Wind possessed Coop, enhancing his short sword with energy as it surged forward.

A blast of wind extended beyond the edge of his weapon, using the pointed blade as a focal point while dispersing the mixed spectral and abyssal pigments. As the gust crossed the dirt layer, inundating the Primal Constructs while carving a path through his Fog of War, the air carried a series of new colors. At first it was a bold, healthy green, but it quickly faded through a series of yellows and oranges, before culminating in a vivid red that shone with one last explosion of vigor before rapidly fading back into the color of his mists and disappeared entirely.

A slice was carved out of the Primal Construct army as they suddenly experienced something akin to a warped passage of time. They rusted until they deteriorated, and ultimately fell apart beneath their own weight. A cone in the control point was temporarily decorated like a junkyard of discarded mannequins. The manifestations dissipated as Fog of War returned to the empty space, rolling across the dirt like snow, burying the bones of the alien invaders.

Coop had already dismissed the possession, spinning away from the momentarily vacated portion of the battlefield in favor of continuing his dance with the rest. He had no intention of letting spring come for the Primal Constructs.

It took two hours before Coop was done with the first control point beneath Shinjuku Gardens. While it had been the largest army he engaged with so far, if he was being honest, he had milked it a bit.

Playing king of the hill with the desperate Primal Constructs while the local human forces were forced to watch from a distance was a bit too much fun. The additional refinement he was cultivating for his repertoire was just a bonus.

He knew the local soldiers weren’t getting a clear look at him or his abilities, but he still kept a few tricks in his back pocket. If the worst case scenario ended up becoming a reality, and they fought, his opponents would still be able to experience a few surprises before their unavoidable deaths.

Either way, they still had quite a demonstration to enjoy as over a million Primal Constructs melted away into his mists. A voracious layer of fog had filled the remaining walls of the three-sided castle and mysterious dangers lurked within the domain. Coop’s phantasms were all over the place, causing small bits of turbulence and isolated bursts of mana wherever they were summoned.

From the outside, it gave off the same feeling as peering into depths of dark water that churned with the occasional scaley fin or powerful tail. A feeding frenzy occurred just below the surface, unable to be fully observed, but there were enough clues to understand the danger.

Quite a few of the Shinjuku soldiers grouped up, forming groups within the crowds. Their ability to be organized in such a short time was impressive, but they stayed far beyond where the Primal Constructs would actually engage with them. It seemed like they had no interest in preventing the alien conquest of their own territory, seemingly taking offense that he was dealing with it on their behalf. It was a different kind of offense to that of the champions of the Assembly, like it didn’t matter what he was doing so much as it was him that was doing it.

Coop thought it was a bit strange they weren’t even trying to take care of things themselves, considering he had been sure there were a handful of highly leveled powerhouses among their forces. The Kitawa pair had been the first to claim a mana well, after all, and they clearly had what he assumed were Japanese names. It was possible they were simply members of a different settlement somewhere else in the world, but he had expected to find them at his last stop. It was a bit disappointing, really.

Instead, an army of matching soldiers gathered in anticipation of meeting Coop. It was a lot of people for the simple conversation he had demanded, but maybe whoever was in charge needed a little help being propped up. Coop wouldn’t judge.

While they got themselves organized, Coop gained two more levels. It was an excellent result for a single battle at the end of the Underlayer Event. That it took over a million enemies, including two Siege Bosses and a few dozen Field Bosses was hardly a surprise considering the absurd level gap that he had generated. The real astonishment was the extent of Primal Construct forces in the Underlayer.

Can Gio’s invaders added five levels to his total and Gangcheon had provided six. Shinjuku Gardens was already on pace to reach seven or maybe even eight if he leaned into his optimistic side. It seemed like the last three mega settlements would provide a quarter of the levels he gained in all of Africa, despite being less than 10% of the number of settlements. Not a bad final leg of his trip, he decided.

The additional stats of a level were always welcome, but more interestingly, the last increase pushed him to 475. He quickly checked his skill choices, growing impatient for something new to happen with his path.

As expected, the skill choices were more of the same on the surface. It was a series of familiar passive skills that led him to select yet another level for his Dedication to Sethrak. He shrugged to himself as he made the predictable choice before checking for other hidden changes.

Adding yet another Dedication increased his passive Reverence to Rank 10, the description of which declared him Lord of the Abyss. Coop grunted approvingly, raising his eyebrows before remembering what he was looking at.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Lord of the Abyss sounded like a strong epithet, but Reverence wasn’t even a proper title. It was just an inert passive skill that continually evolved as he poured the equivalent of over 250 levels into it.

He sighed to himself, growing a bit worried that the Path of the Abyss would be a never ending series of Dedications. He had gone from a Supplicant of the Deep Dweller through a whole series of upgrades until finally graduating to Inquisitor of the Deep, but still nothing changed. Finally, even as Lord of the Abyss, all he had to show for his overall development was an aesthetic change to his ethereal manifestations.

Coop stared at his open hand before slowly clenching it into a fist and flexing his arm, trying to sense any undocumented changes to his build. While there wasn’t anything that came to mind, he certainly felt strong. His levels were becoming ridiculous and he ended up smiling to himself despite his annoyance.

Acknowledging his growth melted any frustrations away. He shook his head at how easily he was satisfied.

Still, if nothing happened with Reverence at Rank 11, he would be reconsidering before sinking more skill selections into the same Dedication. Once the Underlayer Event ended, he wouldn’t have millions of Elite monsters waiting for him to engage, so skill selections would feel even more precious. He didn’t want to keep wasting them on a path that went nowhere. Choosing other dedications might be equally futile, but he would have to give them a try if just for the sake of hope.

Coop put his worries aside, letting a future version of himself deal with what would come. Instead, with the last of the Primal Constructs in the first point fading away, he needed to exchange some more words with the Shinjuku soldiers.

He propped his shortsword onto his shoulder, treating it more like a stick than a blade, and left his shield with the gradually disappearing mists in the middle of the control point, just in case he needed to make a quick reset. It was a trick that tended to come in handy in the past.

His head was held high as his misty silhouette revealed his unbothered posture, as if he hadn’t been in battle with a massive force of alien invaders immediately before taking a stroll through the dirt. From the outside he painted a figure of easy dominance, highlighted by the glow of the objective as its colors scattered in the thinning mists.

As he approached the crowd of humans, there was some jostling until a blindfolded old man with a walking stick appeared in the front. Otherwise, they waited patiently for Coop to fearlessly saunter up to their army.

“Now’s your chance, Senior.” The familiar Martial Artist declared with a sneer. He pointed at Coop. “Deal with him.” He ordered before shoving the old man forward.

The old man stumbled a bit before surprisingly maintaining his balance. He angled his head a bit, assessing Coop from behind a ragged blindfold. Whatever he detected caused him to click his tongue in displeasure before grumbling under his breath.

The old man was only ten yards beyond the frontline of soldiers, hunched slightly and leaning on his worn walking stick, but somehow the distance between the man and his army seemed enhanced by some intangible separation, as if they weren’t really aligned.

Meanwhile, Coop was by himself, a glowing control point at his back, more than a hundred yards away, and even further beyond the objective, an army of Primal Constructs was mobilizing to retake the lost objective. The aliens seemed like a sideshow for the moment.

“What’s this?” Coop openly wondered, raising his voice so that the Martial Artist would know he was subject to his inquiry, nodding his chin toward the old man.

The Martial Artist had a smirk on his face that made Coop want to knock him down a peg. “Someone important.” He responded, and his party snickered among themselves as if they were enjoying some inside joke. “Just as you demanded.”

Coop raised an eyebrow as he inspected the old man.

[Human (Level 225)]

[Crystalline Breeze (Mind)]

[Serenity (Defiant)]

“Oh?” Coop mumbled, intrigued by finally seeing a respectable level among the local humans, especially from an Unchosen person when every other person he had inspected in the region was associated with a faction.

More importantly, the man also had the title granted for being among the first to defeat a Siege Boss. The fact that none of the control points were missing a Siege Boss in the Underlayer implied that he had received the title from the surface. The old guy was definitely interesting, compared to the rest, just based on his status.

“Huh.” Coop grunted, remembering the name of the person that claimed the first mana well. “Are you Akari Kitawa?”

“Bahaha!” The old man bellowed derisively, grabbing his staff with both hands to avoid doubling over as the silence between the pair was destroyed. He angled his face toward Coop as he calmed down. “If you think I’m that pretty, just say so! However, I’m afraid you aren’t my type.”

The various soldiers glanced at each other, unable to fully hear the conversation thanks to the muffling of the Underlayer, but they had clearly heard the laughter.

“Pretty probably isn’t the right word to describe you.” Coop chuckled along with him. “Who are you then?” Coop asked, unembarrassed by his obviously incorrect guess.

“Whole bunch of those youths are calling me Senior Warden these days. I’d rather just be left alone.” The old man stated, clearly some kind of curmudgeon.

Coop glanced at the still amused looking soldiers before looking back at the blind old man. “I don’t understand. Are you in charge of these dunces or what?”

“Not at all, not at all.” The old man reiterated. “I’m just a blind old hermit that lives in the mountains and wants to be left alone.”

“I hear that.” Coop commiserated, often feeling something similar about his lighthouse and the aliens invading the planet.

Coop hummed to himself as he took another look at the old man. He gave off a confident aura, and seemed quite strong despite his posture and apparent handicap, almost like he was embellishing a bit. “How are you blind anyway?” Coop openly wondered.

“What? You can’t just ask someone that. Didn’t you learn any manners?” The old man scolded Coop, lifting the walking staff as if he wanted to use it to hit Coop in the shins. “Kids these days are rude.” The man continued to himself, putting the gnarled stick back down after Coop lifted his leg away.

“I mean, because of mana, doesn’t it repair everything?” Coop tried explaining himself, realizing they were quickly getting off track.

The old man shook his head. “It only changes us through those evolutions, otherwise we are what we are to ourselves. Maybe you’re the blind one if you haven’t figured that out.” He scoffed.

“Get on with it!” The Martial Artist shouted as the soldiers grew more impatient.

Coop bobbed his head at the protesting soldier. “What’s his problem?”

The old man grumbled a bit. “We are to be exiled with the rest, but if I kill you, they will let me and my Unchosen followers keep our place on the mountain. Obviously, if we fought I would lose, so I am at something of an impasse.”

“Kill me?” Coop’s sword finally came off of his shoulder. “I just wanted to talk to someone in charge instead of those losers.” Coop stepped forward, bypassing the Warden. “Hang on a second, old man.”

Coop supposed it was his fault. It seemed like people on the whole had grown so much more cooperative, but that didn’t mean everyone would be. Somehow, despite his experiences throughout the assimilation, he was still a bit too innocent.

As he crossed the ten yards to confront the Martial Artist, the wooden swords of his party were all drawn. Coop's, on the other hand, was flicked into the dirt as he disarmed himself halfway before reaching the soldiers. The rest of the army was slower on the uptake, but they were all watching closely, hands on weapons.

“You think you’re clever or something?” Coop spoke with a low voice as the weapons failed to deter him, a single finger pointed threateningly at the Martial Artist.

The subject of his confrontation swung first, suddenly feeling a bit desperate in spite of what he believed were the numbers on his side as Coop appeared solely attentive to his singular presence. The attack was a practical one, ignoring any unnecessary flourishes, aimed to strike its target in the temple. It whooshed through the air as energy emerged from the Martial Artist before stopping abruptly.

Coop caught the solid wooden sword with his left hand, yanked it out of the man’s grip, and squeezed until the blade snapped within his fist. Before anyone else had the chance to react, he stepped forward and struck the man down with a well-practiced slap, using his empty right hand.

The sound echoed loud enough for the entire army to hear, but Coop wasn’t done. He continued by snatching the man’s collar with his left hand and his belt with his right before taking another step forward that dragged the falling man fully off his feet. Coop tossed him the way someone would throw a bag of concrete out of the bed of a pickup truck, but he soared through the air as if launched from a catapult, easily clearing the army.

Everyone watched as the man regained consciousness mid flight and flailed for a few seconds before bouncing in the dirt with a satisfying puff of dust, about halfway to the pillar that would bring them back to the surface.

While Coop had generously spared his life, it was his last warning shot for the rest.

As the eyes of the soldiers returned to him, filled with animosity, Coop held his empty right hand for them all to see. While mists appeared, solidifying into his resummoned ethereal short sword, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt. “Next person won’t survive.” He warned.

Coop was inspecting them all, but none of them even rose to the level of the blind old man, let alone his own ridiculous status. There were Chosen of one or another of approximately six different factions. He didn’t understand it, and they obviously weren’t interested in explaining it to him, but somehow several different forces seemed to be sharing control of Shinjuku Gardens.

“It’s time for you all to leave the Underlayer.” Coop warned them, letting his aura carry his words, and the ones nearest to him flinched away, despite drawing their weapons along with their squad leader.

Some of the soldiers got the picture right away, and turned to leave, but most were a bit slower. They looked back at Coop with bitter expressions and hatred in their eyes as if weighing their chances until one among them with more sense led them away.

Coop swept his eyes across the army, refusing to let any of them have the last look. The sword was resting on his shoulder again as he showed no signs of fear whatsoever. It was no skin off his back if any of them wanted to throw their lives away in a fight with the Revenant of Ghost Reef. Combat was firmly his domain.