Timer Upgraded!

  Timer:

  No charge

  Estimate a rough time period of an event that has occurred in the past. Determine the occurrence or expiration of an event in the near future. Precision scales with Mystic.

  Adrian stares at the description for a while, hesitation bubbling within him. The uncertainty of the spell and the future he might witness weighs on him. It scares him. There’s a question which he must ask, but he doesn’t feel like he can do it right now.

  Later. Just a little later…

  Instead he calls on his upgraded skill with a different objective in mind. A much more simple question.

  When will I reach the fourth floor?

  And just like always, the answer appears directly in his mind without any far fare. Within a day From Now.

  And we’re back to terrible precision. This is kinda reminiscent of the early days. Which granted, aren’t those early, but so much has happened in between that it almost feels like an eternity since Martin died.

  Adrian spends a bit more time playing with the skill, asking it small questions like, ‘When breakfast?’ or ‘When will I fall on the ground?’ or ‘When will the Tower fall?’.

  From these simple questions he begins to get a hold on the rules behind this pseudo divination.

  Firstly, it seems like the simpler the question with less factors to interfere in the process, the higher the precision. A simple question about breakfast is much easier to divine, than the next riot in the city. Breakfast depends merely on the intent of his own, but a riot happens with the intent of so many people that it becomes almost impossible to determine, giving a simple answer as ‘In an undetermined time From Now.’

  Secondly, questions related to him are easier to answer than those which involve other parties. This also kinda mixes with the first rule, with the only exception being the level of his actions.

  If the question is, ‘When will I get slapped?’ then although the question pertains to him, the precision immediately loses. Whereas if the question is something like, ‘When will I slap someone?’ then the precision shoots up.

  Similarly asking questions like ‘When will John slap himself?’ is harder to answer.

  Thirdly, but perhaps most importantly, questions involving Tower are completely unanswerable. The skill would break and never produce an answer, no matter how long he waits.

  Adrian had been given quite a big shock when that happened, as he worried if he had perhaps completely broken his skill. Can skills even break? Maybe through soul damage? Did I receive soul damage?

  Fortunately on his next couple questions, the skill works perfectly. Adrian heaves a sigh of relief and slumps on the bed.

  Having exhausted all his questions, only one remains. The most important question that he has to ask, and yet cannot convince himself to go through it.

  Adrian has been mulling over it when someone knocks on his door. With a breath of relief at having been distanced from his recent worries, he walks towards the door.

  Another knock comes, a slow one this time, and Adrian mutters, “Coming.”

  Adrian grips the doorknob and instantly lets it go.

  The door explodes, wooden splitters flying into the room, punching into the avatar which he has summoned just a second ago in front of him. More avatars quickly gather around him, but then a purple wave leaves cuts into the room, dispersing all of them.

  Adrian backs away towards the window, looking at his attacker.

  It’s a man dressed in brown robes, a hood covering his head, and a black mask with no holes staring at him. A chuckle resounds from its non-existent mouth. An emotionless, genderless voice follows.

  “They said you’ll be quick, but I had deliberately hidden most of my presence, and yet you caught on. And evaded the door blast as well. Good reflexes. I would have loved to chat for a bit, but the time’s over.”

  Adrian doesn’t wait for the person to finish their words, his mind locks into their position, and then he snaps.

  The mental tug of war briefly flashes through his mind, but then very quickly he’s defeated.

  A backlash soon follows, and he stumbles. His opponent shakes in their position a bit too. As Adrian looks up, he notices a faint purple mist covering the room. Adrian tries to create more avatars, burning through his mana, but as soon as the Avatars would start to form, they’d break apart, flowing into the air as just pure mana.

  “Don’t bother. My skill breaks apart all conjurations. Your avatars are useless.”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  How long before others arrive to help me?

  Less than 30 minutes From Now.

  That’s too much. Did something happen to them? Where are they?

  Adrian glares at his attacker, rage filling up inside him. Who could this attacker be? What has Adrian done to deserve this? Is this a contracted killer? Questions and more rage. Indignance at his state. Adrian sees the man walking towards him with a leisurely pace, and he instantly turns around, smashing his fist at the closed window.

  Strangely, he remembers it being open.

  His fist strikes the glass, and breaks. Adrian groans in pain watching his wrist bruised and flopping helplessly at striking the glass window. How!?

  He looks at the glass and notices how it shimmers slightly. His senses whisper to him something. It’s like a rule. No physical damage and no conjuration? Then why is my hand broken? Can they bend the rule according to their wish, and exclude certain aspects?

  Adrian looks at the guy who’s barely a foot away from him, a crescent shaped knife in their hands, and he can feel his death come ever so close to him. Ever since he became a climber, he has been facing death. Coming ever so close to it, only to slip away, and then come back like a magnet.

  Actually, even before becoming a climber, he has been living so close to death. Should he have ever slipped, he’d have fallen right into his clan’s hands, sentenced to death.

  Ah, perhaps there’s an attraction towards death as well. An attraction intrinsic to everything and everyone.

  Then perhaps there is nothing to feel scared about death?

  No. I’m still afraid of it, and I don’t want to die. I would not die. I cannot die! Not without doing everything I have yet to!

  Adrian looks at the knife hanging above him, and snaps.

  Once again he’s flung out of the mental tug of war as soon as he enters, their level difference simply too vast for him to propose any valuable effort. But it did its job.

  His attacker pauses, confused for a second. Adrian wipes the blood coming from his nose. Two consecutive backlashes are starting to hit him.

  But I just need to hold on for 30 minutes, right?

  He looks at the knife and the black mask, and snaps again.

  This time Adrian takes a second to come back. His vision darkens, fraying at its edges. He doesn’t stop to consider the damage though, he simply snaps.

  The next time he remains inside for a second longer. The mental rope that he has been pulling feels real in his hand for just that one second, before an overwhelming force pulls him in.

  As soon as he is out, he snaps, the blade of the attacker mid-arc towards his eye.

  This time again he lasts a second longer.

  Adrian’s head feels like it will burst from pressure, as if he’s holding onto a dying construct, but he doesn’t care. With bloodshot red eyes, he looks at the stumbling attacker, and snaps.

  Snap. Snap. Snap!

  How long has it been? His Timer isn’t working in the…something. He doesn’t know. Somehow patches of his memories seem missing. Is he missing something?

  Snap!

  Why is he in the black world, pulling with all his strength? For how long does he pull, before he’s pulled right in?

  He’s flung into reality, where the man in front of him–that is the feeling he gets during the mental attacks, where a person’s real image enters–shakes. HIs shoulder shakes in disbelief and pain. “How? How how how!? How are you using your skill!?”

  The knife grazes past his ears as Adrian tumbles to the ground and snaps.

  Snap snap snap.

  What is he doing? Why does he keep doing this? What is driving him?

  At some point Adrian even stops snapping, the skill taking effect automatically as soon as he is flung back into reality. Every time that happens, the man in front of him would try to kill him, lunge at him, throw something at him, but the pain from any other attack doesn’t mean anything anymore.

  He isn’t dead, and that’s the only thing that matters. Although he somewhat wishes he can die right now.

  He’s back in the darkness, pulling onto something. As far as he can remember, his whole life feels like it is composed of solely this act. Pulling and pulling. At some point he begins to gain some ground as well, and yet it’s not enough to stop this torture.

  When he snaps back into reality this time, the skill activates automatically. Adrian cannot even see anymore, but he can sense his opponent, and that is enough.

  Once again he’s back in the dark space, but something is different. There is no one on the other side.

  Adrian pulls, and the battle is over.

  Adrian senses someone else in the room with him, the familiar glow of his lantern shining in his senses, and the corpse inside.

  Perhaps… the torture is over.

  #

  “Who was this guy?” Matt yells, kicking the lantern in which the corpse floats, a single blade sticking through its brain.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” John sighs, shaking his head.

  “It matters! We need to know who hired him. Or if it was a standalone act. If it was just him having a grudge against Adrian, then that’s different, but if he was a contract killer, then there will be more.”

  “Shush!” Ji-a hisses, examining Adrian’s body while pouring a healing potion on his wounds.

  “Is he alive?” John asks.

  “He’s alive, but not okay. His brain is a mush, heavy internal bleeding, and his mind is fracturing. He needs a proper healer as soon as he can, and some time to heal his mind.” Ji-a gives her diagnosis. As John stares into her eyes, he finds them entirely devoid of any emotion. It unnerves him, more than the blood around Adrian.

  “Do we know any special healers on the 3rd floor?”

  “I do one! She’s not that far from her-”

  “I don’t trust the 3rd floor healers right now. I don’t trust anyone here right now. I’m going to the 4th floor. I know someone there,” Ji-a says, cradling Adrian’s body in hundreds of hidden hands to keep him stable.

  “Let’s move then. We originally planned to leave tomorrow, but today works too,” John says.

  Ji-a is about to leave the inn with Adrian in her many hands, when her eyes land of Monkey. The poor monkey has been crystallised pretty heavily now, his movements themselves becoming hard, but even it looks at Adrian with worry.

  Ji-a smiles at it, lifts it in the air and says, “You live a good life from now buddy. Don’t kill too many people. See ya later,”

  Since their bags have been packed for travel anyway, the three of them, with a comatose Adrian, quickly leaves the inn, flying at a high speed. Ji-a operates several hidden hands to reduce the air resistance on Adrian’s body as much as she can. She also leaves a screeching crying Monkey on the sand, its crystalline body perfectly matching with the other crystal monsters around him.

  “Such a poor fate,” Matt sighs.

  “Do we have enough blood for sacrifice?” John questions over the wind.

  Ji-a quickly checks Adrian’s pouch and finds it lacking. “He needs another 100l of blood!”

  “I have some extra,” John says, bringing out his own pouch, “Transfer the required amount into his.”

  Ji-a nods, and quickly transmits the blood into Adrian’s pouch using his Hidden hands by vacuuming the blood. As t

  By the time they reach the henge, they find that most of the vultures have already been dealt with by the group of other climbers. They find some known places, but being in a hurry, they simply nod and head towards the altar.

  Sacrificing the necessary blood, a white light soon surrounds them as the portal opens up. Ji-a tightly holds onto his hand.

  And then they are gone, ascending onto the next floor, racing against time.

  #