Minutes passed by thinking.. but no idea was good enough. Shadecaster did not come out either. Sam sent occasional lightning bolts inside the dark cocoon, but they were absorbed without any effect. Sam even used his Overload Pulse—and strangely, even that was absorbed without any noise—as if the dark goo was neutralizing all his lightning attacks somehow. The Overload Pulse should have left a giant explosion behind. Even muffled, there should have been at least some noise..
This did not feel natural.
Sam did not waste any more of his lightning. He had to figure out a way out of here. Getting a few meters away from the goo, Sam sat down on the white floor and worked his brain at full capacity while keeping his eyes on the dark cocoon.
Waygates did not work. Wormholes were the same as flying—this weird place put him back here no matter what. After some minutes, Sam felt his eyes getting heavier.. He fought the exhaustion as hard as he could, but the eerie silence and the plain, unmoving picture before his eyes did not help at all—he even zapped himself with his own lightning, and even that only worked a few times. Eventually, Sam fell asleep.
Then suddenly his eyes shot open. He pulled himself up from lying on his back—the black cocoon was still there, unchanged. How long did he sleep? No—how the fuck could he even fall asleep when people were dying?
Sam felt exhausted, as if all his mana and lightning had been sucked out of him. Was this place absorbing his mana? But that shouldn’t affect his lightning—that wasn’t mana-dependent. It was deep-rooted in his body, Damian had once explained to him. Some very tiny—much smaller than even a single strand of hair—was the basic element that made up human bodies, and his lightning was stored in those basic tiny spheres. Without his own permission, no one could force his lightning out of his body.
This won’t do. He had to keep note of the time.
Sam accessed his spatial storage—even though he had limited mana—and pulled out a book Damian had written, explaining what the lightning truly was and how he could make best use of it. It was too complicated, though, and it always put Sam to sleep whenever he tried to read it and understand his own power. Grace, on the other hand, had read it with interest that made Sam jealous—his girlfriend knew things about his ability better than he did.
It was only half written; there were empty pages in it—he had quill and ink too, he could use those to measure time by putting a small line every hour or so.
However, the second Sam reached the empty pages, his eyes widened and shook in horror. Over 30 pages were full of such lines already. Each page had over 200 lines in it—over 6000 hours! What in the hell? This can’t be true. Was this an illusion? Someone messing with his brain? He knew for certain that he had just closed his eyes to sleep for like 10 minutes after coming to this place.. How could—
No. This can’t be.
He could not waste a single second anymore—already too many days had gone by. Should he enter the dark cocoon? Was that the only way out? Sam took a few steps forward, but then he froze—there was a possibility Shadecaster was feeding him this illusion just so he would enter the dark cocoon and lose control of his body and mind forever, just like all those pigmen. A mind trap?
But what else could he do here? Just wait till eternity?
No. He had to believe. Someone will come looking for him! His friends! Damian.
They had not reached him yet—meaning it could not possibly be 6000 hours since he was here. But then again.. Sam touched the sacrium bracelet on his right arm with his left hand. This was supposed to be a runic tool that only he and his descendants could access. If his book had all these lines.. No. It has to be Shadecaster—he is playing with his mind.
He could not afford to lose focus. Sam had to survive until his friends arrived. His body was not receiving any new mana from the environment—this white place had no mana. Sam quickly checked the liquid mana containers. One was empty—he had just filled it full before engaging in a fight with Shadecaster. The other one was one-fourth empty. Still, this much should give him enough mana to refill his third-ranker mana pool twice—less than twice. He didn’t need a full mana pool though—just 10% at a time, enough to keep him awake and not make him sleepy.
Sam grabbed his sword—if lightning won’t do, pain will have to do for him to stay awake. He also needed an activity—something to keep his mind awake. Counting numbers should do it.
‘1, 2, 3..’
Sam kept staring at the dark cocoon while keeping himself occupied, waiting for someone to come for him, making cuts on his body whenever his eyes became heavy. Damian.. could be stuck somewhere just like him. He most likely could not reach him, but Lucian should be able to. Her sword could open waygates from memory too.
Minutes turned to hours and hours to days. First, Sam thought not being hungry or thirsty was proof enough that Shadecaster was just playing with his mind—but even after a full day and the next one, Sam did not feel hungry or thirsty at all. Could this place be the same as his astral place? He was here with just his mind and not in reality. Shadecaster could not be this powerful—even with the Demon Lord’s darkness enhancing his strength.
This must be something even more sinister. A powerful mind trap—there had to be some limit of time, mana, focus.. something. He just had to keep his mind awake until this weird skill effect or whatever it was ended.
‘176456, 176457, 176458..’
Suddenly, after a long time of staring at the single dark thing in this world of pure white—Sam sensed a familiar abnormality in mana and looked beside him, which was the place where the abnormality was coming into existence. It forced him to finally stop counting.
When a blue shimmering portal started to form, Sam smiled with all his heart—it felt almost unbelievable. He had done it. Finally!
