The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 61: Chapter 61: A Skeleton's Welcome

Read chapter 61 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 61: A Skeleton's Welcome Fuck you, Marc! The fall stretched longer than it had any right to. Had seconds passed? Minutes? No. His perception twisted again. No more than a quarter of a breath must have passed. In that quarter of a breath, Kael snapped his eyes open to the back of the first copy of him. They both fell, and so did the others. Dozens became a hundred, then a thousand, until his shirt blurred into a single yellowed arc. Right before he hit the stone ground, the first copy's back touched his chest. The second touched the first, and the third touched the second. The arc became one. And space stuttered. The light from Marc's lamp bled down instead of burning in its glass. Els' pale face cracked into pieces that hovered over her twisted lips. Each twitch of Tonio's whiskers filled the air with grey, broken lines. Then, a hiss. Sharp and furious. Like steam shoving its way through a clogged pipe. As the last copy completed the loop, the burial pit fractured into incomprehensible patterns that jabbed across Kael's vision. Darkness and light blinded him, and his stomach sank as if trying to hide behind his spine. At last, his back met solid ground. The breath he held was knocked out of his tight throat, leaving him panting on smooth, cold ground. No jagged stones here. Why? He lifted a hand over his eyes. Slowly, remnants of fractured patterns faded. Through his finger, he stared at a slanted stone ceiling reinforced with X-shaped metal planks connected to grey walls, where old lanterns hung on coppery hooks. A house? How the hell did a push from Marc send me out of the pit? Wait till I see you, bastard... Wait, who still uses lanterns since Garrick mass-produced lamps? He turned on his stomach. The ground beneath his palms shone the cold grey of polished metal. He stumbled up, catching himself on his knees when his stomach churned in protest. Bile rose. He gagged it down. Figure out where the hell he was came first. Discomfort later. Through his sweat-slicked hair, he scanned the room, if he could call that a room. It stretched narrowly, like a corridor. He stood five steps from its edge—a thick stone wall that glared at his back. A heavy, studded door towered over a stone table on the other side. Good. At least he wasn't trapped. But what lay beyond? He picked up his machetes and staggered to the door. Then, he took support on the table. Engravings in a style he had never seen pushed against his fingers—not that he boasted knowledge of every style or even any for that matter—just this one had been hand-carved the old way, but was smooth as if cleaned this morning. Oddest of all was the absence of chairs. Whoever put it there didn't expect people to sit around. He slid to the door, and just as his hand reached for the handle, an amused voice startled him. "An unlocked door's not quite useful, don't you think so?" Kael snapped toward the voice: the table. No one. Was he hearing things now? Wouldn't be surprising after the Paradox Wight, the copies, and the fall. Maybe he was still falling. Or maybe his mind became more broken than Marc's after the copies touched him... Well, he didn't feel mad, but again, which madman knew he was? He slammed his hand on the handle, his pursed lips suppressing a grunt. THUNK Locked... Of course, it was. Why were all the doors he tried to open locked? "Told you." A chuckle from the table made Kael shiver. "I'm not mad. Who's talking? Show yourself!" "Well, well. What a feisty little lad we have there. I can't diagnose your mental health, so you might not be mad. But you're surely blind. Look down." Down what? Even if some fool hid under the table, Kael would have seen it. Still, he bent under the table, just as a short shadow vanished behind a stone foot. Frowning, he reached behind the foot. His fingers closed on something hard and hollow, its surface carved with grooves. Maybe a broken piece of the table? Had he been talking to stones? Then he truly went mad... With a sigh, he pul