Extra Borne: Transmigrated Into A System Apocalypse Soulsborne Novel-Chapter 42 - 40: Darkness Vs Mist (1)

The mist that had once dominated the vast hall began to thin, retreating as though it, too, had succumbed to exhaustion. Slowly, the scene within revealed itself... a tableau of stillness amidst everything.

Agon stood motionless, his body rigid, as Geralt the Ashen Knight loomed before him. The knight’s gauntleted hand was buried deep in Agon’s chest, the metallic sheen of his ash armor streaked with fresh blood. Agon’s mouth parted slightly, a thin stream of crimson trickling from his lips as his life ebbed away with each passing second.

For a moment, time seemed to hold its breath.

The knight’s glowing eyes flickered faintly within the shadow of his helm.

"Pathetic," he said, his voice carrying a calm authority that reverberated throughout the hall. Slowly, deliberately, Geralt withdrew his hand, the wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh accompanying the motion. Blood spilled freely from the gaping wound in Agon’s chest, pooling at his feet in a dark, viscous puddle.

Agon swayed, his legs faltering beneath him. The rage etched onto his face seemed frozen in time, a grim mask of defiance as his knees buckled, and he collapsed. His breaths were ragged, shallow, but even the unrelenting fury within him caused by the seed appeared to waver, faltering as if death itself had begun to drown it.

The Ashen Knight turned, his heavy footfalls echoing as he began to walk away, his posture rigid, his aura unshaken.

But then.

The mist returned...

It seeped from the cracks of the hall, rising in tendrils, swirling and growing thicker by the second. What had been dissipating now surged back, filling the air until it became impossible to see beyond arm’s length.

Geralt stopped in his tracks, his head tilting ever so slightly. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face Agon once more.

And he saw it.

The mist was no longer just an ephemeral cloud. It was alive, crawling, flowing toward Agon with singular purpose. It coiled around him, entering his body through the wound in his chest. The bloodied hole began to close, flesh knitting itself back together under the mist’s influence. What should have been a mortal injury was erased, replaced by a seamless, untouched surface.

Agon remained on his knees, his eyes shut, his expression strangely still despite the chaos that surrounded him.

Geralt’s voice cut through the thick air, measured and calm, yet laced with intrigue. "Wanderer, tell me... how did you remove the seed from your subconscious? I no longer see it within you."

Agon did not respond immediately. He rose to his feet with a deliberate slowness, his movements almost mechanical. His eyes remained closed, but his presence felt heavier, as though the hall itself bowed beneath it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, detached, devoid of any emotion. "I didn’t remove the seed."

The knight’s glowing eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of curiosity breaking through his stoic facade.

"It’s still there," Agon continued, his tone carrying an unsettling calm.

Geralt’s helm tilted slightly as if in recognition. "You’ve found a way to shut it out," he said. "To silence your emotions, your thoughts, your very essence." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "You’ve Evolved."

The mist surrounding Agon shifted, its movements now unnatural, as though responding to his will.

After a long silence, Agon spoke again, his words resonating with a heavy weight. "That’s the law of this world."

He paused, and for a fleeting moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath.

"Evolve," he said, his voice dipping into a deep, reverberating tone, "or Die...."

Agon’s eyes snapped open.

Twin streaks of blood trailed from the corners of his eyes, flowing downward like tears but leaving behind no sign of sorrow. They seemed to paint his face with something other than grief, something that could neither be named nor understood.

The Ashen Knight watched in silence, the glow in his eyes flickering as though unsettled.

Then came the mist.

It surged anew from Agon’s body, no longer the familiar pale gray but tinged with streaks of green and darker hues. Unlike the Ashen Knight’s aura, which writhed with hunger and grief, Agon’s mist was still, unnervingly calm, yet suffocating in its weight.

The colors swirled together, forming a silent storm around him.

"I’ll make your death painless this time, Wanderer," Geralt said, the dark energy radiating from him intensifying. It spread across the hall, a living darkness that consumed everything in its path.

Agon said nothing at first.

Then, in a voice as cold as the void, he replied. "Same."

The mist expanded, swallowing the hall in its entirety, its green and gray hues blending into an impenetrable wall of silence.

The air trembled.

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The hall itself shuddered under the weight of their presence, the boundaries between void and something far darker blurring.

In a blur of motion, Geralt the Ashen Knight lunged forward, his fist cloaked in dark energy as it tore through Agon, only to meet with empty mist. The form dissolved instantly, dissipating into the air like smoke caught in a gale.

It wasn’t Agon.

Before Geralt could fully process the deception, he instinctively twisted his body, dodging a razor-sharp arc of mist slicing through the air toward him. The attack collided with a stone pillar behind him, carving through its surface like a blade through flesh.

In the distance, Agon stood with his mist sword raised, the pulsing weapon dissipating only to reform moments later as another energy-laden slash hurtled toward the Ashen Knight. Geralt raised his arm, summoning a barrier of dark energy. The mist slash collided with the shield, dissipating on impact but leaving faint cracks in the air where the energies clashed.

Agon let his mist sword dematerialize once more, his form becoming a blur as he charged directly at Geralt. The Ashen Knight’s helm tilted ever so slightly, his voice cold and steady.

"You never learn, do you?"

In an instant, Geralt dashed forward to meet him, the ground beneath his feet erupting in sparks of dark energy.

BAM!

Their fists collided, the impact reverberating through the vast hall like a thunderclap. Agon twisted, narrowly avoiding a follow-up punch brimming with dark energy, and retaliated with a strike of his own. Mist erupted from his fist on contact, the force propelling the Ashen Knight backward.

Before Geralt could regain his footing, another Agon appeared... a perfect mist clone, and together, they launched a relentless barrage of punches, each blow infused with swirling mist. The strikes came with force, but Geralt blocked them all, his armor absorbing the brunt of the attacks.

He grabbed one Agon by the neck, his grip tightening until the form crumbled into mist.

Another deception.

BAM!

A punch landed squarely on Geralt’s helm, the force sending him hurtling upward, his armored form spinning mid-air. Before he could stabilize, a third Agon materialized on the ground, this one materialized a bow. The clone drew back the bowstring, an arrow forming in its grasp... a swirling vortex of blue energy interwoven with the dense gray mist.

The arrow was released.

It tore through the air with a speed that seemed to defy sound itself, a streak of light in the dim hall. It struck Geralt just as he began to descend, detonating with a deafening explosion that shook the very foundations of the hall.

The walls groaned under the force, cracks spidering across the vast hall as debris rained down. For a moment, the entire space was consumed by a cloud of dust and the echoing roar of destruction.

As the dust began to settle, Geralt’s form emerged, sprawled on the ground. His armor, though marked by faint scorch lines, remained unbroken, an impenetrable fortress against even the most devastating of attacks.

Agon and his clone stood a short distance away, their gazes fixed on the knight. Agon’s expression was calm, his voice even.

"Get up."

Geralt stirred. His hand twitched, a subtle flinch that quickly grew into a deliberate motion as he rose, first to one knee, then to his full height. He exuded an unshaken air, his glowing eyes fixed on Agon.

"I underestimated you, Wanderer," he admitted, his tone carrying a weight that matched the darkness around him.

The hall trembled violently. The faint light that had clung to the edges of the chamber was swallowed entirely, leaving only an oppressive void. Darkness writhed like living things, converging toward Geralt as if summoned.

"I will take this a little seriously now," Geralt declared, stretching a hand toward the ground.

From the darkened floor, a vortex of energy began to spiral outward, coalescing into a singular form. Slowly, a weapon emerged... a rounded blade, its edges jagged and sharp, its surface an abyssal black that seemed to drink in the very light around it. The weapon pulsed with an unearthly dark energy, as if it were the embodiment of the darkness itself.

But it was not the only thing to rise.

From the surrounding darkness, another shape began to take form. The darkness swirled and condensed, molding itself into the figure of a beast. Its silhouette was massive, its movements fluid yet unnervingly calm. When the shape solidified, it stood beside Geralt... a giant lion like creature forged entirely from darkness, its fur an impenetrable void, its glowing blue eyes locked onto Agon with predatory intent.

The hall fell silent.

"0924," Geralt intoned, his voice reverberating with a finality that seemed to shake the air.

He leveled the rounded blade at Agon, the weapon seeming to hum with anticipation. The beast beside him crouched and growled, its muscles coiled like a spring, ready to pounce.

"Your wandering ends... here."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as the battle between darkness and mist

Has Just Merely Begun.....