Extra Borne: Transmigrated Into A System Apocalypse Soulsborne Novel-Chapter 71 - 69: Threads of Grief

"Aaaaargh!"

My grieving scream tore through the empty space, raw and guttural, but it didn’t matter. The grief wasn’t something I could outcry, couldn’t outthink. It was a force beyond comprehension, a tide that surged through every fiber of my being. It clawed at my flesh, my mind, my soul, until all that was left of me was a trembling husk pressed to the ground beneath an unbearable weight.

The air around me felt like lead. The grieving gravity crushed down harder and harder, as if Alter Yadred was trying to grind me into the very fabric of this forsaken space. My body wasn’t mine anymore. No matter how much I fought, how much I willed myself to move, the weight pinned me like a forgotten insect beneath a massive, uncaring thumb.

Crack.

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The sound rang out like a death knell, echoing in the emptiness.

I forced my eyes downward, though even that took monumental effort. The pitch black floor beneath me... if you could call it that.. had begun to fracture. Splinters of nothingness spidered out in every direction, as if the very space I was bound to was crumbling under the oppressive weight.

Crack.

Another fissure. The pressure surged, and for a moment, I thought my spine would snap. My vision blurred, stars blooming at the edges of my sight as my consciousness wavered.

It was endless. There was no escape. No reprieve.

But then, suddenly, it stopped.

The weight lifted so abruptly that I gasped, choking on the grieving void-like air that filled my lungs. My body felt hollow, like a marionette with its strings cut. My limbs trembled uncontrollably, and I wasn’t sure if it was from relief or the lingering aftershock of the grief that had pressed me to the brink of destruction.

My mind… my mind felt numb.

Like a smoldering ember suddenly dunked into ice-cold water.

I lay there for what felt like an eternity, sprawled across the fractured surface. Slowly, my vision cleared, and I saw the cracks beneath me beginning to knit themselves back together. The empty expanse reformed, erasing the evidence of my suffering as if it had never happened.

"Get up."

The voice was calm, measured, yet it sliced through me like a grieving blade. Alter Yadred’s tone wasn’t mocking, wasn’t cruel. It was almost… indifferent. As if commanding me to rise wasn’t a challenge, but an inevitability.

I pushed my hands against the ground, my arms trembling under the strain, my blood biting me from the inside. Every movement felt sluggish, weighed down by the lingering echoes of his power. My knees buckled as I forced myself upright, the act of standing feeling like a battle all on its own.

My breathing was ragged, my chest heaving as I finally managed to face him. Alter Yadred stood motionless, his massive frame wreathed in that oppressive, grieving aura. His hollow, blue-burning eyes locked onto me, dissecting me, judging me.

I didn’t dare move.

But he did.

Slowly, he raised a single hand, the motion deliberate. I flinched, instinct screaming at me to prepare, to do something. But my body wouldn’t respond. It was like every cell in me was bound by invisible chains, shackled by the sheer presence of his grieving aura.

Then the air around him began to shift.

The oppressive atmosphere grew heavier, darker, as if the empty space itself was mourning. Wisps of grieving darkness coalesced into wraith-like figures, their forms twisted and broken, their faces locked in silent screams.

They circled him, their movements jerky, unnatural, like puppets pulled by grieving strings. Their hollow eyes burned with the same despair that filled the space, and as they turned their gaze to me, I felt their sorrow invade my mind.

"Grief takes many forms," Alter Yadred said, his voice a deep, sounding echo. "But you will face them all."

The wraiths surged forward, their wails rising into an unholy crescendo. I barely had time to react before the first one reached me, its clawed hand slicing through the air.

I twisted, narrowly avoiding the blow, and materialize my Mist Sword in an instant. The blade shimmered weakly, its edges flickering dimly as if it, too, was buckling under the weight of this place.

I struggled to swing it in a wide arc, the mist trailing behind like a ribbon. The blade struck one of the wraiths, cutting through its form

Or so I thought.

The creature didn’t falter. Instead, it absorbed the blow, the mist dissipating into its body like smoke. And then it retaliated, its claws slashing across my chest.

Pain exploded through me as the strike tore through both my flesh and my spirit. It wasn’t just a wound... it was grief, raw and unrelenting, sinking into me like a barbed hook.

I staggered back, clutching at my chest. The grieving wound pulsed with a dark, sickly energy, sapping my strength with every passing second.

The wraiths didn’t stop. They kept coming, their forms twisting and shifting as they closed in. I fought back, swinging my Mist Sword desperately, but it was useless. Every strike, every forced effort, was swallowed by their overwhelming despair.

"Is this all you have?" Alter Yadred’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and unimpressed. "A fleeting struggle, easily drowned by the tide."

I clenched my teeth, rage flaring through the fog of grief. I lunged forward, dissolving into mist, trying to outmaneuver the wraiths. For a moment, I thought I had an opening, a chance to strike...

But then I felt it.

A force, unseen but undeniable, dragging me back into my physical form.

I materialized mid-air, only to be slammed to the ground by an invisible weight. The grieving gravity returned, tenfold, pinning me with a force that threatened to crush me entirely.

"Aaaaargh!"

The scream tore from my throat as the weight pressed down, relentless and unyielding. My body convulsed, my limbs trembling as I tried.. and failed to rise.

"You will break," Alter Yadred said, stepping closer. " I’ll make sure of it. "

I felt my strength fading, my vision blurring. But as I looked up at him, at the towering figure wreathed in sorrow, I saw my reflection faintly in the grieving blade of his massive sword.

My dark gray hair, once streaked with the faintest hints of life, was now almost completely gray.

And yet, the suffering wasn’t over.

Not yet....