The Oracle Paths

Chapter 1240: Recess Is Over

Considering how filthy and ramshackle the surface dwellings were, it was hard to say this cell wasn’t actually an upgrade—borderline luxury by Duskwight Lands standards. It wasn’t a real prison, though. It felt more like an experimental chamber.

That said, the way their “test subject” had been treated was enough to make the two teens’ stomachs turn.

The wall behind Peter looked almost futuristic at first glance. But a closer look revealed engraved lines running across the stone, metallic modules embedded directly into the surface as if they were part of the architecture itself.

Peter was slumped against that very wall.

Emaciated. Filthy. His old emo look nothing more than a distant memory.

He was caked in dried fluids and chemical residue so rancid it took everything Tim and Lily had not to gag. The air was thick with lingering fumes, enough to make their eyes water despite their high stats. Just imagining what their junkie friend had been pumping through his system for who knew how long was nauseating.

Then they noticed the translucent tubes.

They extended straight out of the metallic modules behind him, piercing into his arms… and two more disappeared beneath the skin of his back.

Colored traces of liquid still lingered inside the conduits.

At Lily’s stunned gasp, the familiar prisoner jerked his head up sluggishly. His gaze was unfocused, hazy—like he was still riding something.

Given how the tubes trembled slightly with each movement, they probably weren’t fully dry yet.

The moment he saw them, his yellow eyes—split pupils unmistakable—lit up. A grin cracked across his gaunt face.

“So?” he asked, voice vibrating with excitement. “What’s on the menu today?”

He shifted slightly, testing the restraints without really trying to break them.

“What are we going with? The one that melts your nerves? Or that new one that had me tripping through multiple futures? If I’m being honest, the one that makes you feel like you’re suddenly a fucking genius? That one slapped. Seriously. That one had potential.”

Instead of answering, Tim grabbed one of the bars with one hand. And ripped.

Metal screamed. Stone cracked. He tore the entire door and its frame straight out of the wall like it was cardboard.

Peter blinked, mildly confused. The smile stayed.

“Oh. New staff? You guys expanding the team? Nice. I like variety.”

Lily stood frozen.

The tubes buried in his veins. The pupils too wide. He didn’t look like a prisoner. He looked like a guy waiting for his order.

“You’re the only prisoner here,” Tim said flatly.

Peter made a theatrical pout.

“Oh…”

He sighed dramatically.

“Been a while since I was the only one left alive.” He tilted his head slightly toward empty space to his right. “I liked talking to Hiri. Shame… Haven’t heard him in a few days, though…”

He shrugged.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to myself.”

His eyes shimmered with something unstable.

“Actually… sometimes I still hear him. But I think that’s just the high. When it starts flowing through there…” He tilted his chin toward the tubes.

A soft chuckle.

“I ramble a bit.”

He studied them more carefully now. Their empty hands. No capsules. No injection system primed. His smile faltered for half a second.

“Wait…” He tilted his head, wary now. “If you’re not here to inject me with something…”

A pause.

“Then what are you here for?”

Tim’s eye twitched. He raised a finger and jabbed it toward his own face.

“What? Are you serious right now? You don’t even recognize me?”

Peter blinked again, still half-floating. Tim stepped forward.

“Fuck, I even bought your overpriced crap before… And I sold you my own blood when I needed one of your services. You don’t remember that?”

Silence.

Lily turned slightly toward Tim, surprised. What service was he talking about?

How Peter Brady sourced his merchandise had always been a mystery. Rumor had it it had something to do not only with his Thousand-Poison Hydra Bloodline, but also with his Soul Class—Dealer. The same Soul Class could manifest completely different abilities depending on the user, and the addict’s version was said to be one of a kind. Or maybe that was another skill entirely.

Peter remained still. His hazy gaze flickered. He blinked again—this time without smiling.

He studied Tim’s face more closely.

The features. The jawline. The eyes.

Something clicked.

His pupils tightened. The fog receded just enough. His eyes widened.

“…Timmy?” He stared at him. Then let out a long breath.

Not joy, not relief. Just a faintly disappointed look.

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Guess recess is over.”

He let his head fall back against the wall, the tubes squealing softly with the movement.

“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is… You’re not here to rescue me, are you?”

Tim stood there, completely thrown off. They hadn’t expected gratitude from the junkie. But at least a little excitement at the idea of getting out of here.

Not this.

Peter watched the silence stretch, then reluctantly shrugged.

“Well then… you might as well unhook me.” He tugged lightly at the restraints, almost casual. “Since you’re here and all.”

Lily was speechless.

“You look… disappointed,” she said before she could stop herself. She rarely interacted with him—her father Daniel had forbidden her from getting close to the addict because of his “bad influence.”

Peter smirked faintly.

“Let’s just say I was on a roll.”

Tim snorted.

“On a roll?”

To understand that, you had to understand the context.

During Jake’s absence between the Fourth and Fifth Ordeal—an absence that had stretched into a four-year gap—the faction had been forced to fend for itself.

And Peter Brady had smelled opportunity.

He built a market. Not some back-alley side hustle. A real system.

Blood essences. Bloodline residues. Rare samples. Extractions—some legal, some not exactly. He supplied what others didn’t even dare ask for.

He’d managed to acquire the blood essence of almost everyone in the faction.

Including Jake. A feat that, in theory, should have been impossible.

Peter had become indispensable. The Myrtharian Nerds called him “the Dealer,” and for once the nickname actually fit. Through him, they could obtain things that should’ve been unattainable—at a price, sure, but still cheaper than the Oracle Store for a comparable item. And some things didn’t just cost money.

Some things simply had no market.

Like Jake’s bloodline.

Getting a sample from when Jake had still been a Myrtharian was one thing. But Peter even had Cosmic D Starfeyrves in his inventory.

No one had the faintest idea how he pulled it off.

If Jake ever found out… who knew how he’d react? As far as he was concerned, he’d never lost a single drop of blood that the addict could’ve gotten his hands on.

And now…

The man in question was hooked to a wall, disappointed that he could no longer be tortured as a test subject.

Back to the present. Peter shrugged.

“You know how it is, Timmy. Good opportunities to get stronger? You don’t pass those up.”

He tilted his head slightly toward the tubes embedded in his skin.

“At first it sucked. I’ll admit it. Test subject and all that… not exactly fun.” He glanced upward, like replaying the memory. “But then they started testing all kinds of substances on me, and wow… it turned into paradise. I’d never gotten that high while progressing that fast.”

He looked up at the injection module above him.

“You have no idea what they pumped into me. Enchanted poisons. Unstable blends. Cocktails that should’ve killed me ten times over. It was incredible…”

He exhaled lightly.

“So yeah, honestly? I’m a little disappointed.”

A quiet laugh slipped out. He clicked his tongue.

“I still had two or three recipes I wanted to try… what a waste.”

Tim’s jaw tightened. Eventually, a teasing smirk tugged at his lips.

“You’re gonna be waiting a while. They’re all fighting for their lives on the surface. By the time we climb those stairs, your jailers and torturers will probably be dead. Whatever they tested on you can’t be that revolutionary if they’re not using it in combat.”

Peter froze.

The euphoria cracked.

“What? It’s over?”

As the reality sank in, agitation rippled through him.

“Ah, fuck!”

He jerked upright, the tubes pulling tight against his skin. His face twisted—not in pain, but pure frustration.

“Well then… what the hell am I still doing here?”

Before Lily or Tim could answer, Peter straightened fully. He rolled his shoulders once. Then pulled.

A sharp crack split the air.

The next instant, the wall fractured. The embedded restraints shattered with a brutal snap. The entire metal block tore free from the stone in a spray of white debris. The injection modules exploded apart, tubes ripping from his veins with a wet, tearing sound.

Blood spilled down his arms. Peter didn’t even seem to notice.

He flicked his wrist, yanking the last conduit from beneath his skin. Then he looked at them. Completely relaxed.

“Alright. What are we waiting for? Where we headed? Where’s the exit?”

Lily stood frozen, struggling to process that personality. She understood her father’s warnings a little better now.

For a split second, she considered asking why he’d endured all that if he could’ve escaped whenever he wanted. Then she swallowed the question.

Tim, far more used to the guy, simply turned toward the corridor. And started walking.

Lily followed.

Peter trailed after them lightly, then stopped abruptly after barely two steps.

“Ah. Hold up.”

He raised one finger. A thin, shimmering filament formed at its tip. Iridescent liquid pulsed—green bleeding into violet—then vanished in a blur.

A translucent hydra head manifested several meters away, forged from condensed toxins. Its jaws opened soundlessly as it shot out of the prison and into a supposedly empty adjacent building. Tim’s mental sense hadn’t detected a single presence.

A muffled scream echoed from inside.

The hydra surged through the doorway of a room Tim and Lily had skipped. Somehow, something in there had masked itself well enough to fool even their vigilance.

The moment the serpentine construct found its target, it bit straight into the man’s throat.

Venom flooded in.

A figure was dragged from the shadows, lifted into the air, feet kicking uselessly, then hauled back in front of the trio. Darkness spread beneath his skin. His veins blackened instantly.

He tried to scream. His jaw warped. His body contorted violently—

Then went rigid.

Dead.

A heartbeat later, he disintegrated into fine, colored dust.

Lily clutched Tim’s arm without realizing it. This guy was terrifying.

“W-who was that?” she stammered.

Peter barely glanced at where the body had been.

“The prison’s warden.” He clicked his tongue. “Nice guy.”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“Then why’d you kill him?”

A faintly cruel smile curved Peter’s lips.

“He was a nice guy.”

Another beat.

“But he killed Hiri.”

No emotion. Just a statement. Then, without missing a beat, Peter turned away.

“Give me two seconds.”

He hurried toward the inner garden attached to the lab, movements quick and almost feverish. Without hesitation, he began methodically ripping up toxic herbs, dark-rooted plants, flowers with nearly translucent petals. He moved like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“That one’s important. So’s that. And definitely this.” He talked as he harvested. “You have no idea what these are worth. Some of these, if you macerate them right… pure blessing.”

Lily stared at him, stunned.

“We don’t have time—”

“Yes, we do. Two minutes.”

He stuffed everything into an improvised sack, hands almost trembling with excitement. Finally, he straightened.

“Alright. Now we can go.”

The trio headed for the staircase, glad to leave the empty, unsettling place behind. Well. The two teens were.

As they climbed the first steps, Peter slowed. He cast one last unreadable look over his shoulder.

The cell. The torn wall. The silent laboratory.

A faint, nostalgic smile touched his lips.

“I’m almost gonna miss it.”

Then he shrugged and continued upward. The trio disappeared into the stairwell.

Silence settled.

At the center of the sanctuary, the chryselephantine statue stood motionless. For several long seconds.

Then—

Its eyes moved.

Abruptly.

As if awakening from deep stasis, a blinding light flared through its sculpted pupils. An ancient, low voice resonated through the empty chamber.

“So little time since my last awakening… and the world has already deteriorated to this extent.”

A subtle tremor rippled through the engraved lines in the stone.

“It seems I will not have long to wait before I must manifest once more.”

The sanctuary fell still again. As if nothing had happened.

Except—

The statue of Klayr was gone.

For those unfamiliar with the term, chryselephantine simply refers to a statue made of gold and ivory, typically with the skin carved from ivory and the garments crafted in gold.

We’re done with Tim for now. Two more POVs remain in the next chapter before we shift back to Jake and the battles that will carry us into the final stretch.