Resting upon the creature’s tongue like it was a couch, Brock massaged his neck, “I’m… so fucked.”

Ten minutes had passed already, and he was noticing that the air was getting thinner. It was a slow process, but one that was happening, nonetheless. He didn’t truly know the limits of what his body could forget about, but he had a feeling breathing wasn’t one of them.

Cursing again and again, he glanced up to the tortoise’s tightly locked beak, each crag and rugged edge illuminated by the torch built into his new phone. Nothing had worked. He’d tried to punch his way out, both with his fist and Oppressive Might, but he may as well have tried to dig out of prison with a plastic spoon.

It was completely and utterly futile. The constant screaming from his cells didn’t help either.

Perhaps if he had access to his Augments, he might have been able to melt a hole through, since the creature seemed to possess flesh more akin to stone than skin, but he didn’t. He was trapped inside its mouth, his own limited power unable to trump that of an E Grade Tyrant. Well, at least it isn’t trying to bathe me in fire or swallow me or something.

He could still sense Mio above him, prowling atop the creature’s head. Judging from the way its aura had been acting, Brock concluded that the Tyrant must have been hibernating, or doing something similar, as it was yet to react to her presence, let alone his. If you discounted being eaten, that is.

He’d heard that some reptiles and amphibians could essentially reduce themselves to a state of non-death, something like suspended animation back before the System, so it wasn’t too far fetched that the tortoise could do it too. Brock was just surprised it was enough to fool both his aura senses and eyes.

In the entire time he’d been trapped, Mio had yet to do anything substantial. Her aura had reached out and brushed his once, just making sure he was ok, but that was it. He assumed that she was afraid of doing anything that would wake the beast up, as that would probably land them both in deep water.

“I’ve been eaten by a worm and tortoise now,” Brock sighed and glanced down the beast’s throat, a rather stupid plan forming in his head. He was running out of air, “gotta catch em’ all, I guess?”

Cautious, Brock moved his flashlight over to the Tyrant’s throat. The head itself was… massive. It had taken him a few minutes of walking to completely scour along its beak from one cheek to the next. But the throat…

It seemed endless.

White light shone over a tunnel taller and wider than a two-story building, the flesh dripping with slime, but dry like the desert. A vague scent of rot and dirt wafted up from deep within, and eventually, the light tapered back off into darkness. His flashlight only illuminated around ten meters ahead of him, and he suddenly felt so very small.

It’s like… a cave…

Despite all that, he jumped from his position resting upon the tongue, and edged toward the creature’s neck-tunnel. If the mouth wasn’t going to let him go, then what about the other end? While he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the idea, it was all he had. I… yeah, I hate my life.

As he made the final decision and began venturing onward, Mio’s aura reached out and touched his own, conveying confusion and annoyance. She wondered where he was going. He responded with disgust, annoyance, and acceptance. Hopefully, that conveyed his current intentions perfectly. She didn’t reply back, though he could sense her aura fluctuating above.

Brock clicked his tongue and hissed out a breath. She’s either crying for my sacrifice or laughing at it. I’m gonna choose to believe it’s the former.

The further he walked, the stronger the smell got, and above him, he sensed Mio following his position. Accompanying that strengthening stench was the growing fervour of his cells. He could feel thick strands of energy wafted out from the depths, tickling his flesh and driving it mad. It made each second where he couldn’t supply them a moment of immense dissatisfaction.

It was starting to get rather annoying.

It did allow him to discover, however, that whatever energies a Treasure held, it wasn’t aura. He couldn’t see the energy that they emitted, and couldn’t feel traces of Augments either, so it left him stumped. He’d never asked, or even cared up until now, but maybe he’d ask Fon about them later.

A puddle of slime divided his side of the throat and the next, and he leapt over it. Grimacing at the sticky smell it emitted, he continued. After going through all this shit, you better believe I’m taking that Treas-

His phone vibrated in his hand, the rattling sound echoing faintly down the throat of the beast he travelled within. Confused, his eyes flickered down to the screen. A number adorned the top, and it vibrated again. Someone’s… calling me? Mio?

Cocking a brow, he clicked the green ‘accept’ button, and clicked speaker phone. As the speakers crackled and his call connected, Brock continued to scan over the place with the inbuilt flashlight, “Uh… hello?”

“Is this Brock Carter?” the man in question furrowed his brows. The voice was familiar. Adam?

He spared a moment to glance at the screen once again, before he returned his attention to the surroundings. The stench was getting stronger and stronger, to the point where he now felt like the hairs in his nostrils were curling, “Yeah… it is. What’s up?”

The voice coming out crackled a bit but remained understandable. He would have assumed that the reception inside a giant monster would be terrible, but apparently not. Maybe it’s cause aura conductible. I dunno how science works, but I wonder if aura can conduct the signal…

While an uneducated guess, it would certainly go a long way as to explain how he had reception inside the throat of a five hundred meter wide, living island that probably had skin strong enough to resist the power of ballistic missiles. The ridiculousness of it all made Brock chuckle.

“Maxwell’s dead.”

His chuckle caught in his throat and all the humour died instantly, “W… what…?”

On the other end, he heard Adam take a shuddering breath. Idle chatter from the populace seemed to surround him, though it seemed subdued. Hesitant. “This… this monster came, and Maxwell tried to kill him, and... he’s… he’s looking for you, Brock. The monster. He said your name.”

Is he… talking about… Zin? That was his name?

“Did the monster look like a seven-foot-tall demon wearing a white robe, by any chance?”

Silence followed from Adam’s end. Brock furrowed his brows, stepping around another puddle of slime, “Uh… Adam?”

“You met him already, I assume?” his voice was shaky, but he did a good job covering it up.

Brock snorted, resisting the urge to drop the phone and feel at his scarred face. They’d all disappear in a while, but the gravity of it all was yet to leave the wounds, “yeah. You could say that.”

“And…” Adam paused to take another shuddering breath. Brock heard someone attempt to speak with him, but the man shooed them away, whispering ‘later’, “you survived? You’re ok?”

His voice carried immense disbelief. And hope. Brock knew what it was for.

“I survived, dunno about ok. But yeah, Mio saved me. The guy’s still out there.” Brock said wryly. A glob of goop dripped from the roof of the tortoise’s throat, and he frantically stepped out the way. He touched against Mio’s aura above him, confirming that she was till following.

Adam clicked his tongue, the sound echoing down the throat, “Is it possible for us to meet and discuss this matter? I would have called earlier, but we needed to repair New Paris’ radio tower… and I was settling into my new role…”

Leader of Genesis? Brock couldn’t help a smile from crossing his face. While he despised Maxwell, he didn’t wish the man to have died to such a being. Either way, however, he knew that things could only improve after his death, “Congrats man. And I can’t. I’m kinda… indisposed.”

Adam didn’t comment on his congratulations, and instead focused upon the end, “’Indisposed how? Are you still wounded? We have Greens here.”

“Oh, no, no. I think I’m fine for now,” he once again resisted the urge to feel his wounds. His once broken limbs still felt a bit stiff, and like they lacked their earlier finesse, “I’m just in a tortoise.”

“…”

Silence followed, “Adam?”

“You’re… in a tortoise…?”

Brock scratched his shaved head with the edge of the phone, “I mean, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but its accura-”

As the phone returned to his front and continued to illuminate the path ahead, Brock stalled abruptly. Before him, the throat abruptly cut off into a rugged cliff. The light continued onward but failed to illuminate the deep darkness that lay ahead.

The smell of rot and dirt slammed into his face and made him retch. His cells wailed and ached for the Treasure within, “Hey Adam… I’m… uh… gonna have to call you back…”

“Wha…?” Brock pressed the red button and Adam’s voice cut off. He’d definitely call him back later. If he had the location of a Source, he probably knew where some Treasures were too.

Peeking over the abrupt cliff with caution, Brock squinted his eyes, attempting to see past the darkness. This is… its stomach?

Bringing himself into a crouch, he held his phone down over the edge. Just barely, he could see the floor of the stomach, a dozen or so meters away. He eyed the distance sceptically. While he was confident in surviving the fall and coming out unscathed, the glisten of light on fluid convinced him otherwise.

His eyes shifted to the cliff face. It curved slightly down into the base of the stomach, far too sloped to walk down, but enough that scaling it shouldn’t be too difficult. Considering that he only had one hand to do it with, however, he’d need to do it in total darkness. Sighing, Brock shrugged.

I’ve had worse ideas.

Turning off the flashlight and setting himself down the cliff face, his hand grasped the edge as his feet found purchase on the craggy flesh of the Tyrant. Its skin was soft, but stiff under his grip, some parts slimy, while others were dry. It all depended on where he grabbed, it seemed. The stomach tissue reeked of acid and fluids, and Brock’s eyes began to water as he descended.

Finally, though, after a relieved sigh, he tapped down upon the floor and wiped at his tears. While they weren’t blurring his sight – his vision consumed by blackness – they were annoying him. He summoned his phone out from his spatial ring and turned on the light.

The first thing he was met by was the sight of his boots in stomach acid.

“You’re fucking joking,” growling, he removed himself from the puddle, the soles of his worn combat boots beginning to hiss and smoke. One was already charred and barely holding it together back from his fight with Iz’ Takon. Continuing forward, he clicked his tongue, “Why’d I even bother?”

The smell had reached its apex down in the stomach, with Brock feeling like the sickly stench was clinging to his skin. His eyes threatened to tear up but squinting them seemed to do a good job at preventing it. With each step toward what the was certain was the centre of the stomach, his cells cried with renewed vigour.

He was closing in on the Treasur-

“Hagh!” Brock was suddenly beset with racking coughs, and he halted, letting the worst of it pass and wiping the blood that dribbled out from his mouth afterwards. He’d better hurry things up. His blood was almost blacker than oil at this point.

His aura senses spread out, and Brock was relieved to find that no beasts secretly roamed the tortoise’s stomach, having survived being eaten like he had. As he walked past corpses of decaying monsters and mounds of slop that were probably the former at one stage, it all made him wonder if the original purpose of the Treasure in here was to lure creatures in for the Tyrant to eat.

It was an intelligent tactic, Brock supposed. Considering it worked on me…

He walked for a further ten minutes, avoiding corpses, puddles, and what appeared to be ulcers, before he finally happened upon the goal of the venture within the beast; the Treasure. It was magnificent, being reminiscent of a dragon fruit, much like the one he’d seen his Indonesian teacher bring into class back in high school.

The fruit ebbed a soft yellow glow to its surroundings, the only one of its kind upon a willowy tree growing up from a mound of mismatched flesh and bones. Probably melted corpses of several dozen beasts. Brock’s cells were wild at this point, craving the fruit so desperately that he almost lost control of his body for a moment.

Unfortunately for his body, this Treasure wasn’t one to be eaten.

Delicately, Brock reached out and grasped the fruit, feeling its ebbing power rebound up his arm and soothe him in vitality. For a moment, he was trapped in awe. This fruit… was probably the most powerful one he’d found yet. The energy it contained would certainly be enough for at least ten levels worth.

It wasn’t as much as some of the other’s he’d eaten before, like the grapefruit from the Skin Walker den, but as the body levelled further, the amount of energy need seemed to grow exponentially. If he’d eaten that grapefruit now, forget 20 levels, he’d be lucky to get 7.

As his fingers tightened around the fruit and he pulled, a small pop resounded, the stalk of the fruit disconnecting from the plant itself. Quickly, the planet withered and died. Brock’s eyes flared with concern as he gazed at it and the energy beginning to waft up from it. Why’s so much aura rising up off of i-

A deafening boom resounded, shoving him back and showering him in decayed corpse-matter. He felt a shockwave of aura slap into him the next second, just as he landed, and his eyes widened in realisation.

The Tyrant put some kind of alarm on it with aura…

While the strange new application of aura and its implications intrigued him massively, the fact that the aura of the Tyrant flared to wakefulness and a deep shudder overtook its body far shadowed it.

The tortoise was waking up.