Chrysalis Chapter 1768 - Titans Fight Briefly

Fighting other massive beasts isn’t straightforward. The deeper I dive into these clashes, the clearer it becomes how clumsy they feel. After all, our extreme mutations and bizarre, arcane organs mean chaos can strike anytime. Over-the-top damage bursts? Check. Nuts levels of toughness and recovery? Definitely! Weird agility out of nowhere? Bring it on!

This makes such battles unfold in one of two directions. We either smash together brutally, one overpowering the rest for a rapid end, or it drags into a nail-biting standoff, both sides reluctant to strike first.

I’ve started appreciating both flavors of these showdowns. A quick, fierce brawl saves precious time for everyone’s schedule, while a prolonged tactical duel sparks the neurons and hammers the heart.

Right now, one glance at my foe tells me I’d much rather it disappear from view forever.

Imagine the gunk from a clogged nose springing to monstrous life—this is exactly that. Translucent patches mix with yellow and green streaks, leaving me unsure if it’s a slug, a slime, or a jiggling blob of snot.

No matter the label, I have zero interest in a drawn-out mind game with this horror; I just need it erased. Prolonged fights are my wheelhouse, but facing something this repulsive, I’ll roll the dice. Plus, who can predict the nightmares it might unleash given time? The air nearby buzzes with rot and illness, and a close look reveals its body riddled with parasites.

Nope. Hating every second of this.

It’s not blazing fast, but I wouldn’t label my enemy sluggish. It flops end over end, not truly rolling, more like a wave cresting, swelling up before slopping ahead and repeating. Twin eyestalks poke from the sludge now and then, eyes locked on me as it nears.

A precise scan of its core shows this thing as tier seven, and a potent one at that. Unless it’s capped the tier fully, it’s teetering right on the edge.

Could this be the neighborhood boss the Krath dragged in, or their own twisted creation? Doesn’t matter—it has to go down.

Mandibles gaping wide, I fire off a gravity bomb, the spell roaring forth down the tunnel. Altar-boosted, fingers crossed it’ll vaporize the threat before it closes in. Shockingly, the beast barely flinches, contracting like a deep breath before spewing a thick wad of poisonous slime.

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Hey! No fair! Wrapping up fights with a packed sphere of custom mana is supposed to be my move.

As the two—technically gravity bombs—collide, black hole crashing into mucus turns predictably grotesque. The mucus-drenched, tainted air hampers it, so my bomb can’t break through to strike true. When the haze clears, it’s surged forward substantially, closing in relentlessly.

No clue why, but this beast is dead set on battling right here, my superior tier be damned.

Now nearer, I feel the power building within it, another goop orb readied for hurling or shielding. Ugh, getting up close was the last thing I wanted….

Legs coiled tight, I drop low, then explode forward, Altar fueling the burst. The thrust wracks my muscles and ligaments with agony, antennae slapping my shell from the insane speed relative to my bulk. Crystal eyes cope with the rush far better than old meaty ones, vision sharp as I arrive dead ahead of the monster.

It counters fast, rearing high as if to swallow me whole. A gaping mouth pushes from the pile, belching fumes so caustic they begin corroding my carapace.

Not today!

I charge in, mandibles snapping into its squelchy body. Instantly, fierce acid sears them while countless parasites inside lunge to grab hold.

Desperate for a fast kill, I activate my trump card: mana injection.

My thoughts hum as I flood the beast with ultra-compressed gravitational mana, a deluge straight from the gland into its core.

It senses my plan the instant I begin, but its forward rush traps it, retreat near impossible. Every split-second pumps more energy through my jaws into the foe for my minds to seize.

Controlling mana inside another living thing is no picnic. Truth be told, it’s outright impossible. Mana belonging to someone else stays locked away. It’s theirs.

Unless, naturally, it’s owned by me.

My own mana? I can wrangle it, tough as it is, though the hold fades quick. Good news: a bit of setup means I don’t require long.

Timing it perfectly at peak density, I unleash my mental constructs’ might, compressing until it implodes inward.

Seconds tick by—a gravity bomb takes shape! Minuscule, nowhere near my usual scale. Honestly, no idea when I last made one this puny.

But size won’t save it long-term. A gravity bomb igniting inside its form offers slim protection. I spring back, wrenching mandibles free as it thrashes and wails mutely to no effect. Moments later, it caves in, splattering across the tunnel floor, parasites bailing into the surrounding sludge.

Flames lick my mandibles to scorch off the gunk. Disgusting.