Chrysalis Chapter 1787 - That’s Just Poor Planning

Is it truly my fault that the Krath tribes opted to construct their hidden village of slugs and slime directly beneath a massive lake of deadly mucus? Absolutely not! Their poor planning decisions are not my responsibility!

If you ask me, it’s an absurdly obvious vulnerability. It wasn’t even difficult to discover. My upgraded Tunnel Map Skill allowed me to see the lake’s surface, a place I had visited not too long ago. I could discern that only a dozen meters of stone separated the chamber ceiling above me from the lake.

One can assume the lake serves as a deterrent against attacks from above. Furthermore, accessing the village from below requires survival within the incredibly toxic environment of the lungs. My guess is that this tribe utilizes those mucus highways to bypass these hazardous routes, making their location rather defensible.

That is, until I position myself close enough to breach the ceiling with a Singularity beam.

Well, my task here is complete. It’s time to make a swift exit!

The sheer intensity and density of the assault being launched against me is utterly excessive. A direct hit from all of that simultaneously would have obliterated me in mere seconds. Wanting no part of such a fate, I pivot my industrial franchise and sprint down the tunnel I excavated, as if pursued by every demon in the third realm.

The reality is, what’s pursuing me is far more dreadful. It’s not merely the barrage from the Krath; if my intuition serves me, that intense rumbling I’m sensing signifies the impending collapse of their hideout’s roof. This event will inevitably unleash the entire lake’s worth of mucus directly upon my current position.

Time to channel my inner ant and flee this place with all haste, Anthony! Perhaps my recent evolution granted me wings after all. At least this time, I can shift the blame to Granin and the others, rather than myself.

Go, go, go, go, go!

Thankfully, my legs have fully regenerated and are now more than capable of propelling me at my maximum velocity. I surge through the confined tunnel, my mandibles frequently catching on the walls as I push and scramble with every ounce of my being.

As I breach the ceiling and plummet into the narrow mucus highway tunnels, I regain my footing, leap upright, and commence a desperate sprint. Close on my heels, a torrent of hyper-dense, lethally potent slime crashes down, instantly corroding and consuming the tunnel floor.

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Yikes! Tilting my head slightly, I observe the opening above me rapidly dissolving and expanding as an ever-increasing volume of mucus cascades through, devouring everything in its path. Attempting to flee downwards would be an act of profound foolishness; I must move laterally, seeking escape from the deluge approaching me. However, this immediate area is unsuitable. These tunnels are certain to be inundated, leaving no doubt in my mind, meaning any attempt to seek refuge here would result in being trapped by my own making.

Nonsense! I intend to put significantly more distance between myself and this danger. To achieve that, however, I must descend slightly first and establish some lateral distance. Consequently, this race is far from concluded.

Run, Anthony! Run as if your magnificent, diamond carapace were at stake!

Because it absolutely is!

With all six legs pumping furiously, I propel myself forward at the fastest pace I can manage, though it remains frustratingly insufficient. Once again, the labyrinthine and constricted tunnels impede my progress, causing me to collide repeatedly with walls, ceilings, and floors as I desperately scramble to advance.

Sludge and mucus are constantly being displaced from the channels and coating my carapace. I must place my trust in the Pure Core to perform its function and prevent any internal corruption from accumulating. Worrying about it now is a luxury I cannot afford, as the majority of my cognitive functions are dedicated to devising an escape strategy. The boundary between tactical brilliance and idiotic demise is perilously thin, and I fear I have skirted its edge far too often recently.

With another headlong plunge, a disorienting fall, and a resounding impact, I finally manage to break free from the Krath’s convoluted tunnels and land in the chamber situated just above the lungs. The massive artery, still pulsing vigorously, is present here. My fervent hope is that it withstands the imminent downpour of mucus without rupturing. The sheer volume coursing through that vessel is beyond comprehension, but if it were to burst… good heavens. It would render the lake I unleashed from above akin to a mere puddle.

Perhaps I need to put more distance between myself and this disaster than I initially anticipated….

Actually… if this colossal artery were to rupture… and the lungs below became choked with an unending tide of mucus… oh dear. This could prove… this could prove catastrophically dire.

Could I have inadvertently triggered an apocalyptic mucus event in the fifth realm?

Surely not. But… well… just in case, I’m going to run like the wind.

Lacking a tunnel map for this wider region, I’ll have to proceed largely on instinct. It’s time to accelerate.

With every fiber of my being, I surge forward, my antennae plastered to my head by the sheer velocity of my sprint. Bursting through an opening into a new passage, I'm met with a startling sight: a swarm of indigenous beasts, their eyes gleaming with hunger, poised to tear into me.

Hah! You think you can catch me, fellas? My objective is escape. RUN!