Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 65: No Path to Escape

After that, Ondine the Rivernyx had slipped back beneath the surface, but not before summoning Élisa forward into the water... and without a word, the elf had obeyed — stepping in without even bothering to undress.

The water rippled around her like a whirlpool, wrapping her in a silent embrace, then pulled her toward the creature who waited, motionless.

The Rivernyx gently touched the elf’s shaved head and did something neither Dylan nor Maggie could quite make out — but whatever it was, it made Élisa shudder.

Then the creature removed a large silver bracelet from her own arm and handed it to the elf.

"I wanted to offer you at least some encouragement," she said, her voice a dying ripple, before turning away and vanishing once more into the depths.

"Wait! Lady Ondine..." cried Élisa, trying to dive after her.

But the current pushed her back — hard — ejecting her from the water like an invisible hand. And just as suddenly, the Rivernyx emerged again, her presence as smooth and cold as a blade drawn from dark water.

"What is it, young one?" she asked, her voice calm but coiled.

"Please... bless our weapons," Élisa pleaded, hands trembling. "They’re just... metal. They might not survive the next fight."

The Rivernyx remained still, half-submerged, the murky water lapping at her throat. Her eyes narrowed—not in irritation, but as if weighing something ancient. Something sacred. Something she hadn’t done in a very, very long time.

"You ask a lot," she murmured.

Her hand rose, slow as fog creeping between tombstones. She extended two long, webbed fingers—faintly iridescent—toward Élisa’s chest.

"I cannot bless your steel," she finally declared. "Blessings belong to the gods. I am but mud and memory."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Élisa’s face.

"But," Ondine continued, "I can offer... something else."

She pointed to the elf’s satchel, still soaked from her fall into the water.

"Bring me a blade."

Élisa didn’t hesitate. She snatched the axe from Maggie’s hands—simple steel, nothing ornate, its grip worn from use—and offered it with both hands, head bowed.

Ondine took the weapon with unexpected delicacy. Then, slowly, she sank beneath the surface, the axe in hand.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Dylan’s heart pounded in his chest. The water had gone eerily still—like the breath held before a scream.

Then the surface broke.

The Rivernyx emerged, holding the blade. But it had changed.

The metal shimmered faintly. Not with light, but with shadow—an oily glow, uneasy, shifting like smoke trapped in crystal.

She handed it to Élisa, who received it with reverence.

"It is now bound to my mark," the creature whispered. "I have sharpened its edge and strengthened its core. It will endure... and cut through third-tier creatures."

Élisa clutched the axe to her chest, as if holding a burning secret. Then, without a word, she turned to her companions. Her gaze met Dylan’s—tense, but gleaming with something he hadn’t seen before.

"Give me your daggers," she said simply.

Maggie, caught off guard, took a moment to react. Then she nodded and unfastened the two black-handled blades she wore crossed at her hips, offering them hilt-first. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"And the machete too," Élisa added, glancing at Dylan.

He hesitated. His hand tightened on the hilt, as if some part of him didn’t want to let it go. Then he sighed and handed it over.

Élisa turned back to the Rivernyx, three weapons in her hands.

"May I ask... that you do the same for these?" she said softly—humble, but firm.

The creature stared at them without a word. Silence settled, heavy, like a quiet judgment.

"You test my patience," she said at last, voice tired. "But I understand. It is your nature—to always want more."

Her clawed fingers stretched out again. Élisa placed the weapons carefully into her palms.

"What I do is not a blessing," she murmured, almost to herself. "It is an anchoring. Consider it a debt."

Without another word, she disappeared beneath the surface.

This time, they had to wait longer.

The water stayed frozen. Even the wind seemed to have withdrawn.

Dylan felt a cold sweat trail down his spine.

When the Rivernyx surfaced again, her arms looked heavier. The shadow clinging to the blades was thicker now—almost viscous.

She handed them back to Élisa one by one, who took them in silence.

"These weapons now carry a trace of me. As long as they remain in your hands, they will cut beyond flesh."

She looked at Maggie.

"But don’t rely on it. This power is temporary. It feeds on your will... and your essence."

Then she turned to Dylan, her black eyes gleaming with an odd light.

"And you..." she whispered. "You’ll feel it when she gets closer. The blades will tremble. And then... you’ll know."

Dylan nodded slowly, his throat tight.

The Rivernyx sank below for the last time. No farewell. Not a ripple. As if she had never been there at all.

Only the weapons remained. And that strange new weight. A promise of death.

Dylan stood there, staring into the void, as if searching for answers.

The water was calm now. No danger left in it.

But the thrill from earlier... was gone.

---

The way back didn’t feel as long. Maybe it was because of the silence that hung between them — a strange tension, not hostile, just... dense. As if each of them carried something fragile between their ribs.

They didn’t notice time passing.

They reached the entrance of the cave in what felt like a blink. The campfire, left unattended, had long since died out. Wordlessly, they set to work to revive the flames. Soon, tongues of fire were once again dancing along the damp cave walls, casting soft, flickering shadows.

The atmosphere was morbid. Only the crackling of wood and the distant songs of nocturnal creatures broke the silence. The world around them kept spinning, indifferent.

Dylan, Maggie, and Élisa sat in a circle around the fire. No one spoke. Their faces were locked in that strange expression — not quite fear, not quite relief. More like a quiet hesitance, a drift between the need to speak... and the desire to stay silent.

It was Maggie who finally broke the balance:

"In the end... it all comes down to one thing, doesn’t it?"

Dylan nodded slowly, eyes lost in the flames.

"It’s like the world’s screaming at us not to stay weak..."

Élisa didn’t move. Stiff as a drawn wire. Her hands still rested on the axe, her pupils drowned in the fire’s reflection.

"It’s not that I’m against becoming stronger," she finally said. Her voice was deeper now. Slower. "It’s just... this obsession the universe has with making us flirt with death to get there."

Silence.

Then Dylan, barely more than a whisper:

"So we’ve got no choice, huh? We get stronger. Whether we want to or not."