Chapter 155: Killing Intent at a Hundred Meters per Second

From a purely conceptual standpoint, you could definitely say that Ctarrnid of the Abyss possesses abilities that completely isolate it from the other Unique Monsters.
It's not that Wethermon, who froze the time of the world itself—even if localized—including his own "death," or Lycaon, who merges with the darkness of the night to create an endless swarm of clones, are lacking in power as Unique Monsters.

But this entity known as Ctarrnid restores a completely destroyed city with the same casual ease as someone rewinding a video to re-watch an interesting scene. Like flipping a power switch, it effortlessly warps life, death, and the very concept of existence itself.
It isn't a matter of being strong or weak, it's just pure, unadulterated unreasonableness. Just as a fighting game character isn't allowed to fight past the time limit, and just as an RPG final boss cannot escape its narrative role... It's a completely unavoidable unreasonableness that feels like it's directly interfering with the game system itself—that is the Unique Monster, Ctarrnid of the Abyss.

However, that's strictly a limited form of despair based purely on viewing its raw specs. As long as Shangri-La Frontier is a video game, and as long as the battle against Ctarrnid exists as a scenario, there will always be a loophole.
I don't hate puzzle-solving games, though there are definitely Trash Games out there that pull the "Go get the key from the other tower to open this door (and I'll only tell you that after locking you in)" stunt. Setting aside the fervent hope that this scenario isn't one of those...

"There was just a tiiiny little something I wanted to investigate."

The Arctus Regalecus that just got turned into the Dual-Attribute Orca's dinner—and subsequently a drop item that warmed up my pockets... During my 1v1 against the other individual in broad daylight, I bore witness to the immensely powerful reality-warping abilities granted to the entity known as Ctarrnid with my own two eyes.
I'll admit, it's certainly impressive. But since this is a video game, "Field Resets" aren't actually that unusual of a mechanic. To take it to the extreme, games where the entire field repairs itself just by walking into a random house and stepping back out exist everywhere, regardless of whether they are Trash, Average, or Masterpiece games.

If that's the case, Question 1: What exactly are the trigger conditions for Ctarrnid of the Abyss's field reset?
Moving on to Question 2: Just how massive of a scale can this city actually be destroyed on?
And finally, Question 3: Just how strong are these "Sealed Generals"?

"I'm going to push the absolute limits of thorough destruction... By using the Dual-Attribute Orca!!"

Leaping across rooftops, desperately maintaining my distance from the Dual-Attribute Orca while relentlessly darting around... yes, orchestrating a perfectly exquisite level of annoyance that makes you instinctively want to crush whatever's doing it, I drag the Dual-Attribute Orca along as I sprint toward my destination: one of the four towers located at the corners of this city, where the four Sealed Generals supposedly reside.

A nasty bzzzt-bzzzt sound crackles from behind me. In a panic, I increase my running speed and dive off the roof, and in the exact moment I do, a violent spark and the sound of collapsing buildings erupts right behind me, creating the illusion of having my back violently slapped.

"Whoops, whoa, whoa... That was close!"

The collapsing debris turns into a landslide, completely polluting the road where I intended to land. I touch down on a foothold undergoing dizzyingly unstable shifts, then, sensing the presence of an absolutely massive mass closing in from behind, I activate various skills, leap again, and use the wall and the cascading rubble as footholds to launch myself back onto the rooftops.
A split second later, acting like it was slicing through pudding, the crystalline wings extending from the Dual-Attribute Orca's pectoral fins pass straight through the exact spot I had just been standing, effortlessly cleaving through a sheer mass of earth and sand that could have crushed a person to death just by falling on them.

"...Incredible."

I'm not talking about the Dual-Attribute Orca's firepower. It's a guaranteed one-way ticket to the afterlife whether I get bitten, smashed, or electrocuted anyway, so there's absolutely no point being surprised over it slicing some dirt in half at this point.
What surprised me was myself for executing that evasion sequence so flawlessly. Honestly speaking, I fully thought that stringing together a non-stop sprint across an unstable foothold, into a wall-kick, into a re-jump back onto the roof was going to be impossible, but I actually pulled it off.
Instantly identifying a viable foothold from debris that was shifting by the second, planting my foot, kicking off the wall, grabbing the roof, and hauling myself up all in one fluid motion... For an improvised, seat-of-my-pants gamble, I managed to produce an overwhelmingly ideal movement.

"I guess I should expect no less from the latest model, famously nicknamed 'Commercial Grade'..."

Apparently, the true commercial grade is a massive, completely bed-type apparatus that looks as imposing as an X-ray machine, but compared to the headgear-type I use at home—which is now a previous generation model—there really is a definitive difference in performance.
Unlike in a game, it's exceedingly rare for your movements in reality to drastically improve overnight, and since I haven't done anything to seize that "rare" chance, the secret to this movement is unquestionably due to the hardware.

The avatar's movements, which were already smoother than my real body to begin with, have become even more fluid, and the response time from my brain issuing a command to the avatar actually executing it has noticeably improved. The world feeling clearer isn't just my imagination either; perhaps the visual fidelity was upgraded as well? As expected, making it bigger actually meant something.
With this, even a non-Pro like me might actually be able to hold my own in tomorrow's... well, we passed midnight so it's today now—in today's match against the strongest team in America. No wait, actually, if I really think about it, the opponent is using the exact same hardware, so it doesn't make a damn difference.

"I see it. If Mold's story is right, the Clione-looking one is in there... right?"

They apparently hadn't engaged it and only observed from a distance because they didn't know what would happen if they carelessly provoked it, but if you don't test things, you can't prove anything.

Even though I'm chaining skills thanks to the "Fool" Arcanum, it doesn't mean I can spam them unconditionally with zero downtime. Given the distance, I absolutely have to weave in a recast phase at least once... Well, it can't be helped. Instead of just a simple taunt, how about I genuinely try to pick a fight with it?

I managed to secure a massive amount of information while it was fighting the Giga-Oarfish, and during my escape leading up to this point.
First of all, as a baseline premise, taking that Dual-Attribute Orca on in a straight, head-to-head fight is extremely difficult. The only reason I managed to solo the Giga-Oarfish was because of the slip damage from poison; if it had been a straight fight with no external factors, I would have struggled far more.

That flame completely engulfing its upper half isn't just for show—it actually has an active damage hitbox, and a damage hitbox doesn't just chip away at the player's HP.
Weapons and armor have durability. No matter how much the Aspiring Blades of the Hero (Duxram) possess an effect that grants them incredibly high durability, if they continuously take direct damage, breaking them is inevitable. The effect is "Does not lose durability on critical hits," not "Indestructible."

Since targeting the upper half is impossible, the natural target becomes the lower half of its body, but as the dirt-slicing from earlier proved, that thing moves incredibly acrobatically.
Even if I bait it into close range, the number of times I could realistically land an attack is... well, two or three times at best. If it were a greatsword attack like Rei-shi's, you might expect a decent chunk of damage, but with my DPS, it would be a drop in the bucket.

If that's the case, maybe I could eventually kill it if I just kept increasing the number of hits over time, but enduring a prolonged battle against that thing is going to be genuinely painful. While the Golden Scorpion was similarly a tough opponent that forced me to fight under disadvantageous conditions, I was ultimately able to use the Crystal Scorpions to heavily shave down its health... and most importantly, it didn't fly.

"Then I have no choice but to make the field my ally...!!"

There are plenty of houses built along the roads, but they aren't lined up shoulder-to-shoulder with zero gaps between them like some tenement block. There are spaces wide enough for a person to slip through, and even in spots where the gaps have been buried by collapses, the rubble itself forms new pathways.
I'm essentially playing Whack-a-Mole, except I'm the mole. Weaving together sneaking, popping out, taunting, and fleeing, I buy time for my cooldowns to reset while slowly, inch by inch, closing in on my destination.
The Dual-Attribute Orca makes absolutely no attempt to hide its irritation toward me as I scurry around and hide, indiscriminately obliterating the cityscape, periodically launching furious charges at the little bug (me) whenever I show myself.

"Hah! Like an attack that broadcasts itself thirty seconds in advance is ever going to hit me!"

That electrical discharge attack requires about thirty seconds of charge time. The fact that it can act normally while charging is definitely a threat, but when its crystal wings are blatantly coated in sparks, anyone would know the discharge attack is coming.
And the sphere of roaring thunder unleashed centered around the Dual-Attribute Orca after the charge has quite a massive AoE, but you can get a grasp of it after seeing it two or three times. Making sure to manage my positioning so the Dual-Attribute Orca can't close the distance, I'll see if I can try and bait it into...

"...No, wait."

The flames covering its upper half are burning with an intensity completely incomparable to its normal state, and the electrical currents that had been crawling over its pectoral fins are being sucked into the Dual-Attribute Orca's main body.
Concluding right then and there that the Dual-Attribute Orca was initiating an unseen behavior pattern, I begin adjusting my position while prepping for an Inventoria escape. I mean, come on, when something gathers energy in its body like that, nine times out of ten it's a beam attack. The Dual-Attribute Orca is blatantly creating distance, too.

"Alright... Make sure you aim properly, okay...? Yeah, that's right, I purposely climbed up to a high place to show myself off, so don't miss and aim straight at me, alright...?"

Behind me is the tower supposedly housing the Sealed General; in front of me is the Dual-Attribute Orca, hovering stationary in the air with its head glowing brightly... and I'm sandwiched directly between them.
The positioning is excellent. If I had to be greedy I would've liked to be slightly higher up, but as expected, even with improved movements, there are still things you just can't do.
Now then, from here on out, it's an RNG-game reliant on reflexes, intuition, and divine luck—which differs from mere random numbers. Exactly what kind of unseen attack the Dual-Attribute Orca is about to unleash, how fast it will be, and when it will fire—since grasping all of that on a first encounter is impossible, I am quite literally required to pull off the stunt of "dodging it on reaction." If I can't do that, I'll dodge on intuition, and if that still doesn't work, all I can do is pray to the heavens.

"Man, this is exactly the kind of situation where you want an item like binoculars..."

Let's see, I can't see it perfectly clearly from this distance, but... the crystal wings are glowing like street lamps. They were glowing during the discharge attack too, but back then the sparks were wrapping around the outside of the wings. Right now, they're emitting light from the inside of the crystal structures.
And the biggest change of all is that the blue flames covering its upper half are flickering out—or rather, they've weakened so much you could say they're practically gone. The exposed area left behind after the blue flames peeled away is probably its... skull? The reason it looks so much smaller compared to the lower half is probably because the space where the skin and muscle should be is entirely made of fire.
Glowing so intensely you can clearly see it even from a distance, that light harbors a level of firepower completely incomparable to the discharge...

Flash.

"Uwoooahh!!?"

Y-You bastard! Normally, an attack like this comes with some kind of signal effect or motion once the charge is done, right?! Just insta-firing it is completely unfair!!

"Ghk... [Transfer: Storage Space (Enter Travel)]!!"

I dodged. Yes, the evasion itself was successful. I managed to avoid the worst-case scenario of taking a direct hit from that laser-like attack flying at terrifying speeds. But even from just the aftershock, my body was blown away more easily than a dead leaf caught in the wind. Having teleported into the storage space, I managed to somehow kill my momentum by sliding and tumbling across the floor inside Inventoria.

"Damn it... I mean, obviously. If it's a turret-like attack like that, the normal response is to keep running to escape the crosshairs... Damn it."

Checking my status, my remaining HP is... 4. So I can survive one hit from the aftershock at full health, huh... To state the obvious, a direct hit is instant death.
Just in case, I toss the weapons I was gripping and frantically try to heal, but it's exactly at times like these that RNG leans heavily toward the worst outcome. Only after consuming twice the normal amount did I finally manage to restore my health to full... As someone fully riding on its coattails, I really have no right to say this, but at times like these, the Arcanum feels incredibly annoying.

"Ghk... Anyway, nothing happens unless I go back out."

Transferring from the storage space back into reality space. Knowing I'd be teleporting into mid-air, I drag up my memories from just before I escaped to grasp my orientation, twisting my body to confirm the results of that attack.

"Tch... Is it an indestructible object? Or did the Landlord (Ctarrnid) politely repair it...?"

At the end of my gaze stood the tower, completely unscathed, towering proudly as if the Dual-Attribute Orca's attack had never happened.
Escaping into the storage space really hurt me here. I couldn't confirm whether it simply didn't break, or if it broke and was instantly repaired. For now, I need to land and figure out my next move—oh.

A sound tearing through the sky echoes from directly above, carrying an oppressive pressure that feels as if a massive hammer of air is trying to crush me from the top down. It wasn't that I had forgotten its existence, but rather, I had completely forgotten another fact.
Looking up, I saw the figure of a monster with its jaws—a combination of a flaming upper jaw and a flesh-and-bone lower jaw—opened wide, incredibly wide. I remember this sensation from somewhere... right, Deja Vu. Ah, that's it, the Crystal Scorpions.

Did they update the AI so that they wait to ambush you even if you escape using teleportation? Come to think of it, the patch notes said "Certain Monsters," it never explicitly stated only Crystal Scorpions. Don't tell me a massive chunk of the roster has been given anti-teleport-escape countermeasures...?

"Well whatever, everything is trial and error."

Even if I spit out a hundred errors, as long as I get a single result, none of it was meaningless. Since I've already secured a save point, even if I get munched on here as an after-dinner dessert following the main course that was the Arctus Regalecus, I'll just respawn.
Oh, and for the record, Dual-Attribute Orca, my body isn't sweet at all, so I'm an absolute failure as a dessert.

"Too bad for you."

"I really don't think there's any scenario where you should be laughing mockingly in this situation...!!"

"Uwoh?!"

A violent yank that felt like it was going to rip my arm completely out of its socket, and then the Dual-Attribute Orca's jaws, along with the road that was somehow gouged cleanly in half—probably from the laser's aftershock—stretched out endlessly, long and thin like a heavily motion-blurred photograph...

"Wait, Araba?!"

"You really are... Just what the hell do you have to get wrong to end up picking a fight with the King of the Deep Sea?! Even those Mermaids are a little smarter than that!"

Delivering an incredibly valid scolding while grabbing me and swimming through the sky was the NPC who looked like someone took a shark and a human, mashed them together, and divided by two.

I see, it appears I am currently flying through the sky.

Because I'm a Birdian?

Author's Afterword
It's not just an indestructible object.
And it's not simply an inversion effect of "Not being destroyed" either.
And since there are two parallel events being depicted simultaneously, this arc is definitely going to drag on!

I really want to learn the Shadow Clone Jutsu...