Additional Content - FINAL CORE (Patreon)

I've added a new section to the end of chapter 128 of Final Core.

For context, this is the chapter when Rorate and the Melusine dove into the core of the island to find the perfect rock.

Previously, the chapter ended when Leviathan revealed itself, as they began their approach to claim the rock.

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Rorate

The water drones around them, the imprisoned ocean roaring in her ears, the shaking water quaking their bones as they shoot through the underground. The melusine slips in between the varying underground currents, using their provided momentum to shoot from one stream to the next. The two of them shoot with intense speed, massive, lumbering tentacles the size of grand ships collapsing down behind them in the brackish, blackened water as if the island were collapsing in on itself — These are all the many appendages of the monster, Leviathan.

As the monstrous eye reveals itself in the enigmatic darkness, Rorate's grip on her melusine friend tightens, not just from the cold but also from the chilling realization of being in the presence of an ancient and massive creature, capable of deciding their fate within this sacred chamber. Rorate's muscles shudder in the reverberating tremors created by the awakened leviathan that presses against them. Questions and fears flash across her mind. Nevertheless, a determined flame sparks within her heart as she decides to stand strong.

It’s what Isaiah would want.

Her friend, the melusine, propels them forward with the graceful and forceful movements of her powerful tail. Despite this formidable challenge that looms before them, Rorate finds strength surging through her veins as they approach their prized target—the perfect rock. The texture of ephemeral yellow, like a warm kiss amidst a cold abyss or a glimpse of hope among rising despair, grazes at their vision. The scene unfolds with grandiosity to reveal awe-inspiring underwater vistas where towering stalactites hang perilously above gory daggers rising from below. Massive tendrils sweep across the ceiling, breaking off the sharp rocks.

They begin to plunge down through the water toward them.

Adrenaline courses through Rorate as she and her companion slice cleanly through the water towards their quarry. Both metaphorically and physically, grasping onto faith and camaraderie to survive this perilous journey. This moment underscores an essential truth for their existence: life thrives not only through faith but through layers of emotions, experiences shared between friends, and fortitudes formed during times of adversity.

With hearts aflame and spirits soaring high above the cavernous voids of dead water pressure that they navigate, Rorate and the melusine shoot toward the perfect rock, enveloped by untamed currents crafted by countless narratives imprinted upon these waters throughout time.

The perfect rock, a treasure at the heart of this tempestuous maelstrom and coveted ardently by our intrepid duo, lies bathed in a luminous aura that seems almost ethereal. It glistens and glows like stardust settling upon the terrestrial plane, illuminated by an otherworldly light that captures the essence of dreams themselves. This geological masterpiece stands unyielding against the tide of time that has shaped it into its current glorious form — utterly symmetrical, impeccably rounded — a testament to millenia spent within the ceaseless labors of nature's sculpting hands. Its surface, polished smooth by the cascades of countless stories borne through these waters, presents a pristine mirror reflecting kaleidoscopic glimpses of emotions imbued through them.

The colors that dance across its contours possess surreal hues that seem nearly impossible to list or rationalize — a visual symphony of rare shades and transitions that have graciously imprinted themselves on this wondrous gem. As Rorate observes the perfect rock from within Leviathan's tumultuous lair, she imagines holding it in her possession—solid and unbreakable with an inherent whisper of divine creation, she imagines shoving it straight down Beulah’s smug throat.

Each facet of this sublime artifact tells untold tales from times immemorial: lovers' quiet embraces echoed; fierce warriors' cries immortalized; innocence's laughter preserved; and scholars' introspection memorialized. The perfect rock is not simply an object to be desired but, moreover, is a living testament to the history forever bound to this world and all those who have bestowed their own narratives — both tragic and triumphant —on its body.

It is like an unhatched egg, left here by the gods themselves during the great aeons of creation.

Their hands reach out together, both of them grasping for it at the same time, the world rumbling and the water blackening as yellow starlight shines from a furious, giant eye toward them. The water above them shifts as the tentacle above their heads crushes down toward them.

— The perfect rock emits a white glow, shining with perfect iridescence and filling the void with a blindingly bright aura.

The entire core-ocean turns vivid white.

Rorate opens her eyes, gasping for air as she sits upright.

Her lower body is submerged on the bank of the river, outside, back on the surface of the island. Her torso, now emerged, turns as she examines the scene in confusion.

“Where…”

She looks down to her side, seeing the melusine bubbling and looking up out of the water toward her.

Between them is the perfect rock.

…Did it have some sort of magical effect that teleported them out of the chamber? What’s going on? Rorate, confused, holds onto the rock together with her friend.

“WE DID IT!” she yells excitedly, letting go of the rock and plunging down into the water of the river, wrapping her arms around the melusine, which reacts at first with instinctual terror and then, after a moment, accepts her embrace and returns it. The two of them laugh as they hold onto one another while floating in the current.

They let go and look at each other.

Then, after a moment, they both come to a realization as they turn their heads to the side. Rorate has two hands on her. The melusine has two hands on her. The perfect-rock, however…

Rorate screams, letting go as the two of them scramble, diving back into the river to catch the perfect-rock, which has floated away during their excitement.

Oh well.

It isn’t what mattered anyway.

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~ [Isaiah] ~

Red stands there on the edge of the forest, holding the island's magical lodestone in her hand that those two idiots stole from the core of the island. It's vital for its stability. The inner channels of water are critical balancing mechanisms to stop the flying island from tilting at an odd angle.

“Should I tell them?” asks the uthra, turning her head to look at Isaiah, tossing the rock into the air a few inches and catching it with the same hand.

The entity stands there, watching the laughter and the splashing, and shakes its head. “No, Red,” replies Isaiah. “Let them have this.” It spreads its wings. “They found what they were looking for.”

“Ugh,” replies Red. “You make me sick sometimes, you know?”

Isaiah holds out a hand to her as it rises into the air. “I would have it no other way,” it replies. Red rolls her eyes and takes its hand as help as the two of them rise into the air, before returning the rock to its resting place.