The corridor stretched out before Eryon, narrow and winding, illuminated by the flickering light of the Tired Stone. Every step resonated on the smooth walls like a perpetual whisper, amplifying his movements into an echo that seemed to observe, judge, and, in a way, speak. The Grumpy Sphere floated behind him, huffing every time the young man bent too close to a ledge or his fingers brushed an unstable root.
"Please, it's fine, there's no need for drama," Eryon mumbled, as the Sphere emitted a metallic sound, almost an irritated wheeze.
The digging creature, iridescent feathers trembling like tiny flames, advanced before him. Occasionally, it would turn, sniff the air, and watch Eryon's movements with a curious patience. It seemed to say: "Move carefully, young custodian. This place does not forgive haste."
Eryon inhaled deeply and followed the small animal. The corridor twisted, leading them toward a wider chamber. As soon as they entered, the light of the Tired Stone revealed the presence of suspended crystals along the walls, pulsing faintly as if breathing. The sound produced by the crystals was subtle, a harmonic echo that mingled with the chime of the Grumpy Sphere.
"Wow... it's like the dungeon itself is singing," Eryon murmured, looking around with wide eyes. The Stone vibrated more intensely, as if confirming his thought, but without explaining anything.
The Sphere, instead, moved irritably, huffing and lightly bouncing on the floor. Eryon sighed. "Yes, yes, I know... you feel ignored, but I can't help it."
The digging creature advanced with a light step toward a corner of the room, where an almost invisible slit opened in the wall. Eryon followed it, the Tired Stone pulsating with greater intensity. Every vibration was clear: the dungeon was indicating a passage to explore, but there were no objects to extract. The pouch remained silent.
As they proceeded into the narrow tunnel, Eryon felt a sudden need to communicate. "Hey... you, little digger," he said, offering a smile, "how do you move so surely in here? I can barely keep from tripping."
The animal turned, staring at him with luminous eyes that seemed to contain a combination of judgment and curiosity. Eryon mimicked a theatrical bow. "Alright, alright... you are more competent than I am. But at least I could try to call you something, right?"
The creature emitted a short sound, almost a suppressed laugh. Eryon laughed softly. "You don't like it... do you? Okay, okay, I'll figure it out."
The tunnel widened gradually, and the echo of his footsteps became more precise, almost tactile. Eryon perceived the arrangement of the stones, the suspended roots, and the invisible traps through the vibrations of the Tired Stone. He was not yet able to completely master the power, but he was learning to interpret it. Every signal from the Stone was a guide, not a command: Eryon had to choose how to react.
After a few minutes of progress, they arrived in a circular hall, taller than the previous ones. Crystal filaments hung from the ceiling, vibrating with their silent music. Each thread seemed to react to Eryon's emotions: when the young man approached too fearfully, the crystals emitted a sharp chime; when he moved calmly, the vibrations harmonized gently.
The Grumpy Sphere, as if not to be outdone, floated around him, huffing at regular intervals, while the digging creature crouched at his feet, making small sounds of observation. Eryon leaned down and lightly stroked its iridescent feathers. "You're not bad, you know... at least as far as an ally can be," he said, smiling.
The digging creature emitted a short, sharp sound, as if to say: "Watch your words, human."
"Alright, alright... then I'll call you... Fluff." Eryon laughed heartily. The small creature straightened up, its feathers trembling, probably indignant. "No? Too ridiculous?" Eryon shrugged. "Perfect, you'll remain Fluff. Yes, it's funny, and that's fine."
The Grumpy Sphere huffed again, rolling a small crystal fragment. Eryon bent down to pick it up, laughing to himself. "See? Even she approves... more or less."
Through the vibration of the Tired Stone, Eryon identified an almost imperceptible passage on the side of the chamber. It was a subtle opening, hidden among the roots and suspended rocks. When he approached, the Stone vibrated with greater intensity, as if confirming that the path was correct. Without hesitation, Eryon slipped into the tunnel, the Grumpy Sphere floating above his head like a small, irritated sentinel, and Fluff ahead of him, ready to guide him.
The tunnel widened gradually, and the echo of his footsteps mingled with the chime of the crystalline filaments. Every sound, every vibration, every movement of the Sphere and the Stone formed a perceptive mosaic that Eryon was beginning to understand: the dungeon was not simply a place, but a living entity that communicated through energy, sounds, and symbols.
Finally, they reached a wider chamber. In the center, a small crystalline formation reflected the light of the Tired Stone in intricate patterns. Eryon crouched down to observe better, clearly perceiving a silent message: it was not yet time to pull an object from the pouch. What he was learning now—perception, calm, the ability to read the dungeon—would be fundamental for the future.
The Grumpy Sphere rolled near the column and huffed, as if demanding attention. Eryon smiled. "Alright, alright, you're annoying enough as is. But at least, Fluff, you and I understand each other. I promise the next object will be our accomplice."
He stood up, clutching the Tired Stone and moving cautiously among the vibrations and suspended crystals, aware that he was in a delicate learning phase. Every step was a teaching, every vibration a lesson, and every choice brought him closer to mastering the powers of the Inventory of a Thousand Reflections.
The corridor in front of him began to illuminate slightly, marking the next path. It was not an indication for an object, not yet. It was confirmation that he was following the correct path of learning. And as he advanced, Eryon felt the awareness growing within him: the real challenge was not finding objects, but becoming worthy of receiving them.