That's how everyone around him felt, but in reality, Sam wasn't that superhuman. Luck had simply played its hand. Truth be told, Sam was terrified; he had absolutely no clue what was lurking behind that unknown gate.
It seemed like they had chosen the right path, but Sam's internal whispers kept insisting this was a trap—the same serpent from before, but much larger. Everyone watched as Sam suddenly froze, staring at the colossal gate. He looked... hesitant.
Does he see something we don't? they wondered.
"Mr. Ra's al Ghul... is there a problem?"
Sam couldn't find the words. If his hunch was right and this was just a bigger snake, it could finish them all in one strike without even needing illusions. He remembered that some predators love to toy with their prey before the kill—a chilling thought.
If they moved now and died, his reputation would be the last thing on his mind. But if they retreated, he'd look like a fool who wasted precious time.
What could he do?
"We need a sacrifice..." Sam muttered.
To him, it was the most logical step. If he offered "vows of loyalty and submission" to a giant serpent, maybe it would spare him as a pathetic, insignificant creature. What fueled Sam's miscalculation was his deep-seated belief that life could never be this easy—there had to be a "sting" waiting at the end of the road.
Sam was convinced they had started to see through his plan—that he was merely using them as bait to save his own skin. But the reality was far more twisted.
"A sacrifice... but could it be? Well, as long as Master Ra's al Ghul is with us, he will find the solution. Do not fear," one murmured.
"Indeed, the Master would never sacrifice us. After all, he must have faced dilemmas like this a thousand times... an expert of his caliber is an irreplaceable blessing from the heavens."
"What are you saying, guys? This is completely illogical!" another interrupted. "Sacrifice is a duty for the survival of the group. Don't be selfish!"
Sam was now paralyzed with terror. What if they've discovered my nonsense? This won't end well.
A heated skirmish broke out among them. Damn it, am I a babysitter or a specialist?
"I told you! Those from Electra are cold-blooded workers who don't care about anyone's life!" shouted one prospector. "I'd bet my boss's kidneys that they are ready to throw us to the wolves!"
"What nonsense! You're just here as government representatives. We are the true experts. Even the Legend himself is technically with our company! What use are you anyway?"
"Damn you all! You claim to be the 'true experts'? Look at this medal—it's four stars! Not even your ancestors would ever dream of earning this," Jack from the Prospectors' Guild spat.
"Shove that medal up your damn ass! I don't care. You're all just useless fools," the other retorted.
As Sam felt the situation spiraling out of control, he realized he had to make them stop. But he hesitated; what if he intervened further and his nonsense only made things worse?
"Will you just calm down? I'll go first..." Sam muttered.
Well, not exactly.
Since they were on the verge of killing each other over who should sacrifice themselves and who was superior, Sam figured that if he tried to pick one of them, the rest of the pack would revolt, and his authority as Ra's al Ghul would vanish.
It was better for them to walk together and die together. He certainly didn't plan on dying alone. If he was going down, they were all coming with him—he wasn't nearly generous enough to do otherwise.
"Do not worry. Follow me, and I will handle this..."
Sam felt the weight of their hopes settling on his shoulders. With no other choice left, he steeled his resolve to test his theory—even if it was just the whispers of his own paranoia. He wouldn't take any unnecessary risks; he hadn't achieved wealth or power yet. He hadn't achieved anything. He figured that as the leader, it was his duty to carry the banner at the front. And if he had to improvise a situation out of pure nonsense, he would do so with such unshakable confidence that no one would dare doubt him.
Sam stepped forward, approached the massive gate, and swung his backpack off. He ordered everyone to drop their bags immediately. Following his command, he opened the packs, took out all the food they carried, and arranged it neatly before the gate.
In a swift motion, he stepped back from the offering and dropped to his knees. Clasping his hands, he ordered the team to kneel, his voice ringing with a decisive, absolute authority. Then, he began to recite a poem he had once read on a random internet post:
"The single soul needs no partner... heart and mind within one frame... Eternal unity is your greatest decree. All who tread here bear witness... The beloved sleeps, while you remain wakeful. Your glorious spirit transcends the intestines and seethes... Accept the sacrifice, and let the poor souls pass."
Unbelievably... a sudden flash of fire swept over the food, incinerating half of it instantly. Then, the massive gates creaked open, revealing a gray, shadowy courtroom dominated by colossal pillars that seemed to support the very heavens.
The pillars were colossal, as if they were straining to keep the sky from collapsing. In the center stood a marble statue of an angel, plunging a dagger into a giant with a naked body and a face obscured by thick, matted hair.
'Damn it... the gate actually opened. What the hell is going on?' Sam thought, his mind racing.
As the five of them entered, paralyzed by awe, the prospectors didn't dare touch the remaining food. To them, gathering the scraps felt like an insult to the powerful spirit that a great figure like Ra's al Ghul had just knelt before.
"Gather the food," Sam commanded.
They immediately obeyed, re-packing the supplies. Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped into the hall, the echo of his footsteps ringing through the vast, hollow space. The pillars were etched with inscriptions that looked like ancient messages.
"Has anyone ever entered this dungeon before?" Sam asked.
"The records say that only a legendary figure from one of the ancient tribes ever survived it," one of the Electra prospectors replied. "This dungeon only opens once every ten years, attracting every surrounding danger into its depths..."
Every surrounding danger? What does that mean?
"Like those Wyverns," the man continued. "This dungeon draws them in with its intoxicating mana. Once they enter, they are completely analyzed and broken down. The dungeon derives its stability from their power."
If that was true, they were inside a literal stomach. If they stayed too long, they would be digested.
Sam approached one of the pillars, his fingers grazing the cold, unforgiving stone. Who built this? And what was the purpose behind placing it here?
As strange as it felt, Sam could sense he was drawing closer to the thing they called the "Blessed Mana Child." He didn't know exactly what it was or its true value, but he certainly wouldn't ask; he couldn't risk exposing his ignorance.
"This ancient dungeon... it's as if it was a cathedral of some sort," he mused.
The Blessed Mana Child... is it some kind of divine relic? A sacred artifact with unique powers?
He could feel his own mana technique beginning to thrive here; the mana density was suffocatingly high. But as they neared the statue, the altar came into view—the true site of sacrifice. Yet, something was wrong. If a sacrifice was meant to be serious, why was it positioned behind the statue? Shouldn't the statue stand behind the altar, watching over the offering?
Does this signify something? Perhaps a rejection of the divine, a sign that one doesn't need a god to attain a blessing?
Mr. Ra's al Ghul... come look! There's a skull here..."
A skull in a sacred place like this? How? As Sam leaned in to inspect the skull the prospectors were pointing at, Old Max rushed forward, grabbed it, and hid it away.
Damn it, what is this old man doing now? When Sam tried to take it from him, Old Max hurled it away with all his might, shattering it against the floor.
"Disrespectful punks," Old Max muttered, spitting on the shards.
When Sam looked at the fragments, his eyes widened. Carved into the bone was... a graphic sexual position. Who is the sick mind behind this? And why here, in a place that's supposed to be holy?
But it wasn't just the skull. There was no exit in sight, and the walls were covered with more lewd drawings and obscene gestures carved into the stone. It was as if nothing here held any shred of respect for the surroundings. It felt inherently wrong.
"This is beyond strange," Sam whispered. "Even in the most ignorant societies... even if the god they worshiped was a complete joke, they wouldn't show this much disrespect."
And that was the point. Nothing here respected the statue. But then, why assume this was a church at all? Could this "altar" be something else entirely?
Suddenly, one of the prospectors shouted, "Guys! The device just decrypted one of the inscriptions!"
[ The God here is irrelevant because he is not real. His achievements are a lie, his heroics a deception, and his legend is rotten to the core... So, how is he different from us? Why shouldn't we be the Gods? ]