Cold—ears ringing, as blurry vision slowly recovers. Natalak felt cold water soaking his face and going into his mouth. Muddy and fetid to the taste, he quickly rolled over to the other side, finding a dry area to mend his aching back and throbbing muscles. And here there was only silence.
"W-where am I?" Natalak whispers as he tries to stand.
"Boss Chifya? A-anybody there?" His voice was calm and low, but with a hint of nervousness. "Somebody? Chifya?"
Natalak pauses for a moment, wondering as he assesses the place. The air is breathable, so to speak, but with a hint of putridness, like a decaying animal. And the moment a single sound erupts, Natalak's heart jolts, prompting him to search for something to hide behind.
Recovered and prepared to proceed, he tightly grasped his sword. As he navigated through a few empty corners and rooms filled with decayed chairs and pulsating, stained roots, he finally reached a specific room. Carefully pushing the door open, he used the sword as an extension when it was halfway open to push it further.
"Who's there?" A man groaned; his body was absorbed by the black roots. And the smell was so overwhelming that Natalak could see a slimy tar oozing from his skin.
Natalak didn't respond; he waited, and only after the man's eyes rolled towards him did he react.
"Kill me, please, before my soul could be taken." The man steadied his eyes on Natalak.
Natalak, however, didn't respond, nor did he take a step forward; he had seen traps, but even with the potion that sees through traps and darkness, he wasn't as knowledgeable or as skilful as Chifya.
"Please!" The man cries. "I don't have enough energy to stay alive. There's an item sealed in a chest; use my blood and the thing is yours."
"Oh fuck it!" Natalak brought out the Eye of Adra, and when the man saw the glowing orb, his eyes widened.
"Are you lying or not?" Natalak implores.
"No, for heaven's sake, put me out of my misery."
He looked at the orb and saw no darkness growing.
"Are there any traps around here?"
"No, there aren't any."
"Oh… about the chest that you mentioned, any advice you can give?"
"Use my blood; give it a drop of my blood, and the chest will unlock itself."
Natalak searches the chamber where the chest was kept. Interestingly, it doesn't seem to have a lock, but there is a peculiar swirl of magical energy on one of the decorated disks that links the lid and the main body.
"There's no lock," Natalak calls.
"There's a small hole on the disk; give a drop of my blood and the chest will open by itself." The man replies.
Natalak followed the man's suggestion and, after adding a drop of his blood, heard a clicking from the gears and mechanisms inside the chest, which caused the disk to release the lid.
"What is this?"
Inside were dozens of polished silver razor shards, each no different from the others, each seemingly hungering for flesh to tear, each fume with dreadful magical energy.
"What are these?"
"Elvish Steel, my prized creation. Kill me, and the one who killed me will be the one to inherit. And each of those shards holds the soul of a demon."
"Okay." Natalak hesitates, but after mustering his courage, he nails his sword deep into the man's chest.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you…" The man's eyes gradually closed as his voice grew quiet. At his death, the shards levitate, and one by one, each shard releases green fire, connecting one after the other until they form a whip.
Intrigued and frightened, he watches the glowing whip float and face Natalak. He wants to run, but half of him remains, eager to see if the man's word is truly true. The whip senses it, approaching closer—and even as Natalak points his sword, the whip searches for something—something that it is.
Alive and assessing his equipment—his sword? Nay. His armour? Nay, until it takes an interest in his claw gauntlet. Empty and with no enchantment given, the whip quickly wraps around like a snake coiling its prey. And once coiled, the whip dissolves, merging with the gauntlet.
At that moment, Natalak feels the presence of dozens of minds, each with a different voice, each with a different mind. Rivals from different realms, enemies to each other yet bound by the magic of enchantment—powerful? yes. And perhaps one interesting thing that changes him is his fear and anxiety, as if they are consumed by the whip itself; now he no longer feels the dread of the dungeon. Still, Natalak's trust issues are in the corner, unsure if he can fully trust his new weapon. Or perhaps it was the newfound weapon that may have relieved his fear.
"Okay?... This is getting interesting," Natalak fixes his eyes on the gauntlet, and for some reason, the whip calls to be released not through words but through minds. And upon agreeing in thoughts, the whip that is dissolved with the gauntlet emerges, encircling Natalak in an eggshell formation.
"Well, I'll be damn."
Far above where Natalak lies, passing layers of levels, soil, stone bricks, and collapsed tunnelways. Seconds after Natalak was sent below, Chifya immediately recovered from the blast and in her mind was.
"Where is that idiot?!" Her eyes wandered through the surroundings, distant from Sheila's calling. And once again, fear was creeping through her.
The demon and other creatures from the blight hurried to kill her. Despite her situation, she managed to dodge their claws, taking down two in seconds before her companions finally reached her.
"I'll—I'll need to find Natalak." Chifya stammered, eyes gawking at the shattered crystal.
As the group was on the verge of reconciliation, something unusual surfaced from the ground. It was not the typical demons they had battled, but something far different. The demon's wing broke free from the stone ground, and its body emerged as the wing drill pierced through the earth.
The demon's head resembled that of a minotaur, but its body was all but black tar dripping onto the ground. Countless souls were trapped within its body, as faces could be seen struggling to pierce their way out of the demon's body. Cage, the souls could be heard screaming in agonising pain, begging for someone to release them from their misery. And once fully emerged, the demon struck fear into Sheila and her friends, but for Chifya and Ugvar, the demon was nothing more than a simple meal for their weapon.
Silently, Chifya tries to quickly dispose of the demon when suddenly—
Ugvar extends his warhammer, blocking Chifya's path. "Let me handle this knife-ear. You should tend to the remaining survivors," Ugvar suggests before strolling toward the demon without a hint of fear, carrying the warhammer as if the 3-meter demon were nothing more than a pest. As the two create enough distance, Ugvar's eyes gleam gold.
Seconds before the demon could take action, Ugvar could see the demon's essence, an afterimage, or rather, a future image of the demon's attack. And right when the demon delivers its attack, Ugvar merely steps sideways, dodging death.
"Let's see what you got!" Ugvar then hammers the demon's knees, powerful enough to tear its limbs.
Unfazed by the orc's attack, the demon tries to launch another assault, only to be hurled through the walls when Ugvar's glowing hammer smashes through its body.
"I'm getting old," Ugvar said as he watched the demon regenerate.
Perceiving another attack, the demon stretched its wings before dashing towards the orc, only to be thrown back where he'd slammed when its head collided with the orc's hammer.
"Okay, playtime is over." The orc said, infusing holy essence into his weapon, turning the iron warhammer red-hot before he savagely hurled it towards the demon, disintegrating and freeing the caged souls, be they virtuous or wicked.
On the other side of the dungeon, Chifya leads her companions to where the adventurers are. And when they arrive, the priest who had been maintaining the barrier sighs in relief, and he quickly dissipates the barrier.
"M-my comrades…" The priest said, his vision blurring as he panted heavily. "They need medical attention." He added before collapsing to the ground, only for Reith to catch him.
"Right." Sheila nods. "I'll prepare a teleportation. But I can only teleport six people; I'll need to—"
"I think I can help with that." Comes Ugvar. "I have the energy to send twelve people at once. Don't worry, I'd already taken care of the demon." He adds.
"I understand," Sheila said, though she looked at Chifya and the absence of Natalak's presence. "But this place needs to be—"
"That won't be a problem." Ugvar interrupts, extending a pendant; inside was a vial glowing with golden essence. "I think you already know what this is, young lady… and as for my amulet." He turns to Chifya.
"I still have it," Chifya replied, pulling the Eye of Adra from her personal satchel.
Upon receiving it, Ugvar infused it with his holy essence, recharging the amulet once again.
"You'll need this more than I do." He said, returning the amulet.
Minutes pass…
Laying the teleportation scroll and arranging the adventurers, and once everything is settled, Ugvar immediately activates the scroll, sending both him and the six adventurers to sanctuary.
As the last light fades and the group reconvenes, despite differing emotions—particularly Sheila's feelings towards Chifya—they all concentrate on purging the place.
"Sheila," Chifya said. "Take this." She adds, extending the vial that sees through both darkness and magic traps. "It should help conserve your energy. Though it might sting a little."
"Thank you," Sheila responds calmly, then applies two drops into her eyes before handing it to her companions.
It took a while for the four adventurers to recover from the bitterness of the vial. But when they opened their eyes, all four of them could now see through darkness itself. And the orb that gave light to obscurity was no longer needed for the mission, no longer needed to give fuel for every second pass.
"Shall we?" Chifya implores, and once her companions' eyes fully recover, the group huddles in search of a way towards the lower level.
Elsewhere…
"Do my eyes deceive me?" Natalak muttered, drawn by the faint energy leaking through the walls.
Swaying back and forth, looking for any doors or openings. Moreover, he would often pause after hearing the slightest noise; regrettably, the whip isn't enough to assuage his fear. His sword wasn't even sheathed, but tightly bound to his hand using torn clothes and rags.
"C'mon, there must be something—" He paused when he finally found what appeared to be a crack, a loose wall.
Using the sword as a pickaxe, little by little, chunks of bricks fell. Still, even with his tools, the walls didn't show any signs of opening. Frustrated and impatient, Natalak fishes out what appears to be a handcrafted grenade. Its casing was that of a metal tankard, filled with a mix of Glittering Dust and iron shrapnel, all wrapped in paper. Its lid was covered by a tightly crimped metal cap with a six-inch fuse.
Placing one in a suitable position, and once the fuse was lit, Natalak dashed around a corner to hide him from the shrapnel. True enough, when the bomb exploded, dozens of chunks were shot out, sending both sharp rocks and metal shrapnel at every corner.
After the explosion died down and the dust settled, Natalak stayed in his hiding spot, silently waiting for any creature drawn by the disturbance. He remained perfectly quiet, and after over ten minutes, he reappeared to find his homemade grenade had gouged a large section of the wall. Unfortunately, the walls were thick, and, judging by the length of the carvings, Natalak estimates he might need dozens more grenades.
Socketing another grenade, another explosion, still there were no openings to be seen.
"Should I?" Natalak glances at the last grenade, contemplating its use. "Maybe later," he thinks, then places it back and resumes chiselling at the materials.
Thanks to his elvish steel, the rocks and stone bricks were like wood and after more than half an hour—
"Jackpot!" Natalak peered through to the other side and saw a strange levitating cube, with the surroundings mostly empty; not even the corrupted roots were visible.
Seeing no traps or danger, Natalak squeezed himself out of the small hole he created, wriggling until—
"What the hell are you?" Natalak muttered, circling the cube. And before he could even take another step, something emerged from the wall.
"Oh fuck!"
A demon in flesh, no wings attached. Its head—two great antlers branched from its head, crooked and bare. Its fur was fire, of coarse black. A face that bore no relation to the material world; its ravenous teeth showed nothing but hunger and tearing. It was neither stag nor wolf, and it had a crimson eye that went unblinking, the eyes of the abyss.
The thing stood upon two legs, taller than Natalak, even Ashalain or perhaps taller than any man. Its arms were unnatural, almost reaching past its knees, and from each hand stretched black, crooked claws.
Two beings gaze at each other, both unblinking, both measuring each other. And when the demon slowly crawled on four, Natalak unleashed the whip. And here, Natalak felt something from his new weapon. The dozen shards whispered, as though they'd sensed the demon's presence. Some bore hatred, of rivalry, and others yearned for the taste of contest. Here, Natalak felt no fear; here he felt the urge, the urge of what the shards whispered.
Not even ten seconds into the encounter, the two dashed, racing to see who would injure first, who would end the other's life. And upon reaching a gap of 15 meters, both simultaneously leapt; still, the demon's superhuman strength was far above the traveller.
Caging himself in an eggshell formation—and when the two met, the whip immediately wrapped the demon; at the same time, Natalak drove his sword into the creature's chest, piercing it.
The demon shrieked as they stumble through the ground, its flesh slowly sliced by the tightening of the shards. Its long arms and ravenous mouth were constricted by the whip; it was nothing more than a spider casing its prey.
Sensing victory, Natalak was stunned when the demon dissolved into black mist, escaping the whip's grasp. Thankfully, Natalak was able to see through its movement, evading the demon's assault.
"I see, it returns to its form before attacking." Natalak pondered tracing the next attack, fishing out the purification vial, and when the right moment arrived, he threw half of the vial's contents while the demon was in its mist form.
The purification quickly eats away at the mist like acid, forcing the demon to return to its original form. And when the mist turns to flesh, the whip coils the demon.
Again, it tries to escape, dissolving into mist, but the purification still lingers, eating away at its mist. Unable to withstand such potency, the demon, still in its vapour form, seeps through the floor, withdrawing away from that area.
In that short skirmish, Natalak never felt the same. He couldn't even comprehend how he survived, let alone such a dangerous abomination. He couldn't even stop shaking or compose his heavy panting. And after half an hour of recuperating, he went for what the place held: the cube in the centre.
With slow, steady steps, Natalak unveils the whip, enclosing him like an eggshell. And the moment his claw gauntlet grasps the cube, an unspeakable energy displaces into his gauntlet.
"What the—"
And when the energy reaches the whip, the fire that connects the shard intensifies, influencing both his armour and his flesh into a blazing green flame.