Book 3: Chapters 6-10 [Edited]

Chapter 6 - Cultural Exchange

Of the Mer, the children of the salt and sea, not much is known. It is said in a few academic circles that in ages long past, they enjoyed an alliance with the Children when the Tides were a sea-going people. Some even speculate that it was, in fact, the Mer that taught humans how to use the element of water, a claim I find patently fantastical.

At first glance, the Mer bear some resemblance to humans, much as apes might seem kin to us. They possess a head, torso, two arms, and, peculiarly, two feet. However, the similarities abruptly cease there. The Mer are a diverse people, but their features often belong to the realm of nightmares. Some have large bulbous, unblinking eyes, while others have none, relying instead on quivering feelers that sample the air for sensory input. Their extremities are webbed, and some even have sinuous tails. Bony spines erupt along their dorsal ridges, providing an otherworldly contour to their forms. The hue of their blood ranges from emerald green to viscous purples and vivid reds, adding another layer to their arcane mystique. While some are encased in intricate scales, others have skin as sleek as that of eels.

According to seasoned adventurers, on land, the Mer make for fearsome adversaries, which leads me to conjecture that in their aquatic realm, they would be nigh unstoppable. An intriguing yet disquieting footnote: their flesh is considered a prized delicacy in the city-state of Al-Lazar, a detail that reveals as much about the Mer as it does about the peculiar tastes of Al-Lazar’s citizens.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

The pitter-patter of unsoled feet on smooth stone, came up from where the enigmatic dark sprawled before me. Shapes coalesced into vague mimicries of men, hunched, twisted, and albino pale. From the path directly in front of me they came, holding crude, primitive weapons. They waved clubs and simple spears at me in obvious threat. A part of me noticed that, for the better part, they did not look directly at me. They were all shying away, or shielding their eyes, from my golden light. Then suddenly, the leading figure, stooped, but larger than the rest of them, howled at me in primitive warning.

To their credit, these troglodytes, these crude approximations of the men, did not attack me. Perhaps they were not as stupid as I thought them to be, or maybe they just knew on an instinctual level that I was armored death, come from the surface.

Drawing myself to my full height, my head almost brushed the ceiling of the low tunnel, and looked down at them. Seeing them for the pathetic creatures that they were, a flicker of pity stirred within me.

Feeling generous, I decided that I would at least try to communicate with them before I sacrificed them all on the altar for more experience points. I began, as I always did, by casting an Identify on the leader of this ragged assembly. This was soon followed by another cast of Identify on his guttural howls that served as his language.

Glod - Troglodyte Ranger (Human lvl.10)

Health: 176/180

Stamina: 41/44

Mana: 7/7

What struck me as most astonishing was the classification of the entity as a human, at least within the confines of this game's taxonomy. The revelation piqued my curiosity, for at least in my opinion, the game had a rather expansive interpretation of the term "human." Intriguing, indeed, for with such a loose definition, the term itself could suffer from a wide spectrum of abuse.

The threads of my last Identify spell came back to me, filling my mind with new meaning. With my increased Intelligence, along with the aid of the spell, I would be able to parse most of his words. Vastly improved, I could sense that the spell was doing more than just translating the words and inscribing them upon my memory. To me, it felt that it was searching for the very root, the essence of their communication. Images and sensations of the ancient Troglodytes filled my mind. I saw their brief lives filled with struggle, every day spent hiding from a burning sun.

As the last vestiges of the magic of the spell left me, I noticed that the leader even had the temerity to have a name, Glod. I took a moment to look more closely at this motley group of ‘humans’, noticing the mismatched series of leather strips and rags that served as their clothing, hiding only, for the most part, their genitalia. Of particular note was the curious way that they shaded their eyes with thin cloth. Light, it seemed, was not unknown here in the realm of the dark.

I had been taught in my old world that all cultures were beautiful, all of them equal and special, in their own ways. However, these things in front of me put paid to such fanciful and idealistic notions.

I saw the leader turn towards me after conferring with one of his seconds. Feeling that whatever came next might be of some import, I recast Identify to make sure I would understand their words fully.

“You have come from the place of the Darker Dark, Metal Giant. You do not belong here, for you trespass on the territory of the Stone. All must respect the Stone. I say, go back from where you came!” the leader stated, waving a club studded with teeth and claws. For added effect, he puffed out his chest, attempting vainly to somehow look down at me despite the disparity between our height.

Smiling within my helm, I pointed calmly at him with my sword, the smooth motion a juxtaposition against his erratic movements. Metal Giant, he said. I never considered myself to be exceptionally tall, but here I felt like an adult among infants. He looked at me worriedly, fearing a challenge. I lowered my blade to point at the flask I noticed at his hip. Hopefully, it was full of life-giving water.

Apprehension danced across his face. It was followed by incredulity, before finally changing into curiosity. Slowly, he understood my meaning and reached for the flask with his free hand, his club finally stopping its motion. Likewise, the others of the group, of whom seven I could see, also stopped waving their primitive weapons.

“You want water? Then you will go back?” he asked, placatingly. The last threads of my spell slowly faded, and the rest of his meaning escaped me. I found a small tick of anger begin to take root in me, for I found the sounds that served as his language offensive to my cultured ears.

Instead of responding, I decided that silence would be the more menacing answer. What came next was a series of nonsensical grunts.

No, that was a lie. The grunts were a part of their language. Thinking myself their superior, I had been closing my mind off to actually learning their language. As my mind puzzled over their gestures, their tone of voice, and the lines of their bodies, I was beginning to understand them. Truly understand.

With a new cast of Identify, I regained my boosted state of greater clarity.

Their leader, Glod, took a water skin from one of his group and offered it to me, which I accepted. Noticing that his water skin looked a little fancier than the one I had received, I pointed again to it, gesturing for him to hand it over.

“Give you my Zlesh Viper water skin? But why…? You have the water you want,” he asked, looking flummoxed. I did not appreciate being talked back to or second-guessed.

“No, Glod! Don’t do it. It is just playing with you, grow a backbone,” one of their number commented. For the life of me, I could not tell if the speaker had been male or female.

“Many of us. One of him…” a more belligerent member opined, swinging a crude sling. A ranged attack might be worrying…

“Fool! What if he can…” a more even-headed member chastised.

My precious time was being wasted and my patience was being sorely tested as they refused to give in to my demands. I longed to vent my frustrations on something that was weaker than me.

I was severely outnumbered, but from my magical analysis of their leader, I was far from outclassed. In this narrow tunnel, the advantage that they had in numbers would be difficult to bring to bear.

Annoyed, I decided to change the conditions of our little deal.

“All,” I barked in my deepest voice. With luck, my Charisma would be high enough to intimidate these pathetic creatures.

The leader, Glod, addressed me again, a little patronizingly, “Alright, alright! All of our water skins… but first, we need you to help us. There is a Metal Restless One, wandering close to our homes. Perhaps if you…”

“No,” was my sharp reply. A natural response to this stupid overture.

These pathetic worms were merely wasting my time. Their problems were not mine, and I was under no obligation to help them. Stubbornly, I did however still want all of their water skins. It was the principle of the matter.

I walked up to Glod and loomed over him. I could almost taste his fear.

“All,” I repeated. I definitely did not like repeating myself.

I flipped the weapon in my hand, causing them all to take a step back, and I smashed the hammer’s head against the wall. The force of the blow sent sparks, splinters and fragments of stone flying.

There was silence as I pointed once again to Glod’s precious water skin, before slicing it off the crude thing that served as his belt. Then, I pointed to them each in turn with my sword, gesturing at the skins at their hips before pointing downwards with my free hand.

“All,” I repeated yet again. If they still refused me I would cut them down to a man.

The message was clear, for almost all of them threw their water skins down. Slowly they started to back away. Wanting to expedite matters, I smashed my weapon against the wall again, causing fresh sparks to fly. Terrified, they all started to flee. In a moment of rare inspiration, I used Dash and grabbed one of them, a smaller individual, by its long dirty, and matted hair, causing it to scream in abject terror.

Completely abandoning their comrade, the rest of them continued to flee back to the place from which they had come. The fading echoes of their flight served as a testament to their haste. The one I had captured continued to gibber nonsense, most of it howls and grunts interspersed with entreaties for me to spare its little life. It spoke to their strength of character, that they chose to leave one of their own behind, I chuckled to myself. Or perhaps it was simply because their fear of me was just so great?

I lifted the creature I had captured off the ground with one hand. Raising it by the hair to eye level caused it to emit fresh new screams and I could not help but grin. My own Strength surprised me, as a feat such as this would have been impossible not long before.

The thing continued to bleat out nonsense, causing me to realize that the magic of my spell, Identify, had faded. Recasting the spell yet again, I focused on the troglodyte in front of me.

“Please! No! No! I have a family! My brothers and sisters will go hungry without me! After many turns, I finally became a Scout! To end like this…” the Troglodyte continued to beg. I felt an uncharacteristic shard of sympathy lodge itself in my heart before I mercilessly excised it. Perhaps, a side-effect from my constant use of Identify?

Listening intently to the meaning of its words, I began the task absorbing its random blatherings and let my magic do its work. It was almost as if I was downloading raw data, and the magic of the spell was acting as a sort of key that lifted the encryption.

Remembering my time in a cell in Ansan, a brief shiver overcame me. Luckily, my cell had a barred window that gave me a tiny view of a nearby market. There in that cage, I learned the Trade language, absorbing words and ideas while behind bars. In comparison to those early days, my language learning skills were improving, of that there was no doubt.

For the sake of completion, I cast another Identify, not on its words, but this time on the prisoner itself, giving me a vague understanding of its physical and mental capabilities.

Zala - Troglodyte Scout (Human lvl.9)

Health: 121/137

Stamina: 32/41

Mana: 10/10

Zala the Troglodyte Scout was a non-threat, slightly weaker than Glod, but probably substantially more intelligent than him. If Zala’s and Glod’s attributes were anything to go by, they were both generally weak. Perhaps things would have been simpler if I had just rendered them all down for the experience? No, that would not do. A man had to live by the rules that he set for himself. They gave me what I wanted, so I let them live for another day.

Sometimes Zala would grow quiet. The stream of information from the spell would pause until I violently shook the humanoid, causing it to go on a fresh desperate rant. In this way, and over the course of a few experimental hours, I learned their primitive language. Well, at least, I gained a semblance of understanding. The world itself seemed to congratulate me.

You have learned Identify (lvl.4)

You have gained 1 Intelligence.

Finally, a reward for my efforts. Though no improvements to my maximum Mana, at least not yet, I could already feel the gears within my mind turning that little smidgen faster.

I discovered that the troglodyte's language was a tonal one. The inflections on certain grunts that served as words changed the meaning of them. From my improved intellect and my magic, I concluded that the Troglodyte language was also highly contextual. Various ‘words’ had very different meanings depending on the situation in which they were spoken. In short, it was a very difficult language. Odd, indeed, for such a primitive group of people.

When I thought I had learned enough of their cave speak, I waited for my prisoner to quiet down before taking a quick glance at my Status. I had only about a third of my Mana left. I ripped off the creature’s cloth shade and looked into its ever-widening eyes which were doing their very best to look away.

Taking a deep breath, I spoke to the creature thus in my most commanding voice, “Zala, you will take us to the surface.”

Chapter 7 - The Guide

Often I had wondered how my friend had such a firm grasp of strategy and tactics, and ostensibly without any formal training at that. It was games from his childhood, of all things, that had schooled him thus, or so he said. But what sort of games were they from his land, that could teach the principles of logistics, battle lines, the correct order of battle, the importance of morale, and so on and so forth?

At times, he would speak with profound depth, though in his delivery I could tell that perhaps the words were not his. Yet, in all of my own studies, I have yet to find a single work that could have been his source of wisdom.

• From the diary of Damien de Savant.

A lifetime of grime and dirt covered the troglodyte, who I could see at such a close remove, was female. Dirty crude skins covered her important parts and small bones jingled in her matted hair, giving her a primitive, and now, dejected aspect. So ugly was she, that were it not for the fact that I had already identified this dweller of the dark as human, I would have seriously considered trying to use my Monster Taming skill on it.

One saving grace to all of this was that the creature had stopped struggling.

“Take me to the surface,” I commanded flatly in their simple tongue, infusing my voice with as much menace as I could muster.

Her Confusion struggled with her terror for a second. However, it was her curiosity that won out. “Surface?” she questioned, eyes growing wide with the unfamiliar word. Oddly innocent, like a child speaking its parent’s name for the first time.

“Yes,” I responded, drawing out the single syllable before pointing upwards.

“The place of the Bright Bright?” she exclaimed, eyes growing even wider in incredulity. Now that she knew that I wanted something from her, she realized that her life was in no danger.. With her fear lessening, she was slowly clawing back a semblance of control and confidence.

“If that is what you people call it,” was my flat reply. I decided to not expand upon my answer. Hopefully, she would expand upon this Bright Bright thing for me.

“But that,” she gulped as if for dramatic effect before continuing, “That is the place of the fire that always burns, and the winds that cut like blades. No, no, no, only demons walk on this surface, ever since the bad times. So it said,” she blurted, shaking her head.

Annoyed. Irritated. How these emotions could grow. Why was it that they had to talk in riddles? Was it in a pathetic attempt to stir interest in their little lives?

Before I knew it, I had wrapped my hands around her throat and was squeezing hard. I noticed that my shield had disappeared to wherever it had come from. I remembered summoning it before my encounter with the Troglodytes, but when had I dismissed it? Damn, this world and its total blasted disregard for the natural laws of the universe.

Zala was choking and spluttering as she feebly struggled. I lessened my grip, letting her take a strangled breath. It would not serve my cause for me to kill my only source of information for this place. Going forward, perhaps I could curb my slightly homicidal tendencies, if I spoke out the creature’s name.

“Zala” I demanded, the command echoing down into the deep beyond.

Zala stilled her pointless spluttering. Trembling, she continued on for a while, muttering unintelligible sounds that grated on my ears. I realized that my Identify spell had run out and cast the spell anew, allowing me to catch the tail end of her explanation, “No one goes to the surface, the place of the deadly Bright.  If you go there, metal man, even you will enter the Lonely Dream.”

This drew a snort from me. I deigned to grace her with an explanation.

“From the surface, I have come, and to the surface, I will return. Show me the way, Lonely Dream or not,” I said firmly. Hopefully, exasperation had not infected my attempt at being menacing.

Was the fool simply prevaricating, buying time while the rest of her people marshaled more of their forces against me? The voices within agreed that it was so, but more to the point, I could feel them urging me to leave this place. I decided that this little interview had gone on long enough. It was time to expedite things.

“Zala, take me to the surface, or I will skin and gut you. Slowly.”

*

Ten steps became a hundred, and a hundred became a thousand. My guide had been most talkative until we had walked a few thousand more. Her throat parched, Zala begged me for water and rest. Even the threat of death could be overcome by the body’s demands. Graciously, I allowed her to drink from one of my recently acquired skins, noting that, at the very least, the water was not poisoned. Not that I would have cared, with my ridiculously high Constitution attribute.

Zala had spoken of many things. She shifted from entreating me to turn back, to speaking about her family, no doubt in an attempt to win some sympathy, to the occasional useful tidbit about the flora and fauna. To all of this, I simply answered with noncommittal grunts and the simple terse command, “Keep moving.”

Deciding that a break was in order, I took the time to chew on some of my own rations. The Scout ate some of her own before curling into a fetal ball, whimpering for a few seconds before sleep took her. Seeing her like this made me start to think of her as a person, and not just a potential source of information and experience. Like this, I built the foundation of the walls that would allow me to curb my darker impulses. At least, until we reached the surface.

I did not rest in the traditional sense. Clearing my mind, or making my best attempt at it, I settled back against the wall into a dazed state of semi-watchfulness. It was not true sleep, but thanks to this, my Stamina and Mana were recovering and ticking steadily upward, albeit at a much-reduced rate. After an indeterminable amount of time, I was granted a reward.

You have learned Rest (lvl.4)

This disrupted my almost trance-like state, and not a moment too soon, as I heard the slithering sound of smooth scales wandering upon stone. Taking my sword in hand, I kicked Zala, causing her to squawk and jump up with fright. Stealth was never an option here, not with the glow of my Holy Aura.

Zala, in the interest of self-preservation, immediately scuttled behind me. A forked tongue entered my halo of light, followed lazily by a scaly diamond-shaped head that would not have been out of place on a large dinosaur. The head was soon followed by a pale sinuous body, about two doors wide, and so long that it seemed to stretch endlessly into the passage beyond. This new creature had sharp bony ridges along its snout and its eyes were blind unseeing orbs of milky-grey. The rest of its body was dull white, the color of bone left under the summer sun. I heard a muttered mention of Zlesh, the word sounding vaguely familiar to my ears.

I needed to know the scope of the threat. There was more to it than this. It was a thirst that went beyond just simple curiosity. Gripping my weapon tightly, I cast an Identify on the monster before me.

Zlesh Viper - [Reptile lvl.22]

Health: 528/528

Stamina: 47/51

Mana: 5/5

It had a full ten levels on me, and truly represented a real threat. Unlike the joke that was Iasis’s trial, this beast was a real and present danger. Slowly, I backed away, accidentally bumping into Zala. I had not come this far to die here.

I would cast Drain on the creature, weakening it, and hope that it slowed enough that I would have a fighting chance. There was a reason that humanity stood at the top of the food chain, after all.

But Something made me stop. Perhaps it was the way that the creature did not immediately attack, or it could have simply been primal instinct, but something of this world told me that for some mysterious reason, the animal in front of me was not a threat to me. For now, at least.

I stilled myself, as the creature came within striking distance, its tongue constantly tasting the air. Holding my breath, I gripped my weapon, my nerves strung taut, as an obnoxious notification played across my vision.

You have gained 1 Luck.

Sinuously, the ridged head passed me, followed by its smooth undulating body. It was a gigantic serpent. At around ten heartbeats later, I saw a large bulge in its midsection that caused me to breathe a mental sigh of relief. It seemed that the Zlesh had fed recently, and unlike man, or for that matter felines, it would not engage in killing for sport.

And then a small part of me felt somewhat belittled that it did not view me as a threat.

Once I could no longer hear its slithering movements, I breathed out a true sigh of relief and felt the stress of the moment leave me. Behind me, Zala was a trembling wreck, but I soon corrected that situation by cuffing her across the head and kicking her back into gear. Whimpering, she continued walking.

The encounter with the Zlesh was a lesson. The powerful did not need to fear the weak.

Chapter 8 - Bread & Water

To be a good man is to live with virtue and integrity on the hardest of roads.

- A Quassian aphorism.

The path ahead curved upwards, becoming also more natural in its formation. Here and there, stalactites and stalagmites grew from the floor and ceiling, occasionally meeting to form pillars. Glowing purple lines threaded through the rock here, making the formations look like living blood vessels. It was a sign, as good as any, that this place was most ancient in its origin.

Zala was ahead of me, scampering this way and that, chirping the occasional comment about our local environs and sniffing the air. After a few moments, she helped to confirm my suspicion that we were close to a source of water. And where there was water, there was food. I was used to privation, but I could no longer ignore the hunger pangs that a few strips of jerky could simply not assuage.

“We are close to fresh water. It will taste more like blood as we get closer to the Bright. They say it is because a sky-god bled here once,” she informed me, her eyes focused downward, subserviently.

“Good. Find it, and we will drink,” I returned simply, glad that we could refill our skins.

Regretfully, not all of the skins had been filled with water.

Some had filled with noxious liquid that burned my throat and set my limbs afire. In short, it gave me wings. I would have kept the energizing liquid, but it caused me to sweat a river and left me even thirstier. Regrettably, over half of the skins were of extremely poor quality, fashioned from fragile animal bladders that ruptured when their former owners discarded them hastily before taking flight. I had to discard them, as they were unusable.

Between us, we had six usable containers, of which three were about half full. Things were not desperate, not yet, but I knew enough to plan a few steps ahead.

Also, without a way to gauge how much longer it would take to reach the surface, this news was a godsend to me. The ‘blood taste’ description might be these primitives’ allusion to the heavy metal content in the water. The thought of drinking water with actual blood in it, was on some level, a little repulsive.

I pointed at her to go ahead. “Go. Scout out ahead. If you do not return I will find and gut you,” I commanded.

Gulping, she nodded her head a few times before and she scampered off.

Ever since the encounter with the fearsome Zlesh Viper, I felt that she saw me as something of a protector. Those who were weak would always take shelter behind the strong, it was the way of the world. She was used to taking orders.

Zala returned to my side, with a worried look on her face. “Water, a small watering place. Clean, I think. But there is one problem…”

“Spit it out,” I barked. I kept my responses short as, despite my magical ability to learn languages quickly, I still only had a very basic grasp of their underground language. With that in mind, I surreptitiously cast an Identify.

“Yes, yes,” she continued, surprisingly unfazed, as if she was expecting this response, “There are other things at the water. No big ones, like the Zlesh. We were lucky with the Zlesh, you were wise for not moving. No doubt you saw that it was sated and slowed. The Zlesh are known to move faster than a thrown spear. I saw some Ghostwalker Crabs. They are, of course, no threat to one as mighty as yourself but…” There was always a but, “They have begun their courtship dances and they will be most territorial.”

I waited for a few moments, to really absorb her words. Every word was being added to my lexicon as my mind digested them. Having learned one language already, the acquisition process had become much easier for me. It turned out that my teachers had been right, up until now, I had just been lazy all along. When your survival depended on it, one picked things up quickly.

Finally, I formulated a response, “The Crabs, they can be eaten?”

“Yes!” she piped, perking up almost immediately. “They are most delicious. We used to…”

She grew silent as I ended my Holy Aura, the darkness returning as the golden light withdrew. The golden song that had been playing faded, and with it my righteous sense of purpose. For some reason, I felt less sure. The reality of the task of returning to the surface somehow felt like it was becoming an impossibility.

I rolled my shoulders, cutting off such nihilistic thoughts as my eyes grew accustomed to the dull gloom. My light extinguished, I noticed now that the area we had entered was brighter than where we had come from, with more of the luminous rocks casting their glow. Here the darkness was, by an order of magnitude, far less stifling.

Looking in Zala’s direction with an appraising eye, I could see that her choice of attire was actually less primitive than I had originally thought. Now, I could see that instead of being a haphazard mix, her ensemble seemed to be a deliberate selection for our current environment. Here in this poor visibility, her garb did a good job of breaking up her outline, its texture and lines rendering her as just part of the background rock.

I realized I had overlooked something rather basic.

“You. How long before we reach this Bright?” I demanded.

She shifted, seemingly startled. She looked down and to the left before she nervously gave an answer, “The Bright… I would guess four dreams, no eight… eight!” I could almost taste the deception in her words.

Not only was she lying, but I could only discern the vaguest of ideas regarding how long it would take. I was going on the assumption that a ‘dream’ was their equivalent to a day, for there was no sun to mark the time here.

And here in the dark, my light was her sun. She had, at some point, come to accept that the light of my aura, that had once caused her discomfort, was actually a sort of shield that protected her from the creatures of the dark. In a way, it did, as it was healing the minor hurts she had acquired along the way. It was not so long ago that she could not look directly at me without squinting her eyes.

Though the jury was still out on whether I actually counted her as a person. My stomach rumbled, catching me off guard.

“The crabs, I assume you people hunt them, yes?” I asked my prisoner.

“Yes…but” she began worriedly.

“But nothing. If pathetic creatures like you can kill them, then I can kill them. I will kill them. All of them. Then we will drink from this water. If you are lying or preparing treachery, you know what will come to you,” I interrupted, growling in my most threatening voice and causing her to just fearfully nod.

Why did going down to get some water have to be so difficult? Why did everything in this world have to be difficult?

“Well? What are you waiting for? Show me the way, and be quick about it,” I commanded, and I swore she almost jumped to attention before heading off to heed my command.

Scuttling in front of me, she led the way, surefooted in her stride. I, on the other hand, was a textbook example of clumsiness, almost tripping over every rock that I came across. This drew a worried look from my long-suffering guide, so I decided to be a little more careful in my step. Soon enough, the path, or tunnel, opened up into a cavernous area. Here, the purple glow of the ceiling was perhaps fifty meters high. After the claustrophobic space of the tunnels, coming here was almost a welcome relief.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she gestured for quiet and pointed. Creeping as best as I could, I squinted in that direction, straining my eyes. My ears informed me before my eyes did. What I heard was a roiling crush of heavy bodies colliding, followed by the crash of displaced water. Finally, my eyes beheld a large pond, or small lake, of liquid twilight, filled with creatures, dozens strong, that looked like they had come from the darkest part of the ocean.

In the center of the lake was a pillar formed from centuries of redeposited minerals. Alien chittering and clicking noises accompanied the sight, the sound akin to that of a deranged maracas. I had found new prey.

They, as far as my eyes could tell, fit their name of Ghostwalker Crab almost perfectly. In the half-light, their carapaces were a ghastly pale gray and their many-limbed shadows stretched across the cold stone. They had no eyes, but were instead crowned with four long antennae. The bony sensory organs flicked and waved aggressively, as if tasting the air itself.

The giant crustaceans fought against each other in a grotesque display of dominance and desire, an erratic dance as they circled one another, grasping for purchase or already locked in a deadly embrace. They danced upon the ancient weathered rock of the shore, and in the dark water of the lake. Where a chitinous carapace was pierced, sludge and viscera oozed from the wounds. Would the water be potable after such a violent competition?

The monsters' attention focused solely on their duels. We were able to get a little closer and, hiding behind an outcropping of rocks, we continued to observe them. Holding my breath, I tried to judge the distance between us and the battling Ghostwalkers. My earlier bravado had disappeared like smoke before a stiff breeze, and I scrambled to think of some sort of plan to deal with these monsters.

Going over my options, I remembered the Karilla, that fearsome beast of the Sainba forest. If I could stay hidden, at this range, I could begin to pick them off slowly. I would just have to pray that they did not have a means of detecting the magic I cast on them.

“We remain here, I will deal with them,” I whispered to my local guide.

Zala looked at me, perplexed, as I started to prepare a spell. Identify came first, and I cast it like a net over one of the largest males, giving me a rough overview of their relative power.

Ghostwalker Crab- [Crustacean lvl.16]

Health: 276/332

Stamina: 23/51

Mana: 1/1

Seeing a specimen broken down into numbers was a relief, for, in terms of raw statistics, it was a far cry from the Zlesh, though, still worryingly, a little above my level. More importantly, they had extremely low Mana, which was a sign of low intellect, making them like normal crustaceans. Essentially, they were stupid. Relieved, I prepared to cast my only real direct damage spell. It had been a while, or at least I believed it to be quite a while, for time here under the earth was most fluid, since I had last cast Drain.

Here in the shadowed cavern beneath the earth, a darker shadow formed within and was let loose. Like eager hounds, the lines of power sought their prey, attaching themselves to the nearest source of life energy. I prepared to run, only to put aside such thoughts, as the vibrant song of life filled me with its energy. The voices, my true friends, rejoiced for me. Running was for cowards and weak men.

I could see that the spell had substantially improved. The rate at which the creature sped towards its untimely death hastened, as I was empowered. With this magic, I had become invincible. I wanted to fight, to glory in the thrill of the melee.

At times like this, I was glad to have heavy steel about my head. Its solid weight settled me in some sort of strange way. It also covered what I assumed to be a face consumed by my baser pleasures.

I knew that I was not, in fact, as invulnerable as my feelings sometimes led me to believe. These emotions I recognized now to be the influence of my magic, a subtle thing that could deceive by degrees.

And this was no time for a blaze of savage passion along the knife-edge of combat, to indulge my base desires, no matter how satisfying that would be. It was a time to deal cold calculated death, slow as that might be.

Perhaps if they were human… their screams would be more satisfying to my ears.  No, no, these thoughts too were not my own. I would stay here where it was safe, and kill all of them. One by bloody one.

Chapter 9 - Slow & Steady

In the rich tapestry of Al-Lazar’s Shareholder Houses, the House of Alim stands uniquely storied. Their ancestral tales whisper of a figure, known only as the Shield, a traveler from a realm distant and mystic. Beyond even the burning, treacherous waves of the Glass Fire Sea, the people of the long ago claim that her origins lie across a sea of the stars. On a world where mankind blossomed in the time of the ancients.

Legend suggests that this enigmatic woman, a slave, was a foundational pillar of Al-Lazar, instilling her otherworldly resilience into the bedrock of its inception. A truly flightful fancy, but House Alim commands respect and awe amongst its peerage. Every generation has produced formidable warriors that echo their legendary ancestor's might.

- The Fanciful Travels of Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Patience was a good a tool as any. A sharp blade, it was often mistaken for prevarication and hesitation. I was armed with patience-a-plenty. I was trying to keep perfectly still and the symphony of stolen energies continued to fill me. My spell had changed, improved and evolved. The deeper darkness of its tendrils, which only I could see, would on occasion, also latch onto hostiles near my initial target. Like the tendrils of a carnivorous plant, it spread and drained them of their essence. In short, it had a random area-of-effect now.

This was important, as the monster crabs themselves had only one point of Mana. With Drain using twice that, a single crab could not fuel another crab’s demise, which meant that I had to rely on my natural rate of regeneration. Despite my Mana Regeneration skill, the whole process was still painfully slow.

Foolishly, I was indiscriminate in my use of the spell, and soon enough, some of the badly wounded crabs began to fall. Stupidly, the males continued to battle each other, but now some of the smaller specimens, perhaps the females, pulled their corpses to the shores of the underground lake and began to devour their remains.

One of the males, weakened by my magic, had grown lethargic, his movements lazy and leaden. His opponent, a smaller but faster crustacean, saw that his strength was flagging, and moved to pin him down with both of his fearsome claws. Somehow, the defeated monster signaled submission, causing the victor to release him.

It was not nature’s way to kill in contests such as these. If contests such as this resulted in death then it would be an overall loss for the species. No, these competitions were merely displays of strength, designed to attract females and to produce strong spawn. but neither I nor my magic cared anything for that. The loser was consumed by my dark magic and I received my experience, fueling my progress.

Without any drama or fanfare, I earned my next level, driving me to level thirteen. A most auspicious number. Needing a boost in my magical abilities, I placed all my attribute points into Intelligence and the single skill point into the Mana Regeneration. This resulted in a clear result of an extra two points of Mana, but it would be difficult for me to measure the exact effect of my improved Mana Regeneration. Still, it was just what I needed. Idly, I regretted not bringing my potions on my outing. However, knowing my Luck, and the general unfairness of this world, had I done so, they would have probably been ruined in my descent to this dark place.

Glancing at Zala, I saw that, like me, she was perfectly still, blending almost perfectly with the rocky environs. I surmised that as a Scout, she would be used to long periods of inaction. Since beginning my slow one-man-war against the chitinous terrors, I had completely lost track of time. I felt no tiredness, and with no sun, nor any other heavenly body to mark the passage of time, the only thing I could rely on was my slowly depleting reserves of Mana to measure it out.

While I wrecked slow corruption upon this generation’s shelled youth, I found myself thinking about the fate of my real companions. The goddess had mentioned that they were making their way to my location, but where was this exactly? And how far had we traveled from Iasis’s temple? What of Laes and the people of the caravan? It would be most inconvenient for me should the worm have attacked them. Certainly, the nights would be a little colder if this had come to pass.

But these were thoughts for another day, as yet another monster fell and gifted me yet more empowering experience. Zala turned her head to face me. Her expression was unclear, but I imagined the thoughts that must be going through her head. I had not touched them, yet the Ghostwalker were falling one by one. To her, who could not see the black energies of my spell, it must have seemed that a curse was wrecking slow disaster through their ranks.

Good, I thought to myself. Let her know fear, and that this would be her fate should she try betrayal. It was, after all, better to be feared than loved.

As I was doing my best impression of a statue for such a long time, I thought I would have developed a cramp, but the constant invigoration made that possible fate a lie. Everything felt so clear, and the world was at a higher resolution. I could even smell the metallic content of the water, for it was stained with fresh blood.

Stupid as these creatures were, even they came to understand that this area was dangerous. Aggression, mixed with the savage urge to reproduce, was a most dangerous cocktail. The deaths, rather than dulling their instinct to mate, drove the remaining males to greater heights. The smaller surviving males, to be exact, for I had made it a point to specifically target the larger ones first.

I waited there, as insidious and as implacable as cancer, keeping five Mana in reserve and casting a new Drain whenever I could. A part of my mind drifted here and there, sifting through scattered memories of a different time. Of a different place. Even with my improved Intelligence, it was as if a heavy veil had been placed over certain parts of my recollections. Certain details I could view with greater clarity, but others floated just out of grasp. That was what time in a barbaric world would do to you. It would try to reduce you to being one of them.

Hours passed, or at least that was how it felt, and I could see that the strain was wearing on Zala. I had done enough with my magic, it was time to finish things in the old-fashioned way. Truth be told, I longed to take a more direct and physical approach.

I stood up surprisingly smoothly and broke cover. My dark silhouette must have been plain to see, for a few of the crabs' antennae waved spasmodically in my direction. Too engaged with their activities, they barely paid me any notice.

Zala, a little less sure on her feet, took position behind me as I strode forth. The crabs that were left were far smaller creatures, only waist high and the diameter of their carapaces only about a meter and a half. As I drew closer to them, they began to click their claws and chitter in warning as their feeble brains finally began to register the threat.

I weaved the song threads of my Holy Aura, casting it in a burst of golden radiance. The light scattered across the dark lake, refracting in a kaleidoscope of color. But these creatures did not care one whit, for they were blind and could not see, and thus could not truly appreciate the dread future that was descending upon them.

My new shield formed on my left, taking the shape of a small round wooden targe, the edges of which were plated in metal. The Azag-Gishban, I held as a hammer, its comforting weight an assurance.

Sidling up to me, some of the Ghostwalkers waved their claws threateningly. Unfortunately for them, the time for threats had long past. All that was left was the struggle, the conflict, the harvest of experience.

I started to jog, swatting aside a claw of one of the crabs. Using the momentum of my parry, I then smashed where the roots of its antennae met its carapace, a simple Power Strike enhancing the force of the blow. Chitin was no match against forged steel and there was an explosion of green-tinged viscera as its shell was rent asunder. I kicked at the pathetic thing, knocking it away, its legs still thrashing, as its body still had not registered its own death.

I felt a heavy strike across my left cuisse that only served to annoy me. The damage caused was only five Health points and was absolutely insignificant. Hope filled me, a glorious thing that I drank deeply of. I was strong here, stronger than a normal man had the right to be. But then again I was more than a normal man,

Swiveling smoothly, a maneuver that Cordelia taught me, I moved to deal with the monster that had the temerity to strike me. It was no different from its peers, and like its peers, it would meet a similar fate. Unfortunately, it was backed by others of its kind. Something whispered to me then, to try something different.

Instead of my usual bread and butter Power Strike, I surrendered myself to one of my newer skills, Frenzied Strikes. What followed next was a haze of craze-filled violence. Catastrophe was my weapon, and none were spared my wrath. Again and again, I used the skill, each use of it more tempting than the last. Every wave of unleashed rage was a cathartic release against this very world. I slashed, smashed, stabbed, punched and kicked. Again and again, my body following the rhythm of wrath, as more and more monsters fell. Caring nothing for my defense, I was struck countless times, the shield in my hand nothing more than just another bludgeoning tool.

Another of the creatures caught me in a vice-like grip around the ankle, I knelt and smashed the offending pincer with my hammer. Yet another monster crab drew me close, its horrible limbs trying to squeeze the life out of me. Experimentally, I used Rush Strike, and at such close remove, it simply resulted in the creature flying off me with its shell cracked in several places, its claw arm ripped from its socket.

Distracted by my last opponent, I allowed a strong-shelled limb to smack into my back, sending me reeling from the impact. A spike of pain flared as something found its way through the weak points of my cuisse, burrowing through the mail.

My Stamina was draining rapidly, and I realized, so too was my Health, as the remaining creatures swarmed me, inflicting a deluge of minor hurts. But at the end of the day, they were only minor hurts, trivial things that barely stung at all.

Perhaps it was because of the new mark that granted me minor regeneration, my ridiculously high Constitution, or my new armor, but I was weathering this storm. Though they were damaging me slightly faster than I could heal ‘naturally’, at the rate I was mowing them down, their fate was all but sealed.

However, I am not a man to leave things to chance, no matter how deep I had drunk from battle’s cup. Hubris had always been a fatal flaw of the powerful. In a single cognizant moment of clarity, the eye of the storm, I unleashed a Drain spell on a more distant creature to balance the equation even more in my favor. The questing dark found it, a few tendrils of spell finding other targets in the crowd. Their life energy, along with Holy Aura, would help fuel my cull. The new energy lent me strength, and like a carpenter knocking down rebellious nails, my weapon rose and fell, rose and fell.

And how the experience flowed.

Chapter 10 - Unforced Errors

Cowardice? Is it simply the absence of bravery, or a symptom of simple human failing? No, it is not, for I believe it to be something deeper.

Along the long path of human history, great men have risen and fallen. Wars have been won and lost, and tales of heroism and cowardice have been woven into our shared heritage.

The shadow of cowardice has lain across the path of those who falter in the face of seemingly great adversity. Those who put down their arms when faced with a greater foe, or those with whom fear has gripped so utterly that they fail to act.

Across most of the civilized world, cowardice is considered to be a deep moral failing in the main. Some of Philosophers of Quas believe it is rooted in the self, the absolute need to preserve one’s own current state. This could be one’s economic or social standing, or even one’s life. Oftentimes, such is the will to preserve this state that people will instinctually override concerns such as morality or ethical concerns.

I believe that, like all human traits, it is a complex thing and more than just a diametric opposition to bravery. It is the failure to overcome insecurities and certain fears.

In my own humble opinion, I put forth to you, that ultimately cowardice is the betrayal of our ideal sense of self, the potential of what we could be.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

The waters were stilled, my rage quenched. All that was left were the corpses of the simple creatures that had decided to oppose me. I felt irritated that even the simplest tasks had me putting in far more effort than I should.

“Zala!” I called out into the darkness, a hollow echo was the only reply.

Where was she? Damn her eyes! I would run her down and kill her if she had betrayed me at such a juncture. I searched around the area, my holy light a torch in the darkness.

Then I found her, or what was left of her, anyways. Among the broken corpses was a shabby and lifeless figure, her head pitifully caved in.

I quickly scanned my notifications, and there among them was evidence of my latest blunder, ‘You have slain a Human.’ At least her death would not be in vain, for her life essence would evermore be, in some way, a part of me.

There was, however, a silver lining to the whole debacle. My Frenzied Strikes and Endure both improved by one level. In addition, I had gained another point in Strength and Constitution. Perhaps in another level or two, I would exceed four hundred Health. Overall then, not a complete loss.

That being said, I had still lost my guide, and I now found myself in a little bit of a predicament. Oh, Zala, even at the end you were an inconvenience, leaving me now to find my own way to the surface. Useless NPCs. However, I had learned that using Frenzied Strikes when near companions was not perhaps the best of ideas. Oh well, you live and you learn.

I searched among her things, keeping her important items and discarding the rest from her bag. Things like a few pieces of questionable dried meat, a length of fibrous rope, and a stone, which I suspected to be flint, I kept. Useless to me, as I did not know how to start a fire, but I held on to them all the same. Laden with another bag, I felt like an armored pack mule.

Unsure of relying only on Drain to replenish my internal reserves, I heartily began eating some freshly cracked crab flesh. Its slimy texture left a lot to be desired, but I found it filling, if not palatable. I made sure to scarf down as much as I could, leaving the rest.

I took a moment for myself, enjoying the silence, while I waited for my Health and Stamina to creep back up. The eternal question remained, what on earth do I do now? With my head in my hands, I indulged in a moment of self-pity.

The smallest hint of a breeze threaded its way through my hair as I looked up at the purple-threaded veins that ran through the rock ceiling. I took a moment to dunk my face into the lake, holding myself under for a few extended seconds.

As I raised my head out of the water, I vigorously shook like a dog, more to clear my thoughts than anything else. It was then that I felt it again, that faint hint of moving air caressing my damp face. A surge of realization washed over me. That was it! I was saved! I had found my elusive way out. Just like it was in the mines of Ansan. In that gentle breeze, I had found my way to escape.

Gathering my things, I held my helm in the crook of my arm, moving in the direction of the breeze. I walked at a brisk pace. One that I could maintain for hours, if need be. A quick look back revealed that nature would not be so quick to give up its bounty to simple decay. Naked of fur, and long of tooth, six-legged rat-like creatures descended upon the banquet I had left behind for them, the scavengers of this realm.

Purpose lent speed and determination to my stride, and I barely noticed the creatures that hastily stepped out of my way. They probably smelled the death stench that was upon me. All except one monster, who decided to test its luck, thinking me easy prey.

A giant scorpion analogue stood in my path for a few moments. Like the giant crabs it was a pale white, and possessed thick natural armor. Its mandibles clicked against each other in warning before it launched an attack. On any other day, I would have considered it a threat, but so intent was I on the singular goal of getting out of this place, and so drunk on my recent victories that I barely gave it half a mind as I dropped my helm and prepared to do battle.

A protective barrier, my new shield, formed in less than a heartbeat, and automatically absorbed a vicious strike from its tail. The scorpion’s stinger blocked, it could do nothing more than pump venom ineffectually into the wood. Then I rushed into the dead space between its claws with a Dash to give my next blow greater force. In perfect striking distance to its head, I began to smash my weapon repeatedly into it, working my way up to its thorax with Frenzied Strikes. After a last, sickening crunch, as my hammer caved in the chitin armor, the monster finally gave up the ghost, feeding me with more experience and improving my Critical Hit Mastery Skill.

It would have been a waste of Mana to identify, so I simply sat on the scorpion’s pale corpse as I waited for my Stamina to recover. I could not see them clearly, but I heard the scuttle of the creatures of this realm giving me a wide berth. With the little grace given to me, I perused through my Status, confirming the gains, and was mildly surprised to see that my new partner, the Entropic Mimic, had lost a few points of Health. I surmised that it most likely had been damaged by the scorpion’s attack, its Health points taking the place of Durability. Of passing note was that it had actually gained in maximum Health, lending me to think that it could also grow in power alongside me. A comforting, if also a little disquieting, thought.

The wind was growing stronger, its voice now a quiet susurration instead of a ghost of a whisper. With a new spring in my step, buoyed by new-found hope, I picked up my helm from the stone floor and marched on.

At last, the expanse of the cavern started to constrict, gradually leading me toward a network of intersecting paths. These were predominantly rugged and uneven tunnels that branched off in various directions from the main cavern.

I waited for the guiding breeze to lead me, to give me some hint as to where to go. The air was still for long moments, the silence broken only by the skittering movements of the local animals. There was the distant buzzing or the flap of leathery wings. I heard, far beyond the circle of my light, the chattering cries of creatures calling out to each other. At one point I fancied I saw a pair of orbs, golden with reflected light, looking straight back at me.

Then I felt that errant breeze, the promise of sky, originating from one of the narrow paths leading upward. With nothing for it, I went down this path that angled and twisted ever upwards. As I progressed, the walls became laced with more than just the purple mineral veins, but now also sported splotches of a dull glowing green. Closer inspection revealed it to be a sort of bioluminescent lichen. Curiosity, that rascal of a friend, urged me to use Identify on it. With some Mana to spare, I simply thought, why not?

Beron’s Dream (Lichen)

Health 4/4

Curiosity joined avarice in whispering suggestions in my ear. Perhaps I could bring some with me to the surface? I reached to touch the strange lichen and felt a small tingle, even through my gauntlets. Strange, I thought to myself. Noticing no negative change to my Health, I decided to gather some of the specimens, scraping them off the rock with my knife and stuffing them into a side pocket of Zala’s bag. At the very least, I would have a source of light aside from my Holy Aura and a way to conserve some Mana.

I almost began to whistle, sure that my fortunes had finally changed, but stopped myself. It would not do to attract unwanted attention here. The thought of another encounter with a Zlesh Viper sent a shiver through my spine.