Chapter 06 (Healer)

James strode over to the slain heavy warrior in high spirits, a grin playing on his lips.

"Now I'm the king of the swingers, oh, the jungle VIP. I've reached the top and had to stop, and that's what's botherin' me... I wanna be a man, mancub, and stroll right into town..."

He hummed the tune cheerfully, settling down beside the corpse. With a sigh, he removed the warrior’s helmet, revealing an orange-skinned face with a wide, toothy grin filled with sharp, predatory teeth. James wouldn’t have been surprised if these creatures feasted on humans. Unfortunately, the armor was far too heavy for him, and the sheer size of the fallen warrior made it impractical to scavenge anything wearable.

Rummaging through the belt’s metal plating, he discovered a small brown pouch. Inside were two flasks—one filled with a deep red liquid, the other containing a murky yellow-green substance that looked suspiciously like poison. He frowned, rolling the bottles in his hand. Perhaps he could pour the second one on the ground to test its effects or dilute it in water—he was getting thirsty after all this running around. At least he had fire to cook something or keep warm when night fell. Then again, was it even smart to make a fire? What if predators lurked in the darkness, drawn to the light like moths to a flame? That was a risk he wasn’t sure he wanted to take.

Turning his attention to the fallen warrior’s axe, James wondered if he could activate any of its abilities. The weapon already felt absurdly heavy in his hands, and unlike the fire wand, no system message popped up to confirm compatibility. He gave it an experimental tug—first a cautious pull, then a full-force attempt. The axe barely lifted off the ground before slipping from his grip, slamming back down with a resounding clang.

"Yeah, not happening," he muttered. The axe and armor would have to stay.

He sighed, glancing at the surrounding corridors. Each passage looked nearly identical, and after running for so long, he wasn't entirely sure which direction he had originally come from. The last thing he wanted was to run straight into Sara again by accident. Could he leave the party somehow? What if they had a way to track him? He shuddered at the thought. Maybe he needed to find another party first? For that he had to take one of the many corridors.

"No, I don't like you, and I don't like you either... ha, maybe this one."

James spoke softly to himself, scanning the identical corridors. After a moment’s hesitation, he picked one at random, but before stepping inside, he conjured a fireball and burned the plants lining the entrance to a crisp. It was a simple way to mark his path—just in case he hit a dead end and had to backtrack.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. He had been awake for far too long, and exhaustion tugged at his mind. He needed to focus—there could be traps waiting in the shadows. Moving cautiously, he crept through the corridor, making as little noise as possible. The acoustics of the passage weren’t great, but he preferred to be the one who spotted danger first rather than the other way around.

After thirty minutes of silent movement, he noticed something odd on the wall. The corridor was covered in intricate engravings, but here, the patterns formed what appeared to be... an arrow? He tilted his head, brushing aside some overgrown vines to get a better look. The arrow pointed toward a section of the wall, where another carving—a statue—also seemed to be directing its gaze at a door.

Except, there was no door. And no statues.

A coincidence? Maybe. But it gnawed at his thoughts as he pressed forward.

Eventually, the corridor split into two staircases—one leading upward, the other descending into darkness.

The mechanical voice had instructed them to reach the fiftieth floor, so going down seemed counterproductive. Then again... what if, in this alien world, "down" was the new "up"? He grimaced at the thought. Probably a stupid idea. Then again, he had just burned someone alive, so who was he to judge what was rational anymore?

Still, the choice seemed clear. Before committing, he checked the walls again, hoping for another clue. Nothing. No statues. No doors. No helpful engravings.

With a deep breath, he started ascending, an uncomfortable weight settling in his stomach. He hated this—the uncertainty, the lack of information. The feeling of walking blind into the unknown.

The climb was longer than expected. Ten minutes passed, yet no notification confirmed that he had reached the next floor. Figures. That would’ve been too easy.

Finally, he stepped onto solid ground and found himself inside a massive ballroom—an opulent, breathtaking sight straight out of a palace. The ceiling stretched at least seventy meters overhead, and intricate decorations adorned every pillar and wall. The air felt heavy, charged with something unseen.

James swallowed hard, gripping the flask in his hand. Something told him this was just the beginning.

On the far side of the vast ballroom stood a towering door, over twenty meters high. Once, this grand hall must have gleamed in pristine white, but now, time and nature had reclaimed it. The walls and pillars were shrouded in creeping vines, their tendrils weaving through the intricate carvings like silent invaders. The floor, once polished, was now cracked and uneven, with patches of moss thriving in its crevices. If plants could speak, they might have whispered the secrets of this place, guiding him forward.

James scanned the chamber, his eyes narrowing as he noticed something familiar among the many statues lining the walls. Some bore an uncanny resemblance to the carving he had seen earlier—the one with arrows pointing toward it. A flicker of curiosity stirred within him. Maybe this was worth investigating before attempting to open the massive door.

He stepped toward one of the statues, slightly taller than himself. It depicted a regal figure, almost human, save for its pointed ears. Draped in the robes of a noble or a priest, its sculpted expression exuded an air of arrogance, nose tilted high as if sneering down at lesser beings. Rich bastard, James thought. He reached out, testing if the statue’s arms could be moved, suspecting some hidden mechanism. Nothing happened.

His gaze shifted to the amulet resting against its stone chest. Something about it felt... significant. Without overthinking, he pressed it.

At that moment, he knew—he had found the key.

In every game he had played, whether Pokémon or any other, if presented with three paths and no clear hints, James would invariably choose the wrong ones first. Finding a secret corridor this quickly? That was more surprising than humanity being abducted by aliens and tossed onto a so-called Floor Zero.

His smug satisfaction lasted only a second.

The statue pulsed with power. A faint glow ignited around it, crackling like embers in the wind. Then, its stone eyelids snapped open, revealing gleaming orbs of light. With a grinding noise, the figure stepped down from its pedestal.

James was already moving. He had dashed back several meters before the system message appeared.

You have activated the Guardian Statue

Defeat the correct statue to access the hidden path

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

His eyes flicked around the room. More than a dozen statues stood motionless, each adorned with a similar crystal on their chest. Did that mean—?

The first statue drew the saber from its back and lunged.

James barely had time to react. No fireball—no counterattack—just instinct. He threw himself sideways, evading the downward slash, and took off running to create distance. As he moved, the fire wand appeared in his grasp. Wait… should I even be using this like a staff? The risk of dropping or breaking it was too high. Wouldn't it be smarter to just channel the fire through his hands?

The thought settled in his mind, but before he could test it, something else became apparent—the statue couldn't sprint. It was fast, sure, but not that fast. It moved at a steady jog, closing the gap with determined but predictable strides.

James exhaled in relief. Okay. This just got a lot easier.

Sliding the wand back into his belt, he summoned fireballs directly into his palms. He toyed with them for a moment, testing if he could strengthen the spell, but the difference was negligible. No upgrades. No sudden boosts in power. Still, it didn’t matter—because the statue was absolutely terrible at dealing with fire.

It didn’t dodge. It didn’t react.

The first fireball slammed into its chest. The second exploded against its arm. The third hit its head—and with a thunderous crack, the entire thing shattered, the headless body collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

A system message blinked in his vision.

+50 Experience.

"Fifty? That’s nothing," James muttered, unimpressed.

His gaze lifted to the rest of the chamber. At least ten more statues stood in silent arrogance, each wearing the same noble attire, each displaying different weapons. Some were bulkier, others more slender. One wielded a massive war hammer, another held a slender rapier, and a few clutched greatswords. Thankfully, none carried a bow.

James approached the fallen statue and picked up its saber, giving it a few test swings. No system notification appeared—it had no special abilities. Still, the weapon felt good in his grip. Well-balanced. The stone blade was razor-sharp, and it had a solid weight to it.

"Ha. Maybe I’ll keep this one."

Not that he planned to engage in close combat if he could help it. He liked having distance from his enemies. But a backup weapon never hurt.

His attention shifted to the hammer-wielding statue.

The fight went exactly like the last one. Shadow Step to dodge. Fireballs to destroy. A few explosions later, and the massive figure lay in ruins.

One by one, James worked his way through the statues. Some were faster, some took a few extra hits, but they all had the same weakness—none of them reacted to his magic. Whether they were incapable of dodging or simply refused to, he didn’t care. What mattered was that he had reduced them all to rubble.

All except one.

The final statue remained untouched.

Unlike the others, this one had no weapons. It was slimmer, its build more refined. The crystal on its chest was embedded in a circular medallion, rather than resting loosely against the robes like the others.

James frowned. Something felt different.

He reached out—and the moment his fingers pressed against the crystal, a surge of power erupted from the statue.

It was much stronger than the others.

The Keykeeper Has Awakened Strengthened by the Death of His Comrades

That was the only message James received, and he didn’t like it one bit. Typical. Of course, he was screwed again. As long as the statue didn’t wield overpowered magic and only jogged after him like the others, things should be manageable, right?

Wrong.

The statue raised its hand, and the shattered remains of its fallen brethren trembled at its feet. With an eerie fluidity, the fragments rose into the air, molding together into a jagged stone spear. Before James could react, the spear shot toward him like a bullet.

Pain exploded through his shoulder.

The spear pierced his skin, the sheer force of impact cracking bone. James staggered, a strangled scream tearing from his throat as the heavy stone projectile, now embedded in his flesh, fell to the ground, ripping the wound open even further. Blood spilled down his arm, his vision swimming with agony.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Panic gripped him. What now? What the hell was he supposed to do?

The statue decided for him.

With a flick of its hand, another spear formed, the deadly projectile already aimed in his direction. James barely had time to react. Heart pounding, he activated Shadow Step, vanishing just as the spear whizzed past where he had stood a fraction of a second before.

Reappearing several meters away, he stumbled behind a crumbling pillar, pressing his back against the cold stone. His shoulder burned like it had been set ablaze, pain radiating through every nerve. Gritting his teeth, he raised his trembling hand and cast Heal, golden light enveloping his wound. The relief was immediate, though not complete. His arm still throbbed, his muscles weak, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

He risked a glance around the pillar.

What he saw nearly made him groan aloud.

The Keykeeper wasn’t running. No, this one had figured out a much faster way to move. It was surfing—gliding across the battlefield on a rolling wave of broken statues, effortlessly balancing atop the wreckage like some ancient sorcerer riding the tide of war.

James clenched his jaw. If he had fought this thing first, before defeating the other statues, it would have been powerless—just another slow-moving target. Instead, he had unknowingly fed it.

"This is ridiculous," he thought bitterly.

His shoulder was healing quickly, but he had to cut the process short. The statue had spotted him. It surged forward, riding its wave of debris like a force of nature.

James acted on instinct.

His left hand, still glowing faintly from the healing spell, clenched into a fist. His right hand summoned a fireball, while his newly acquired saber hung loosely on his belt. A quick mental note: the loops on his belt were proving useful, allowing him to attach multiple weapons and items, including the two flasks he had looted earlier.

He hurled the fireball.

It struck the statue square in the chest, the explosion knocking it off its makeshift platform. The wave of debris lost momentum and crashed violently against the pillar James had been hiding behind just moments before. Dust and shattered stone filled the air.

Not wasting a second, James dashed to another pillar, using the cover to continue healing. His mana reserves weren’t infinite, and between Shadow Step and his healing spells, they were starting to drain faster than he liked. Still, he couldn't afford to stop now.

His health had dropped to 40% after the initial hit, but with his healing magic, he was back to full strength within moments. Unfortunately, his robe wasn’t so lucky—there was still a gaping hole where the spear had torn through.

With his shoulder fully restored, he drew his saber in one hand and conjured another fireball in the other. His mana needed time to regenerate, so he had to be strategic.

The statue was searching for him now, no longer riding its wave of destruction but still eerily graceful in its movements. The moment James saw an opening, he struck.

Another fireball, aimed directly at its face.

The blast sent the statue sprawling onto the ground. James was already preparing the next attack when—

Lightning.

A blinding arc of electricity erupted from the statue’s outstretched hand, crackling with deadly energy as it shot toward him. The sheer speed of it caught him completely off guard.

Too fast to dodge.

Acting on pure instinct, James lifted his left hand—saber still in his grip. The lightning struck the flat side of the blade, the impact sending a violent jolt through his arm. The force of it blasted him backward, his feet leaving the ground as he tumbled several meters before landing hard on his back.

For a moment, everything was a blur. His vision spun. His ears rang. But he was alive.

Staggering to his feet, he blinked in disbelief.

"Did... did the saber just absorb or block the lightning?"

That didn’t make sense. Weapons weren’t supposed to do that. Unless…

A slow grin spread across his face despite the lingering pain.

"Maybe I’m not so unlucky after all."

Tightening his grip on the saber, he steadied himself, fireball forming in his free hand once more.

"Alright, you overpowered piece of rock," he thought, eyes blazing with determination. "Let’s see what you’re really made of."