I needed to get out of here regardless. I did a sweep of the chamber and found a passageway in the shadows. It was special; it was a flight of stairs, as intentionally worked as the walls in this cave were smooth. I now had a single way out of here.
Next, I inspected the statue. I was curious about what was in one of her hands–that glowing, floating water droplet. Maybe it was a “blessing.”
Or maybe it was a trap. Only one way to find out.
The statue’s smooth, polished surface didn’t offer much in the way of handholds, but her pose—kneeling with her arms outstretched—created a natural path upward. I started with her legs, using the natural incline of her thighs to my advantage. The climb from her hips onward was slow and deliberate, my fingers searching for every groove and ridge to grip. As it turned out, the woman was thin enough that I could make out the faint imprint of her ribs. I slipped once, but New Arm’s grip strength in conjunction with a quick use of my Levels was more than I needed.
As I climbed higher, the cavern floor grew smaller beneath me, the pool of water now a shimmering mirror reflecting the faint light of the magic in her hand. The statue’s blindfolded face loomed above me, her expression serene but somehow expectant. It felt like she was watching me, even though her eyes were covered. I shook off the unease and kept climbing.
When I reached her shoulders, I paused to admire my effort thus far.
“Literally standing on the shoulders of a giant.” I patted her head. “But to be stuck in such a depressing place… You have my condolences, ma’am.”
The teardrop of magic was just a few feet away now, cradled in the palm of her outstretched hand. Its light had a soothing property to it that I could viscerally feel now that I was so close.
I shifted my weight, carefully maneuvering onto the statue’s arm. The stone was wide enough to walk on, but the smooth surface made every step treacherous. I moved slowly, my arms outstretched for balance, my eyes fixed on the teardrop. The closer I got, the stronger a low hum became. Slowly, the hum became the sound of rain–what a nostalgic sound.
Finally, I reached the hand. Its natural groove expelled any fear I had of slipping. The teardrop floated just above her palm. Now that I was close, it looked like it was actually glowing water in the eternal shape of a teardrop. It was pretty big too, practically half my size.
I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering in front of it. What if this was a trap? What if touching it triggered some kind of curse or worse? But then I remembered the voice from the Trial Terminal, the suggestion of rewards. If this was part of it, then I kind of had to take the chance.
I reached out and touched the teardrop.
The moment my fingers made contact, the world around me turned blue and shimmered. The cavern, the statue, the pool of water—all of it was behind a watery expanse. The teardrop’s energy surged through me, a cool, pulsing sensation that spread from my fingertips to the rest of my body. Visions flashed before my eyes—a river flowing through a dark cavern, grass growing at the riverside, rocks in the river being eroded.
And then, a voice came. Not the same voice from the Trial Terminal, but something more feminine, with a slight undercurrent of emotion. It whispered in my mind, its words flowing like water.
They were a language I didn’t recognize. It was maddening. Thankfully, whatever message was being delivered only lasted a few seconds.
The scene in front of me shifted. I was certain a pair of glowing eyes formed above me. Suddenly, all of the “water” distorting my vision collected in one spot above me. It fell into a shape–an elaborate lance. That lance flew down at me. Before I could react, it pierced the hand, just a few inches from my foot.
My hand moved without my thinking. It gripped the lance’s shaft, and the thing broke into a dozen shimmering bubbles. Just then, with every pop of a bubble, a woman’s sinister laughter made my ears buzz.
The visions faded, and I was back in the cavern, standing on the statue’s hand. The teardrop was gone. The lance was gone. There were no eyes above me. And then a new window appeared.
***
Attack Power Acquired!
[Water Glaive: Launcher Spectacular]
Uses: 3/day.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
- On use, launches a Water Element Glaive at user’s direction.
- Glaive will last five seconds.
- User’s mental image of a “Glaive” will impact the power’s expression.
***
“Well, that’s new,” I said, a grin spreading across my face. If it was anything like the Trump Card, I just got something new for my arsenal!
I carefully made my way back down the statue, the climb much easier now that I wasn’t as nervous. When I reached the ground, I took one last look at the statue, her blindfolded face still serene, her arms still outstretched.
“Thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if she could hear me or if she even cared. “Really hope you weren’t the one with that menacing laugh.
With the teardrop resolved, I turned and headed for the passageway, curious as to where the stairs led. Kind of annoying that I didn’t get a Level for that, though.
***
The stairs to the surface were quiet. No sounds of rushing water, no distant growls of Husks, not even the faint creak of wood or stone. Whatever protective effect the underground chamber had evidently extended up the stairs.
The stairs spiraled upward, the steps worn smooth by time or human intention. I kept one hand on the wall for balance, my boots barely fitting on some steps. The climb felt endless, but eventually, the stairs leveled out, ending at a flat stone ceiling. I paused, frowning. There was no door, no hatch, just solid stone above me.
“Great,” I muttered, pressing my hand against the ceiling. It didn’t budge. I knocked on it, the sound hollow and muffled. Willing to bet I could break through.
I summoned New Arm, braced myself, and then drove my fist into the ceiling. Dust and debris rained down as I broke through, the faint light of the surface filtering through the gap. Emboldened, I unleashed more metal fists until the hole was large enough for me to pull myself through it.
I landed in a heap on the floor, coughing as the dust settled around me. The room was eerily familiar. I was in one of the round homes.
A small table sat in the corner, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust. A chair lay toppled on its side, as if someone had knocked it over in a hurry. Shelves lined the walls, their contents—cups, plates, a few books—served to only collect dust. The windows were shuttered, the faint light seeping through the cracks mixing together with the faint light of the moss that had grown in places.
It looked just like the other houses in the village, but all the extra property made me think that this had been the home of a crafter or someone interested in the finer arts… A village chief could have lived here. A quick inspection of the books revealed that they had a similar version of the language that my village used, and even used the same material.
On that note, I realized now how strange it was that we had books in this miserable life. In our case, there was a funky little mushroom that sometimes grew in the hunting zones. It shed these layers of parchment that people then prepared into paper. It was handy.
One of the books was a journal, in fact. Paging through it, I learned that they were not very meticulous in their record-keeping. Their final entry was on the “597,874th Bright Phase.”
Because we were underground, and had no idea of an aboveground world, the villagers had no concept of “Days,” nor a direct word for it in the native language. Instead, they went off of the brightness of a special rock and fungus that seemed to grow on the ceiling above the village. The ceiling’s brightness went from “Bright Phase” to “Dim Phase.” Evidently, that was how it worked for this village, too. With my memories harmonizing now, it was becoming second nature to just auto-translate the words back to my own conception of time-keeping. I hoped I wouldn’t slip up while in conversation with someone.
Anyway, all this was to say was that this village had been around for about 597,874 days. My village had only recorded 296,329 days, but we were missing a lot of days since people weren’t keeping track at first. I think the old folks in the village always say there were about 20 generations before them.
It was all weird stuff, to say nothing of the hole leading to the obelisk’s base.
I crouched down, peering through the hole I’d made. The stairs were still there, as if they were the most natural thing to have in a carved-out house.
“So, did you know this was here, Journal-Keeper?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The villagers—or whoever had lived here—did they know this was here? Did they make use of it? But why? And more importantly, did my village have something like this too?
The thought sent a chill down my spine. My village had a central obelisk-like thing, just like this one. Did it also have a hidden chamber beneath it? A Trial Terminal? And if it did, what did that mean? Were we actually connected to this place somehow? We were using the same terminology and a similar enough language. Or was this just how things were—if there were more settlements, then every settlement with an obelisk had its own secrets buried beneath it?
I shook my head, trying to clear the questions swirling in my mind. There was no way to know for sure, not yet. To say nothing of the complication that the statue bound to the obelisk added.
I stepped away from the hole, and went for the door. There was nothing else in here, after all. Actually, wait. I searched the house a little more carefully. Someone who could write usually cared about the things they collected. I found an old leatherwork bag and was happy to see that it still had a few years in it. I piled the books in and threw the bag on my back.
Then, I went for the door, stopping short of turning the handle.
“Go back out there, and I’ll be back in the fight.”
I had defeated 4 Husks. I was pretty sure that the Blacksmith was not among that number. Which meant that I was probably walking out into the town square with the Blacksmith still there.
My Gimmick Meter was at zero again. I’d have to build it up again… But, this time, I had access to my Levels. I also didn’t have to worry about the fight depleting me, since a Level was guaranteed if I won.
I shrugged, turned the handle, and cracked it open just a smidge.