Where was he, and why was he naked? Those two questions were the first to enter Edward’s mind as he woke up to find himself in a cave. Strangely, he also woke up standing, did he somehow sleepwalk to wherever he was, and strip himself along the way? And despite his nakedness, it wasn’t cold in the cave, in fact, it was quite a bit warmer than the bush he’d fallen asleep beneath.
Quite honestly, this cave was far better than any hole he’d be able to dig out, and if he could find his way out of it, he could consider making it his hideout. That was a good plan, all he’d need to do is get some fabric to put down, and he’d have a good bed ready. He should still probably steal a shovel and some knives, as they would still be useful even if he didn’t need them immediately.
But on second thought, maybe standing around and planning out how he’d decorate the cave he was lost in wasn’t the best idea. At the very least, he should be trying to find his way out of it while doing so.
As it turns out, the spirit had been wrong about him ending up in a dungeon tonight. While the cave could certainly have passed for a dungeon, he would’ve been killed before he even woke up if he had sleepwalked into one. Although it was right about the fact that he would be shocked, as his surprise at suddenly being caved had woken him up rather quickly.
He supposed that since the spirit was only partially correct with his guesses from the day, he might actually see some guys sitting around for millennia to get stronger, but they’d probably be skeletons or something. If true, that would simultaneously be quite funny, as well as extremely scary, so he hoped his joke did not come true. Plus, midnight had likely already passed him by, so he probably didn’t need to worry about another one of the spirit’s predictions coming true.
Unless he was in dream that had been fueled by what the spirit had said during the day, that would explain why the spirit’s guesses were somewhat coming to be, while still being off at their core. That theory, however, would not explain why he had such clarity in the dream, so it could be thrown out without worry.
And that thought was what led Edward to realize his mistake, not only was sleeping a moment of weakness, but evil spirits also tended to be stronger at night, meaning this entire sequence he was undergoing could’ve been a product of evil spirit magic. It was his mistake to trust the words of the spirit and think that it meant for its prophecy to literally come to pass instead of being code for the illusory dream sequence that it had planned for him.
It was quite an insidious plot, one that would’ve worked even if he had not listened in on the spirit’s thoughts, but since he did, it was that much more effective. The worst part of it all was that he used the same tactic of exploiting a single moment of weakness to escape the guy who had tackled him to the ground earlier in the day. And despite him knowing the trick, he still fell for it when it was used on him.
So much for making this cave into his hideout, the entire structure was clearly an elaborate illusion designed by the spirit. And as such, there could be countless dangers waiting for him around every corner. That thought alone caused him to stop walking, as it was likely that by doing so, he was unintentionally inching himself closer to death.
The damned spirit was close to achieving its goal, but fortune did not favor the wicked, he had caught onto the spirit’s scheme, and could now bolster his mind’s defenses against further attacks. It was also a good idea to alter his uncle’s advice so that he would not fall for such a scheme again. From this point forward, he would listen twice, then consider what he’d heard twice, and then he would speak or act.
With that being said, since the spirit didn’t know that he could listen in on its thoughts, it could prove helpful to listen in to see what it was planning. Not one to hesitate, Edward immediately put his plan into motion, honing his mind and tuning into the connection with the spirit. Absentmindedly, he noted that the entire process was much easier now that he had done it before.
“Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon!”
The spirit was just repeatedly chanting the word dungeon in its signature, monotone voice. His uncle’s wisdom would guide him through this coded message for sure. He’d only listened once, which meant he had another opportunity to listen for information.
“Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon!”
No need to fear, there was still ample opportunity for him to gather information, as there was no reason to take his uncle’s advice too literally on the listening part. The spirit’s ploy could only last so long before it let up and began to think actual thoughts, after all, it wasn’t like it should be expecting to have its thoughts listened to.
“Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon!”
He was starting to lose hope. Perhaps in creating the illusion, the spirit had finally snapped and gone insane, and now it could only speak the word dungeon. He would give it one last chance before he would try to brave the dangers without any insider information.
“Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon! Dungeon!”
All hope was lost, it was a doomed cause. The spirit was either too smart, too insidious, and too experienced in its ways for an immature mind like his to combat, or it truly had traversed into the lands of insanity. Hopefully that meant it didn’t have the coherence left in it to create any spooky creatures to hunt him down in the illusion, but that hope did nothing to assuage his fears.
Despite his growing concern, he knew he had to keep his will solid, as that was the key to fighting against an evil spirit’s possession. He wanted to make sure that this spirit would have to suffer if it was to take over his body. No manner of insidious ploy, no matter how realistic and gruesome the illusion that fueled it, would shatter his iron will.
In fact, now that he had fortified his will and calmed his mind, he realized that the panic that had almost overcome him just before were the exact moments of weakness the spirit was looking out for. Once again, he almost fell for a trick he, himself, used.
He really needed to focus less on what the spirit was saying to itself, it was doing him no good, but in case it began to start talking about something important, he would try to stay partially tuned into the connection.
It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, as it felt similar to when you tried to do two different things at the same time, and neither of them went well. At least he was standing still, he couldn’t imagine how much more difficult the process would be if he tried to walk and do it. He was probably better off taking a couple of minutes to get used to it, before he tried to do anything else. After all, he didn’t want to make a mistake and fall over in front of a monster.
That’d be an ironic way to go, prioritizing gathering info from the spirit on when to expect a monster, only to not notice that he was walking right into one. And on that note, Edward wondered once again whether the cave was empty or not. It seemed pointless to him for the spirit to have brought him into this illusion just to do nothing to him.
It could be that the spirit was trying to tire him out, he was asleep before he woke up in the cave, so he didn’t know how much this little excursion would affect his sleep. And there went his partial focus on the connection, his concentration had swayed too far, and he could now barely hear the spirit.
Annoyed, he was about to refocus his mind to re-establish the connection, when he heard a quiet tip-tapping. It was ever so faint that he thought he had misheard, then it happened again, just as quiet as the first time. Could it be a water drip? That happened in caves, right?
Unsure, he listened closely for the next tap. And as it passed, he was filled with horror, that was not the noise dripping water made. It was the sound of something hard hitting the ground softly. He’d heard a similar noise somewhere before, the question was, where? What had made the noise?
The noise was getting closer, so whatever was making it was definitely getting closer, which meant it was on the move. In a cave like this, with what the spirit had said, that could only mean one thing, a monster or creature of sorts was approaching his section of the cave. But with how quiet it was, he should have some time to run or hide, there was no way it was near—
—A roundish object poked out from around the corner of the cave wall. And as the light caught it, he realized that it looked like a dog, only with a much larger head. That meant it was either the largest wild dog in the world, or a wolf, either option would be bad for him. He wouldn’t be able to outrun either of the two, which meant his only option was to hide, something he could not do as it would spot him instantly if he moved.
He did the only thing he could do, watch the creature carefully to see any signs that it might’ve spotted him. Unconsciously, he held his breath, not wanting to give the wolf any hints at his presence. And just in case it would help, he re-established the connection with spirit to listen in on what it was saying, as perhaps it was controlling the wolf in some way to hunt him down.
It wasn’t, it was still busy chanting the word dungeon, as if it were a broken record. His luck had been terrible the past week, so surely it was time for a lucky break on his part, right? Only Edward had forgotten that he used up all of his allotted luck for the week on surviving the fall during the day, and now it had run up dry when he needed it most.
The wolf’s neck snapped in his direction, as if it could feel his very being watching it. Instinctually, he knew it had spotted him, he felt like a slice of pie in front of a fat man, like a plump, juicy hare in front of a lion, like prey.
It was only then that he noticed the unnatural contortion of the wolf’s neck, as if it were tilting its head. And its head began to separate itself from the wall as the beast lumbered forward around the corner. Unlike the normal movements of a wolf, the head began to raise itself further from the ground, as if the wolf were beginning to walk on its hind legs.
As its body revealed itself to him, he noticed that it looked like a sickening amalgamation of a wolf and a man. With unstable footing, as if it were drunk, it shifted and stumbled towards him, heading rocking back in forth, as if it were fully scoping him out. He tried to back away, the creature wasn’t that fast, surely, he could get away, only for his back to bump into the wall of the cave.
In his fear, Edward had forgotten that his back was to a wall when he’d taken a break to listen in on the spirit. That should not have been a big deal, the creature was still quite some distance away from him, and he could simply turn his head away from it to find an escape route. Only, to his horror, he found that he could not turn his neck, as if it had been paralyzed.
He wanted to look away, but he was forced to watch as its body slowly shifted and contorted, becoming more and more abnormal as its human and wolf characteristics mixed together. The skin of the wolf-thing’s face began to stretch back, revealing an all-too-human smile, with teeth that did not belong on a wolf’s face, and its paws and arms began to lengthen, turning into almost-human hands.
Simultaneously, a low and quiet noise akin to laughter began to roll out from the creature. No longer worried about the injuries he might sustain in his escape, he risked running away backwards, without looking at where he was going. He knew that letting it get any closer would spell his end.
But despite his movement, which while clumsy, should have been far faster than the creature’s, it only got closer. Close enough that even under the dim light of the cave, he could tell that the chest of the thing was coming apart. That laughter that he was hearing was no laughter, it was the sound of bones cracking and tearing apart.
Stolen novel; please report.
The realization that he was truly face to face with a monster frightened him, and when his focus on running away slipped, he stumbled over an outcrop of rock, knocking himself to the ground. How was it faster than him with its slow, awkward movements? Running away was supposed to be the one thing he was good at.
Suddenly, when it was around ten feet away from him, he found himself able to look away from the creature, his neck muscles finally working properly. He hastily checked the ground around him, looking for any other hazard that might trip him up. Then, trying to get up, his legs failed him. They had no strength, as if they had fallen asleep on him, but he’d only been on the ground for mere moments, hadn’t he?
He desperately began to shake them with his hands, wanting to work some sort of energy or strength into him so he could get up and run away. His breath had become erratic from the exertion of it all, but he was able to shakily rise to his knees. It would only take him a second to rise to his feet and run, but he checked around him once more, before he did so, as he’d somehow forgotten whether there were any hazards around him or not.
Long spindly arms, with far more joints than any human or wolf’s limbs, had cut off his path away from the creature. And as he turned to face the thing once more, he realized that its legs were right next to his own. It had only been a couple dozen seconds, how had it crossed the ten feet that fast at the rate it had been moving?
Tears had begun to stream down his face, the only thought in his mind was fear. Still, as if he were a puppet, Edward’s head tilted back to look up at the monster, only to find himself face to face with the thing. He could not possibly escape; it was too late.
Without any resistance whatsoever, as if the fight had left his body, he let himself be pulled by the creature into its ribcage. All he thought about with his last moment of freedom was a piece of advice his uncle had given him early on in life—
Keep your will like iron. Never let it falter for a moment. And never give up hope. Only then can you survive whatever trials befell you.
Interim
Edward desperately gasped for air as his eyes shot open. Then, doubling over, he began to dry heave as spittle shot from his mouth to the ground. In anguish, he was forced to relive the experience again in his memories.
Inside of the creature, it felt as if time had flowed slower, although he was sure that it was just his perception of time that had changed, not actual time itself. The creature had probably done the same thing to him when it was chasing him, causing him to not realize the rate of its approach until it was too late.
The ribcage prison he had been trapped in was not that bad at first, albeit smelling of rotten meat. Surprisingly, he did not notice any maggots, which he figured was yet another trick of the creature. However, after what felt like a couple of days of him being antsy, and unable to move much, he noticed that the bone cage was gradually closing in around him, as if to constrict him.
That was when things got really bad for him, as he was forced to watch for what felt like weeks as they slowly constricted around him, eventually making it harder and harder for him to breathe. Until finally, he wasn’t able to breathe anymore, and he started to suffocate. That, he thought, would at least put him out of his torment, but his perception of time had still not returned to normal at that time.
No, it dragged on and on and on. Time became meaningless to him, as he was left only really able to focus on not being able to breathe, and the pain that accompanied that sensation. It was too the point that when he felt a sharp pain in his chest that he figured was his lungs finally collapsing, he was glad, sure that his end would finally come. Only to face disappointment, as that third round of torment stretched on, just like the two others before it. It was a slow and painful death that gave him plenty of time to reflect.
The pain was not the worst part of it all, though. No, the worst part was the noises his bones began to make during the process. At first, they had been creaking and cracking normally as he was crushed, but at some point, they began to shift in sound, eventually becoming just like that of the creatures. A low, quiet laughter, as if his own body was taunting him.
His uncle’s advice had been long forgotten during his torment. No amount of false bravado that he could summon up would be capable of surviving what he had gone through. He didn’t understand why the creature would torture its prey like that. He didn’t get the purpose of it all. What was the point? He’d already been captured, why couldn’t it have just killed him and been done with it?
Even now, he could feel that he was alive, back in the cave and alone, but unlike when he’d first woken up here, he was terrified. In his despair, he couldn’t help but think, that since he had experienced such a gruesome ‘death’ and yet still lived, didn’t that mean it could happen to him again?
As long as he was in this cave, wasn’t he in danger of encountering another one of those wolf-things. Would he be able to get away from one now that he had experience with them? Or would the fear from his first encounter cloud his judgment, causing him to stand even less of a chance of making a getaway?
The spirit was in charge of this realm, after all, and it wanted his will to be broken so it could easily take him over. Why would it not send another after him? The experience had proven to him that time could be fleeting, which meant that the spirit might be capable of keeping him here for days, weeks, or even months. And if it could do this every night, would he be able to last? Or if he did, would he even be the same person by the end of it?
That thought terrified him just as much as another encounter with a wolf-thing, that he might be able to beat the spirit, but lose himself in the process. The spirit had also stopped repeating the word dungeon at some point after he’d been caught by the wolf-thing, although he had no clue when exactly that had happened. It was kind of hard to focus too much on anything during the experience.
Edward, for the first time in his life, wanted to cry, to use his tears to wash the encounter from his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He knew logically, and instinctually, that doing so would not help him in this situation, and it could possibly even increase the likelihood of him being caught once more.
He absentmindedly connected his mind to the spirit. It had been the one thing that he was capable of doing while trapped, and he had gotten much better at doing it.
“A skinwolf in the first dungeon. A skinwolf being his first death. What are the chances? Those creatures shouldn’t even be present in a beginner dungeon, so how is he able to keep it together? All my previous contractors would’ve cracked under such an experience, and those guys were experienced reincarnators. Was the setting for this world supposed to be a cursed, horror world?”
Edward smiled sadly to himself, he had finally gotten some useful information from the spirit, just like he’d wanted, only it was too late.
It was probably to assume the worst based on what he heard. The spirit said this was the first dungeon and also a beginner dungeon, and made it out like skinwolves, as he now knew those wolf-things were called, should not even be present in them. Seeing as the spirit was clearly wrong about that fact, Edward figured that he had yet another reason to try not to rely on his ability to listen in on the spirit’s thoughts.
The intense fear and desperation Edward had felt faded from his mind with every passing minute and his breathing stabilized as he calmed down. The memory was still there, fresh in his mind, ready to strike at the slightest provocation, but it no longer felt soul-crushing.
But as the fear left, and the calm replaced it, another emotion was boiling at a low, deep within him, rage. Spending what felt like weeks as you slowly died left a lot of time to ruminate on one’s life, and while most of his had been good, that made his downfall even worse by comparison.
With no fear left to occupy his mind, he was left with the rage that had been suppressed during his weeks-long torture. Rage towards the insanity of the orb test that had led to his uncle’s betrayal. Rage towards his uncle for giving him up to the kingdom. Rage towards the kingdom for throwing him into the arms of the cult. And rage towards the walls of his prison that kept him trapped here to die a slow death, just like how he’d died to the skinwolf.
But he felt no actual anger towards the skinwolf itself, despite the brutal manner in which it had killed him. It was only an illusion, after all. Plus, even if it were real, the beast had only acted on instinct, not out of a desire to torture him. There was even a chance that it had no real control over its perception-altering abilities.
No, he could not fault a monster for killing him, but he could fault everyone else who had done him wrong. It was too late to pretend that everything was okay, the experience he had gone through had left its lasting impact on him. Just like he had feared, he would not be the same person by the end of his battle with the spirit, should he even be capable of surviving until the end.
At least not all of him had been lost yet, there was still hope that he might be partially intact by the end. That alone would have to be enough for him to keep moving forward.
But if he hoped to even have that much, he would have to operate differently. His fear and hesitation had just as much responsibility in his ‘death’ as the cult had. He’d been disguising it as patience and cautiousness this entire time, and with his uncle’s advice layered on top, he had almost convinced himself that he was that type of person.
Edward, however, was not that type. He had always been at his best when he relied on his instinct over his wit, and yet, ever since he was let loose in this city, he had been operating in the reverse order. That could go on no longer. He needed to let his instincts run rampant and keep him alive, and once he was safe, he could analyze the situation in hindsight if he wanted to.
“If only this guy paid attention to the system alerts. It doesn’t even seem like he’s ever been told that he should do so. How am I supposed to do my job as a goldfinger if I have no way of communicating with him?”
There was that bit about the system alerts again, the spirit was absolutely convinced that he should be seeing, hearing, or feeling something, and that it would be able to communicate with him through it. Not that he would want to do so, for all he knew, that was how evil spirits took you over.
But that gave him an idea, one that his instincts were telling him to go forward with. Since he could hear the spirit though his mind, but the spirit couldn’t hear him through his mind, could he possibly communicate with the spirit by talking aloud? He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the spirit had some way of perceiving what was happening to him, and that might include hearing in some way.
It was certainly worth a try. If he communicated with it on his terms, that would give him the advantage in any of their interactions anyways, so not it was not like he was risking anything by doing so. Besides maybe letting it know he could hear it, but it hadn’t been provided much useful information anyways, so losing out on that might be worth it.
“Uh, Mr. Evil Spirit, if you can hear me, I’d appreciate you being quiet until I am out of this dungeon. Its hard to hear beasties coming to kill me with you constantly chattering in the back of my mind.”
Surprisingly, Edward did not blow up at the spirit, despite the fact that it ranked within his top three worst enemies. And the spirit actually listened to his request! He no longer had that annoying, low buzzing sound ringing around in the back of his head.
Now that he thought about it, it was the first time since Edward had woken up in the medical room that he experienced quiet. It only took a couple of moments of this silence for his mind to clear up, and his thoughts seemed to flow smoother.
He felt less angry.
Perhaps the constant background noise from the spirit had put him on edge. Or, more accurately, it added to the edge that was already present within him. After all, nothing could beat being trapped in a dungeon full of skinwolves that were prowling around looking for you.
And in the middle of all that awful mess was him in his naked glory, weaponless and not even hiding. Not that there were any spots for him to hide in, as there was strangely none of those ceiling and floor spikes that he’d heard could be found in caves. That meant he only had one decent strategy to avoid being found out, staying mobile and alert to his surroundings.
Fortunately for him, the decision on which way he should go was quite easy to make. It simply did not matter. After all, as far as he was concerned, every direction was equally as likely to be awful, terrible, and no-good. But you know what they say, right was always right, and so that would be the way he would go.
Interim
The hours passed by in a blur. The cave seemed to stretch on forever, and it did not seem like he had turned himself around somehow. No beasties were encountered, which he could thank his lucky star for, but he could definitely hear them, echoing in the distance.
Although that claim that he had zero encounters was not entirely true, as his senses had kicked in at one point, just moments before he was going to round a corner. He didn’t stick around to find out what was setting him off, as the moment he felt his instincts pop, he bolted in the opposite direction.
After that, he didn’t even catch the shadow of a beast, and for good reason, too. Somewhere out there, it sounded as if they were fighting with one another, and those sounds of fighting only grew in intensity. He figured everything in the dungeon was being attracted to one massive fight. His constant movement might’ve also had a hand in him avoiding contact with anything, but he would never know, as stopping to find out seemed like a stupid way to get his answer.
And as he kept walking through that never-ending dungeon, enjoying the sounds of the local wildlife, he suddenly just wasn’t. He found himself awake on the ground, lying beneath the bush, and fully clothed once more. He’d been dreaming, but at the same time, he was also in the dungeon mere moments before he was awake. It seemed he had woken up from the experience.
But still, it felt strange, especially when he tried to remember what had happened in those moments prior to his dreaming. It was vague and foggy, as if he had simply been walking in the cave, and then he had faded from it into a dream without his realization of the fact.
Trying to get a better picture of what exactly had happened could wait until the morning though, as having his sleep interrupted in such a manner made him feel mentally exhausted. Curiously, he noted before he fell back asleep, was that he did not feel physically tired from the experience.