CHAPTER 6: PART 1 OF 2

GRIM DETERMINATION

Lucas laid back against the rocky slope, breathing hard in the darkness. Slowly his eyes adjusted, his heart calmed, and his muscles stopped burning. The Slavers seemed convinced this cave was certain death. Lucas shrugged with a laugh that immediately made his sides hurt. Certain death seemed to be all he could find in any direction. Being eaten by some cave monster still seemed better than the Slavers. His hand reached subconsciously to touch the tiny wound over his heart.

The two Slavers who had chased him were on their way back to tell Caleb what had happened. They would probably try to convince him that Lucas was already dead. That was one problem with using fear to control people, instead of doing what you want, they do whatever is least likely to get them hurt. In this case that would probably be some embellished tale of Lucas’s demise at the hands of whatever was in this cave. Caleb’s Steel Seed ability would show that he had stopped moving. That would make the tale believable, assuming the natives here had some way to lie without their Auras giving it away. Lucas supposed Caleb would finish dropping off the other slaves, gather more men, then venture back to get him. As long as he stayed in this cave and didn't try to run cross-country, Caleb probably wouldn't be in a rush. This was all just speculation, but it still sounded better than trying to outrun them long distance with bleeding holes in his feet.

But what were the Slavers so scared of in this cave? He needed to find out before it found him. As long as he was standing perfectly still he could hide with Stealth. The cave wasn't so dark now that his eyes had adjusted. Light filtered down to reveal a steep descent over crumbled rock and loose soil, the aftermath of a rockslide. The air was cool and moist, and he could make out a trickle of water echoing deep below. The moment Lucas started down the rocky slope he flinched with an involuntary squeak, bending over to clutch his foot. Gingerly, he probed the open wound with a finger. The flesh around the hole had been ripped further during his mad dash and was clogged with bits of dirt and rotten leaf. The adrenaline and panic from the chase subsided, and in its absence came pain, the worst he had ever felt. For a long time he sat in the darkness clutching his feet, simply enduring the pulsing waves. The knowledge that his life was still in danger pressed in on him, and before long he had no choice but to continue the descent.

Turning around, he climbed down backwards on his hands and knees, trying to keep pressure off his feet. Loose rocks tumbled down into the darkness as he put weight on them. He tested each carefully, imagining himself tumbling uncontrollably if he slipped. At one point his knee landed on a massive boulder that pivoted alarmingly under his weight. It was heavy enough to start a whole new rockslide if it fell, so he worked his way slowly around it. The atmosphere was growing dimmer as the twists and turns soaked up the reflected light. He had gone very deep by the time the rocky slope evened out into a dusty stone floor. The darkness had become absolute, so he explored with his hands. The rock was cool and smooth, and in some places a little damp. Even his gentle shuffling sent echoes into the depths. The smell of broken rock and dried blood filled the space with a mineral tanginess.

After getting a sense of his immediate area by touch, Lucas opened his Map. The bird's eye view was useless, showing only the forest floor with the cave opening above. He could zoom in and out but it wasn't any help when descending a cave. He tried rotating the map’s perspective, as if to create a three dimensional model instead of a birds eye map. He felt resistance, but not rejection, so he persisted, then almost laughed out loud when he was greeted with a ‘Loading’ icon. A very peculiar sensation, like something shifting around in his mind, persisted until the icon disappeared. Once the loading icon was gone, he could move the Map around like a 3d model to view from all sides.

[https://i.imgur.com/Xw3SfU7.jpg]

With great satisfaction he shifted to a side-on view. This way the forest floor became a flat line with the air above and ground below. The rocky descent was clearly visible as it snaked down into the earth, levelling out where the blue arrow indicated his current position. It reminded him of an ant nest he had set up as a kid between two planes of glass. He zoomed in closely to track his descent, but only the areas he had touched had details. He knew the Map was limited by line of sight, but could it possibly use other senses? Lucas zoomed in all the way and ran his hand over the cave wall, marvelling as his Map lit up with details of the rock, like he was smearing it into existence. In an attempt to display information from his sense of touch, the depth and texture was described by lines of gradient shadow. It was a familiar sight, taken straight out of the 3D modelling programs he had used back home. This was further evidence that his abilities were structuring themselves on his memories. Or perhaps it was a case of the path of least resistance. Everything in this strange new world seemed to work on patterns, like repetition forming and reinforcing grooves. It made sense that his abilities would develop along cognitive pathways that he understood and the tools he was already familiar with. Caleb and the other Slavers had given no indication of having game-like abilities. If that was true, he had them only because he had been soaking in gamer culture since his dad first installed Fallout on the family computer.

Blinking away his introspection, Lucas worked methodically through everything he could reach. Many pits and rock formations made it hard to get an overall sense of the space, but he seemed to be in a large cavernous tunnel that continued into the depths. Hours wore on as Lucas crawled around in the dark, his feet still throbbing. His hand brushed against a strange object near the cave walls. Picking it up he rolled it around to get an idea of the shape. It felt like some kind of bone, or chitin, incredibly hard and light. It was shaped like a long, thin tube, hollow on the inside. Poking his finger in revealed that it was oily on the inside, perhaps a leg segment from some improbably large insect? Now thoroughly freaked out, he stashed the object in his inventory and began searching for a place to hide. He decided not to go any deeper, instead he attempted to climb the rocky faces to get a better idea of the area he was in. At the top of an awkward and painful climb, he found a hollow gap in the stone wall. Being so hard to reach provided some measure of safety, not many creatures could climb as well as a human.

Inside, the gap opened into a small alcove with a low ceiling. There wasn't enough room for him to stand but just enough for him to lie down. More importantly, the small opening was the only access point. His feet continued to throb painfully. He sat down and lifted one foot, but in the complete darkness only his sense of touch was useful. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he began picking debris from the wounds in his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. The coppery scent of fresh blood filled the small area, and the stone beneath him went slick. It was impossible to get it all without his sight. When he thought he might faint from the pain he stopped, it would have to be enough.

Stolen story; please report.

Lucas layed down on the rock surface, it was far from comfortable. He was about to resign himself to sleeping like this when he remembered the badger pelt. Conjuring it from his inventory, he laid it on the rock, delighted to discover it had thick fur. It wasn't large enough to use as a mattress, but rolled up it made an excellent pillow. He laid down, feeling like he could sleep for a week. It was colder than he would have liked but the rock, and the still air of the confined space, were gradually warming from his body heat. As he waited for the throbbing in his feet to calm, he tried to organise his thoughts.

Water. He could faintly hear the sound of water trickling over rock deeper in the cave.

Food. The now fire-cooked badger was still in his inventory.

The cave monster. Waiting for it to move past the tunnel below seemed like a good plan. Whatever it was, it must go above ground at some point or the Slavers wouldn't know about it. However, the need for water put him on a strict time limit.

In the deep quiet, when his breathing was soft and calm, he began to hear a distant scratching.

On the threshold of unconsciousness his fuzzy, sleep-addled brain gave him a list of absurd causes for the sound. They were all designed to assure him that there was absolutely nothing to worry about and he should definitely just keep sleeping. But the sound was quickly building. A fresh wave of adrenaline soon dragged him painfully back into consciousness. His heart thudded in his ears. A cold sweat broke out under his clothes. He shuffled further back into his alcove, jarring his injured feet and biting down on the urge to cry out. The creature was coming quickly now, an avalanche of scratching and scraping along the rock. He was sure he would not be visible, but activated Stealth anyway, going as still as the stone around him. From the sound, Lucas imagined a great spiny-footed centipede passing below his alcove, or perhaps a swarm of creatures scuttering in a line.

Once the skittering had passed, heading for the surface, a long silence descended. Stealth had used up the Mana he had fed it and was pulling for more. He dropped it and began falling into fits of sleep. Several times he woke in a disoriented panic, sure that he was somewhere else and had gone blind. Again and again he had to reorient himself, and freshly confront the miserable state of his existence. The complete darkness distorted his sense of what was real and what was not. He could not see his hand even when held up to his face, which gave him an eerie sense that it might not even be there. His feet had swollen up and felt like they were burning. Accidentally touching them against the rock while shifting in his sleep sent violent jolts of pain shooting up his legs, forcing fresh rounds of adrenaline into his exhausted body. If his feet were septic, he was probably going to die. There was nothing he could do to save himself anyway.

Many hours seemed to have passed when the skittering sound returned. There were more oddities this time. A heavy dragging sound, coupled with the thick scent of blood and the occasional piteous groan. Was it hunting? Even the herbivores Lucas had encountered seemed evolved for combat. Being a carnivore in this world would require being exceptionally deadly. Everything came built with the intent to kill, including the humans.

This whole world seemed like a brutal struggle for survival and dominance. No room for kindness or love. The kind of things that Lucas felt were important; trust, loyalty, generosity, compassion, would only be an exploitable weakness here. Kill or be killed. Enslave or be a slave. Everything was fighting and there was nothing worth fighting for. The whole world was rotten, and he would gladly blow the entire thing up if he could. Caleb’s casual confidence in declaring Lucas to be his property caused a knot of hot anger to twist in his guts. Lucas didn't like being angry. Caleb surely deserved worse, but getting angry always seemed to result in Lucas doing something stupid. He would have tried to fight back against the feeling, to rationalise it away, but self control takes energy. A memory of Caleb's' smile, as he twisted his nails into Lucas’s legs, bubbled up. Hot anger boiled and Lucas let it flow over him.

[https://i.imgur.com/RRKv5g9.jpg]

Lucas smiled inwardly. Dealing out justice felt out of reach, but at least his quest system had his back. Without realising it his hand had been picking at the tiny wound above his heart, as if he could dig out the seed. Maybe it was possible? It was worth a try, he supposed.

Lucas took the Perfectly Balanced Dagger out of his inventory and tested the point with his thumb, it was very sharp. He didn't have a way to sterilise it, but he also hadn't used it for anything yet. Presumably, being created by an interdimensional void meant it was sterile to begin with. He moved the point towards where the Steel Seed had entered his chest, deeply aware that he was holding the point over his heart. The point made contact, but his hand trembled as he fought against some instinct that fiercely rejected his attempts. Stopping to calm his breathing for a moment he decided to try a different approach. He held the knife steady in his hand and began to breathe deeply. With each inhale, as his chest rose, he held the knife firmly in place and let it pierce into him slightly. When he exhaled he kept the knife embedded.

Slowly but tenaciously he worked the knife to the point it made contact with his rib. Here he became stuck. There was no way he could muster enough force to dig into his bone. Having convinced himself it was possible, he found himself desperate to be rid of the Seed. He scratched at the bone with the tip of the knife as if he could dig into it. The knife shredded the flesh around the wound, pain building until it burned like a hot coal in his chest. Cold sweat dripped from his face. Waves of nausea and dizziness sent him spinning in the black void. Blood ran down his chest, congealing on the stone beneath him. The Seed was still deeply buried by the time he was forced to admit defeat. Hands trembling, he let the knife clatter to the stone. Exhausted now beyond the limits of mortal tolerance, he submitted and let his consciousness fade away.

An eternity of pain and fear seemed to drag on as Lucas drifted in and out of consciousness. The skittering sound came at regular intervals, ratcheting up his anxiety, and preventing him from ever truly resting. His body was wracked by infection and dehydration, too weak to do anything but endure. A delirious cycle of paranoid terror and wretched exhaustion blurred the distinction between dream and reality. His feverish writhing had agitated the pool of blood into a viscous and sticky mess. The pungent coppery scent lent a visceral hyperintensity to the gore of his delusions. His nightmares were plagued by visions of pain, fear, and irreversible loss, but it was the moments of lucidity that were truly unbearable.

When the delirium retreated, his wounds pulsed with agony. The claustrophobic horror of the truth surpassed anything his imagination could conjure. Nightmares end, but this was inescapable.

The only measure of time passing was the increasing desperation of his thirst. What must have been days dragged on, and the pain in his feet slowly retreated. A dehydration headache had reached fever pitch, however, dragging his thoughts into focus. He was once again facing death. Venturing into the cave to look for water was probably going to get him killed. But, he might as well die trying.