Novels2Search
Ancients [An Epic Litrpg]
9 - The Pit Of Sorrow [V]

9 - The Pit Of Sorrow [V]

The flying snakes gleamed at the scared Chen as he turned in different directions, brandishing a short dagger like a fang of his own. They were about to cover him in bone-melting toxin, when a deep bellow came from the other side of the tunnel. Two large red eyes glittered in the cover of its darkness. The hairs on Chen's arms stood erect. Everything about the threat screamed danger. Threat of violence. Threat of death. Not another one. Chen was reeling in fear, when he stepped on a trap door and plunged downward into a pool of mucus.

Before the trapdoor could seal him off, high over his head, Chen saw a furnace of blue-white flame covering the whole tunnel, striking the flock of snakes. As the door finally closed, he could hear the snakes hissing as they writhed in agony while they were burnt to ashes. That was too close for comfort. Twice, he could have died in different agonizing ways in the last few minutes. Too close.

He looked at his body and grimaced as he began to work on it. Despite cleaning the mucus on his body as much as he could, it still covered him like a cloak. A quick glance around, he discovered he was in another tunnel. Another tunnel, another danger? Chen knew he couldn't survive another creature like any he had already encountered. He contemplated activating the item given to him while he was still alive. In the end, he proceeded down the tunnel.

He came to a halt before a high basalt archway shaped like a gaping mouth. Whether the gullet was open in laughter or a scream was impossible to tell. Yellow mold clung to the stony lips, and black water dripped from jagged teeth. Distant sounds drifted through the archway: grunts, snarls, and high-pitched howls. They were almost like the sounds of animals. Almost, but not quite.

Beyond the mouth lay darkness. An uneasy feeling gathered in his stomach. He glanced down at the flaring inscribed-tatoo on his palm and grimaced. He was to enter the passage way and acquire a soul orb, but the way things were going, a soul orb would acquire him instead. Still, the fear of spending his life without an alignment was too big to ignore. If he wanted a soul orb, he had to go forward, deeper into the tunnel. He extended his hand and followed the flickering light. Chen walked down a twisting tunnel with walls that were strangely curved and ridged. A dark, glittering mucus covered him, dripping onto the floor, which was spongy under his feet.

The further he walked, the more of the eerie feeling he had. It was as if the whole tunnel was not made of stone, but was alive. The feeling was as if he had been swallowed by an enormous creature, and was now moving down its stomach. Hot bile rose in his throat. He tried to force the image out of his mind, but to no avail. He had gone only a short distance when the tunnel divided into two. He paused and checked his palm. The white light of the spell was stronger now. He moved a few paces down the right-hand passageway. The light flickered and dimmed. He retraced his steps, then walked down the left-hand tunnel. The glow on his palm flared brighter and became steady. Anxiously, he moved down the slime-covered passage.

Before long, the tunnel split again before curving upward. Each time Chen used the glowing spell on his palm to determine which way he should take. Soon he found himself in a place of conjuctioning of tunnels, branching and rejoining countless times in a disorderly braided way. He began to wonder if the item the chief priest gave him could ever take him back from this far off. He swallowed hard and continued.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

A distant thrum vibrated in the air. It was so low that he felt it more than he heard it. It reverberated beneath his feet, almost like the sound of a beating heart. Apart from that, the winding tunnels were utterly silent. The grunts and howls that had drifted out of the mouth-arch had ceased. The quiet was even more disturbing to Chen. There was nothing he could do but to keep moving. The tunnel opened up before him, and he found himself in a smooth-walled chamber. Glossy shapes were embedded in the wall, livid and throbbing, like huge organs. Sickened, they hurried across the squelching floor and moved through a circular opening in the far wall.

Chen glanced at the inscription in his hand. The light was so bright he couldn't be more sure about locating the soul orb. The glow flared steadily, echoing the soul orb pulse. The Orb was near. He rounded a sharp bend, then skidded to an abrupt halt. Something was embedded in the tunnel wall, something alive. It writhed beneath a translucent sheath of tough mucus, like an insect inside a chrysalis. In dread curiousity, Chen approached. It was a reptilian humanoid with sinewy legs, black scaled skin and burnt orange eyes.

A scaven.

It struggled vainly against the viscous bonds that held it within the wall. Its eyes bulged when it saw Chen, and it pressed its face against the clear foil that covered it, stretching it further. It opened its mouth as if to scream or screech, but no sound came out. Slick tendrils snaked out of the wall and plunged into the scaven's body. They pulsed like veins, pumping it full of dark fluids. It screamed, convulsing violently. Then, all of a sudden, fell still. As Chen watched in revulsion, the scaven's body began to change. Its skin dissolved, revealing glistening muscles and organs beneath. As if of their own volition, its body parts began to move in waves, rearranging themselves into hideous and strange new shapes. The scaven twitched and shuddered. It was still alive, but it was transforming into something else.

Realizing the need to leave the area urgently, Chen careened hastily down the tunnel. He had only gone a few feet when a tendril got hold of his leg. He drew his dagger and slashed at the glistening sheath. He wished he had a sword at this point. The tendril was tougher than he would have thought. He pushed harder, and he could have sworn the edge of the dagger glowed. At last the tip of the blade penetrated the membrane. Slimey yellow fluid oozed out. Clenching his jaw in determination, he slid the dagger down, cutting open a large slit, and more ichor spilled out. And with all his strength, he pulled his leg.

At first there was resistance, but then, with more powerful grunts, he freed his leg from the grip of the tendril. At the same moment, livid tendrils sprang out of the wall, searching blindly for the flesh that escaped. Quickly, Chen rolled out of reach of the waving tentacles.

He passed more scavens embedded in the moist, fleshy walls. All were in the process of being transformed. The tunnel opened into an area where thick yellow liquid bubbled in a pool at its center. A mordant reek hung in the air, burning his eyes and nose. With great discomfort, he managed to inspect the place. It connected to many chambers with different coloured doors. One by one, he opened them. As he opened a yellow door to one of the chambers, the light on Chen's palm flared brilliantly.