Kallen looked to his left, his heart leaping into his throat as another gargoyle was mere inches away from tearing him apart.
However…
Reaching out a hand, he delicately poked the gargoyle’s stone covered eye. In fact, the entire creature was covered in stone, frozen with an arm outstretched and ready to take his head off.
He lowered himself to the ground, supporting his body with his hands which were bound by shackles missing their chains.
Gods…
The silence of the dungeon was more unnerving than the chaos had been. Kallen scooted backward and sat with his back against the stone wall. His breathing steadily evened out, but each and every muscle fiber ached with how drained [Revenge] had left him.
The stone gargoyle loomed above him, a cruel reminder of how close he’d been to death. He shuffled over and tapped its leg with his boot, almost expecting it to come back to life, but it remained frozen.
Kallen released a heavy sigh before spinning around and crawling up to the dead gargoyle. He pulled on the corpse a little, situating its head towards himself. Grabbing a metal shard from the broken chains, he cut the gargoyle’s straight—well, straighter—horn and wiped the blood and brain matter from it.
“Thank you for the weapon, Elder Gargoyle’s Follower.”
He forced himself to his feet, fighting through the protest of his body. “I need a plan,” he muttered, wiping the horn off once more. “Preferably one that doesn’t involve me dying horribly.”
Kallen paced the cell. There wasn’t much to go off of. Apparently, the castle had already collapsed, and the act hadn’t killed him, so he was out of the woods with that, however, the creature that caused the collapse—likely the Elder Gargoyle—was an unknown threat.
He took a few steps over to the stone gargoyle in order to inspect the creature. He could expect to fight more of them, so he’d do well to learn the ins and outs of its physiology. Both stone and not stone.
Kallen tapped the stone Gargoyle’s eye. Again nothing happened.
He placed his hands on the creature, feeling its body for any weak points. There didn’t appear to be any. The gargoyle was just a humanoid nightmare creature with sharp claws and sharp teeth, its only defensive items were a pair of greaves, sabatons, and a helmet. That was all.
Though he didn’t expect much from a dormant beast, he was at least a little disappointed. It would be helpful if he could get something other than a horn as a weapon.
Kallen looked the creature up and down. Judging by all he knew about gargoyles—which wasn’t much—the nightmare creature was probably in its stone form because the sun had risen. In some myths, he knew that direct sunlight had to be achieved for the transformation process, but thankfully, that didn’t appear to be the case here.
Aiming to leave the hallway and his cell behind, Kallen grabbed the metal helmet off of the stone gargoyle and slipped it on his head. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it would hopefully keep his brain intact if something tried to crack his skull open.
I wish it were louder.
It was eerily quiet aside from the constant dripping of water… somewhere. He couldn’t find it, and he reasoned there probably wasn’t any need to go do so. His aspect was tied to water, but none of his current attributes could utilize a droplet of water at all.
Regardless, his eyes moved to the door of his cell. The bars to the side were bent from the where the dormant beast had ripped its way in. Kallen stuck a foot in the gap and squeezed through, but as he appeared on the other side, another faint sound of footsteps came from the stair-case. These steps weren’t the clank of armored boots, but the irregular, dragging sound of something… inhuman.
Kallen slipped back into the cell and pressed himself against the stone, trying to blend into the shadows of the dungeon. He watched the corridor, anxiously waiting for whatever was coming to show itself, each of its steps were punctuated by a low, almost human groan. His grip on the horn tightened.
He held his breath as the figure emerged from the stairs—a humanoid silhouette cloaked in ragged robes, its nearly human face partially obscured by a tattered hood. Its movements were erratic, as though it were fighting for control over itself—controlled like a marionette with tangled strings.
Blood crusted its features, dark rivulets trailing down from ragged claw marks. Glowing red eyes, a similar shade as the gargoyle’s, burned with malevolent light.
Kallen’s breath caught.
The sensible and honorable king from before didn’t quite look so… sensible anymore. He—it stopped just outside Kallen’s cell, tilting its head as if sensing something.
Its lips parted in an unnerving smile, revealing jagged teeth set in a mouth only slightly too wide to be natural. A faint hiss escaped, then it spoke, “Stay… put…”
The voice was warped and unnatural, like nails dragging against broken glass. Kallen froze, heart hammering. It was like the man had partially transformed or something.
The Elder Gargoyle was able to turn humans into minions, of course—Kallen had suspected as much. Perhaps the king had been too powerful to fully turn, but not powerful enough to completely resist the transformation.
Kallen glanced at its claws. He swallowed as quietly as he could when the creature reached out a hand, fingers curling around the bent bars. He felt his pulse quicken as the king pulled. The metal moved as if it were malleable as butter.
“Stay… put… Kallenir…”
With a sudden burst of energy, Kallen dashed forward, driving the gargoyle’s horn into the corrupted king’s neck. The thing recoiled, hissing with guttural rage.
Kallen didn’t wait for it to recover. He dove, passing cleanly through the larger gap in the cell. Scrambling to his feet, he ran as fast as his battered body allowed, his mind solely focused on getting the hell away from the awakened monster.
The words: Come back came from behind him in a perfect rendition of his own voice. It was as if the creature were trying to mimic humanity, but it had no clue how to do so.
Kallen decided not to dwell on it as climbed the stairs, but when he emerged, the pathway ahead forked—left or right. He chose left without thinking. He didn’t slow, nearly tripping over himself to get away as far as possible.
He lunged around the wall, shaking his head and turning the corner, but his path ended abruptly. The corridor ahead was blocked by a pile of rubble. Kallen cursed under his breath, glancing over his shoulder to see that the king hadn’t quite caught up.
His eyes landed on a small gap between the rubble and the wall—just wide enough to squeeze through. Without hesitating, he forced himself through the gap. Jagged edges of the stone sliced his skin as he emerged on the other side, gasping for air.
The corridor he found himself in was darker, the torches all extinguished. Kallen leaned against the wall, chest heaving.
The path looped around, seemingly sharing a wall with the corridor he had just come from. On both ends, however, the exit was blocked, the only way out being the hole through which he’d come in.
Kallen would have found the pathing of the corridors odd, if it weren’t built to resemble a maze of sorts. It made sense—with technology so limited, it was a good way to catch escaping prisoners. Only if you knew the way, however.
Hopefully, it didn’t see me come through here.
Kallen once more held his breath as the sound of footsteps drew near. He felt the vibrations of the sound, his stomach knotting with anticipation. He knew he could amplify those vibrations, but there wasn’t much they would do for him now. For now, stealth was key.
“Kallenir…”
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The voice echoed again, closer now, reverberating through the stone like a predator’s growl. It didn’t just reach his ears—it pressed against him, vibrating through him.
“Kallen?”
His blood turned to ice. That voice… it was the voice of Seren…
She isn’t here. She’s safe at home… this is just the spell playing a trick…
“Kallen?” The voice came again, softer, trembling, just like when she was afraid of the dark. “Where are you? I’m scared.
His breath caught in his throat. Rationally, he knew she wasn’t here. Seren wasn’t here. Kallen kept his back against the wall, steadying himself.
“Kallen, please. It’s me. Don’t leave me here! It’s dark…” the voice broke out into a sob. He felt his chest tighten. The king… it was using her voice—her exact voice—but something was wrong.
Maybe it was the cadence… or the inflection… but it just wasn’t right.
“Come find me. Come find Seren.”
Kallen grit his teeth, but he kept quiet. Following, this was a long period of relative silence. Maybe the creature realized that its mimicry didn’t work. Maybe it wasn’t intentionally mimicking anything. Maybe…
Kallen just didn’t know.
“Prisoner…” The voice was back, closer this time. It seemed to have regained its normal, grating tone. “Stay… put… Kallenir…” There was a low scrape against the wall from the other side. “Stay… put…”
The king had told him to stay put before he had left to fight the Elder Gargoyle. The corrupted version of him was probably just repeating it since it was the last thing he had told him.
Kallen clenched his jaw. He was a good ways away from the pile of rubble, and though there was only a single wall separating him and the king, there should have been any way to sense him.
“Stay… put…”
Although… hadn’t the king said something about his eyes being able to sense special people? Wouldn’t there probably be other things those eyes could see… perhaps a tasty human hiding behind the wall?
In that case, wouldn’t the phrase: “Stay put.” mean…
Before he could act, the wall behind him exploded inward, showering him with jagged stone. Kallen twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature’s outstretched claws. The king stepped into the breach, its silhouette horrifying in the shadow.
“Stay… put… Kallenir.”
The sound of his name, warped and terrifying sent fresh panic through Kallen. He felt his own temperature drop when he watched the kings claws gouge into the walls, dragging long trails of ruined stone behind them.
His mind called back to when he had thanked the spell for its benevolence. What a joke!
The king stepped closer, its body moving with an unsettling mix of grace and feral disjointedness. A horn was stuck in its neck, jutted at an awkward angle. Red blood seeped from the wound, dripping to the floor, but the creature didn’t seem to care.
Kallen backed away. His breath quickened as he retreated further and further into the corridor. Each step he took in retreat only brought him closer to more rubble.
The king tilted its head as it stalked toward him. Its voice, so guttural and strained, came again. “Kallenir…”
Kallen’s eyes darted around, searching for something useful. The broken sconces lining the walls gave him a slight idea. He reached for one as he backed away, yanking it free with a grunt. The sconce had a jagged edge, rusted but sharp enough to serve as a makeshift weapon. It wasn’t ideal, but then, neither was Mr Elder Gargoyle’s follower’s horn.
He stood straighter, despite the ache.
“Alright your majesty…” Kallen tried for something smart to say, but for once, his situation got the better of him. He couldn’t think of anything. The best he could do was reuse an old joke, which wasn’t clever at all. “Let’s do glorious battle… or something… however I put it before.” He bit his lip, shaking his head in dejected disapproval. “Damn, that one sucked!”
The king lunged forward with sudden, unnatural speed. Kallen barely sidestepped in time, driving the sconce forward as he moved. The rusted metal drove into the king’s face, tearing through its flesh and eliciting an inhuman roar.
Kallen didn’t wait for it to recover. He dashed past, adrenaline the only thing working in his body. The sound of scraping claws echoed behind as the king gave chase once more.
The hole in the rubble scraped his limbs and side once more as he dove through. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted in the direction he came. The corridors finally opened into the familiar branching paths.
Kallen chose the other one this time. Hastening through, the path opened up into a larger chamber, its walls adorned with actually lit torches. He did his best to ignore the several torture devices around, and instead focused on the wall of weapons.
Now we’re getting somewhere…
Kallen picked up a one handed sword, hefting it to get a feel for his weight. He eyed a small shield on the wall, but reasoned it wouldn’t do much good against the king who could rip metal with ease.
It was good to have a weapon, though. At the very least, if he made it out of here alive and received a true name—as improbable as it was—with a weapon now, he could avoid an unsavory name like [Master of Sconces.] Or others along the same line.
He eyed the staircase at the other end of the torture chamber. He could probably escape now since the nightmare creature pursuing him only seemed capable of short bursts of speed and not an extended sprint.
It could, however, sense him… somehow. It was best to get rid of the powerful king before he went up to fight Mr. Elder Gargoyle—who was probably just a block of stone for the time being.
The king stumbled into the room moments later, eyes narrowing at the sight of the weapon. It hesitated, a guttural hiss grating.
“Kallenir…”
Kallen smiled, his confidence half-feigned.
Then the battle commenced. The king charged, its claws outstretched. Kallen met the attack head-on, blade slicing through the air with a faint hum. Their clash sent sparks flying, the force of the impact reverberating through the chamber.
Kallen seized that reverberation, enhancing it, intensifying it. The creature hissed in pain, and he amplified that too. Kallen seemed to be immune to the vibrations as they shook the walls, deafening and powerful.
Using the opportunity, Kallen discarded his mangled sword, throwing it at the king before dashing back and grabbing another weapon off the wall.
This time he wielded a spear. Then he charged.
The ensuing fight was brutal, each strike pushing him closer to his limits. With [Revenge] unable to be used and a strange energy circulating the king’s ears now rendering [Amplifier] useless, he was left with just his wits and human strength to defeat the king.
Thankfully, his opponent was almost mindless.
Kallen ducked under the sweep of the monster’s claws. Still ducking, he weaved to the left, then back, then left again, before rising with an upward jab of his spear, the blade peeling through the flesh of its chest.
He knew his thrust had struck through its heart, but the king would still have a few moments of lucidity before death. It’s eyes grew wide and red and it lunged for Kallen, claws sinking a full inch into his dominant side’s shoulder.
Kallen shouted in pain, trying to wrench the claw from his shoulder. The creature was stronger.
The beating of the king’s heart sputtered, winking out like a dying star. But the half-nightmare creature persisted, forcing him to his knees.
Kallen let go of the spear, both hands now on the king’s claw, trying to stop it from driving deeper, but the devious bastard raked the other one across Kallen’s stomach. Blood spilled to the floor, but the wound was shallow.
Finally, with yet another hiss, sounding more like a pained wheeze than anything, the king faltered. It stumbled, red eyes flickering back to green, revealing a fragment of the man it had once been. For a moment, their gazes met—human and lucid—but it was fleeting. The sensible and honorable king fell to the ground, dead.
Kallen remained on his knees, breathing heavy and covering the hole in his shoulder. He would have loved to cover the gash on his stomach as well,
[You have slain an awakened human, King Jaire.]
[You have received a memory: Legacy of the Fallen.]
Kallen froze, eyes wide.
He allowed himself to fall on his back, staring at the ceiling of the torture chamber. He summoned the memory’s runes, hoping to the gods above that it could heal his wounded shoulder. Or at least close the gash on his stomach.
Name: Kallenir.
True Name: None.
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Attributes: [Revenge], [Voice of the Sea], [Amplifier.]
Aspect: [Seafarer.]
Aspect Description: “Your specialty lies with all things aquatic. You recognize the sea as your home, but within it, you hold no authority.”
Memories: [Legacy of the Fallen.]
Echoes:
Kallen focused on the new memory.
Memory: [Legacy of the Fallen.]
Memory Rank: Awakened.
Memory Tier: I
Memory Type: Weapon.
Memory Description: “This blade once ruled the battlefield as its master ruled the land. It now bears the weight of the king’s demise. The crimson stains along its edge whisper of reign, betrayal, and legacy, while the cold steel only hums with the echoes of unfinished conquest.”
Kallen summoned the blade in his left hand, its description replaying in his head a few times over. It didn’t quite tell him much, but the memory was only of the first tier, and only had one ability—whatever that was.
Dismissing the runes, he studied the weapon. It was a one-handed short sword, straight as an arrow. Blood stained its sharp edges, and the silver metal did indeed whisper to him.
Lying on his back, he swung it a few times to get a feel for the balance, before letting it disappear into a flash of white sparks.
He rested for a moment, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. He wasn’t sure whether he was truly tired, or it was the blood-loss getting to him.
“Alright, spell,” he muttered, letting his arms fall to the stone. “I get a break now, right? This isn’t just some false sense of security? Because if you’re aiming for suspense, you’re nailing it.”
He waited for something to happen, but when nothing did, only then did he close his eyes.