He considered what to do next, If they find out I’m still alive, there’s no way out… My only option is to…

Thud!

Deus collapsed, his feeble body dropping onto the unforgiving floor. Beneath, a red puddle formed from which blood ran in between the marble tiles.

For a moment, an intense silence hung in the air, until a deep voice echoed through the chambers.

“Zaltra gormindis, nu virum telis.”

“Vor, liran”, a feminine voice responded, and the clouching continued until they quieted down once for all.

Only after another minute passed did his muscles relax and he dared to raise himself to his knees. To prevent further blood loss, he lay on his back, and — while supporting himself with his left arm — raised his right arm and unbound the cravat, tightly pressing it against his navel area.

That was a close call, he murmured under his breath and surveyed his surroundings in detail while waiting for the wound to close.

The chamber's walls were of stone bricks, towering high to where an arch formed a ceiling from which no lights hung. Instead, several iron-wrought candelabras stood in the corners in the room, illuminating the gloomy chamber in a dim yellow glow. A spark of ingenuity lit in his mind.

When he found the effusion of blood had slowed considerably, he walked over to the candelabras and blew out the candles. Half a minute later, he arduously tilted them and let the wax drip on his wound.

Ouch, he had misjudged the wax’s warmth, This’ll seal the wound and afford me some time — an infection would be a death sentence.

Lastly, he wrapped his white shirt around his waist and cast his attention to the space up the stairs, whereto the monstrous group disappeared. His gut omitted an ominous feeling as he thought of following their path. But there was no alternative — this was the only exit to the room.

Not wasting a single ounce of his newfound strength, he made his way up the stairs and followed the corridor to a towering wooden gate lined with a long iron girder, before which he halted. He placed his palms against them and pushed.

They didn’t budge. He made another attempt, but to no avail. He scratched his head and thought, Don’t tell me it’s locked from the outside.

Just as these thoughts passed through his mind, two faint voices promptly appeared from behind the door, closening. Deus balled his fist and steadied his breathing, preparing himself for confrontation.

A metallic screech announced the opening of the gates, and when they stood ever-so slightly ajar, he threw his fist directly through the narrow gap, delivering a jab to the guy’s chin.

“Aaah!” the guy cried, “Fintor malvex!”

His partner caught him from behind, then said in an urging manner, “Drekta sibil!”

However, before they could slam the door back shut, Deus dived through the gap, then rolled between the first guy’s legs, using his momentum to land a punch in the second guy’s groin.

“Ugh!” the guy repeated and bent forward, “Fintor malvex!”

As he raised his knee to strike him in the stomach, an arm wrapped around his neck from behind, disrupting his rhythm.

Deus had underestimated the guy’s recovery speed. However, the guy had also underestimated Deus’s experience — as a fanatic of method acting, he’d go through great lengths to accurately portray his roles, which involved rigorous martial arts training.

Deus sprung into the air, his back supported by his assailant behind, and kicked into the guy in front, who then staggered. The recoil caused the guy behind to smash into the wooden gate and cushion Deus from any damage. He groaned, his grip loosening.

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It’s time to end this!

Deus mustered his strength and leapt forward, using the guy’s brief disorientation to land a strike to his solar plexus. He dropped to the marble floor, incapacitated, and Deus swung around to face the other guy.

However, the man lay motionless against the gate, the groin area of his robe drenched in urine. A foul odor permeated the air and Deus pinched his nose.

He turned back around and crouched down next to where the black robe covered the guy’s face when he noticed he was limping. He cursed inwardly, I’ve already exerted myself too much. Another fight of equal prowess, and I’d probably lose.

Sighing, he lifted the veil. Beneath lay the plump face of a relatively young man around his own true age, cleanly shaven like a pumpkin.

“Now, let’s reveal this mystery!”, Deus muttered under his breath, pulling further to reveal the man’s body. His pupils shrank slightly.

Instead of legs there was a gooey substance, semi-translucent like gelatin so that you could observe the nerves and veins pulsing inside. The goo wobbled slightly as Deus lowered his head, observing where the flesh mixed with the substance.

He took a step back, repulsed by the abhorrent sight. However, while it nearly caused him to throw up, his anatomy intrigued him even more. After all, how would they move without muscles?

However, he didn’t linger long on this, since he’d already accepted that this world didn’t serve the common principles of logic — there was something higher at play.

A breath later, he dragged him next to his partner and stripped them. Below the robe, both wore an equally black tunic, an embroidery sewn into whereunder the heart lay. The embroidery resembled an emblem depicting a snake coiling around a torch, ornate in detailed scrollwork. He pulled, then draped his body in his slightly oversized robe.

Although his partner’s robe would fit him more properly, he’d rather take a slight risk than having to endure the stench. And most of all, it’d attract attention he’d rather avoid. In case they woke up before he managed to flee, he dragged their bodies behind the gate, and, before sliding the heavy iron bolt in place, took a quick glance at the partner’s face.

Finally, he put it in the back of his mind, focusing on the mission at hand; to escape and tend to his wounds.

He returned to the hallway beyond the gate, which veered to the left, leading to a narrowing staircase. When he ascended the staircase, he found it ended abruptly, a wooden wall blocking the way.

Deus rubbed his temples, contemplating, There must be some sort of mechanism, and it shouldn’t be all that secretive — after all, a secret pathway shouldn't protect from the inside, but from the outside.

Just as these thoughts ran through his head, he caught sight of the wall to his left, inside which a stone tile caught his attention. The other bricks were all stacked atop each other with mortar, but this one was not connected to the other bricks. Instead, there was a small sliver between the neighboring bricks.

He pushed it without any hesitation, and after a click and rolling of a cogwheel, the passageway slowly opened.

Behind the secret door, there was a small library with two floors, a spiral mahogany staircase leading upwards. In the center of the room hung a modest chandelier, illuminating it. A doorway in the middle of the room led straight into the foyer of the manor, which was clad in dark-green flowery tapestries and paintings.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he prepared to beeline straight to the front door, when suddenly, a seed of doubt was planted in his mind. What if I’m caught? Shouldn’t I rather escape from the back? What would happen to me if I was caught?

Wait, why am I this indecisive?

Just as he came to the realization that his train of thoughts didn’t match his true feelings, a drop of sweat trickled from his temples. Something was off!

"Vara!"

Deus’s gaze darted to where the deep voice reverberated. It was a door a few steps to his left, which he — while caught up in the internal war raging through his mind — had missed. His face turned a little pale when he caught sight of the vestments of red and gold, which lay beneath the black robe.

An eerie pressure had taken hostage of the room. Despite his years of acting experience, he couldn’t suppress his hair standing on end. He felt insignificant, as if facing an apex predator waiting to rip him apart — this was not someone he could defeat!

There must be some supernatural influence! I can’t let it get to me! Notwithstanding, he gritted his teeth and took hold of this inner turmoil.

“Vara! Cameri gormindis? Ula bernaud?”, the man repeated. His voice continued echoing directly in his mind, as if piercing the air in between.

Damn this! What is he saying? Deus cursed inwardly, Should I respond in English?

Zap!

Suddenly, as if responding to his thoughts, crooked letters appeared out of thin air, typing out [ Activate skill “A Thousand and One Tongues”? ] They were constantly wriggling, and when he stared long enough, it appeared as if they came alive.

Deus shook from the reverie as he realized the man was still staring at him, promptly accepting these circumstances and focusing all his attention on forming the words Yes! Use skill, now!

[ Activating skill “A Thousand and One Tongues”... ]

[ Activated skill “A Thousand and One Tongues” successfully. ]