Tirfo A1.
This was the site of an adult tirfo—a young adult tirfo. Its humongous eyeball was the size of a basketball court, it could trap multiple prey at a time. The tirfo would then take its time to drain their flesh as they screamed in agony over one another. But there was no humongous eyeball on this tirfo. The Yaxis harvested it. All that remained was a large hole surrounded by shriveled eye lids.
A large metal rack stood over the pit, its thick steel beams held together with bolts the size of a fist. Colossal chains—large enough to anchor a Royal Carribean—hung from the rack and fed into the large hole. What’s in that large hole? Rows and rows of glistening crystals, of all shapes and colours. The insides of the tirfo lit up like a candy store. A stark contrast to its morbid appearance above ground. And how did the crystals formed in the bowels of the tirfo? You don't want to know.
Qale joined a group of men talking animatedly near the pit. He cleared his throat but they kept talking. Jaws clenched, he strode to the emergency switch and disabled the alarm. White lights replaced the red and his ears stopped ringing. The chattering men flocked to young man with red armband.
"Report," ordered the sauveté, his voice firm and commanding.
A tall man from the crowd responded with "Fish."
The young dungeoneer's eyes went wide and he rushed to the metallic ledge. A quick glance into the pit made his heart pound against his chest. The top portion of the pit was barren and jagged, crystals stripped and were replaced with glowing tubes. He trailed the colossal chains into the void till he sighted the crystals. Luminous walls untouched by men, beckoning from the depths, like a siren's call. The chains led to a small platform where a man laid unmoving.
Crack. The sound of breaking glass echoed from the pit. It went unnoticed by the sauveté, whose clenched fists had turned white.
Hanging off the crystal wall was a fish with a small head and a long flat tail. Crystal lights reflected off its beady eyes, its lower jaw larger than its counterpart like a pelican. It was a pearlikan.
Qale cursed in silence.
The pearlikan was no ordinary fish. To attract potential mating partners, the pearlikan emits a glow with the crystals it consumed. The brighter the glow, the better the mate—pearlikans were voracious crystal eaters. But what made it unusual were its sharp legs. They use their legs—shaped like a reaper's scythe—to hang off walls while they feed. The one Qale was staring at was hanging close to the platform where the unconscious man was. Too close.
Humans are not part of a pearlikan's exorbitant diet but it was far from harmless. Its legs were razor-sharp and a single accidental swipe could slice a crystal like butter. Any experienced dungeoneer would avoid engaging the legged fish. But Qale was no ordinary dungeoneer.
The sauveté straightened his back and ordered the men. “Harness—two! Stakes—four! I want The Plug to be on standby.”
The men looked at each other concerned. The plug was a death sentence, an eternal entombment. It was only used twice in the history of mankind, much like the atomic bomb. Reckless. Ridiculous. It was suicidal!
"And I want one of those mini spotlights—proto!" the sauveté snapped the men out of their preoccupations and received a sounding “For the book!”
Heavy boots and clinking chains, men scrambled to gather the things. Tirfo A1 was bustling with activities.
“You there." Qale pointed at a man with thick forearms which caused the man to point to himself. Qale gave an affirmative nod and the man made a beeline to the sauveté.
"S-sir?" said the man.
"You—" Qale looked at the man's name tag, "—Tebal, grab a harness and mount it to a chain hoist. I'll need a zipline pulley set up. And do you have a pair of talkies?" Tebal responded with a nod and left to do the sauveté's biddings.
A couple men walked up to Qale with the stuffs he ordered. They helped him into his harness when he asked, “Where’s the plug?”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Fifteen minutes, but...” one of the men—Akter—hesitated and avoided looking at the sauveté. The young dungeoneer placed a hand on the man's shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod.
“The plug... is it a must?” said Akter.
The young dungeoneer smiled. “It's just a precaution lah. There’s only one pearlikan. This ANAL—” he gestured to the pit with the legged fish, “—is not a massive one. We might not need it in at all.”
Akter gave a small smile and presented the spotlight and stakes. Qale strapped the spotlight to his waist and the stakes to his back.
Standing on the ledge, he looked at the faces before him. Worried. Uncomfortable. Scared.
The young dungeoneer was scared too. This will be his first major feat—an ANAL or Après Neutralisation Ascension Lamentable which meant butt-fucked in French. This phenomenon occurs when a dungeon organism crawls out. Dungeon outbreaks are rare and have baffled dungeoneers and scientists for decades. You were more likely to be governed by an idiotic premier than live to experience an ANAL.
Of all the outbreaks that occurred, two out of three involved a pearlikan. When a tirfo dies, the ring around its anus loosened, causing some the crystalline shine to spill out and attract crystal-eating fish. The legged fish would crawl up the loose ass and you know what comes next. Pearlikans don't eat humans but their unique physiology pose a real threat to a dungeon operation and its crew.
“Okay, boys,” said Qale. "Our task is to save your friend in the pit. Once he’s strapped in, Tebal will activate the hoist while I distract the fish. Pull me up when I give the signal. If the pearlikan breaches the harvested portion of the pit—plug it. Am I clear?”
“For the book!” the men dispersed to their stations. Qale grabbed the zipline pulley while Tebal fitted a talkie to the sauveté's belt. Qale thanked the man and descended into the pit.
A man stepped out of the shadows with a camera hung from his neck.
----------------------------------------
His arms were stiff, the pit was deep. If only he could close his eyes against the stingy wind. But then he might zip past the unconscious man. He might even collide with the pearlikan. He shuddered at the thought and kept his eyes peeled. He should’ve requested a pair of glasses.
The sound of breaking glass grew below him. A certain legged fish was enjoying its crystalline feast, completely oblivious to the man it made unconscious and his rescuer. The sauveté would like to keep it that way.
Closing in on the platform, he triggered the pulley’s braking mechanism. The zipping sound petered out as his descent slowed to a crawl. He clamped the rope with his feet to relieve one of his arms. Using his free arm, he grab the spotlight from his waist and aimed it at a patch of crystals beside the munching fish. He switched on the lights.
The artificially-lit crystals caught the fish's attention. He shook the spotlight just to be sure and was pleased when large fish's head followed the light, purring. And yes, it was large—the size of a bus. Now that it was hanging across from him, Qale chided himself for underestimating its size. He directed the light away from the platform and the pearlikan follow suit. It marched across the crystal walls like a giant ant. Shards of crystal fell when its razor-sharp legs pierced the wall. Soon, the sound of a million glass breaking filled the pit with a fever pitch. Sam Smith would've loved the acoustics.
But the crystal-eating fish must descend deeper. Qale blocked out the ringing in his ears dictated the pearlikan's path. The aches in his arms and legs from his prolonged lingering on the rope were small prices to pay. One wrong move would send the large fish running into the platform where the unconscious man was. He had to be careful—he mustn’t lose focus.
Satisfied with the current position of the pearlikan, he switched off the lights and received a disappointed mewl. But the large fish stayed and the sound of breaking glass put a smile to the young dungeoneer's face. He continued his descent and landed on the platform.
“Hey, hey—wake up, man.” Qale tapped the man on his shoulder. No response. He accessed the man from head to toe. Swelling on his head, small lacerations on his face and arms. Qale picked up one of the shards covering the man and examined it. A bone stuck from the man's right hand.
Lips pressed, he tossed the shard away and tore a strip of the man's pants. Ain't gonna ruin mine, he justified to himself.
He used one of the wooden stakes as splint and bandaged it to the injured with his makeshift bandage. It looked shite, but it would do for now. After making sure the man had no other injury in need of immediate intervention, Qale strapped the body harness onto the man. With the harness attached to the chain hoist that Tebal had set up, the sauveté radioed the crew. The chains clinked and lifted the unconscious man off the platform.
Qale looked below and found the pearlikan stuffing its face with crystals. Many would envy its good genes, it was lithe with all the shards it had downed. Qale figured it must’ve consumed at least two truckloads. But the young dungeoneer was far from envious, he had the same metabolism. He hated it.
He sat on the platform and listened to pearlikan crunching glass. Each mouthful was a month’s salary. If crawling up the ass of an eyeball was all it took to live a debt-free life, the young dungeoneer would drop everything and do it in a snap. But money was secondary, he needed to get home.
Then it became silent.
Qale peered below. The pearlikan was looking up. He followed its gaze and his vision turned red—some idiot was taking photos with their flash on!
A screech tore through the pit followed by the sound of breaking glass.
The pearlikan was ascending.