Grayson looked at the task ahead of him. The smell of the murky sewers that stood before him. The cliche cobblestone walls and floor, the hellish fluids draining way yonder, the smell rank with decay and disgust.
”These hellish sewers…I’ll just die here…” Grayson squinted his eyes from the sting in his nose, his gloved hands wrapping the pathetic covering even tighter across his lower face.
Grayson was an adventurer. Or at least he was. The cost was enormous. The nearby dungeon crafted long ago by the Witch Morel was bringing in the city a fortune. Before, the people of the land would quickly destroy these creations, many a loved one dying to their existence.
But times have changed. The king of the nearby land decided to keep a dungeon nearly dead, and with the occasional offering of a dead bunch of animal carcasses and at times prisoner corpses, the dungeon became a monstrous factory, churning out wealth for every would be dungeon owner.
And poor saps like Grayson were fed to the slaughter, scaling the changing dungeon again and again, overseer along, allowed to take a fraction of each monster’s gem value as income. Did the overseer help? To your income, yes, all for making sure the dungeon heart was alive and well. He existed to keep it safe, not the party hunting for their income. Not the parties’ lives.
Or so it should have been. Grayson had been on many teams. This was no other. They paid a fortune for the information they got, haggled for fees with an overseer, and when all seemed well, they encountered the third floor. And the hell began.
A party, likely from below, had drawn aggro of some fungus monstrosity on their way back from lower in the depths of the dungeon. The beast's many heads looked towards the small group of adventurers, the aura it emitted shifting ever so slightly. Grayson could almost taste the vicious joy in its movements as it pounced.
The group scattered, or at least tried. The maws of the hideous figure made quick work of the majority of the members. The rest was a rush of sights, the sound of the overseer hysterically demanding Grayson to return and assist him in getting out of the fibrous grasp of the behemoth as it pushed the figure's body into one of its seven maws, a hazy cloud of spores coating the overseer as he went into the glutton, the man's voice disappearing with him.
Grayson found each of his steps automatic, the threat of death gave him wings as he soared out of the cave, sputtering in tired pain to the bewilderment of gathering groups as he tried to make sense of what happened. After the rushed questioning of a few guards nearby to the entry, the dungeon was shut shortly as the perpetrator was allegedly dealt with, before quickly opening.
"Did the blood even dry before they opened that dungeon again?... Damn this kingdom." The words left Grayson's mind, filling the whisper that left his lips. The scent was improving now; perhaps the waste water was behind him, the paths redirecting the water mana arrays in his view.
As part of the cleaning, he'd avoid taxes, and get a decent bed and perhaps some cheap bread. Better than starving on the streets. The thought of returning to his hometown eluded him; he had nothing to show for his absence besides the grisly scars. A cosmetic potion wasn't easy to come by either.
As Grayson loaded the mana device with fresh water, a ways away he could see a single mushroom. It grew translucent and glowed a dull grey, slight layers of spores emitted from its body. Getting as close as needed, he pressed a few buttons on the device, the water within quietly gathering into a sphere, guided by his thoughts into surrounding this mushroom and its spores, before placing itself into the basket on Grayson's back, kept frozen with the second magic layer on the device.
Grayson didn't know what these shrooms were for. He didn't know where they went. The thought of a warm bed swamped his consciousness, and his feet followed. As his steps quietly followed down the tunnel of the waterways, his basket steadily grew heavier with each mushroom orb.
Standing next to the underground reservoir located near his area, he set the basket down on the ground. Iced over mushroom orbs glinted under the glimmering stones dotting the tunnel ceiling, 25 orbs that assured Grayson of a restful sleep, some bread, perhaps even some leftover soup. His stomach lurched and his tongue salivated at the thought. And that's when he saw it.
At first the glimmer of the stones didn't give him enough light. It wasn't clear at first. But as he directed his head in the direction, he saw something odd. The reservoir of this place seemed to have a small outlet that led to nowhere. Water from the water arrays was steadily gliding down into oblivion, as if the earth was guzzling fresh water through a wide cavern in the wall.
Grayson moved closer to the opening, anticipation tugging at his heels. This information was precious, perhaps precious enough to give him a better job, an easier job, than collecting these heavy orbs daily for the sake of this accursed city. His head looked into the enigma, not a single shred of light seemed to exist within its shadow.
Perplexed, Grayson threw a stone from nearby into the void. It went. And it went. And it went. And when he finally thought it went on forever, it made a ever so slight splash, a sound he could barely hear thanks to his practice as an adventurer. Just what is this?
How, no what was this place? Grayson didn't know what to think. The opening of the reservoir wall was large enough for three people to enter, and surely the mages above would notice that the waterways output was going elsewhere besides the city. So why, why was this gap in the walls here? And what made this gap?
Lost in thought, Grayson sensed something. It didn't matter why this or that was true, all that mattered was the profit from this information. He made his way to the basket of orbs, steadily throwing it back on. Then he heard a thump.
It wasn't loud at first. The gap in the wall was a ways away, and the young man looked all around. Left passageway? Clear. Right? Clear. Center? Clear. Water? Clear, too. And then he heard the second thump. Closer this time. And his head jolted to the gap. He could feel it.
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Something was there. Thump. Getting closer. Thump. He felt as if his legs were drained completely of blood, his body unable to move. Thump. It echoed louder each time. Something beyond oblivion was coming his way.
Fuck, fuck. Why did I throw that stone!?! He bit his lips, then his tongue, the tingle of iron whetting his taste buds. The thumps filled his heart, his mind his soul. And then the worst was realized; he recognized those thumps. Those damn thumps.
The wind broke, something had come into appearance, a dull grayish appendage holding onto where the water was pouring into the wide gap. The water was soaking and being absorbed by whatever this was. An aura of life, and putrid death, a never ending cycle, began to fill this area. Grayson stared heavily at that fibrous shape. That dullish gray. The mushrooms had that color.
The appendage grew, and began to grow taut, as if it was lifting something through from the other side. Grayson took a shaky step back. He didn't like this. He took another. And another. And soon he would break into a sprint, were it not for his impulsive curiosity.
The figure pulled its way through the gap, horrifying Grayson. He woke up his deadened legs, rushing along with the bag on his back, the orbs clinking as he scurried along, trying to find the entry to these sewers. He begged to smell for sewage. Oh how grateful he was for having a nose. Where was that murky green now?
The figure shifted back and forth, adjusting to its surroundings. It knew Grayson was there. And its aura changed. Surprise. Shock. Joy. Elation. Satisfaction. Happiness. Each feeling gushed into Grayson's mind, carried by the shared Mana network all things carried. The figure had found him. It took a chance, and found him. He cursed himself heavily. Why did I throw that damn thing?
Thoughts went by with ferocity, his steps following in suit, the steady thumping once again beginning. The job. The little mushrooms along the reservoir. The grayish appendage. The water outlet. The gap in the wall. The water arrays. The sewers. The dungeon. The city. Him. A wry grimace crossed his face. His imagination wasn't painting a pretty picture of a warm bed any longer.
The thumps got closer, the sloshing of water mixed in. Adrenaline, magic, whatever little Grayson had or knew was put to use. He knew his odds. He had a chance. A small chance. Please, let that stench appear once more. To think he would pray to see sewage waste leading to the lone entryway in this side of the sewer.
And then the smell came. At first he wasn't sure, but soon he began to gag at the stench, hints of relief crossing his face. Hearing the thundering thumps behind, the rushing water following along, Grayson squeezed his muscles, pushing himself forward. The basket was let go, the orbs clinking as they scattered, a few falling into the water stream nearby; what use were these if they invited Death?
The scent burned his noise. Just what did they eat in this city, Grayson could not tell. The sulfurous fumes rose higher and higher, but Grayson didn't bother to tighten his face covering anymore. He took chugs of this foul air, zipping along as far as he could, hoping to see familiar engravings pointing him in the direction of the exit. Just a little bit more... And then he was slammed into the wall.
Dust was kicked into the air, these stones well old and aged. The glimmering sources of light scattered on the ground, phasing in and out of power, no longer connected to the city's mana array. Blood lurched up his throat from inside, his limbs bent in awkward places. Alas, he didn't immediately die. And he could feel it. The figure, elated at finally catching its prey.
It moved closer. Even closer. The fear vibrated what was left of his flesh. Ecstasy and sadism filled the figure's aura, as it deftly moved closer to Grayson, wrapping its fibrous appendage around the muddled man. It brought Grayson closer, plumes coating him, preparing him, before he was absorbed and made one with the behemoth. It made quick work of erasing its traces; not a single sign of Grayson was left behind, no blood, no bone, no fabric, not even the basket nor the limp mushrooms. The breakage in the wall was left behind, the figure contentedly making its way back to the gap in the reservoir wall, one last thump as it threw itself into the maw of nothingness. The eerie calmness of the sewers returned once more.
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Malekite rubbed his eyes behind his spectacles, his job adding unwanted features to his face. Before him stood a few figures, clearly downtrodden bottom feeders hoping for an easy job to get a bed and a meal. The city had plenty of people, but just as there were unwanted vagabonds, so were there unwanted jobs. And Malekite, assistant to the deputy of mana logistics, had the glorious job of assigning jobs for maintaining the mana network. This month, he handled doling out jobs for the sewage system.
While standard practices kept rats and vagabonds from occupying the lower levels of the city, strange mushrooms had occasionally appeared in the sewer waterways, requiring "experts" to retrieve these fungi samples to assess risk and importance for the city's overall...
"Sigh. I guess a promotion is out of the question." Malekite could feel the weight of his spirits sink as he thought back to how he was conned by those bastards in city hall, mislead into believing this "easygoing" employment had great career opportunities. That is, if you wanted to be stuck behind tiresome tedious tasks for the rest of your life.
He lifted his eyes. A few of those vagabonds staring back at him. They had an air to them. An air he was all to familiar with.
"Orphans, huh?" He spoke, no hesitation as the word caused shudders in some in the crowd. Of course, they weren't actual orphans, but rather adventurers that lost their companions. Now they wandered the streets, like a child waiting for their parents.
He pointed to a couple of the rascals in the group, the selected slightly joyous while the rest left with lost gazes. Malekite took out the equipment sets, the dirty rags, the baskets, the secondhand mana devices, and made a lazy presentation on use. The former adventurers however memorized each word, engraving them in his mind. Finally, Malekite took the small group to each of the sewer's entrances, leaving one orphan to cover an area until the city's entire grid was accounted for. Once their baskets were full, or they finished their rounds, they were to come back past the entrance, and bring to him the basket of goods.
As the final man went into the passageway leading down into the sewers. Malekite's thoughts hung onto the job. Sewer mushrooms? In our city? With our mana arrays? The thought confused him. Their mages in the magic towers that managed the city were top notch; he didn't understand why mushrooms could grow beneath the city, or why these mages wanted samples to be picked by others. Any of the mages could easily go down alone, and with a few spells, get every mushroom in the entire passageway.
Strange. Even the pay for this job,... What are those magicians up to? The thought puzzled him. Sure the pay was good, even after divvying up to work to those orphans, but did it justify that many gold coins, especially for some lousy mushrooms? This didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.
"Ah! That's right." Malekite picked at the side of his face. A frown creasing on his brows. "Didn't I send someone yesterday to explore those sewers? Was his name...Gray... Gray..."
The young man's name eluded Malekite. Ah well. I'm sure if anything went wrong, the others will find out and let me know. He threw the thought aside, and made his way back to his office.