Good things to know. One, ichor doesn’t evaporate. Two, it does dry out, turning into a sticky substance with similar negative and positive properties, but at a reduced level of potency. Three, Rick was almost pathologically against sound medical advice, preferring to ‘just get better’ rather than pursue any actual course of treatment.
Sasha could not even begin to recount the number of times over the last several months that she had to convince her charge not to do something unreasonably dangerous for minor benefits. On some level, it amazed her that he’d managed to live twenty nine years before he finally died.
Then again, Rick was in a strange position of being undeniably reckless, but also so overwhelmingly capable in a wide array of disciplines and skills that he could manage to weasel his way out of even the most dire of circumstances.
It was absurd. In the last four months, she’d watched one man basically singlehandedly build the tools for seven or eight different trades from scratch. Then proceed to use them with a high degree of skill in an unforgiving and deadly environment without batting an eye. He treated it casually, like he was simply taking a walk through a friendly small town or learning a new hobby in the comfort of his own home.
He built a forge. From shovels.
Admittedly, a lot more had gone into the forge than just shovels, but that only made the feat more impressive. He’d done carpentry, archaic smelting, pottery, construction, tanning, logging, smithing, sewing, patching, excavation, foraging, hunting, and even dabbled in a little chemistry.
The last one was the only time she’d ever seen him truly fail spectacularly. He seemed to have no capacity to remember complex chemical interactions or formulae, seemingly relying on half-remembered memories of lessons that turned out to be less accurate than he’d hoped. He’d been trying to extract aluminum from dirt to use as part of the tanning process, but failed utterly.
Sasha was also unfamiliar with the process, so she couldn’t help. In fact, she’d felt almost entirely useless for months. This, despite Rick extolling her virtues at every opportunity. She could admit, for what he was trying to do, her Stomach Storage had been helpful in moving large quantities of materials quickly. Without her, reaching the point they were at would have taken Rick much longer.
But, he still could have done it. It would have been tedious, involving much repetitive travel. But he could have done it. Really, she’d spent the whole time nagging him constantly about his lack of safety. Or giving some limited advice on magic, the Natives of Hell, and Hell’s Great Game itself. But those were things he could have figured out, given time.
And now they were here. Rick had set out to accomplish a task, ill-conceived though it might have been. Sasha had done her best to support him, but they’d failed in the end. In a way that touched on her only real area of value, magic. Rick was, of course, entirely unfamiliar, having come from a magic-less universe.
She had tried to help, but she missed the deeper layers of the stake array containing this hidden god. A hidden god! She had never, in all her time acting as a Sin Totem, encountered anything so momentous. But they couldn’t free the god. Even if Sasha wasn’t sure that was the right choice, the choice itself had been taken from them. The barrier that had sprung up surged with power, raw and vicious. They would not be taking it down with anything that could be found on the First Floor.
The only thing they had to show for it was a single spike. Speaking of which…
“What’re we supposed to do with this?” Rick waggled the large black stake. He was leaning against the wall of the cave, waiting for all the ichor on him to dry completely. “Also, I think this suit might be a loss at this point, Unless you know how to clean off god blood gunk.”
“I’m pretty sure a dip in one of the water mountains will have it all cleaned up. As for the spike, I have no idea.” Sasha couldn’t shrug in her current form, so she did her best approximation, a little up and down bobbing with a side-to-side wiggle. Luckily, Rick seemed to have picked up on all her snake based mannerisms over the last few months.
“Well, hold on to it for me, will you?” He offered it to her. Though he tried to hide it, she noticed him wince even through the layers of leather covering him. The geyser that struck him had done more damage than he let on.
Sasha readily accepted the stake, swallowing it into her Stomach Storage. The ichor that had covered it was separated off, placed in its own section of her pocket dimension. Unlike the ichor she’d directly drank, it wouldn’t affect her, remaining in that space.
It had been immensely surprising to find an essentially limitless font of ichor here on the First Floor. The blood of the gods was one of the most heavily coveted sources of power for a Heavenly Spirit. Even a Spirit several ranks above her would have fought to the death for a bottle. And here she was, sitting in front of an actual pond of the stuff.
Of course, none of it was useful to her right now. Taking in that single droplet, at her rank, was a task in and of itself. She could feel it, being processed within her spiritual body. She wouldn’t be ready nor able to take in any more power, of any kind, for almost a year. At least, a year from when she’d first absorbed that droplet. Now it was closer to seven or eight months.
Sasha genuinely wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that she was, essentially, done. The whole reason Heavenly Spirits underwent the task of becoming a Sin Totem was to accumulate prestige with their patron deity. For that prestige, they would receive resources, eventually resulting in an increase in their rank. From there, they could take on better tasks, one that didn’t involve traveling to Hell.
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But if she just sat in this chamber, within a few decades she would increase her rank. Without doing anything. Instead of feeling like a victory, that thought just felt…hollow. Like she didn’t deserve it. Another part of her railed against that emptiness. It insisted that she seize this opportunity. Hadn’t she had enough bad luck, suffered enough setbacks? Didn’t she deserve this?
But…Rick. Sasha had genuinely hated at least half of those she was charged with guiding in her time as a Sin Totem. The rest had been either annoying, terrifying, pitiable, or dead before she ever really got to know them. She’d never felt like…this. Like for once she had someone on her side. A true companion and friend that listened when she spoke and heeded her advice.
Rick was frustrating. Wildly cavalier about his safety. Unrepentantly excited about exploring Hell. Unreasonably skilled in an absurd number of things. He had a level of joy and love for new experiences that she’d never encountered before. He made her want to see just where his wild whims and dangerous antics would take them.
She could stay here…But after spending these months with Rick, that seemed boring. A waste of a good opportunity. An opportunity to see just what a Sinner could accomplish in Hell’s Great Game. Sasha had never felt like any of her previous charges would make it off the First Floor. With Rick, it seemed almost inevitable.
How a mere four months had completely changed her tune. After that first Dungeon Delve, Sasha wasn’t sure he’d make it. But watching him casually navigate the dangers of the First Floor, avoiding powerful Natives and gathering survival resources at an astonishing pace, that doom seemed far removed from Rick’s current reality.
“Right, I’m thinkin’ that this is about as dry as it’s ever going to get. How’s it look to you?”
Sasha was roused from her musings, thoughts she’d had for over a month now, by Rick’s question. Looking him up and down, it seemed he was right. The ichor had dried into a film covering basically the entirety of Rick’s makeshift leather protection.
“I don’t think it’s going to get any better, no. Here, let me loosen the drawstrings.” Slithering over her charge, Sasha freed Rick from her stuffy leather confines. He was sweat slicked underneath it all, the non-breathable material heating him up quite a bit in the hour and change it had taken him to dry off. He also had a deep purple bruise covering him from clavicle to just below his belly button. Just looking at it was painful.
Sasha shuddered, trying to imagine how much it must have hurt to maneuver his way out of the leather coverings when even breathing must be painful. Yet Rick took it all without complaint. Instead, he whistled.
“Well, now if that ain’t the biggest shiner I’ve ever had. Almost regret not havin’ a camera, ‘cuz this’d be one to remember. Caught me spot on, dead center. Really kicked my butt.” he shook his head while looking down at his chest, chuckling. Then he looked over to where his regular outfit was laid out, and winced.
“Miss Sasha, would you do me a favor and grab that there, maybe lend a hand-er, tail and help me get it on. I’m not much lookin’ forward to bendin’ over to pull on my boots when I’m lookin’ more purple than fresh beetroot.”
“Of course, you shouldn’t be straining yourself like that anyway. Honestly, you’d almost be better off Reviving. We have plenty to spare and it would bring you back fully mended.” She hopped streams of ichor to pull his clothing into her stomach storage.
“Waste of a good thing. Never know when I’ll need every one of ‘em, so no point in wastin’ one over a little pain.”
Sasha felt an intense desire to debate that statement with the man who seemed to have a pathological lack of concern for his health and regularly risked his life over the last four months, but ultimately didn’t feel it was worth it. If he wanted to sit there in pain, she wasn’t going to stop him.
It took a team effort to get Rick dressed, as he had significantly reduced mobility. Once more Sasha was happy on insisting that her charge add easier ways to get in and out of the tunnel. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure he could have made it. Climbing up the two drops would have been unbelievably painful with his bruised ribs and diaphragm.
Finally walking up the stairs out of the magical darkness, Sasha sighed in relief. She’d been worried the entire time that Rick would stumble in the dark and be unable to recover himself due to his injury. Even in that situation he likely would have been fine, if embarrassed. But she couldn’t help imagining him cracking his head during the fall, knocking himself unconscious and possibly dying.
Yes, he had plenty of Revives, but Sasha was extremely familiar with the trauma that could result from an ugly death. Rick had so far proven resilient to that trauma, but he’d only died twice so far. And from what Sasha understood, he didn’t even remember his mortal death. She also wasn’t counting the time the sudoku Dungeon forced him to Revive, as that had been a painless and instant transition.
“Well, I suppose we should head back to base. I think It’s about time we started trying out some Dungeons again. Unless you have other plans?” She turned to look at Rick.
Suddenly, his hand lashed out, gripping her neck and whipping it to the side. At the same time, his body started to shift, almost falling sideways. The arm underneath where her head had been, his left arm, rose up to come around his head. It only made it halfway there before a jolt ran through him, followed by a loud crack. His left arm went limp, and Rick let out a hiss between his clenched teeth.
Whipping to look back behind them, Sasha saw what Rick must have. A man, tall, with long dirty-blond hair and wearing thick furs, had his arm extended in their direction as if he’d just thrown something. The reason for the motion was obvious when a hammer that had fallen to the ground next to Rick flew back toward the man’s outstretched hand.
Another Sinner, Sasha instantly realized. The hammer was most definitely a Sin Totem, mimicking the form of Mjolnir. That labeled the Sinner as a follower of the Norse pantheon, and likely a devout worshiper of Thor specifically. The Mjolnir Sin Totem was a rare form in that pantheon, even among Thor’s favored. This man must be especially beloved.
Once more Sasha cursed her lack of combat capabilities. This very situation was the exact reason why Sin Totems with offensive capabilities were so heavily favored. On later Floors, a hammer that could simply be thrown and return to the hand would be considered quaint. But on the First Floor, where most Sinners were still without magic or weapons to speak of, it was an overwhelming advantage.
Still, they were extremely lucky that this Mjolnir variant was not electrified, nor one that could summon lightning bolts. Sasha was aware that those Sin Totem variants existed, and they would have likely killed Rick outright. Those variants had their own limitations, but they were much more potent when it came to a single, powerful strike.
Instead, Rick was left alive, though likely with a broken arm, if that crack Sasha had heard was any indication. And since he was alive, he could react. Which he did immediately, jumping down from around the tunnel to the area in front of the Dungeon he’d dug behind.
Rick groaned under his breath as the landing no doubt jarred his bruised chest and broken arm. But he didn’t hesitate to step right into the Dungeon Entrance, whisking them away from the attacker, and toward a new unknown.