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The back pain receded fairly quickly, even my breath came back to me faster than usual. I must have gotten used to it by now, I think, still rubbing my back as I chase down after the beast through the dark cavern, stone room, armory?

I shut down my smartphone, fearing its diminishing battery, knowing too well there won't be a place in this world where I can charge it. Wait! I don't even have a charger! I almost burst out laughing at my own stupidity! To worry about missing a power outlet when I don't even have the damn charger with me...

Rai'Ze walks ahead, pushing useless piles of steel around and making her way to the back. She opens a small wooden door, vanishing into darkness.

"Come, in here," she calls for me from the other side.

The back room is far smaller than the strange armory and dustier too. It looks no bigger than the beast's den... our den, without the furs, the dead creatures, and of course, her bed. Things lie around, covered by cloth. I can't see much, though. I reach for the smartphone with a tight heart. The poor thing won't last for long, I'm sure of it.

Thankfully, the beast spares my dying battery and starts lighting up the place. One after another, a row of wall torches start flickering brightly, casting their warm yellow light around the room. My tiny flashlight can do better than all of them combined, I sigh, shoving the phone back into my pocket, wondering how much electronic juice I have left.

I step ahead, dangling around my amazing new magic axe, too excited to stop, too anxious to do anything else with my hands.

Secrets? What secrets? I foolishly thought she meant... of course not. What could have given me that impression? Clearly, my brain is yet to recover from last night, or is it my body? Both of them, maybe?

Tables, tables holding.... more... weapons? I walk closer to the large one in the middle, metal, stone... items? What are these things? Some seem metal. I try to take a better look as the beast pulls the heavy rag away from them. So much dust in here!

"Secrets, all of them," the beast informs me with pride in her voice.

I lift one of the... artifacts? It's heavy, yet not that much. It feels strange, too heavy for its size, too light for its texture. I can swear I felt this before, yet I can't recall anything resembling it. Cylindrical, metallic inscriptions running down its sides, groves carved in, with moving, no, rotating parts...

Fuck!!!

This! This is another bracelet!

A Th'al-nik!

My heart pounds out of my chest as I start rotating its multiple cylinders. Wait... no, it's not right... There's something wrong with this Th'al-nik, why so many cores? And where are the bottom symbols? There must be a power-on button down there somewhere, right?

I weigh it again, it's way heavier than my Th'al-nik, far bigger too. Yes! That's it! It's too big! I place it next to my Th'al-nik, measuring it. This thing reaches way above, almost touching my elbow, and is twice as wide! Who the hell can use such a massive bracelet?! My mouth drops as Rai'Ze's shadow falls over my artifact. Of course, a beast can use it! Just like the one standing next to me...

"Arth'al," she spells out the name of this mysterious bracelet, waving her hand, dismissing all my assumptions at once. "It's not a Th'al-nik, it's an Arth'al."

An... Arth'al... I repeat to myself, carefully placing the complicated cylinder back on the table. And what does an Arth'al do? I want to ask, but my eyes already start wandering around. What are those things? Coins? And that thing, a pyramid? Its top rotates, no, it got stuck! It won't even come back to its original position! Did I just screw something up? I put the artifact down and push it further from the edge, trying to cover my tracks. It wasn't me! I found it like this, I'll lie, or maybe not. Probably not.

Wait, is she even watching?

I seek for Rai'Ze. She's busy over another table, looking at other objects.

She picks up a thick spiked disk, amazingly intricate, no, wait, there are many disks lying inside each other, sliding around, symbols carved all the way around. I know these symbols!

"Ingh'ran, star gazer," she labels the artifact before handing it to me.

It's so heavy! Damn, I didn't expect that! It barely fits in my palm, yet feels like made of lead, if not for the texture, paper-like. What the hell is this thing made of? I stare at it, confused, disks sliding inside like floating one against each other. I run circles with my fingers, making some of them spin so fast its symbols fade one into each other. Nice.

Rai'Ze pushes the table around, making way for her massive body to slide through and reach the back of the room.

"Marcus!" her voice instantly stops me from playing with my new toy.

Grave, serious, wounded-like, it instantly sends a chill down my spine. Back there, something terrible awaits me. I carefully put back the heavy disk and slowly make my way to the back of the room. The beast sits motionless in front, barely making way for me to squeeze through.

What the actual fuck?!!

From all the fucking amazing things I've seen so far back in the armory and all over this room, the sight ahead leaves me completely speechless. Carved in stone, almost like an altar of sorts, sitting idle on a thick old cloth coat of sorts, a carefully arranged stash of old items lies bare in front of my watering eyes.

"U know?" the beast whispers at me, almost like trying to calm me down.

Yeah, yeah, I do! Of course, I fucking do!

I take a deep breath, trying as hard as possible to keep it together. I'm way too excited about this, how can't I be? I kneel next to the items, hands shaking, unwilling to touch, afraid to miss out.

I grab the first thing I see, a gun! A pistol! Made of shiny metal, it fits perfectly into my hand, as it should since it's a human gun, from Earth!

It's from home!

An old model, yet not that old, it looks modern, just like any other gun you see in movies. I look at it from both sides, it looks functional, but I have no clue how to use such a thing. I've never been into guns, except in games, and I don't know if that counts for something. I hold it tightly in my hand, trying to get a feel for it while aiming at an imaginary target ahead. It feels quite heavier than expected, yet still fairly manageable. I think I can get used to it.

One side seems cleaner, with visible letters on it. I can read them.

Mo... Model... Of... 1911... it's that old? It looks modern, wait! Ammo? Bullets... how the fuck are these things called? Magazines! A stack of magazines lies untouched next to the pistol's leather pouch... hoster.... holster? Is that thing a belt? Yes, it seems so, and the gun slides right in, like it was born inside there. I wonder how many years did those buddies spend together like that...

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Oh...

The realization strikes me...

"Sorry... Rai'Ze," I mumble, placing the gun down and getting back up on my feet. How could I be so fucking stupid?

"He died, take what u want," she replies with a whispered growl, almost as if reading my mind.

These... these things belonged to the old man. She kept them untouched ever since he died.

I take a look at the dust-colored coat. Old fashioned, heavily used, and almost ripped apart, there's not much left of it. I squat again, pushing the gun away for safekeeping. Six, no seven magazines, three of them empty, wait, this one seems burned out, nothing inside. That's three remaining, bullets and all. The gun got another one inside, but I don't know how to get it out, so I better not play with it. I might fuck it up somehow.

A mechanical wristwatch, broken, it looks rugged, military issue maybe? I can't see the letters, they are too damaged. Another watch? No, it has a cover... glass screen, what the hell is this thing? A compass! Pointing... north? I rotate it, and the needle seems stable, always pointing one way. This is functional!

What's this? A leather bag, pouch.... wallet...?

My throat clogs up as I open the worn leather holder, a few folded papers, yellowed by time, some handwritten, barely visible. A couple of banknotes, just a few, reddish in color, completely foreign to me. I don't even dare unfold them. What's this?

A license? It even has a photo on it!

Private Pilot License - Jake A. Turner, Born May 2, 1909, Tennessee, United States of America

Pilot? Damn, the guy was a true lady killer back in his time! Look at his hairstyle, damn hip, even by today's standards. He must have been rich, got his own plane or something. I doubt there were many pilots back then.

So he was born in 1909, that's more than a hundred years ago! Hmm... how old was he when he got in here? The licence is also dated, 1935, he was already 27 by then.

I can't wait to search through the other stuff.

I look back at Rai'Ze before rushing ahead, ransacking through the old man's possessions. She nods silently, looking emotionlessly at the pile of things before us, her eyes shimmering slightly in the darkness. She's just as curious as me. I bet she's going to want some answers after.

The old man was a pilot and got his own plane, an old model of the era, single-engine, or so the license states. He probably did some flying around the world, that money is clearly foreign, I can't even make sense of the writing. He had his own gun, holster, and plenty of ammo for the ride.

He was an intrepid man, always active, always searching for adventure, excitement, or maybe... treasures? Where was he heading? And where did he find the gate? And most importantly, is that thing still standing back there on Earth?

I grab the biggest thing I can see, an old backpack, military style, a brown fading canvas, probably painted in a classic military green a hundred years ago. Leather straps, thick, still strong, barely rusted buckles. It's quite in good shape, I can use this!

Let's see, what's inside?

Jake, you horn dog you! A pin-up magazine of the era, washed out colored covers, old pages ripped apart, some of them completely missing, except for the inside poster. Damn! That's one rowdy inter-war French girl right there! Bare legs and midriff exposed! Oh, the shame! You can almost see a hint of the shape of her young breasts under the fully clothed beach outfit! The scandal!

I almost laugh, thinking of the beast standing behind me, with her body almost completely exposed, if not for some leather straps barely covering the essentials.

I wonder if she's probably thinking I come from a highly prudish world. Should I even bother to tell her that today no one wears so many clothes at the beach? Nah, I don't even think she cares that much, but I'll make sure to mention it if such explication is required. Still, despite the outdated outfit, I can't say the girl's bad looking though, her body is young and fit, and her eyes are full of energy. A true beauty of her time, no wonder the old man kept this magazine with him for so long.

Let's see, what else did he fancy to carry around into this new world?

What the... fuck?!

Are you kidding me? Three... no... four... wait!

Five rusty... hand grenades?

Did they even have grenades a hundred years ago? They must have had because Jake got them in here. They look just like the ones from the movies, round shaped, pineapple pattern, with a metal handle, ring, and all. They weigh a bit too! Probably... no... it can't be!

Are these things still functional?!

I take them out one after another, carefully lining them up in front of me, right next to the gun and ammo. They don't look that worn out. Their olive paint is chipped, and there's plenty of rust visible, but otherwise, they seem to be just fine. I take one and weigh it in my hand. It feels pretty heavy, the powder inside is not completely dried out.

Four of them, at least. The last one looks terrible, there's no paint left on it, and it feels like the entire thing is just one rusty slab of metal with all its parts fused together. I won't trust this thing to save me from a wahnz pack. And yet, the rest of them seem useable... and deadly.

Jake, you crazy bastard, you brought an entire arsenal with you!

Now I'm really excited to discover more.

Papers, stashed documents, lists, handwriting long gone, useless. I wonder why did he carry them around for so long? Are they maybe his own notes about the Gates? They don't look like it. They're just numbers and some letters... a code of some kind?

Were you a spy or something, Jake? US-born, traveling the world in a plane, handgun, grenades, searching for... what?

A rusty canteen, army style, holes in it, useless. A small pack of... cigarettes? Filtered, wow, almost "healthy", right? Oh no, the pack even has health benefits listed on the back! I feel curious. There's a complete mess inside, yet, somehow, the hundred-year-old smell of tobacco still lingers. Another one for the useless pile.

Let's see, last bits, reaching for the bottom now. A lot of dirt and grime, even sand, made its way inside. I hope there are no bugs in there. The pockets are all empty. Still in good order, though, I'm quite impressed! Wait! There's something in this pocket.

1935 Anniversary Stainless Steel Pocket Flask, with another girl engraved on its backside. Bare naked, alluring, another French star, maybe? I quickly open it, there's liquid inside! It smells... smells like...

"No! Ash'ek rot!" The Rai'Ze's growl freezes me in place, her hand already locking mine tightly. When did she?...

Is this poison? I look at the beast. Her eyes glow bright, purple, almost lighting the air in front of her face.

Yes... yes, it is.

Ash'ek poison, she detected it as soon as I opened the flask, and she instantly dashed, holding my wrist in a painful lock.

Fine, I'll close it down, see?

She lets go, leaving me alone to figure out what to do with the poisonous flask. Clearly, the old man thought it was useful somehow. The container is nice, made of stainless steel, and perfectly preserved, with not a single stain of rust on it, and I can bet the interior is just as spotless. If not for its highly toxic content, I could use it to carry some water around.

I guess it's spoiled now...

I place it down on the ever-growing useless crap pile. That's one beautiful young girl right there...

"Can take, give Lhina'an," Rai'Ze informs me, pointing her axe at the deadly recipient. Her voice calmed down, her body relaxed as soon as the smell evaporated around the room.

I quickly grab the flask and place it on top of the keep pile. I felt bad throwing it away, to be honest. Now, there's not much left except for the backpack itself and another leather pouch in the back. I put it right next to the good items. This thing lasted Jake a hundred years and will last me another hundred more!

The leather pouch comes with a shoulder strap. You can wear it around your body, reaching way down behind you, and it even comes with a nice clamp to fasten it to your belt. Not bad, not bad at all! I can carry some things in this, maybe those grenades? Or maybe the gun's ammo?

But first, I open it.

A rancid foul smell makes my skin crawl. What the hell died in here?! I look back at Rai'Ze, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. She detected the poison the moment I opened the flask, but now she's not even blinking at this putrid smell? You really have a messed up scale of toxicity in your world, this thing feels just as rotten and bad as that poison... I think, not really sure.

Against my better judgment, I slowly start taking out the contents. Oh... shit... Food. Rotten, stinky, mutated by fungus and bacteria, almost alive in its own way. Damn, what the hell is this in here?

I slowly discard the contents, one after another, all on top of the "fuck no" pile. A few pieces of dried-out meat, stinking green already, two small slimy little bottles oozing out. I don't even care to find out what the hell they're for. And another pack... it smells like rat poison, maybe it is, who knows?

Finally, all gone, and yet my useful leather pouch is ruined. Or maybe not. I could wash it thoroughly, a hundred times at least, and I'll still be able to stash some things in it. It's not like I'm going to lick the grenades or the magazines, right? Yes, my mind is set, I'll keep it! But first, I'll close back this festering biohazard, locking it down tightly before whatever alien lifeforms live inside it spread around and kill us all.

I look ahead. Everything's sorted already except for one item...

It looks like a book. Leather covers... handwriting... seems legible enough. A journal.

The old man's writing... the first entry dated...

August 11, 1937 - The New World - Gate One - Green - Gate lost

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