Liam swore under his breath, his voice muffled by the cavern’s oppressive silence. “What the hell did I just get myself into?” His words bounced off the vaulted chamber walls, as though mocking his predicament. He shot a sharp glance at Umbra, the slime perched comfortably on his shoulder. “Umbra, what were you thinking? You could’ve at least warned me about, you know, dragons.”

Umbra gurgled softly, her colors shifting to a playful shade of teal. Liam rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, laugh it up, slimeball. This is exactly what I needed - getting roasted or eaten by something with scales and a bad attitude. Thanks for the heads-up.”

The faint echoes of his voice faded into the chamber’s vastness, leaving behind an uneasy stillness. Liam felt his chest tighten as he scanned the darkened expanse, half-expecting the gleam of golden eyes or the scrape of claws on stone. The treasure hoard around him - gleaming piles of silver, gold, and alien artifacts - suddenly felt less like a reward and more like a trap.

“Right,” he muttered, shaking his head. “First things first - gear up and get out before something big and toothy decides to come back for its loot.”

He hurried to the nearest display of armor, the polished metal catching the faint bioluminescent glow of fungi clinging to the walls. The sections of chainmail scintillated in shades of silver and deep cobalt, their craftsmanship otherworldly. Liam hesitated for a moment, running his fingers over the intricate patterns etched into the metal - serpentine lines that seemed to shift under his touch.

“Well,” he muttered, pulling the chest piece off the stand, “this is definitely cooler than motorcycle leathers.” Though it was similar enough that his times putting on his gear had accustomed him to the act of donning armor. Even still, he wrestled it on awkwardly, the unfamiliar weight pressing against his shoulders. Then the armor settled with a faint metallic hum and rustle, the pieces fitting together more snugly than he expected. “At least it’s adjustable,” he said, trying to inject a little levity into his fraying nerves.

Umbra burbled on his shoulder, her tone light and approving. Liam smirked. “Glad you like it, slimeball. How about helping me find a sword next?”

He worked his way through the piles of treasure, adding random pieces of mismatched armor that he found. He fastened greaves over his newly booted feet and slid vambraces onto his forearms. Each piece seemed impossibly light yet sturdy, the metal faintly warm against his skin. A long, flowing cloak of true black caught his eye, and he draped it across his shoulders with a dramatic flourish. “How do I look?” he asked, stepping toward a large, polished metal disc leaning against a pedestal.

The reflection staring back at him gave him pause. The armor’s luminous sheen gave him an almost ethereal quality, the blues and silvers catching the faint light in a way that made him seem larger, more commanding. For the first time since arriving in this strange place, he looked less like a scavenger and more like someone with a destiny. Or at least a hedge knight, as he used to imagine them.

“Not bad,” he muttered, tilting his head to study his reflection. Umbra rippled with approval, her translucent form glowing faintly. “Glad you think so. I just hope it’s enough to keep me alive if this treasure’s rightful owner shows up.”

He glanced around the hoard, his eyes lingering on the weapons scattered among the gold and jewels. A massive lance leaned against a crumbled column, its shaft carved with intricate runes, and a trident rested nearby, its prongs gleaming with an unnatural light. Liam frowned. “A dragon-slaying lance might be cool, but it’s about twelve feet too long. So there’s no way I’d actually be able to use the thing. Unless of course it was the key to unlocking a Dragoon or Lancer class… naw. Not really my style.” And the trident was a no.

Umbra shifted colors again, this time a mix of green and blue. Liam sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Not much of a warrior, am I? Guess this dagger will have to do for now.”

The crimson-bladed dagger he’d found earlier sat snugly in its sheath at his side. Its weight was reassuring, but it hardly felt like enough against the kind of creature he might face in a place like this. “Alright,” he said, adjusting the cloak and taking a deep breath. “If something does come back, at least I’ll look good while running for my life.”

Umbra gurgled softly, her colors shifting to a soft green that Liam took as agreement. He patted the slime gently. “Alright, slimeball, you got me into this mess. Now how do we get out?”

The slime extended a pseudopod, pointing vaguely to the left. Liam turned to follow the direction, only to find himself spinning in a full circle as her guidance wavered. “You’re kidding me, right?” he said, pulling her off his shoulder and holding her at arm’s length. “You dragged me here, and now you don’t even know where we are?”

Umbra dimpled slightly, her form shifting in what Liam swore was a shrug. He groaned, placing her back on his shoulder. “Fantastic. We’re lost. Again.”

He scanned the chamber, his eyes searching for any sign of an exit. The towering shadows and glittering piles of treasure offered little help. Then a thought struck him. “Wait - the map! Why didn’t I think of that earlier?”

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

With a mental flick, he summoned his mini-map, the translucent overlay appearing in his vision. The map displayed the tunnel he’d entered from and the chamber’s general outline, though large portions remained grayed out. “Alright,” he muttered. “Time to explore and hope I don’t stumble into anything hungry.”

He started along the chamber’s perimeter, his boots crunching softly against scattered coins and debris. Umbra pulsed faintly, her form flattening slightly against his shoulder as if bracing herself for danger. “Keep an eye out, slimeball,” Liam whispered. “If you see - or feel - something, let me know.”

The circuit around the chamber took longer than he expected. Each outcropping or alcove he explored led to dead ends or collapsed passages. The air grew heavier with each step, the oppressive silence pressing against his thoughts. When he finally returned to his starting point, his frustration was palpable.

“Well, that was pointless,” he muttered. “Back the way we came, then?”

Umbra shifted sharply, her form rippling with what he interpreted as a firm no. Liam raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then smarty-pants. Got a better idea?”

The slime hesitated before extending into a conical pseudopod pointing upward. She reminded him of a literal conehead, and he found it very cute. Liam followed her gesture, his gaze climbing to the chamber’s vaulted ceiling. High above, the faint outline of a jagged passage loomed, barely visible in the dim light. His stomach sank. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, his voice flat. “You want me to climb that?”

Umbra wiggled slightly, her form rippling with what Liam swore was smug amusement. “Of course it won’t be easy,” he muttered. “Nothing ever is, is it?”

His thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d attempted something like this - a reckless free climbing adventure that nearly ended in disaster. The memory surfaced unbidden, vivid and raw.

He’d been perched precariously on a sheer rock face, his fingers trembling as they gripped an impossibly narrow ledge. The coarse stone bit into his skin, every grain feeling like a shard of glass against his calloused palms. His legs quaked with exhaustion, the strain in his calves threatening to buckle him at any moment. Every muscle in his body burned, each breath a shallow, desperate gasp. Above him, the sky stretched endlessly, a cruel expanse of cerulean indifference, while below, the abyss yawned like a predator waiting for its prey.

Perhaps if he’d had on the full climbing kit, that would have been one thing. But they were climbing without tools to speak of. It was little more than bouldering. Or so it had seemed at the start.

His climbing partner’s voice cut through the howling wind, calm but edged with concern. “You okay, Liam? You’re not moving.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. “No… I’m stuck. I can’t go any further.”

Her words came in reply, soft but insistent. “You’re stronger than you think. Take it one handhold at a time. You’ve got this.”

Her encouragement felt like a fragile lifeline, and for a fleeting moment, he wanted to believe her. But the paralyzing fear that gripped him was unrelenting, squeezing his chest until it felt like he could hardly breathe. His thoughts spiraled - each one darker than the last. What if I slip? What if my grip gives out? What if this is it?

Against his better judgment, his gaze dropped. The ground, impossibly far below, seemed to lurch toward him, a vertiginous wave of green and jagged rocks. His heart raced, pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest. The dizzying height mocked him, a cruel reminder of how close he was to oblivion.

Then, something shifted - a flicker of defiance breaking through the haze of fear. It wasn’t bravery, not exactly. It was a sheer, stubborn refusal to let himself fail. He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of giving in, of letting himself fall, became unthinkable.

A steel rod of determination drove through his spine, straightening his posture despite the weight of fatigue dragging him down. His jaw clenched, and his breath steadied - not from calm but from the razor-sharp focus that had overtaken his mind. One handhold, one foothold at a time, he told himself. That’s all it takes.

With a grunt, he reached for the next ledge, his fingertips brushing against it before locking in place. The rough stone bit into his skin, but it was solid. Secure. He pulled himself upward, his muscles screaming in protest. His foot searched for a stable perch, finding a narrow jut of rock that barely fit the toe of his shoe. One more step. Just one more.

The climb became a battle of willpower, each movement slow and deliberate. The wind howled around him, tugging at his clothes like a mischievous specter, but he shut it out. There was only the rock, the weight of his body, and the unyielding need to survive.

Time seemed to stretch and contract, the seconds blending into an indeterminate haze. When his fingers finally grasped the edge of the summit, he almost didn’t believe it. With one final surge of effort, he hauled himself over, collapsing onto the flat surface as the tension drained from his body. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his arms trembling as they pressed against the ground.

The view hit him like a revelation. The valley below spread out in breathtaking detail, rolling hills painted in shades of gold and green beneath the light of a setting sun. The wind that had felt so menacing moments before now carried a soft, soothing quality, its touch cool against his sweat-drenched skin.

For the first time, he allowed himself to smile, the corners of his lips trembling as they curled upward. He had done it. Against all odds, he had conquered the climb, and the exhilaration flooding through him was unlike anything he’d ever felt.

That day had stayed with him - a reminder that fear could be overcome, that limits were often illusions imposed by the mind.

The memory snapped back into the present, the echoes of his past merging with the cavern around him. Liam shook his head, his voice low and sardonic. “Great. Guess we’re doing this again.”

Umbra nudged him gently, her glow steady and reassuring, like a silent cheerleader perched on his shoulder. Her warmth radiated through his armor, grounding him in the here and now. Liam exhaled slowly, nodding to himself.

While he had sworn never to freeclimb again after that terrifying day on the rocks, here he was, faced with an even greater challenge. The ceiling above him loomed like an inverted nightmare, its surface not flat but like the underside of some massive dome. Its irregular texture and faint sheen offered little reassurance. There were no obvious handholds or footholds, just smooth, unbroken stone that seemed designed to mock any attempts at escape.