They walked down a familiar lane that branched out from the main road. To his right, he could see the dimly lit Clinic surrounded by a row of small cottages. The only sound around them was the slow creaking of trees as they walked along the soft dirt path.
“We have been searching day and night ever since you raised the alarm, following reports of people who have disappeared.” The Priest’s hands shook from anxiety while relating the relevant facts, “The 10 year old boy’s name is Mio, an orphan under the protection of the Church. He has black hair and a red tunic, and was last seen near your Clinic.” Clenching his hands in frustration, the Priest swept a low overhanging branch aside, “The town commander called off the search an hour ago, saying his men needed rest. I wouldn’t have sought you out otherwise.”
Exill merely nodded to the Priest’s words, his ears straining nervously for any strange noise. Out here, surrounded by darkness, he was beginning to regret his decision to help. Every instinct screamed of the danger beyond, made worse by the threatening shadows cast by his lantern. Before long, they arrived at the well, located on the very outskirts of the town.
“This is the place, and the two-storey building I saw was over there, by the tree line.”
Exill gestured behind him, having confirmed with substantial relief that there were only trees in that direction. However, the Priest’s eyes had widened at his gesture, the whites of his eyes visible in the flickering lamplight. Feeling a sense of dread overwhelm him, Exill slowly turned to face the ominous building that had crept up on him, its windows tightly barred from within as if to contain some festering infestation.
‘It wasn’t there a second ago!’
Feeling the heightened danger ahead of them, Exill gripped the Priest’s arm and stepped back. Unlike his encounter during daytime, in darkness’ embrace, the house oozed malicious intent, even from this distance.
“We should run! We are no match for that thing!” As the words left his mouth, the worm-eaten front door slyly cracked open, revealing a distorted darkness within. A soft light illuminated the floor above, from which a crying child could be seen pounding at the window in terrified urgency.
‘As if I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the-’ Exill’s thoughts were cut off by the hoarse cry from Father Jonas.
“Mio!” Father Jonas escaped from his grip and rushed towards the tantalising maw of the Aberration. Halfway to the door, the Priest faltered in his steps, torn between rushing into the obvious trap and returning with more reinforcements. However the kindly Father could not ignore the desperate sound of hammering fists, and he licked his dry lips while leaving his last wish.
“Inform the Milita… tell them there is hope.” Then the dauntless Priest stepped into the waiting maws of the Aberration.
Stunned by this display of bravery and stupidity, Exill stood there for long seconds, indecision straining at him. There was no guarantee the Aberration would remain when he returned with back up, and there was a premonition that if he turned his gaze away, the house would simply disappear. Watching the tearful boy continue to batter his fists against the window, Exill made the worst decision of his second life.
‘I’ll unlock Dimensionist and [Warp] out if all else fails…’
It was a terrible last gambit, and he knew it. Warping somewhere without practice, not knowing its limitations or how much mana the spell consumed sounded like a recipe for disaster. Yet his feet moved of their own accord, spear held ready, despite knowing its limitations in tight quarters.
Once he stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him, rejoicing at the success of their wicked deceit. Turning back, he confirmed - as he had suspected - that the door had disappeared, leaving a creamy plastered wall that was warm and moist to the touch.
Exill checked the level of oil remaining in the lantern, but it was unnecessary because a soft diffuse glow illuminated the walls, that grew feverishly brighter as he advanced down the hallway. Strange cancerous protrusions grew out of corners, and many legged parasites the size of his finger skittered to and fro between their pustular openings.
After exploring for a couple minutes, it became clear that the ‘house’ was larger on the inside through some dimensional trickery. Doorways led to gangrenous cavities, empty except for their soft inviting radiance. The walls began to get sticky with mucous and an ungainly drumbeat throbbed beneath the floorboards as Exill dove deeper.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
It was getting more and more difficult to describe the interior as a building, instead of the innards of some giant monstrosity. Doorways became fleshy sphincters containing both human and animal remains. Exill stopped in front of one opening, spotting the mummified corpse of a person with long brown hair and pale blue robes typically worn by healers.
Kneeling beside her, he found an unadorned silver bracelet with the [Luck+] enchantment on the floor, having fallen from her desiccated wrists. 900 Denars was also found in her coin pouch along with a scrap of parchment addressed to Hunter Bartol for the sum of 1200 Denars.
‘This must be the hunter who raised a ruckus on the first day. It appears she was doing some healing off the books or didn’t get the chance to update the records.’
Exill suspected it was the former, because a small percentage of proceeds were donated to the Guild each year to maintain membership. He stood for a moment looking down at the remains of his predecessor, curious to put a face to someone who had become so intimately familiar in their absence.
Living in her dwelling and place of business, he had picked up a few hints about her personality, such as the well organised patient records and even a bottle of hard alcohol hidden behind the bed. He knew she had taken the death of her apprentice hard, and now, looking down at the enchanted bracelet and understanding its meaning, a feeling of affinity prevented him from simply walking away.
Remembering the Enui belief that life was a bridge of dreams from one infinite darkness to another, he remained crouched and offered a simple prayer so that her soul could move on.
“Your dream is over… and may the Spirit guide you safely to the next one.”
Pocketing the enchanted bracelet and coin pouch, he gave one last look before continuing on. By this point, the floor had become ridged with bony protrusions that were slippery under his feet. The air was overripe with the smell of decay, and he had to try hard not to gag.
Exill nearly passed another cavity covered by a translucent membrane, had he not spotted the red robe sticking out amongst the enveloping pink flesh. With a grimace, he stuck his arm into the wall and dragged Father Jonas out. The Priest was limp and covered in congealed jelly. Exill administered CPR, hoping he was not too late.
After what felt like minutes, the middle-aged man coughed and threw up a vile syrupy liquid that slid down his stubbled chin. He wheezed some more before hacking up some more bile, finally speaking haltingly in a raspy voice.
“You came for me… may the Spirit bless you. I found the boy… but it was a trap.”
As the Priest continued to cough, Exill was deep in thought, wondering if he should unlock Dimensionist and [Warp] out right now. It would have been the sensible choice, but it came with its own downsides, such as explaining to the conscious Priest how he wielded such ridiculous magic.
‘I should have warped out while he was unconscious…’ he realised too late. Sensing the wrongness all around them, he tentatively asked for another way out of this pressing situation.
“Is there a way to take this down from the inside?”
The dazed Priest shook his head vehemently, afraid to put the young man further into peril. “No! It is too dangerous!” He coughed some more, but saw the determination in Exill’s furrowed brows. Praying to the Spirit for forgiveness, he slowly recited what he knew about their foe, “You must strike at the heart of the Aberration with a weapon blessed by the World Spirit, attacks from mundane weapons cannot harm them… I’m afraid this is the best I can do for you.”
Father Jonas fumbled in his robe for a half empty vial that emitted a pale glow. Pouring the blessed waters onto the blade of Exill’s spear, he chanted a litany of prayers, broken only by short gasps for air. The tip of the blue mithril spear now emitted a soft glow and [Appraise] revealed its new status:
Equipment Price Enchantment Blessed
Mithril Spear 1400 Denars +Spirit Damage,
3/3 uses
Helping the Priest sit up against the wall, he glanced down the hallway. The ungainly drumbeat was pulsating louder than ever, and he felt he was closer to the heart of the abomination. The sheer perversion of the place was like a grating shriek that triggered every survival instinct in his arsenal.
“Stay here…” Exill patted the shoulder of the feeble Priest, “and if I don’t come back… well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” he remarked. Father Jonas tightly gripped his hand in contrition, sorry for dragging the young man with a promising future into such a mess. As for the spear wielding young man, [Appraise] had given him hope of taking the monstrosity down. The trick was to take it down in under three hits.
Clasping Father Jonas’s hand one last time, he stood up and warily walked down the passageway. It eventually opened up to a large cavern where a radiant egg sac hung from the ceiling, suspended by webbing and thick tubing. A familiar man with a bow slung on his back turned around to face Exill, his stern, rugged features relaxing in recognition of his friend.
“It’s good to see you again Exill.” said Verill with a warm smile.