Chapter 148: Journey 6

Excerpt from the book “Dungeons and Diving” By the veteran diver Duncan

Trap disarming; an artform if you ask me. A skill every dungeon diver worth half his food basket should have. Some spend decades mastering it, other hire thieves to do it for them. The only way to avoid needing this skill, is to be stupid rich or stupid strong. And if you are reading this? You are likely to be neither, given I was told my writing is of the quality you would find in the budget shelving area.

Alas, decking that publisher has not helped my odds in adding my book to the shelves. Yet, with all these hurdles, I shall strive to get my book out to the masses. It’s all for the money… Saving lives, yeah, that.

Anyway, I’ve gotten off track. Trap disarming, yes. First, get a big ass rock. They are great at triggering pressure plates and tripwires. It is not a be-all-end-all, given some traps involve TNT. But for anti-personal trapped hallways, it functions. Now, TNT traps are tricky, given they blow up all your hard-earned treasure. Of course, check for trapped chests. Before opening any chest, always check it. If you find one, break the Redstone wire. Don’t touch any string, triggers, only the Redstone. Most things trigger the trap when broken.

Once I found a trapped chest, to which I dug beside it. Crawling through the tight crawl space while breaking the Redstone. I came upon a mountain of TNT that sold for more than the treasure within the chest.

Over this chapter, I will break down every trap I have come across. Detailing how to disarm it, or if I failed, what didn’t work. Remembering that damned recall mirror that got bombed, brings a tear to my eye. If I got it, I would have been set for life. Not like I am already set for life 5 times over, but that is another story.

Manipulating my mana, I have found, is incredibly mentally taxing. My exhaustion addled mine is quickly tiring at the simplest of mental tasks.

After the third loss of control, I call it quits. I will do it later; my mind can’t handle energy manipulation at all.

Returning to my senses, I quickly speak. “I am tired, so I am going to have a nap. Wake me if something important comes up.”

Jengal responds with a nod, looking at me, curiosity in his eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t question it. Not having enough functional brain cells to even think of explaining Paul’s visit.

Moments after closing my eyes, the world goes dull and blank. Flashes of images blur past my eyes as I calmly slumber.

Jengals perspective:

“He looked exhausted; I wonder why?” Bringing my fist to my face and resting my head on it.

“I don’t know, sweety,” Mum replies, returning to the book in her hand.

“When was the last time we visited the capital?”

“It has been a long time. I guess avoiding your father’s family does that.”

“It’s not your fault he is gone. We don’t even know if he actually is dead.”

“Yet, they still blame me.” She says with a long sigh.

“They are the pinnacle of stupid,” I say in a sulk. “What’s your plan to avoid them in the capital?”

“Hope for the best.” She says with an innocent smile.

Coughing in surprise, “are you sure that is wise?”

“I am tired of hiding my head like a scared puppy.” She says, eyes telling me there will be no disagreement. “We also have a walking powerhouse by our sides. Why fear them when we have a red matter bomb for a friend.”

“I can agree on that.” Looking over my slumbering friend. Knowing full well that a nigh-indestructible armor covers him at all times. “I should have brought Rex.” Feeling the subtle tug of our connection.

“Into the capital, yeah, great idea.” She says sarcastically before quickly changing her tune. “Look, he isn’t people trained yet. We can bring him another time.”

“Okay,” I say, my downtrodden mood is unchanged.

I just look out the window, longing for home. Traveling is both fun, boring, and sad all at the same time.

“Why don’t you do some of your wood carvings since you are so bored.” My mother says, spotting my face.

“Fine, it’s something to do.” Thinking for a moment, “then again, I could nap like… Aeternum.”

“Jengal, do something productive.” She scolds.

Taking out a small block of wood and my carving knife, a simple generalist knife. Soft spine, so I can cut in funny angles. Wondering what to carve, I hear a noise. “Snorrreee!” Perfect, a carving option.

Sitting comfortably, placing some cloth on my lap to catch the wood chips. I carefully study the slumped figure, the exposed armor, the face, the posture; everything I can. Image in mind, I begin carving into the block.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Cutting away large chunks with the small serrated backside of the knife. Slowly creating a general shape to work with.

I have never carved anyone with such grand armor; I like a challenge. Slowly cutting away, being very careful to leave excess, I am only human after all. The face always comes last; I struggle the most with it.

If he has his helmet revealed, I would love to carve it. For some reason, he has opted to only cloak that part. Makes talking to him easier, I suppose.

My mother has also decided to take her own advice. Knitting needles and a bundle of wool are quickly turning into some form of clothing. I swear; if she makes me another scarf, I will burn it.

Returning my focus to the wood, I slowly cut lines across the figure. Using those lines as guides where to carve. Didn’t even start doing this kind of thing for me; my mother wanted some wooden spoons.

Laughing lightly as the memory of those shoddy spoons surface. My mother thought I was joking when I said they were spoons. She now uses them as a decoration, a mark of there my carving started. Still makes me wince to look at them. I'm happy to say, every spoon since has been functional.

The carving is coming along well. I'm working on the finer details, the small trimmings, and the decorations of the armor. The posture is slightly off, which sucks. Slowly, the time flies by as I carve away millimeter by millimeter of wood. It starts to become startlingly similar to Aeternum.

Now, the hard part. Taking a good look at Aeternums face, as bizarre as it might be. I do wonder what species he is. I’ve never seen anything like it. His flat nose combined with crimson eyes and ghost-like skin, I’ve never seen anyone or anything remotely similar.

If id seen a monster of his likeness, I would have thought him a terrifying hybrid, yet I don’t know of any. Bringing my focus to its climax, I slowly etch away at the face. Using the absolute tip of my knife, I poke details into the wood. My hand slips, creating a small scratch at the chin, but I manage to clean it up.

After agonizing hours, I have a wooden statue with a startling likeness to my friend. “Mum, look, I did it.” She gently takes it from my hand.

“Wow, that has got to be one of your best ones yet. I am definitely adding it to my collection.” She smirks.

“No, not again.” Running to grab it, yet she swings it away.

“Just make another. This will be worth a lot at a later date.” Teasing me by sticking her tongue out.

Eventually, I have to give up. Mentally noting to carve another when I next see Aeternum like this. I would do it now, but my hands won’t stop shaking. Fine carving really takes it out of me.

I hear the driver talk into the cabin. “Village ahead, we will take an hour's break.”

“I see, thank you,” I reply.

Gently nudging the tired Aeternum till alertness. “Wake up, we are having a short break in a village.”

Aeternum replied in confusion, “villages exist? How do they not get overrun by monsters?”

Rubbing my head at his lack of knowledge. “a few clever tricks like placing them in monster dead zones.”

“Monster dead zones exist?”

“Yes, although they vary in quality. The greatest are mushroom biomes. Being perfect dead zones, whereas places like this have a low quantity of monster spawns.” Smiling as I regurgitate another fact from my years as a solitary bookworm. My mother just gazes over us, a knowing smile.

Aeternum gets up and stretches. He does this often; I don’t even think he realizes he does it.

“Interesting, thanks. Guess I will go and explore.”

“We start traveling in an hour, don’t get lost.”

He just laughs; as if getting lost is a foreign concept. The fact he can teleport is an absolute cheat. Like, even having access to his warp network, I can’t hold a candle to the teleportation capabilities he displays. If I finally use that genetic material syringe, I will gain short-range teleportation. Mind spiraling at the thought of being able to teleport; it sounds like great fun.

The only thing holding me back is the realization I will look similar to Aeternum forever. Not the same, given he wasn’t human, to begin with. But we will share similar changes, which terrifies me. Will people still trade with me? I know certain people are biased against non-human species. What would I be signing up to?

Here I am again, sat on the crossroad, choosing neither to use it or discard it.

Lost in my own musings, I nearly missed him exiting the carriage. Rushing to join him, I walk by his side. Everywhere he looks, he has this look of wonder. Personally, I don’t see what he finds so enchanting. It’s a village, cheap houses, lots of farmland and watchtowers; that’s it, what’s so interesting? Swear he must have grown up under a rock. He did say he lived and survived in the forest alone; I guess that gives him some liberty.

We come to a dilapidated inn, sadly the only food-serving establishment around. Aeternum looks at the sign with a forest dinner carved, eyes ablaze. “Yes, food, let’s go,” I say, dragging my troublesome friend.

Inside is a warm, cozy building with wooden chairs, a bar, and a door leading to a kitchen, the standard array. The air smells of stale food and damp; I wonder if Aeternum can smell through his helmet.

Sitting down, Aeternum hails a waiter. “Aeternum, let me order. Villages are known to swindle travelers.”

He nods in confirmation.

Once she approaches, I speak. “Can we get a menu?”

“Sure, here ye go.” She says, handing us some discolored paper sheets. Poorly written words spell out an array of simple meals. Picking the safest option, “can we get the stew, please.”

“That will be a silver for a bowl.” She says with a Chesire grin.

Giving her a knowing smile, “a silver per customer, nice try. Silver for both sounds like a stretch.”

“House rules.” She states simply.

“You mean your pockets rules; you are charging more and pocket the change.” Having dealt with people like this before, I spot the scam. Aeternum frowns at my words but doesn’t comment, thankfully.

Her smile doesn’t fade for even a moment, but she quickly scans the menu. Using phenomenal acting skills she speaks, “sorry; I made a small error. I thought you meant the house soup, which is a silver per. The stew is half a silver per customer.”

Aeternum dumbly speaks, “no problem, everyone makes mistakes.” Resisting my urge to clap him around the ear.

I reply equally, “yeah, no problem.” Giving her the meanest glare I can achieve with my baby face.

It is jarring how much slower I speak after being around the slow and methodical Aeternum. He doesn’t rush, he just does things smartly. He didn’t want to walk, so he found a way to teleport. Flying too slow? He found a faster method. Yet, he is always doing something, pushing his massive array of tasks to completion. It’s like he is on a time limit with a speed cap. He needs to slow down, otherwise he will burn out. And it would be criminal for such a talented individual to burn out, so as his friend, I am intervening. And he has made known if with his regular complaints of boredom that he doesn’t like my choice of intervention.

Suck it up, my friend.