Reality fragmented around me, the familiar world disintegrating into a fevered dreamscape. The cavern, the Nightmare, the shattered blade—they all retained a disturbing level of palpability. Yet, everything was now laced with a disconcerting sense of displacement.
The Shadowmaw Nightmare, a hulking mass of shadow against the cavern's obsidian gloom, writhed against the stalactites skewering its form. A chilling feeling of déjà vu washed over me like a frigid wave, yet the specifics remained frustratingly out of reach.
A nagging discrepancy prickled at my consciousness, but I cast it aside, riveting my focus onto the towering beast before me.
I felt the Residue of Divinity seep once more into the fractured blade in my grip, the divine essence humming with latent energy.
However, as the divine power crescendoed, my stamina was drained at an alarming rate by the relic, causing it to grow increasingly cumbersome until it finally slipped from my fingers.
The Nightmare, freed from its stony prison, burst forth. Its guttural roar resonated through the cavern as it pounced, its lethal claws slicing through the damp air. I was too weak to evade, too weak to counter.
Its claws found their mark, carving a swath of agony across my torso. I crumpled onto the chilling, unforgiving stone floor, my life force seeping into its porous crevices. The Nightmare loomed above me, its grotesque grin stretching impossibly wide as it revealed an abyss of darkness within its gaping maw.
And then, I awoke.
Blinking open my eyes, I took in my foreign surroundings. I was ensconced in a vast cavern, its walls polished smooth as if chiseled meticulously by advanced machinery. The cavern was dimly lit by the soft bioluminescence of fungi, casting a spectral light across the expanse.
An assortment of artifacts lay scattered around me. Antiquated tomes bearing cryptic symbols, strange contraptions of unfamiliar design, and eccentric trinkets that seemed to defy the laws of physics. It was a disordered collection, the physical manifestation of its collector's eclectic tastes.
I checked my sanity stats: 31/99.
It had significantly increased since the last time I checked. I suspected that rest might have aided its recovery, but I couldn't be entirely certain.
"You're finally awake…"
A voice, grating and unfamiliar, pulled me from the precipice of panic. Squinting, I took in the figure before me—a humanoid silhouette with a peculiar fly-like head.
A spark of recognition ignited within me. I knew him, or rather, I knew of him from the game. The elusive NPC I had been seeking who resided on the 99th floor of this dungeon, Parachent.
"Who are you? Did you save me?" I queried, feigning ignorance despite my understanding of his identity.
"For a human, you don't seem taken aback by my appearance. Then again, you've probably encountered some horrid sights on this floor. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's not often I get intelligent visitors here. I am Parachent, a trader of sorts."
His response left me nonplussed. A trader? I had assumed he would be an mysterious scholar, based on my information from the game.
The urge to activate my Eldritch Lore skill to verify his identity was strong, but I resisted. His presence in this location and his appearance were convincing enough, and I was wary of forming habits from using the skill too liberally, a lesson learned from past gaming experiences that had led to unfavorable consequences.
"How long have I been unconscious?" I croaked, my voice parched and raspy from disuse.
"Difficult to gauge time in this place, but I'd estimate about 72 hours," he responded, his compound eyes scrutinizing me. "You were in quite a dire state, both physically and mentally. You were screaming and thrashing about quite a bit. I would've tossed you out if I hadn't owed that man a favor."
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He gestured towards the broken blade in the corner. "Tell me about his final moments."
I recounted the events leading up to my discovery of the man, his tragic demise, and the aftermath, tactfully omitting the details of how he had regained his sanity.
He simply nodded, absorbing the information without further comment.
"Do you know how to get out of this place?" I asked, holding his gaze.
He paused, considering my question before responding, "Before I answer that, you should answer mine. After all, I did care for you, and I'm curious. How did you end up here?"
I hesitated answering his questions.
“If you don’t want to answer, then I am afraid that I have to ask you to leave.”
His response caught me off guard. I hadn't anticipated that he would want to probe deeper. I thought back to his personality as I knew it in the game, realizing I should have expected this.
I paused, mulling over how to articulate my peculiar circumstances. Revealing that this world was once a game I played would not only sound ludicrous, but it might also be too much for Parachent to digest.
The concept of his existence being a mere construct for entertainment could be psychologically devastating. I needed to frame my story in a way that was both believable and considerate of his perspective.
"I... I'm not entirely sure," I began, choosing my words carefully. "One moment, I was in my own world, and the next, I found myself here. It was as if I had been yanked from my reality and thrust into this one."
Parachent's compound eyes bore into me, his expression unreadable. "Your world?" he echoed, his voice infused with curiosity. "You're suggesting you're from another realm?"
"I... I'm not entirely sure," I began, choosing my words carefully. "One moment, I was in my own world, a world where I studied the ancient and the arcane, the mythology and lore. I was engrossed in it, often losing myself in the tales and histories. The next moment, I found myself here, surrounded by the very elements I had only read about.”
The truth of the matter was that I had indeed engaged in such studies. However, they pertained to the lore and myth of the game, a detail I chose to omit in this instance.
"And how did you end up in the 99th floor of this dungeon?" Parachent probed, his gaze unwavering.
"I woke up here," I responded, keeping the specifics deliberately vague. "I don't know how or why I was placed there. All I know is that I need to find a way out, a way back to my world."
Parachent fell into a thoughtful silence, his multifaceted gaze as cryptic as the stygian gloom shrouding the cavern. "Intriguing," he murmured, the whisper of the word seemingly more intended for his own ears than mine. "Fascinating, truly."
An unsettling hush ensued, a silence that hung heavily in the air, punctuated only by the faint dripping of water somewhere in the cavern's depths. He studied me with unwavering scrutiny before he moved with an air of purpose towards a shadowy recess where a solitary shelf stood. From there, he retrieved a small, nondescript box.
With a graceful gesture, he placed the box on a gnarled table of stone that seemed to have sprouted from the cavern floor itself. The echo of the box's placement lingered in the silence. He gestured towards me, summoning me to his side.
"I believe you have a certain... potential," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of intrigued approval.
"Potential for what?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued despite my anxiety.
"To be my assistant," he responded smoothly, "But first, you will have to pass a test, should the whims of fate permit."
Carefully, he lifted the lid of the box, revealing an aged deck of cards. Their worn surface bore intricate symbols, their designs striking a deep-seated familiarity within me.
"Ythra'gon..." The name slipped from my lips before I could catch it, surprise catching in my voice.
"Ahh, you recognize the sigil of a fluxional," he observed, his compound eyes narrowing in surprise as he delicately placed a card down before me.
"Fluxional?" I echoed in confusion. "I'm unfamiliar with the term. But that symbol, it's of Ythra'gon, the evil deity worshiped by a cult known as the Prism."
"It seems your knowledge is incomplete, but with time and my guidance, you will come to understand. The deck was created by an unknown devout follower of Ythra'gon, the Fracturer of Realms. And later, it happen to be find by an individual that I know. Unfortunately, his journey ended prematurely while attempting to decipher these."
"Who was this individual?" I inquired, my voice barely a whisper, grappling with the gravity of his revelation.
"My former assistant. He met his untimely demise decades ago due to these very cards," he answered, his tone solemn.
"So, you're asking me to...?"
"To decipher and harness one of these cards. A trial, if you will. I require an assistant who can competently handle artifacts of this nature, particularly when their repercussions are not always predictable."
The corners of Parachent's peculiar mouth twitched upwards, a glint of dark humor in his otherworldly eyes. He extended the deck towards me, his grip firm and steady despite the ominous weight these fragile paper relics carried.
My gaze flickered between the outstretched deck and Parachent's impassive expression. A thousand warnings screamed within me, urging me to reject this perilous proposition, to flee from this daunting trial. However, the stark reality of my predicament settled in like a cold, hard stone.
I was trapped within this dreadful dungeon, with no discernible route of escape. I was surrounded by malevolent creatures, my sole line of defense a broken blade that devoured my energy. And here was a potential ally, someone who might provide guidance and assistance in this nightmarish world.
After evaluating my options, I made my choice. It was a risk, indeed, but one I felt compelled to take. I reached out, accepting the deck from Parachent. The cards were ice-cold, their timeworn magic pulsating under my fingertips.
"How do I decipher these?" I queried, the enormity of the task seeping into my consciousness.
"Ah, the true challenge lies therein," Parachent responded, a ominous grin gradually unfurling across his features. "The task requires studying the symbols, detecting underlying patterns, discerning the coloration... It's an art, not a science, demanding keen observation, sharp intellect, and instinctive intuition."
He paused, examining me with an intense scrutiny. "The potential powers within these cards are volatile and unpredictable. Some may summon ancient abominations from epochs long forgotten. Others might transport you to realms beyond our world. And yet, others might... do absolutely nothing at all. The challenge involves not only decoding the cards but also coping with the repercussions that inevitably follow."
The full weight of the task ahead sank in, and I felt a surge of adrenaline.
Nonchalantly, Parachent split the deck in half, sliding one pile towards himself and the other towards me.
"I will be here to guide you," he said, the gravity in his tone indicating the seriousness of what was to come. "But remember, I cannot promise your safety."