Chapter 23
621 looked ahead and entered the reception area of the Alexandrian Pavilion, his gaze swept over the assembled pawns, taking note of familiar faces among them. Pawns 113, 666, and 889 stood out amidst the crowd, their presence in stark contrast to the others.
Both 113 and 889 were isolated from the crowd likely on purpose meanwhile a group of male pawns surrounded 666 looking to entertain the latter.
Ignoring the curious glances cast his way, 621 made his way to a secluded corner of the room, seeking solace from the prying eyes of his fellow pawns. With practiced efficiency, he retrieved a vial containing a vibrant green substance from his robes, drawing the attention of those nearby.
The healing potion shimmered in the dim light of the reception area, its emerald hue a stark contrast to the muted tones of the room. As 621 uncorked the vial, the faint scent of medicinal herbs filled the air, a reassuring reminder of its potency.
With steady hands, 621 applied the healing potion to his injuries, wincing slightly as the liquid seeped into his wounds. The healing process was as painful as it was effective, each drop of the potion working to mend his battered flesh.
Despite the discomfort, 621 endured, his jaw clenched in determination as he focused on the task at hand. Around him, the murmurs of the other pawns faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic throb of his own heartbeat.
He knew that the others wouldn’t be as presumptuous to attack within the confines of the pavilion as outside thus he decided it was fine to heal himself in the meantime since he wanted to always be in top condition.
But of course, he still had most of his senses focused on his surroundings, always scrutinizing every detail playing out in front of him.
As the healing potion worked its magic, the pain began to recede, replaced by a soothing warmth that spread through his body. With each passing moment, his injuries healed, the cuts and bruises fading into nothingness until all that remained was the memory of the battle he had fought.
With a final sigh of relief, 621 capped the vial and returned it to its rightful place within his robes. His gaze flickered briefly to the front showcasing a mighty sealed door of gothic aesthetics, to the right of this door was an unoccupied ebony desk.
The atmosphere in the reception area grew tense as the pawns awaited the arrival of the figure behind the ebony desk. Among them, 754 entered the room with a slight delay, his frail form moving with cautious steps. Remarkably, his robes remained pristine, untouched by the violence that had unfolded moments before.
As the group settled into an uneasy silence, a sound cut through the stillness, drawing some of the attention of those gathered. It was a slow, dragging noise, the unmistakable sound of someone in pain. Slowly, the source of the disturbance emerged into view, eliciting glimpses of interest and entertainment from the onlookers.
Before them was a crawling pawn, his once pristine robes now stained crimson with blood. His face, a gruesome mask of agony, marred by deep gashes and lacerations. Each movement seemed to cause him excruciating pain, yet he pressed forward with a grim determination.
The pawn's legs appeared twisted and mangled behind him, the result of some unseen trauma. With trembling arms, he dragged himself across the floor, his every movement a testament to his resilience in the face of overwhelming odds.
But it was the sight of his back that was truly chilling. Two gaping wounds, like savage gorges carved into flesh, oozed crimson with each agonizing breath. The injuries were deep and severe, a stark reminder of the brutality that had unfolded moments before.
It was then that 621's eyes gleamed in recognition. This pawn, now a battered and bloodied figure, was the very same individual he had used as a makeshift human shield during the chaotic skirmish moments ago.
‘Heh! What an interesting fellow’ 621 inwardly chuckled.
Despite the agony etched on his face, the pawn's eyes burned with a fierce resolve, his teeth clenched in defiance. As he dragged himself closer to the group, a hushed silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing, but it was only for a moment before the pawns paid him no attention, some even had a cunning glint in their eyes.
..
Soon the sealed door of the pavilion creaked open, the figure that emerged from it was a sight to behold. A hunched figure shuffled into the room, her form bent and twisted with age. Her face, weathered and worn, bore the deep lines of a life lived long, like rough old leather left out in the sun.
Her skin, stretched and sagging, seemed to hang loosely from her bones, giving her a gaunt appearance. Her eyelids drooped heavily over her eyes, obscuring them from view and lending an air of mystery to her countenance. It was as if she was perpetually squinting, trying to make out the world through eyes tired from years of seeing.
With each step, she leaned heavily on an old, gnarled cane, its surface worn smooth by years of use. The wood creaked and groaned under her weight, echoing the strains of age and time. Despite her frail appearance, there was a certain strength in the way she moved, a quiet resilience born of years of experience.
As she spoke, her voice was thin and reedy, like the rustling of dry leaves in the wind.
“It seems,” she croaked, her words punctuated by pauses as she struggled to catch her breath, “that all the early birds have arrived.”
With a gnarled hand, she gestured towards the towering double doors, commanding them to close with a resounding bang that echoed through the room.
The latecomers, caught off guard by the sudden closure, were left outside, their opportunity to enter the pavilion now lost forever. Some were even marginally close to entering alas the doors closed on their faces. The old woman's presence filled the room, her aura one of ancient wisdom and undeniable authority.
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The guardian’s gaze shifted from the closed doors to the fallen pawn lying on the ground, her expression inscrutable. With a clenched jaw, she outstretched a hand towards him, her movements deliberate and precise. As her fingers brushed against the air, a ripple of magic coursed through the room.
Suddenly, the air around the injured pawn seemed to shimmer with ethereal energy. His wounds, once gaping and bloody, began to mend before their very eyes. The gashes on his face slowly closed, leaving behind only faint scars as evidence of their presence. His twisted legs straightened and strengthened, the bones aligning with a soft click.
But it was the two gaping wounds on his back that drew the most attention. As if by some unseen force, the torn flesh began to knit itself back together, the edges merging seamlessly until they disappeared entirely, leaving only unblemished skin in their wake.
As the healing magic took effect, the blood that had pooled on the ground vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of the gruesome scene that had unfolded moments before.
Throughout the entire process, the old woman's expression remained unchanged, her features betraying no emotion. Yet there was a certain satisfaction in her eyes, a sense of contentment that belied the severity of the situation.
621 watched the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He had seen magic before, but never wielded with such ease and precision. And the old woman's reaction only added to the mystery. It was as if she was irritated by the sight of blood, her actions driven more by annoyance rather than compassion.
As the pawn's injuries healed and the room returned to its previous state of calm, 621 couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the old woman than met the eye.
The recently healed pawn weakly rose to his feet, a sense of relief seemed to wash over him as he bowed deeply towards the frail guardian, though the old woman remained unmoved by his display of gratitude.
With a cold snort, she gestured towards the sealed door, prompting it to swing open once more, revealing countless shelves and rows of ancient tomes that lay beyond.
Her voice cut through the air like a knife as she issued her command, her words leaving no room for disobedience.
"Choose one book," she declared, her tone sharp and commanding.
In an instant, the room erupted into chaos as the pawns surged forward, each determined to claim a book for themselves. There was a sense of urgency in the air, a palpable tension that hung heavy over the room as they jostled and pushed their way towards the shelves.
621 watched the scene unfold with detached interest, his gaze lingering on the healed pawn who had been at the receiving end of his earlier attack. There was a flicker of mystery in his eyes, though he quickly pushed it aside as he focused on the task at hand.
As he passed by the old guardian, he couldn't help but notice the absence of her aura, a stark contrast to the powerful presence that emanated from the other handlers he had encountered.
It was a curious observation, one that lingered in the back of his mind as he turned his attention to the books that lay in front. With purposeful strides, he crossed the threshold of the sealed door, his eyes scanning the rows of books that lay before him.
Once, 621 stepped into the expansive room, he was immediately struck by the organized chaos that surrounded him. The rows of shelves stretched out before him, each one meticulously arranged to house the ancient tomes that held the secrets of martial prowess.
His eyes scanned the shelves, taking note of the intricate labels that adorned each one. Fire, water, earth, air—the elements were all represented, their respective sections filled with an array of books that promised untold power to those who possessed the knowledge within.
But as 621 searched, he soon realized the dilemma that lay before him. While the shelves groaned under the weight of books dedicated to the more common spiritual roots, there was a conspicuous absence when it came to the metal affinity.
His brow furrowed in frustration as he pondered his next move. How could he choose a martial skill that aligned with his spiritual root if there were no books to guide him?
Determined not to be deterred, 621 wasted no time in springing into action. With swift and purposeful strides, he navigated the labyrinth of shelves, his eyes darting from one aisle to the next in search of his elusive goal.
Despite this, 621 sensed something stirring—a shadowy presence that lurked just beyond the edge of his perception.
And as he delved deeper into the heart of the room, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, he felt unseen eyes following his every move with a keen interest one that bordered on obsession.
As 621 rounded the corner into the isolated aisle, the air seemed to grow heavy with anticipation, as if the very atmosphere itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.
And then, like a specter emerging from the shadows, a figure materialized before him—a pawn; in fact, it was the same pawn that he had used as a human shield. This pawn’s features twisted into a strange expression that confused 621.
His bright blonde hair falling recklessly beneath his hood, punctuated by the stark darkness of his black beady eyes; his form weakly swayed in the aisle still seemingly recovering from his internal injuries.
The pawn's very presence alone was enough to set 621 on guard, his instincts screaming at him to be wary. And then, in a sudden motion, the pawn tossed something towards him, a glint of metal catching the dim light as it hurtled through the air.
Reacting with lightning reflexes, 621 dodged to the side causing the object to land with a solid clink where he had stood just moments before. He eyed it warily, his senses on high alert as he scanned his surroundings for any sign of danger.
But to his surprise, the figure before him wore a look of disappointment, as if his actions had not gone according to plan. And then, in a silent whisper that only added to 621's confusion, the pawn spoke, his words laden with a cryptic meaning.
"The metal section is located in the eastern corner."
The pawn had said, his voice was barely more than a murmur before he vanished from sight, leaving 621 alone once more with nothing but his thoughts.
He examined the object on the floor, his brow furrowing in confusion as he picked it up. It was a bundle of silver coins gleaming faintly in the dim light of the aisle, tied together with a simple string. It was an odd sight to behold—ten silver coins, neatly bundled together and seemingly gifted to him by the pawn.
A wave of skepticism washed over him as he considered the implications of the pawn's actions. Why would someone who had just been his human shield suddenly decide to offer him a gift of money? And what was the significance of his mention of the metal section?
Despite his doubts, curiosity gnawed at 621, ‘Truly an interesting fellow…’ he thought mysteriously.
With a decisive nod, he tucked the coins into his robes, the weight of them a constant reminder of the enigma that lay before him.
And with newfound determination, 621 turned his gaze towards the eastern section of the pavilion, his steps quickening as he made his way through the labyrinthine aisles of books.
As soon as 621 reached the eastern corner of the pavilion, his sharp eyes quickly located the shelf housing the coveted metal martial skill books, the enigmatic pawn did not lie. The shelf stood tall and imposing, its contents obscured by the dim lighting of the room, but 621 could discern the distinct outline of the books neatly arranged upon its sturdy wooden surface.
Beside the metal shelf, the plant section beckoned with its own array of books, each one a potential source of knowledge and power. 113 stood nearby, his focus entirely consumed by the book in his hands as he pored over its contents with unwavering intensity. Despite the proximity, 113 seemed oblivious to 621's presence, lost in his own world of botanical exploration.
A sense of disappointment washed over 621 as he counted the books on the metal shelf. To his dismay, there were only seven—a meager selection compared to the lush abundance of the plant section. It was a stark reminder of the rarity of his chosen affinity and the challenges that lay ahead.
With determination burning in his eyes, 621 strode purposefully towards the metal shelf, his steps measured and deliberate. Despite the limited options, he was resolved to find a martial skill that resonated with his newfound spiritual root, no matter the obstacles that stood in his way.