Ch 99
I stood among the remains of the shattered chapel. Its once majestic stained-glass windows were now broken and scattered across the cold stone floor. The sight filled me with a deep, aching sadness, a stark reminder of the sanctuary this place had once been. The air was thick with the scent of decay and lingering magic. It felt more like a graveyard than sacred ground.
A lump formed in my throat as I recalled the warmth and light that used to fill this space. Now, only darkness and desolation remained. The dim, flickering torchlight barely illuminated the eerie scene, casting long, ghostly shadows that danced along the walls. The corpses of my father's guards lay scattered across the floor. Their bodies were frozen in grotesque poses, locked in eternal agony.
Despite the passage of time, they remained unclaimed by decay. Their armor rusted but intact. The sight was a macabre tableau. I couldn't shake the feeling that they might suddenly rise and attack, their hollow eyes filled with some unfathomable malice. A cold shiver ran down my spine. My skin prickled with unease.
Hovering above me was Malice, the floating, talking crystal that embodied all things malevolent. His dark, smoky core pulsated with a dark purple glow, contrasting sharply against its polished, reflective surface. He bobbed slightly in the air, exuding an aura of sardonic amusement. His voice, cold and mocking, filled the air with an unsettling presence.
[Killing family guards? That's almost like killing a brother. You're moving up in the world. I am so beyond proud of you; it brings tears to my eyes,] he laughed, a sound of distorted joy.
I felt angry at his words, my hands clenching into fists. The crystal's twisted sense of humor always grated on my nerves. This time, it felt like a knife twisting in an open wound. The guilt and horror of what I had done were still raw. Malice's callousness only deepened my shame.
A shiver ran down my spine. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on my shoulders. Once a place of reverence and sanctity, the chapel now felt like a twisted parody of itself. It was a place of death and decay. My heart ached with the loss of its former beauty. I wasn't sure how I had ended up in this cursed place, but being trapped with Malice for eternity seemed like a fate worse than death. I needed to focus on the task at hand—collecting loot. Malice insisted it was essential to gather enough resources on this floor to stand a chance against the looming threat of the big boss.
"If I get all the loot on this floor," I muttered, trying to muster some semblance of resolve, "I'll have a better shot at beating whatever's waiting for me." My voice sounded hollow, even to my ears. The words were meant to be reassuring but felt like a flimsy shield against the overwhelming dread looming over me.
Malice's tone turned sharp, a dangerous edge to his words. [Listen here, Missy. We had a deal. Get all the loot on this floor and then face the boss. Otherwise, I'll make your life even more miserable than it already is.] The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I felt a knot of fear tighten in my chest, the reality of my predicament settling in with a cold, hard clarity. Arguing with a floating crystal felt absurd, yet it was my reality.
Hours passed as we scoured the rooms I had initially skipped in my haste. The cold stone corridors echoed with our footsteps. Each step felt like a step further into the abyss. The oppressive silence amplified the weight of the situation. We collected over 200 coins and two armor pieces—copper and iron. Though old and slightly dented, the armor still held a certain weight of craftsmanship. Malice claimed this would make our journey to the next floor easier if we encountered any merchants. To me, 200 coins seemed pitiful in the grand scheme of things. A sense of futility crept in, the thought of facing the unknown with so little at my disposal gnawing at my confidence.
"Malice, can you pull up your map?" I asked, the need for a plan growing in my chest. The crystal flickered, and a sprawling palace map materialized before me. It was detailed, with colored dots marking the rooms I'd visited and those I hadn't. The map even highlighted potential secret locations, eerily mirroring the secret passageways of my palace in real life. Despite the chaotic rearrangement, only a few rooms were left.
An unsettling quietness settled over the hallways as we approached the next room. The door was slightly ajar, and a chill ran down my spine as I pushed it open. My fingers tightened around the shaft of my halberd. The room beyond was dimly lit, cluttered with overturned furniture and scattered debris. It looked like a storage area, though nothing was ever as it seemed in this place.
Malice, the floating crystal, hovered beside me. His core pulsated with a faint, eerie light. He radiated a smug satisfaction, as if he knew something I didn't. [You know,] he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, [I never tire of these charming little surprises this place offers. It's like a never-ending treasure hunt, but with more death and decay.]
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Ignoring Malice's taunts, I scanned the room for signs of danger. My eyes landed on a figure slumped in the far corner. At first, it looked like another corpse, one of many we had encountered. As I stepped closer, the figure moved. Its head snapped up to reveal a gaunt, decayed face. It was a zombie. Its eyes were hollow and lifeless, yet filled with a mindless hunger.
I felt a surge of adrenaline as the zombie began to rise, its movements jerky and unnatural. My grip tightened on the halberd, and I braced myself. The creature lunged at me, its rotting hands reaching out. I was faster. With a swift motion, I swung the halberd, the blade slicing cleanly through the air. The impact was jarring but satisfying as the blade bit into the zombie's neck, severing its head in one clean strike.
The head rolled across the floor, stopping at Malice's base. The crystal bobbed in the air, a chuckle emanating from his core. [Well, that was disappointingly quick. I was hoping for more of a struggle. But then again, you have a knack for getting straight to the point.]
I ignored Malice's jibes, focusing instead on the task at hand. Kneeling beside the now-lifeless body, I rifled through its tattered clothing. My fingers found a small pouch of coins and a few tarnished jewelry pieces. It wasn't much, but every bit counted in this cursed place. I pocketed the items and stood, my gaze sweeping the room for anything else of value.
The room was filled with broken shelves and ancient artifacts, most too damaged to be of use. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something important was hidden among the rubble. I continued to search, my movements quick and efficient. We needed to gather as much as we could before moving on.
Malice floated closer, his voice low and mocking. [Ah, the noble quest for loot. It's almost touching. Like a band of merry adventurers on a grand quest, only with more blood and less heroism.]
I shot the crystal a glare, my patience wearing thin. "If you're not going to help, at least don't distract me," I snapped, my voice tight with irritation. Malice's constant commentary was grating, but I couldn't afford to let it get under my skin. Not now, with so much at stake.
After what felt like hours, we finally gathered everything of value. I straightened, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion. The zombie had been a minor threat, easily dealt with, but it was a reminder of the dangers that lurked around every corner. We couldn't afford to let our guard down for a moment.
As we left the room, I glanced back one last time. The zombie's headless body lay sprawled on the floor, a grim testament to the twisted reality of this place. I turned away, my mind already on the next challenge. We had to keep moving, keep collecting, and keep fighting. It was the only way to survive.
A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach as I realized that it would likely be the boss's room. The possibility of facing my father filled me with a mixture of dread and confusion. What would I do if it was him? The thought sent a chill through me, the image of my father's stern face flashing in my mind. The man who had always been a pillar of strength and authority was now a potential enemy. The thought was almost too much to bear.
The massive, ornately detailed door loomed before us as we approached the throne room. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, installed shortly after my mother's death. The door, crafted from rich Rosewood, was inlaid with intricate patterns of gold leaf, depicting scenes of royal grandeur. Silver metal handles, polished to a gleaming finish, reflected the dim light. My father's new family emblem was emblazoned prominently, a symbol of his vanity and obsession with appearances. The irony wasn't lost on me; more money had been spent on this door than my coronation. If my father had cared as much for the people as he did for his luxuries, perhaps our country wouldn't be in its current state. A wave of bitterness washed over me, the memories of my father's neglect and indifference resurfacing.
The door was a testament to his misplaced priorities, a painful reminder of the rift between us. My thoughts were abruptly cut off as we stepped inside. The throne room, once a symbol of power and authority, was now a mockery of itself. Instead of the expected treasures or fearsome monsters, the room was filled with mundane items—mops, buckets, and other cleaning supplies. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the rest of the palace, an anticlimactic and almost absurd discovery.
"Malice, can you confirm if we've cleared everything?" I asked, frustration bubbling up within me. The scene felt like a cruel joke, the disparity between expectation and reality striking a raw nerve.
Malice's voice was cold and detached. [The floor is empty. Now, we head to the throne room.] There was a finality to his words, a sense of inevitability that made my heart race. The weight of the impending confrontation loomed large, the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawing at my resolve.
I paused, staring at the imposing door that led to the throne room, and took a deep breath. This was the culmination of everything we had worked towards on this floor. The air was thick with anticipation, and I knew that whatever awaited us would be a turning point. My eyes scanned the room one last time, a mixture of relief and trepidation coursing through me. I couldn't make any mistakes; the next step was crucial. With a final nod, I pushed open the door, ready to face whatever lay ahead. The moment felt monumental, the world's weight pressing on my shoulders. Whatever happened next, it would change everything.
I should have expected it, but I was unprepared for the words that met my ears.
“Hello, Jamie.”
END OF BOOK ONE.