I shook my head, a cold dread settling deep into my bones like an unwelcome chill on a winter’s night. "I don’t like this plan. The Protector sounds like the secret boss of the floor," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as a creeping sense of doom washed over me. The mere mention of the Protector sent a shiver down my spine, conjuring images of unspeakable horrors lurking in the shadows.
Blake's lips curled into a confident smile, her teeth gleaming eerily in the flickering candlelight that struggled to pierce the oppressive darkness around us. The warm, dancing glow illuminated her face, casting sharp shadows that accentuated the fierce determination burning in her eyes. "It is," she admitted, her voice laced with a thrilling excitement that contrasted starkly with the fear gnawing at my insides. "Not something anyone can take on their own."
Her enthusiasm was almost contagious, but the gravity of our situation weighed heavily on me. I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump of anxiety lodged in my throat as she continued, her tone shifting to a more serious timbre. "And there’s a run penalty if it catches you. Adds to its life, makes it stronger."
Before I could fully process her words, we were sprinting down the dark, narrow hallway, the sound of our hurried footsteps echoing ominously off the decaying walls. The musty stench of rot and decay thickened the air, assaulting my senses and making each breath a struggle. Around us, the abandoned library loomed like a forgotten mausoleum, a graveyard of knowledge where rotten books spilled from crumbling shelves, their pages yellowed and brittle with age. The floorboards beneath us groaned and protested under our weight, threatening to give way and plunge us into the unknown depths below. The only source of light was the faint, eerie glow emanating from my Life Crystal, casting twisted shadows that danced along the walls and revealed fleeting glimpses of mold-covered tomes and cobweb-laden corners.
"Run penalty?" I echoed, my brow furrowing deeply as unease coiled tighter within me. The term sounded like some twisted rule from a nightmarish game, adding another layer of peril to our already dangerous mission. My voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence, barely reaching my own ears as we pushed forward.
"Yeah, like the number of times you’ve gone through the dungeon. But you lose two, three, sometimes four runs against him," Blake explained, her voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of caution. Her hand shot out, gripping my arm firmly as we navigated a particularly treacherous section of the hallway. The sudden contact sent a jolt through me, warmth seeping through the layers of fabric and spreading up my arm, countering the pervasive chill of our surroundings. I felt an unexpected heat creeping up my neck, flushing my cheeks, and I was silently grateful for the dim lighting that concealed my embarrassment.
Blake, however, seemed entirely unfazed, her focus laser-sharp on the path ahead. Her unwavering confidence was both reassuring and disconcerting, leaving me teetering between admiration and anxiety.
As we pressed on, the darkness around us grew thicker, almost tangible, pressing against us like a living entity. The faint shuffling sound echoed from somewhere up ahead, a sinister whisper of something dragging itself along the floor. The irregular, haunting rhythm sent my heart racing, pounding against my ribcage like a caged animal desperate for escape. I halted abruptly, my muscles tensing as fear clawed its way up my spine.
Blake, who had been slightly ahead, noticed me freeze and turned back, concern flickering across her features. "You okay?" she whispered, her voice a touch softer than before.
"Do you hear that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a breath as my eyes darted nervously around the shadowed corridor.
"Yeah, that’s the Protector," Blake replied calmly, stepping past me with a grace and ease that felt almost surreal given the circumstances. Her bravery was admirable, but I couldn’t shake the dread that twisted my stomach into knots. The thought of losing runs, of starting over and over again against such a formidable foe, was almost too much to bear. The endless cycle of struggle and defeat was wearing me down, eroding my resolve bit by bit.
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Three floors in, and the constant threat of being consumed by yet another monstrous entity was becoming a heavy burden. Desperate for a distraction from the mounting dread, I blurted out, "So… is there a goal here besides stealing books?" My attempt at sounding casual fell flat, the tremor in my voice betraying my fear.
"I told you, we’re trying to start a war between those lunatics and the Protector," Blake responded, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. Her eyes never left the darkness ahead, but there was a spark of mischief dancing within them, hinting at a deeper strategy at play.
"Oh. Right," I mumbled, feeling a flush of embarrassment at having forgotten her earlier explanation. The oppressive darkness and the overwhelming stench were messing with my head, making it hard to focus. I hesitated before adding softly, "I just don’t like how dark it is here."
I cringed internally at my own admission, hating how vulnerable and scared I sounded. Fear was not an emotion I wore well, and exposing it felt like peeling back a protective layer, leaving me raw and exposed.
Blake glanced back at me, her gaze softening slightly. Without a word, she slowed her pace just enough for me to catch up, our footsteps falling into a synchronized rhythm as we moved through the decaying labyrinth. The floorboards continued to creak ominously beneath us, each step a gamble against gravity and decay.
"How big is this place?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I peered into the endless shadows ahead.
"It’s Penance. Every floor is bigger than the last," she answered, throwing me a curious look. Her eyes shimmered like dark pools in the low light, reflecting a depth and complexity that was hard to read.
"Sorry," I said quickly, rubbing the back of my neck in a gesture of frustration. The weight of everything—the endless corridors, the lurking dangers, the cryptic objectives—was pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. "It’s just… I feel like I’ve been winging it this whole time, and now, just when I thought I was finding a balance, I get to this floor, and the rules shift again. It’s exhausting."
To my surprise, Blake’s expression softened further, empathy flickering across her features. She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on my arm, her touch warm and grounding amidst the cold desolation surrounding us. "I get it," she said softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that eased some of the tension coiled inside me. "But you’re stronger than you think. We’ll get through this."
Her words settled over me like a comforting blanket, soothing some of the raw nerves and calming the storm of anxiety swirling within. For a brief moment, the oppressive weight of the decaying library lifted, and I found myself believing her.
But then, as if the universe sought to shatter that fleeting peace, a soft, eerie hum filled the air. I looked up just in time to see a memory core descending slowly from the ceiling, its pale, ghostly light cutting through the darkness. It hovered before us, pulsating gently and casting elongated, twisting shadows along the rotten walls. The temperature seemed to drop further, a biting chill seeping into my skin and making me shiver involuntarily.
As the core floated closer, an inexplicable sense of familiarity washed over me, mingled with a profound unease. The hum resonated deep within my chest, stirring memories and emotions I couldn't quite grasp.
What the hell is happening to me? I wondered, a sudden confusion clouding my thoughts. Aren’t I supposed to be in love with Jamie? The thought surfaced abruptly, bringing with it a cascade of fragmented memories and feelings that clashed violently with the present moment.
Then, like a whisper carried on a cold breeze, a voice echoed in the back of my mind—a voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like ages. Jamie isn’t here, and you said it yourself—you can’t trust those memories.
A wave of dizziness hit me, and I staggered slightly, reaching out to steady myself against the damp, crumbling wall. Who are you? Why are you doing this? I demanded internally, desperation creeping into my thoughts as I struggled to anchor myself amidst the swirling confusion.
The memory core hovered silently, its luminescence casting a haunting glow over Blake’s concerned face as she turned to look at me. "Are you alright?" she asked, her eyes searching mine with genuine worry.
I grabbed for the core, unable to focus on anything else.