Chapter Thirty-Seven: Aunt Ersid.

{STOP.}

I stopped trying to laugh, and time unfroze, and somehow, I remembered I had been talking. I said something other than I had intended, though, which was weird. "Deaths to get armor and weapons that would allow you to beat the boss?" And then I forgot. Everything that had just occurred. My mind went sheer white as nothing made sense for a minute, and my body flailed around uncontrollably.

"That's just it. I got every weapon and armor piece from the first floor and this one and nothing worked. Even between all 100 of those runs, I never whittled his health down past 50%, and he has a heal and a shield! There's no way to beat him. It's just not worth it.”

“Hey, why are you on the ground? Weren’t you just standing?”

I took a moment to look down; I was in a genuflecting position. I stared at the dried blood on my hand in confusion and my scattered arrows. What happened? I picked myself off the ground and noticed a bunch of scribbles on the ground, like a bunch of children trying to write something in blood.

"Aunt Ersid" I said out loud. “There’s writing here in blood.” And blood on my hand. But I didn’t say that part out loud. “Aunt Ersid.” I repeated, looking at the words on the floor.

I started freaking out. Trying to wrack my broken and shattered brain to figure out what was happening to me. Was I losing my mind? Was I blacking out? Something odd was going on here. Klericho got up from the table and walked over to me. “Why can’t I remember anything? Does that happen to you?”

“What do you mean? Like the brain fog when you die? Do you mean how Penitents forget every death?” No, that’s the only thing I remember clearly.

“No, I mean like anything. I can’t remember how I got here; I can’t remember who I was before I got here.” I started to hyperventilate as the world disappeared. I couldn’t deal with this. I couldn’t do this. Klericho moved forward then and pressed a hand against my chest. He glowed, my vision cleared, and the constricting breaths stopped. I inhaled a huge lungful of air and said, “What was that?” My mind was clear. Everything was okay.

“I healed you of your anxiety.”

“You did what?” I said, shocked. Clerics could heal mental injuries? i sat, too stunned to move. And hadn't I dismissed the cleric as a class? Man, when I'm wrong. I'm wrong. What else could magic do? And then I stared down at my hand panic forgotten, the blood starting to cake on my hand.

The writing was illegible, but something inside me told me it was important. "Aunt Ersid." It was silly, but I had to have written those letters. I drew my a with a little curve above the circle and I didn’t know anyone else who did that. But the message made no sense. My parents were both only children. I shook my head, letting the thoughts rattle around. “You know anyone named ‘Aunt Ersid’”?

“Not a clue. Is that what that says?” He replied. “I’m about as lost as you seem to be.”

And like that, my brain switched topics. Aunt Ersid forgotten.

“Oh, right, Klericho, you have got to tell me everything you know about this place..." A couple of hours later, I had finally convinced Klericho that I would figure out a way to clear the dungeon. He had been amazed that I had cleared the first floor on my 3rd run. Something that had taken him a couple dozen runs. He had plenty of advice for clearing mobs.

"Be careful; there are traps and puzzles everywhere, and if you mess up on either, you have to fight powerful enemies. And the Goblins like to fight in groups. It's easier than the Sewer trio; they have less health but can swarm and overwhelm you easily! Oh, and every five attempts to kill the boss, everything resets. That’s why it took me so long to clear the first floor. I kept dying to the necromancer, so any damage I did to the goblins was always reset." And then he hesitated. His eyes looked around, slightly shifty. "So I might have misspoke earlier. There are other Penitent here."

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"What? And after all that crap you gave me about lying?"

“I didn’t lie, not exactly. The reason I have seen less and less penitent around is I haven't been leaving my house.”

I pushed aside my anger, more curious than upset at his stupid lie. “Why lie then?”

“You can’t trust anyone. Anyone you meet could be loyal to Malikap or, worse, Aurentum. You can’t trust these people. They lie, they cheat, they backstab.”

“You lied.”

“Again, I didn’t lie. You have to be careful with that kind of thing here. But truthfully, the only people you can trust here are Rellum’s faithful. The other gods are in it for themselves.”

I laughed. I could almost feel a memory core forming as bile crept up my throat. Rellum had never done anything for me, so I wasn’t going to start trusting him now. I needed to get myself away from this guy, and he was clearly a fanatic.

I had something a lot more essential to do first: Shopping! I had never been a fan back on Eqiuem, but this was different. I had around 500 gold to spend and needed to make the most of it. My main priority was potions or something to increase my longevity, like iron armor. Somehow, I only had a helmet, which was great, but I wanted a full suit of armor.

I would avoid food for now because Klericho was kind enough to open his home to me, and we had feasted. He eventually expected me to help him, which I was inclined to do just to have a place to rest if needed. From the sound of things, unlike the first floor, the second floor would take days to clear fully. I wondered how I would speed run the first floor, let alone this one.

As I stepped out, the market buzzed with activity. Merchants busily repaired their spice towers and served fresh food. Amidst the hustle, I scanned the crowd. Unlike Klericho, none had a crystal floating above their heads. Were these people even real? None of the people here had the crystal floating above their heads like Klericho, and I did.

I approached a stall with dried meat and fresh fish stinking up the surrounding area. A middle-aged and portly woman stood cutting off fish heads from the day's catch. She had a seemingly endless mound of fish in front of her. She looked human, and when she talked, she sounded human. "Whotchoo lookin at aye? T'is ain't no winno shoppe. Make ye purchase or leave, will ye?"

Her accent was strange. Clipped and butchered like the words were escaping through a sieve. She looked at me with a broken-toothed grin that looked more like a snarl than a smile.

“How are you here? You know you are in penance, right?” I said.

"Wot? Penance? What's that? Tis here's Aerlyn this is. Noy buy sometin or geddot."

I was tempted to scan her and figure out what she was considering, but I didn't want to risk the guards attacking me again. Speaking of which, I had yet to see Mr. Plume and his friends recently. Which was odd, considering they had split off after me.

Leaving the vibrant colors and lively chatter of the food market behind, I entered the armor and weapons market. Here, the scene shifted dramatically to a display of gleaming metal and the methodical movements of artisans at work. Armorsmiths hammering plates into body shapes, Weaponsmiths with swords in forges, even Leather workers tanning hides in the hot, desert sun.

And then, I saw them. The Penitent were everywhere. People with different-sized and colored crystals moved about the Market, haggling with merchants, dueling at dueling stations, and even a few seemed to be trying their hand at blacksmithing. It was an entire community of people trapped here, just like me. One group consisted of a mage, a warrior, and a cleric, which was a brilliant idea. I kept to myself that first day, but I knew this would be a great way to find fellow adventurers when I needed help clearing the floor.

At the end of row after row of merchants, a large crowd of Penitents milled about in front of a wooden sign. Klericho had mentioned there would be other Penitents, but I had yet to learn there were so many. He had told me loosely how the city worked and that the local economy was somehow largely independent of us; even when we flooded the merchants with coin and loot, it was like it all disappeared the next time we came through.

As I browsed through the stalls, my eyes lit up when I spied a complete set of Iron armor, an awesome upgrade on my current set. My fingers traced the cold, hard surface of the iron leggings and matching armor. The merchant, noticing my lingering gaze on the expensive items, leaned over his cluttered counter with a sly grin. “For the complete set, I could part with it for just 3,000 gold,” he offered, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of a big sale.

My heart skipped a beat and my mouth went dry when the merchant named his price. Unable to afford anything I wanted, I moved from stall to stall, but it was all the same. The vibrant wares that had sparked my greed now mocked me, leaving a sinking feeling that I’d never get my armor this way.

Aware of the guards’ suspicious glances, I knew it was time to leave. Avoiding another hassle, I left the market stalls and wandered aimlessly, trying to find the next room. Just as I was about to seek Klericho’s help, I spotted the exit—a raised portcullis near the blacksmith I ran past earlier. Crossing the empty moat, I shrugged and walked on through, relieved to have found my way.