Once my head clears of the smoke and the headache, I push myself off the ground and pull my things out of the shattered door; still somewhat held together with the broken spikes on the other side. I drop my bag out of the hole, and then do the same for my staff. It bounces off the canvas bag and rolls to a stop against the body of a Ratmen. I pull myself through next. My foot snags against the wood and I fall face-first against the marble ground. If my teeth could break, I’m sure I would have lost one or two from the collision. Instead, I just bite my tongue.

Staggering, I stand, and spit out a couple of chunks of pink, pick up my staff, tap my forehead, and repeat the words for lesser heal. I redirect the flowing mana into my tongue to repair it as hot coppery liquid began to trickle down my throat. The stinging stopped, and I continued.

The cane that had been set on the ground where I had been seated, I stuffed the cane into my bag and set it against the wall down the hall away from the bridge, and begin rifling through the belongings of the dead Ratmen. Four lay near the door; each had very little on them. A copper ring on each of their tails. Compared to the ones I had faced in other doors, these look decidedly younger. No graying fur clung to the snouts of these, and no aged wrinkles near their permanently closed eyes. Their weapons, while still metallic and sharp, were mostly of bad quality as well. Like sharpened pig iron. I could separate the point of a spear from its haft with a simple tug.

I walk over to the edge of the walkway and peer into the water. The stone lay on the bottom there, and pinned underneath that was another of the Ratmen. Was that all of them in this area? No more were pouring out of the door. So perhaps, Or perhaps the others had told them to hold their ground to guard. Just in case. That would, however, assume that there was something giving commands.

So that my approach is noiseless, I untie my boots and carry them over to the door that would lead to Earth once the temple was destroyed. My backpack also settles there so that I didn’t risk it hitting against anything as I moved through the corridor.

Unlike the way it seemed, the marble floors weren’t actually slick and slippery like I had first feared. There was a grip to the smooth-looking stone; like fine-grained sandpaper. Small cracks splinter out from the edges of the bridge, I watch them as I pass to ensure that if they begin to spread, I would have enough time to hurry across.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The impaled Ratman across the bridge also had a single copper ring on its tail. On its belt, were small vials of red and blue liquids swirling around in it. I slide them into my pocket, and continue on my way; turning right from the bridge and heading toward’s the door that the Ratmen had poured out of. I pass by the Ratman archer — another copper ring and stop right before I enter the line of sight of the door, and hold up my wrist and think.

Have I leveled up yet?

“No.” Came the reply.

That confirmed my suspicions. The difficulty of this door was in the numbers. If I were smart about things, I could overcome it easily. First question; how big was the room on the other side of this door? If I were the commander, I would be waiting with a group of archers and spearmen to be ready. My impulsivity had already almost gotten me killed once today, so I should probably quell my initial instinct to charge in.

There were two doors near this specific door: one on either side of it, no more than five or so yards away. First, I backtracked and went to the door on the left. It was a pretty large room: the remains of a smashed table lays in the middle of it. Torn paper scattered across the room, and old quills lay dried and snapped. It stretched to about three and a half yards to the left, and about ten yards to the right. At the far end of the room was another door.

Out of curiosity I approach this one and open it. A Fogwall sits just beyond this, but that doesn’t obscure my sight to the staircase that stretched to a large gatehouse just above. I passed through the room and exited the door into the aqueducts. The other room I wanted to check out lay on the opposite side of the door that perhaps housed a barracks of waiting for Ratmen. Passing by it would be an idiotic move; the shadows cast by my movement would alert anything on the other side. On the other hand, it was deathly quiet out here. Perhaps they already knew that the others were dead.

Instead of checking out the other, I decide on a different approach and turn back into the room that I had just left after setting my staff against the wall near the door, and out of sight of the gap underneath it. I bring out armfuls of the rotted wood and scraps of paper on top.

The room that the Ratmen had come out of had to be smaller than the room I had stuck myself in: just by the pure logistics of the shared walls of the room that led up to the city, and so, why not turn their plot around on them? I dumped the load onto the ground in front of the door, take my staff up, and point it toward the debris.

“I allow the blood of the Salamanders to flow through me,” I whisper.

Burning ash flows from the tip of my staff, and onto the debris. When there was enough I cut off the flow of mana and let it leave back through my nostrils. Quickly, the kindling catches, and hot red fire bursts to life.