It was nothing more than going through the motions for him; leaving the dungeon he had already come in through was simple, now that he had already memorized its layout and oddities into his mind. The chamber with falling tiles would be a near impossible obstacle to backtrack from, seeing as there was no floor left to cover the pit of spikes, though the adolescent explorer simply flung his slime rope back onto the ceiling.
As it anchored itself atop, he jumped off the edge of the floor, swinging over the deadly pit with full trust in the strength of his rope.
‘Easy does it,’ he thought to himself, using the momentum to land both of his boots right near the edge of the other side.
Even if experience had etched itself into the youthful adventurer, it wasn’t as though he could be careless. A single misstep could lead to an untimely departure from the world–that was a lesson he made sure he knew first and foremost, as should everybody else.
Bypassing the arsenal of boobytraps laid out through the grimy corridors, sliding past swinging axes, ducking beneath arrow mechanisms, he found himself once more in the vicinity of the undead that guarded the lair.
He tucked himself by a wall, peeking to the side as he counted even more undead than before–six, seven, eight skeletons in total, he counted for himself. Though it was nothing he hadn’t maneuvered past before, he found himself having to promote utmost caution by their numbers.
‘If it really came down to it, I could maybe take one or two in a fight, but I want to avoid that. This amount though?...Yeah, I’d be joining their undead ranks pretty quickly. Don’t get impatient; this is the final stretch–this is where the dungeon always gets the last laugh on the greedy,’ he thought.
As he pressed his body against the corner of the stone wall, he felt his shoulder slip as the brick against it came loose. He felt his own heart skip a beat, attempting to catch the falling slab as it seemed to descend in slow motion.
“--Ah!” He quietly let out in surprise.
Against the brick, his fingertips grazed it before it collided with the ground below, instantly shattering into countless pieces with a jarring sound that echoed through the lifeless chamber. Pebbles scattered, creating even more noise that drew the attention of every lurking skeleton towards his hiding spot.
‘Are you kidding me?! This is the worst-of-the-worst! The worst case scenario–shit! That damned cat…She just had to jinx me before I came here, telling me “my devilish luck was bound to meet its counterpart soon enough”--well, looks like it did,’ he thought as his blood ran hot through his veins.
The hollow footsteps of the lifeless guardians of the dank lair marched in unison, closing in on his location as a thousand thoughts raced through the young man’s mind at the same time. He had been in no shortage of precarious situations during such expeditions, but this time it was different–the armored skeletons were a grade too high for him to confidently face, even individually.
It wasn’t as though he came to the dungeon with combat in mind, either, bringing little to no tools to use to ward off the prowling undead. As he patted down his own body, rummaging through his pockets in a hurried fashion, he couldn’t find anything he was looking, or hoping, to find, bringing a cold sweat to his skin.
‘To hell with my cheap ass! I skimped out on gemstones because I wanted to save some silver this month! Look where that’s got me–if I survive this, I’m never cutting corners again on my budget!’ He thought.
“Raaah…”
“Uuuuee…”
The murmurs of the suspicious undead echoed through the hall like a howling wind, accompanying the sluggish, uneven footsteps of the foul guardians. At this point, there was no way for him to slip by without being seen, and nowhere to go if he ran in the opposite direction–he had to get past the undead.
A solution popped into his head as his time wore down, though it was a reluctant option, one that he didn’t plan on committing to.
‘...It’s my only out,’ he thought.
Reaching into his hood and under his collar, he pulled out the pitch-black cowl, looking at it with a nervousness embedded into his emerald irises.
‘I was going to practice using this in the safety of my own home…The negative effects of the cowl can be overwhelming–no, they will be. The book made damn sure whoever read it knew that. I have no choice though–it’s either this or I die to these boneheads,’ he decided.
Though it was a reckless plan that frightened him, he finally sucked in a large breath into his lungs before pulling the accursed cowl over his head just as the undead turned around the corner.
“Graaa–?”
The steelclad skeleton growled, tilting its head–there was nobody there.
At least, that’s how it appeared.
The cornered adventurer hadn’t moved an inch, finding himself face-to-face with the undead, staring into its glazed-over, icy eyes, though it stared straight past him.
‘It doesn’t see me,’ he realized, frozen as only the resonance of his own heartbeat filled his ears.
Like a phantom, he had vanished from all sight; even to himself, he couldn’t see his own hands nor his feet. It worked; the cowl granted him complete invisibility.
He stayed perfectly still, not even letting a breath escape his lips–not that he could, anyway. It was one of the side effects of the nebulous cowl: while worn, he couldn’t inhale or exhale, instead forced to be breathless.
The undead with the horned helmet swayed, glancing around in the invisible adventurer’s direction as if still suspicious.
‘C’mon. Move. There’s nobody here, see? So get a move on, crusty bones!’ He pleaded in his mind.
It wasn’t just the inability to breathe that made the cowl a dreadful wear; a nausea crept on his body, causing his height to feel as light as a feather and the room around him to subtly spin, causing unwelcome feelings in his stomach.
“Gruuu…”
By some miracle, the dusty skeleton finally turned away, wandering off as the other undead dispersed as well, finding no source of the human intruder.
It was only the first step to safety, however, as now he had the challenge of slipping past the foul defenders of the dungeon. Though he was unseen, it didn’t mean he was unheard; he slowly moved himself from his spot around the corner, walking down the corridor with slow, methodical steps.
Beside the bolstered skeletons, he found himself having to move, focusing on moving one foot in front of the other without making a sound.
“...Gruaaa…”
“...Hhrraaa…”
Against his ears, he listened to the all-too-close growls and sighs of the undead. The clunkiness of their armor, loosely fit to their skeletal bodies, jingled with every movement; the erratic way the lurking skeletons moved constantly kept him on guard as he walked directly by a pair of the guards.
‘Almost out of here,’ he thought.
There was little room for him to walk through, nearly grazing his own arm against one of the bony fiends. He felt his mind and body growing more nauseous by the moment as he quietly moved, feeling as though the floor itself was moving like the waves of an unruly sea.
‘...Just a bit more–a little further,’ he thought to himself, using every bit of strength to focus.
Each time he lifted his boot further one step, he felt as though he may fall sideways.
Like a constant vibration humming through his head, he could feel the cowl emanating its accursed whispers through him. The chamber he was in was occupied by tables with dusty, cobweb-strung cutlery, giving him even less space to work with as he found himself in the center of the undead guardians.
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It was a tough gap before him; two undead stood near tables, leaving only a small space for him to silently move through. He shuffled by, passing by the–
“--Gruuuah?...”
Directly in his face, the foul breath of the animated bones pressed against him. It was cold, like the morning frost, though he kept himself composed as the helmed undead’s empty eye sockets stared past him from a breath away.
Just as he got past the fully-clad skeleton, he moved with less caution, having to risk making some noise as he put distance between himself and the undead guards.
‘--Gonna pass out. I have to breathe–I have to,’ he thought.
The absence of oxygen from his lungs had begun to take full effect as he felt himself beginning to black out, his body growing weaker as the nausea of the accursed cowl only magnified. He raced through the halls, taking sharp turns as he nimbly avoided traps before sprinting up a set of stairs in a narrow passage.
He could see it; the dim exit that he sought. Each step felt like a monumental triumph in itself as his lungs felt as if they were set ablaze; his fingers and toes began to go numb, nearly making him tumble down the stairs he climbed before–
“Fffuuuah!”
As he reached the summit of the stairs and left the reach of the dungeon, stepping into a rocky cavern, he tugged the cowl from his head as his body reappeared. All at once, the ability to breathe returned to him as he gasped like a fish out of water.
He knelt by the dungeon entrance, catching his breath. What laid outside of the stone-brick doorway to the dank lair wasn’t the outside world, but a further interior; a moss-layered, uneven region of stone.
“...Encounters like that aren’t good for my heart,” the young man muttered under his breath as he sat there for a moment.
In his hands, he looked at the cowl. Though it was the only reason he was still in one piece, it was clear to him it wasn’t something to be used lightly; the sickening feeling it induced while worn was not something he was excited to revisit.
‘A good haul is a good haul, can’t complain. Time to head back down, I guess,’ he decided.
As he left the dungeon entrance, the vast cave area was occupied by torches, with a suspended rope that acted as a guide. He followed the dark-brown rope, climbing a steep hill of gravel within the enclosed space. It was a hike in its own as he found a tiny hole in one of the walls, crawling into it as he shimmied through the narrow space, finding his way through.
Eventually, after over an hour of traversing the rocky cave, he found his way into a room filled with other people–it was bustling; all of them were geared in their own right, sporting equipment that ranged from simple pieces of leather to sublime, golden armor.
“Hey, Bastian! On your way back down?”
He turned around as he heard his name called, being met with a youthful man of a similar age to him with fiery, red hair and a yellow bandana around his forehead. The red-headed man held a silver-tipped spear in his left hand, dressed in light, leather armor that seemed easy to move in, holding his other hand up as if waiting for a high-five.
Bastian slapped his hand against the other person’s own with a smile and a nod, “Yup. Just got a pretty nice haul, I’d say. What about you, Gaston? Heading up?”
The spear-wielding man let out a sigh as he ruffled his own, unkempt hair, “Well, I was. Get this: my group leader canceled because his equipment got robbed in the middle of the night! I mean, the guy is a bonafide silver-ranked adventurer, how’s he going to get plucked clean like that?”
“Sounds rough,” Bastian said, looking around as the adventurers that came and went from the area, venturing into different avenues of the vast cavern.
“Anyways, how about we get a bite to eat? You’re paying though, seeing as only one of us had a good haul today,” Gaston extended his offer, though it sounded more like a request.
“Y’know, I wouldn’t have to pay every time if you learned to roll solo,” Bastian said, walking towards the exit to the gravelly lobby.
Gaston followed beside him with a forced exhale, “Not everybody is as crazy as you are. You know some people started calling you “Dungeon Maniac”, right? Heard some people saying you actually live in one of these dungeons.”
“If you hear anybody saying that, please hit them for me,” Bastian said quietly as he sighed.
“Anyway, about that, we should take on a dungeon together sometime! How about it? Been awhile since we have,” Gaston offered, holding his spear up as he pointed it towards the ceiling.
“I’ll think about it,” Bastian said, though not planning on giving it any consideration.
There were tables and entire camps set up, not just for adventurers, but persistent merchants that displayed their wares for those preparing to explore the dangerous environment.
“Get yer potions here! When yer bleedin’ and cornered by kobolds, you’ll be thankful ya had Granbald’s Rejuvenation!” A tubby merchant proclaimed, holding multiple vials of vibrant, pink liquid and waving them around in front of the passing adventurers.
“If you’re going to slay monsters, you better make damn sure you have the proper steel to do it!” Another merchant, dressed in chainmail, called out.
It was the same everyday for Bastian, who recognized each and every merchant as he passed by, entering a spiraling stairwell alongside his friend. The steps of smooth, snow-white stone were occupied by others who ascended and descended, leading to a cramped, but fast-moving environment.
“Hey, did you hear?” Gaston asked.
“Hear what?” Bastian responded, brushing against a leather-armored adventurer who was going up, though didn’t bat an eye at it.
Gaston laughed, “Man, you really do spend all your time in dungeons, don’t you? Anyway, three top guilds are coming together for a huge expedition–I mean, huge! Sapphire, Dracon Alliance, and the Argonauts are going to set out for the twenty-ninth floor’s guardian!”
“Sapphire, huh?” Bastian repeated.
“Yeah, the top guild–isn’t it exciting? I mean, with those three working together, they might just do it! It’s been a year since the twenty-ninth floor was reached, so I say it’s about time to kick the doors down for the next one,” Gaston excitedly went on, “The rankings will change for sure after a big expedition like that! I predict Beowulf will take the number one spot!”
“Guess so,” Bastian replied without any of the same enthusiasm as his friend.
Gaston almost seemed offended by the lack of excitement, gasping, “Man–uegh, whatever. I just wish I could be on the frontlines, too. Slowly, but surely, yeah? I mean, I was still stuck on the first floor a year ago, now look at me!”
“On the second floor?” Bastian asked sarcastically.
“...Progress, man. Don’t knock it,” Gaston looked away, scratching his head, “You’ve been up pretty high once, right? It was, uh…”
“The eighteenth floor,” Bastian answered for him.
“And here you are on the second floor, in the land of the “normal” like me. It’s for the best, though. From what I’ve heard, everything past the tenth floor is just on another level–I mean, way beyond our paygrade. You have to be blessed by the gods to even dream of surviving up there,” Gaston remarked with a sigh before glancing at the darkly-dressed man beside him, “Well, I guess you did survive, didn’t you? How’d you do that?”
“Luck,” Bastian responded, “I’m never going back up there anyway, so it doesn’t matter. It’s not like us without Blessings can even be ranked, so what good does showing off even do?”
“Guess so,” Gaston shrugged before placing his hands behind his head casually.
It wasn’t a topic that he particularly seemed interested in discussing as he peered out of the window carved out of the colossal staircase, seeing the thriving city that laid beyond it: a bustling landscape full of remarkable architecture, with buildings made of brick and stone, and even further back, lavish homes of quartz.
A remarkable amount of steps later, the two reached the bottom of the tower of steps, finally stepping out into the bright sunlight that beamed down.
“Ah, fresh air once more!” Gaston stretched his arms out, welcoming the sunlight.
A pathway of pristine, tan bricks laid beyond the entrance, neighbored by pools of crystal clear water, supplied by fountains shaped as warriors of differing races–humans, sharp-eared elves, and even stout dwarves.
It took a bit of adjusting from the hood-wearing man as he pulled it down, looking up at the boundless, azure sky that seemed to stretch on forever, accompanied by a sea of fluffy clouds.
He glanced back, looking at where he had walked out from: a tower of bleached stone, as white as winter snow. It reached upward past the clouds, having no visible end to its height.
As far stretching in width as a town itself, it was an intimidating, but awe-inspiring sight; a structure that surpassed the limitations of human ingenuity.
[“It goes by many names–the “Prison of Monsters”, “The Infinite Reach”, “The Graveyard of Men”--but, it’s officially called the “Tower of Yggdrasil”: a structure of many mysteries, said to be placed in this city by the gods as a trial for mortals. It’s been here for centuries now, but we’ve only just scratched the surface of it, even with adventurers from every corner of the world coming for it. Some are drawn by glory and honor, seeking to surmount its challenges. Some are drawn in by its many treasures, even with the risks of monsters of every kind, of unimaginable power. I guess I’m the same. But, some are allured by the mystery of it, wanting to find out why it’s truly here, how it came to be…what lies at the end. I used to be the same way.”]
There were dozens of adventurers that loitered around, planning for their own expeditions into the tower, or arguing of who would get what share of their spoils; a common problem.
“Velmusia is as beautiful as always, isn’t it? I swear, this city looks like heaven after being stuck in that tower all day,” Gaston said, walking along the pathway as the fountains of heroes supplied the neighboring pools.
“Again, you didn’t actually do anything today,” Bastian mumbled, leading the way as a carriage was pulled past him by dutiful horses.
Though what the fiery-haired adventurer said wasn’t wrong; Bastian felt the same way–the freshness of the outside air, the bright sky, a city full of talking, moving people, and most importantly, a lack of hostile monsters.
Guards dressed in snow-white, sublime armor stood like statues around the perimeter of the tower, lining the bridge ahead as well.
‘Only certified adventurers are allowed to so much as touch the tower. It’s for the best though,’ Bastian thought.
Looking at the bustling cityscape before him as he stepped onto the bridge that led to the illustrious tower, something else was on his mind. A dazzling river ran smoothly beneath the arching bridge of rich stone, separating the city itself from the tower.
“Let’s meet up later, actually,” Bastian suddenly said.
Gaston turned to look at his friend, “Yeah? Sure thing. The usual place, okay?”
“Gotcha,” Bastian accepted with a small nod.