Ethan lay in bed for a while, his stomach churning with mixed emotions. Eventually, he managed to calm himself down, reminding himself that his actions were driven by the instinct for survival. It may not be pleasant, but it was necessary in this harsh world.
Gathering his resolve, he rose from the bed and prepared to move. He retrieved an old pack from a hanger and filled it with cooked meat, carefully wrapping jars with strips of a dirty sheet before placing them alongside the food. The last remaining crystal was also wrapped and secured.
Surveying the intact cabinet, he picked out a few items he recognized, including simple jewelry. He wrapped the edge of the crystal-bladed dagger with leftover leather scraps and tightly bound it with string before adding it to the bag. He considered searching through the other books but decided against it, realizing he could only carry so much while maintaining his ability to move quickly if needed.
Turning off the gears that provided light, the workshop dimmed. Ethan stood by the door, clutching his wand and stick taser, glancing back at the workshop one last time. He made a mental note to return someday, knowing there were valuable books and potentially useful materials he had to leave behind for now.
With determination, he eased open the door, wand and stick taser at the ready. Stepping outside, he locked the door from the outside, securing his former sanctuary. Steeling himself, he surveyed the scene of carnage around him, suppressing the rising bile in his throat.
He knew he had to take a quick look, despite the distasteful feeling of looting the dead. Silencing the part of his conscience that protested, he moved among the lifeless bodies, eventually reaching Gachuk's remains. Among the scattered remains, he discovered a small coin pouch, swiftly adding it to his bag without bothering to check its contents.
Aside from rusted weapons and armor, there was little of value among the fallen goblins. The steel might have held some worth, but without a means to carry them, Ethan chose to ignore them and focus on his immediate needs.
He retraced his steps through the tunnel, paying no attention to the impressive pillars this time. Determined and focused, he chose a path and pressed forward, marking the walls as he went. With caution, he made steady progress through the labyrinthine passages.
As Ethan navigated the winding tunnels, his heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation pulsating through his veins. The air was thick with a musty scent, and the sound of his own rapid footsteps echoed against the cold stone walls.
The narrow corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, branching off into unknown directions like a maze. The occasional drip of water echoed in the distance, hinting at hidden underground streams that flowed unseen.
The walls themselves bore the marks of time, with cracks and crevices etched into the weathered stone. Faint moss and lichen clung to the surfaces, adding splashes of muted green to the otherwise drab surroundings. Ethan's fingers brushed against the damp walls as he steadied himself, feeling the cool moisture seep through his skin.
Occasionally, he passed remnants of the other inhabitants—an abandoned crate here, a broken tool there—all reminders that he wasn’t alone in here.
As he pressed on, the silence enveloped him, broken only by the sound of his own breathing and the soft echoes of his footsteps. The darkness seemed to close in around him, lending an ominous atmosphere to his solitary journey. Each turn he took was met with a mixture of trepidation and determination, uncertain of what awaited him around the corner.
The occasional gust of cold air brushed against his face, as if whispering secrets from hidden passages yet to be explored. Ethan's senses heightened, attuned to every sound, every flicker of movement in the shadows. He couldn't shake the feeling that unseen eyes were watching him, hidden in the depths of the tunnels.
Despite the fear gnawing at him, there was also a sense of liberation, of breaking free from the confines of the workshop and venturing into the unknown. It was a thrilling and dangerous adventure, a step into a world where survival meant relying on one's wit and resourcefulness.
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After what felt like a long time, he arrived at an underground lake and decided to follow its course. The fast-flowing stream carved its way through the mountain, and Ethan seized the opportunity to quench his thirst. Taking out a jar, he filled it with the crystal-clear water and took a tentative sip. The taste was refreshing and invigorating, prompting him to drink a few more mouthfuls before refilling and sealing the jar, stowing it safely in his bag. With renewed energy, he resumed his journey.
Eventually, he encountered a dead end. The stream continued underground, its destination unknown. As he considered turning back, he heard something amidst the deafening roar of the water. Frowning, he pointed his wand back in the direction he came from, and his eyes widened in horror.
A wave of centipede creatures surged toward him, driven by a group of goblins herding them forward. Gripping his stick taser tightly, Ethan knew he would have to fight, to defend himself. Yet, he hesitated as he glanced at the raging river beside him, and then back at the advancing monsters. Indecision gripped him for a few critical moments. The overwhelming odds against him made survival seem impossible. Jumping into the river might offer a slim chance, but the risk was daunting, causing him to falter.
Suddenly, an arrow pierced through the darkness, striking his exposed shoulder. Pain seared through him, and he stared at the arrow lodged in his flesh for a brief moment before the agony took hold. With a scream he slipped on the wet floor, and into the river he went, only to be swept away by the relentless current.
Submerged in the powerful torrent, he fought to find air, barely managing to take a desperate breath before being buffeted against the unforgiving walls. The arrow shattered against the rock, intensifying the pain that coursed through his body, but it also fueled his adrenaline-fueled determination.
He tried to protect his head as best as he could, but that only exposed other parts of his body to the merciless thrashing. The river, while relatively straight and free of obstacles, began to take its toll on his lungs. The need for oxygen grew urgent, but even if he could reach the surface, he couldn't withstand the force of the water.
As he felt consciousness slipping away, he suddenly found himself airborne. Relief flooded through him as he inhaled precious air, but it quickly transformed into dread as he plummeted downward. Emerging from the darkness, he found himself outside, blinded by the glaring light, with the water rushing up to meet him.
Miraculously, he managed to land on his feet, but the impact sent a sharp pain shooting through his right ankle. Suppressing a scream, he fought to control his breath, knowing he had limited air left. He attempted to swim, relying on his arms and one good leg, but the weight of the armor dragged him down, and his swimming skills proved inadequate.
Burning lungs pushed him to his limits until he finally breached the surface, gasping for air. The current pulled him relentlessly, hurtling toward a tumultuous stretch of rapids. In a frantic panic, he paddled with his arms, desperately striving to reach the nearby shore. Grasping onto a large protruding stone, he summoned every ounce of strength to haul himself out of the water, panting and exhausted.
For a while, he lay on the grassy bank, gasping for breath, his body aching all over, and tears welling in his eyes.
Eventually, he managed to gather himself and drag his weary body away from the river. With tear-stained eyes, he surveyed his surroundings. It was a dense pine forest, and the chill in the air pierced him to the bone. He was not only drenched from head to toe but also practically naked, save for his armor and a pair of boots.
He knew he had to light a fire soon to stave off hypothermia and avoid further peril. Understanding the urgency, he struggled to make his body respond to his commands.
Leaning heavily on the nearest tree, he mustered the strength to stand on his one good leg. The confusion of the situation had caused him to lose his stick taser and wand, but as he glanced around, he spotted a long stick. Hobbling over to it, he picked it up and used it as a makeshift cane to collect dry twigs.
Gathering what he deemed to be sufficient for a fire, he opened his pack. To his dismay, the contents were soaked, and he regretfully discarded the ruined book. However, he discovered the flint and steel, thankfully still intact. Striking them together several times, he managed to generate a small ember. Lowering himself to the ground, he blew gently on the ember, and his delight grew as it grew into a small fire. Crawling away to gather more wood, he fed it to the flames.
Trembling from the cold, he positioned himself as close to the fire as possible, extending his freezing hands and feet toward its warmth. He placed his oversized boots and bag nearby, hoping they would dry as well.
Sitting there in the vast emptiness, he pondered how he would survive this ordeal. While he possessed some tools, he was no expert woodsman. Speaking aloud to steady his thoughts, he formed a plan. "First, warmth. Get warm. Secondly, shelter. I still have food and water. I must stay warm. Follow the river, seek civilization. Pray that civilization isn't another group of goblins. Seek help..."
With a semblance of relief, he found solace in having a plan and tried to relax as he gradually dried by the fire's comforting glow. At least he wasn't burdened with a multitude of clothes that needed drying. In times like these, he had to grasp onto any sliver of positivity he could find.