Drip.

Dry, rocky tunnels. Mountainous caves with stalactites hanging like swords from above. Unending passages dimly lit by moss. Underground forests spawned from the roots of trees complex enough to challenge his very imagination. As Lukas traversed through the seemingly endless anomaly, he’d seen a wide variety of landscapes.

But never had he come across a place like this.

Drip.

Gone were the moss-lined walls. Gone were the dead, decaying caverns with slimes and fang-worms peeping out of damp crevices. Gone was the dense vegetation covered in the inky darkness of the shadows. All he could feel now from this tunnel was a bone-chilling eeriness, almost as if someone had transplanted it from a different location and hid it deep within this monster-laden anomaly.

And it was huge.

For a subterranean chamber, it was surprisingly well-lit. The walls had some sort of crystal outgrowth on them— glimmering clusters of pale silver with a kind of luminescence that made him feel more than slightly wary. No single patch provided adequate lighting for the entire place, but as a whole, they filled the cavern with an ashen-white light.

And that wasn’t even considering the angry, vengeful feeling that permeated the air around him. It made him feel observed. Like something— or someone —was watching his every move.

It made him feel vulnerable.

Stop behaving like prey, Lukas chided himself.

He was strong now, boasting a great number of skills, incredible awareness, and some powerful moves to fall back on if things ever went south. And knowing his luck, they were already headed in that direction and he’d be facing something horrid within a few hours, but that was neither here nor there.

Drip.

And what was that strange dripping noise? Lukas glanced around, but nothing remotely resembling a pond was in sight. Instead, there was a metallic sheen to the floor, as branches of silver split off from a large metallic circle in the center, traversing all the way through the blackness at the end of the tunnel.

For a moment, Lukas wondered if he had stepped into some antiquated ritual chamber.

“Step closer to the walls,” Inanna said.

Sauntering towards the other side of the chamber, Lukas found his gaze drawn to the long, tapering crystals that lined the walls. Some of them grew in clusters like thick bushes, while others elongated to several feet, only to merge with others to create a scaly meshwork. He squinted his eyes, trying to see what was within the crystals, but he could discern nothing more than hazy blurs.

I’m such an idiot, Lukas mentally groaned. Analyze.

ANALYZE [LEVEL 2]

Bapranor Crystals— Sentient metal outgrowth. Indicative of stored information.

Well, now that was interesting.

“What kind of information?”

Memories.

Thus far, Lukas had seen some fairly unconventional, unbelievable things. But sooner or later, everything had fit into a new pattern of sorts, one with its own equations and rules. After all, even alien environments had their own patterns. Monsters, soul architecture, experience points, soul capacity— it took some time, but he’d been through it all.

But memories? Literally growing on the walls of a cavern? That was new.

Alarmed, Lukas took a step back as another window flashed before him.

Accumulated Soul Architecture. Specific details impossible to determine without breaking the crystal.

A deep, primal hunger began to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. A feeling of annoyance and disdain at information being kept hidden from him. Almost on instinct, Lukas’s hand rose, a sliver of lifeforce caressing the edges of his palm as he brought it down on—

“I’d advise against that, mortal.”

Inanna’s words felt like a bucket of cold water on a hot summer day.

Drip.

“...why?” he croaked.

“You forget, mortal, that I’ve my own share of experience with anomalies such as this.” Her tone was surprisingly thoughtful. “These crystals… I believe they store raw information of the anomaly’s creatures to be used over and over to create newer, more powerful ones.”

“So this is like the anomaly’s backup vault?” Lukas mused. “If I were to shatter one of these—”

“Then the anomaly will come after you with extreme prejudice. But you’ve already committed theft once, so I can understand the thrill.”

Rolling his eyes, Lukas consciously suppressed the sudden urge to do exactly that. Taking another step back, he instead glanced around at the wall. Even by bare estimates, it was around a hundred feet wide and expanded into the long tunnel ahead. And all over said wall— along with the walls on either side and the ceiling —were crystals.

Lots of crystals.

Lots and lots and lots of crystals.

Lukas couldn’t help but swallow nervously. Just how many monster prototypes did this gargantuan beast of an anomaly have waiting in its arsenal? And they were all coming for him?

He couldn’t quite explain it, but a sudden burning feeling shot through him. Of jealousy, of anger, of rage. The more he stared at the crystals, the more he felt an overwhelming urge to just shatter them. To release the knowledge from their confines. To grab it all for himself.

The crystals were far more important to him, more than anything else. It was like staring at an oasis after being lost in the desert, or the first ray of hope after being marooned in an endless sea.

It was an alien sensation, one he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“It is the Omphalos in you displaying its urges. A hungry creature salivating at the sight of food.”

Drip.

Something wet fell on top of him from above. As he shrugged it off, another drop fell, this time in the open palm of his hand.

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

Drip.

One drop became two. And it wasn’t water.

Drip.

For one thing, it was blackish and shiny and seemed to separate into tiny globules upon the moment of contact. And yet, despite the constant dripping all over his form, he didn’t feel the slightest sensation of wetness, though it did burn slightly.

That was when he realized what it was.

Drip.

“Is this mercury?” Lukas asked incredulously. As he glanced up at the ceiling, several more drops fell onto his face, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto the cavern floor. His gaze shifted towards, and he could see tiny grooves and furrows on the floor, where the fallen mercury slowly pooled into the strange metallic… pavements? Sidewalks?

The whole thing had a strangely esoteric feel to it.

“Aqāru,” Inanna breathed.

“Mercury,” Lukas offhandedly corrected.

“Not the base form of the liquid metal, mortal. This is aqāru. Liquid Silver made sentient.”

“Sentient?” he frowned. “As in alive? Able to perceive and feel?”

“Yes, that is what sentient means.”

Lukas ignored the jab, rubbing his fingers over the mercury— aqāru —in his palms. It was a strange concept, a sentient metal. Even in this strange world, how could such a thing exist?

“Remember what I taught you about Anima?”

“Everything has a personality of sorts. What about it?”

“In my era, aqāru was considered to be the ultimate metal because it is the sole element that may be brought to life.”

“How?”

“Through repeated treatments with a variety of alchemical processes that your mortal mind cannot comprehend.”

Lukas wanted to argue the point further. If the anomaly he’d found himself in was using sentient mercury, then perhaps it was best he got to know all the details about it. Unfortunately for him, Inanna was, well, Inanna.

It didn’t help that she sounded like a grade-school teacher at the moment.

“Perhaps it is because I am speaking to a child,” she imperiously replied. “The comparison is apt.”

Lukas blinked at that, but offered no rebuttal.

“Aqāru, upon being created, would be treated like a child, its appetite awakened and fed. And when the moment is appropriate, it is sacrificed.”

“You mean destroyed?”

“Sacrificed,” Inanna repeated. “More precisely, its Anima is sacrificed.”

Bringing a metal to life, developing its Anima, and then sacrificing it? As Lukas tried to best wrap his head around it, it seemed more and more like shepherding a lamb to slaughter. The barebones concept seemed simple enough, but the mechanics on the other hand…

“It is sacrificed in exchange for whatever power you wish to draw from the cosmos. The power or skill is tapped into and allowed to pour into the metal after its Anima is expelled, leaving it empty and able to receive.”

“A possession,” Lukas blankly spoke, “You’re saying the metal is then possessed?”

“The analogy is... lacking, but it shall suffice,” the goddess sniffed. “The new skill can thereby be used for a variety of tasks. With its assistance, one may create golems of their design to channel their power. Perhaps learn to achieve levitation, increase longevity, make oneself nigh indestructible. Or if you are into more basal concepts, convert other metals to gold.”

Lukas wheezed at the last one. It was disturbingly similar to other fictional tales he’d read both in novels and religious texts like the Bible. “Are you talking about the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“I know not of this Stone you speak of,” Inanna slowly spoke, “but it is possible to create gold through aqāru. Or an elixir to cure one's mortality. By varying degrees, of course.”

“And something like that is just lying around in this anomaly?” he asked, flabbergasted. He was no economist, but even he knew the value of what was literally flowing all around him. “So what’s all this merc— aqāru doing here anyways?”

“A natural attribute of aqāru is its ability to ward off entities of a spiritual nature. Spirits, daemons, wraiths, echoes of the dead… My sister abhorred its very presence.”

“Ereshkigal,” Lukas whistled. “Empress of the Dead. Must have been like poison to her then.”

“Worse. Ereshkigal was the Mistress of Curses and Contracts. Warriors who went against her would bathe their weapons with aqāru to wash away any lingering curses the dead might have laid upon them. It angered her to no end. Why there was this one time when—”

Inanna paused, probably having realized that she was fondly remembering her sister. The same entity responsible for everything that had happened to her.

“It's alright, you know.”

“What childishness are you prattling on about?”

“To remember your family fondly,” Lukas replied. “Even if they hurt you in the past.”

He paused, waiting for her reaction.

There was none.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Here he was, a right hypocrite, talking about family when he had never really cared for his own, even back when things were fine. He had some memories of his grandfather, but overall he’d been happy to be alone, content with his private life away from home.

But now?

The tiny day-to-day events— chatting with friends, lying in bed with Emma, his broken family —all of it came back to him in moments of solitude. Memories of a time that would probably never come back into his life.

A broken shard of what he used to be.

“Is that your philosophy of life?” For once, the goddess didn’t sound judgemental or superior. Just curious, and dare he think it, even a little uncertain.

“No,” Lukas firmly answered, surprising even himself. “But sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

“I see.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Well, he admitted to himself, this is weird.

It was crazy to think about. After everything he’d gone through, this was where he drew the line for talking with her. Beyond the monsters and skills and annoying screen, a heart-to-heart was what stayed his tongue. Seriously, where was an imminent doomsday event when he needed one? Khorkhois, thogguas, even those naegelins would do. Or perhaps a tornado, or earthquake, or even a volcano—

“Speak your mind, mortal.”

“Well,” he started, “back when everything was normal, I made a quick study of the Sumerian era. About Ereshkigal, about Gilgamesh and Enkidu, about—” he paused. “About you. And your descent.”

“Descent.” The word was spoken sharply, as if she expected to hear more.

“About how you fought against King Gilgamesh and his friend Enkidu, summoning the Bull of Heaven, Gugalanna, to do your bidding. An action that ended up getting him killed.”

Inanna snorted.

“Is that why Ereshkigal went against you?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Because of what happened to her husband?”

“Gugalanna was a prideful warrior, even for his kind. Set in his ways. Once he entered a fight, there was no staying his hand until everything that stood in his way was dead. Single-handedly, Gugalanna was more than a match for the God-King of Uruk. But with that mud doll...” she trailed. “It was unfortunately not enough. However, between myself and Ereshkigal, it was more than easy to bring him back to life.”

“Then… why?” Lukas pressed.

“Why what?”

“Why did she betray you?”

Inanna stayed silent for a moment. “The true reason for her betrayal is perhaps something I shall never comprehend. The reasons she gave to me when she did the unforgivable were… superficial, at best. I do not believe her motives.”

“Oh.”

“I am curious. What say your myths, mortal?”

Lukas scrunched up his face. It seemed he had ended up discussing the one topic he’d always been somewhat uncomfortable in bringing up. “Well, that’s the thing I’m confused about, you see,” he slowly began. “The story of your descent to the Underworld ends with Ereshkigal killing you and hanging your corpse on the wall. All of that fits with your own tale.”

Inanna patiently waited for him to continue.

“That’s when things get complicated. The epic says you were resurrected by the God Enki, but you—”

“What?”

Lukas stilled. In the entirety of his admittedly short lifespan, he had never heard an utterance that tickled his fear more than that single syllable.

“Finish your tale, mortal.”

Lukas could’ve sworn he felt the arctic chill of the North in her voice. If he had to guess, this was the closest he’d ever been to seeing the Supreme Queen truly angry.

“W— well you said you were a reflection of the true Goddess. Starlight that deserted the star a long time ago, right? So maybe the original star has changed, and you don’t know about it?”

“Impossible,” she snarled. “I know not how such vile untruths became a part of your world’s tales, but such a thing is preposterous.”

“But why?” Lukas continued, despite every ounce of his common sense screaming in protest. “He was your father, wasn't he? Though I guess that’s subject to—”

“Cease your meaningless ponderings,” Inanna thundered, shutting him up instantly. “Your history, much like your world, is flawed. Distorted.”

He continued to remain silent, not daring to utter a single word.

“What you speak of cannot be true. Because the God you know as Enki perished when Ereshkigal was but a babe.”

Inanna pinned him with a glare that could have frozen the oceans.

“And it was I who ended his wretched existence.”

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