The next hour went by quickly as Griffin inspected every nook and cranny of the circular chamber he had found himself in, being extremely careful not to touch any of the remaining desiccated bodies until he had assessed the situation completely.
As far as he could tell, there was only one visible exit that he could perceive— a set of heavy looking stone double-doors that seemed as withered as the rest of the stone chamber. He hadn’t so much as touched them, not willing to leave the safety of the chamber until he figured more about the situation he was in.
Griffin saw no shame in admitting that he was afraid of what lay beyond them, especially since the interface had ordered him to absorb a hundred souls. If the word had the same meaning as the one he was used to, it meant that the interface wanted him to kill, either people or creatures, until he reached a count of hundred.
Those weren’t odds that favored him, at least not yet. Humoring the absurd situation he had found himself in for now, he didn’t believe that the interface had gone to the trouble of clearing his passage into this realm, like an intergalactic visa, just to give him a task that he was doomed to fail from the outset.
Which lead him to the conclusion that danger lurked outside, danger that could possibly require him over a hundred hours to surmount.
He was in no hurry to rush to his demise, willing to dedicate as much as a day before heading out to better prepare himself.
“You could’ve chosen to welcome me just about anywhere. Why here?” Griffin addressed the half-Dwarf, Dershi Varunget, as he sat opposing him in a cross-legged posture. “Well, I’m not sure what the prevalent societal norms are in this place, but I suppose that someone whose calling in life is to become a Blood Cultist can’t be a well-loved philanthropist. And this place gives me more ‘surreptitious hideaway’ vibes over ‘DnD mancave’. If you were here, would you agree with my assessment, Mr. Varunget?”
Silence was the only answer Griffin received.
“I know things have been trending downhill recently, but talking to a corpse wasn’t part of my 2019 bingo card, you know?” He shook his head wryly, not sure if it was the shock, disassociation or simply raw adrenaline that let him process the situation. If he had to guess though, the real answer was probably a blend of all three.
“Well, I’ve stalled enough. Here goes nothing,” Griffin declared quite softly, not wanting to alert anything in the vicinity in case the stone walls were far thinner than they appeared to be.
[1 use of Skill: Analyze (MAX) has been consumed]
[Title: Staff of Greater Eidolon
Classification: Epic
Requirements: Sin alignment calling, Magic- oriented class, 60 Mental, 25 Proprioception.
Assessment: The Staff of Greater Eidolon’s effectiveness is at its greatest when casting Magicks of the Blood, Soul and Shadow, offering a 75% boost in effectiveness of offensive spells and a 50% boost in the strength of defensive skills.
The Staff of Greater Eidolon’s effectiveness is derived from souls trapped within it’s domain.
The Staff of Greater Eidolon absorbs a soul upon killing a target with magic cast from it.
Casting a spell with this staff will change the calling of any Virtuous alignment calling wielders to Sin alignment.
This restriction does not apply to the Apostle of Greed (Neutral).]
“What in the ouija board!” Griffin lambasted as he snapped his hand backwards, terrified with the description he had just read.
It took him a few minutes to get his racing pulse in control, before he leerily shifted his gaze from one of the remaining four “magic” staffs to the next.
“Damn cultists,” he snarled under his breath, having decided to dedicate himself to the roleplay until he found something that lead him to believe in the contrary. An inconsistency, the world itself lagging or finding a random book and realizing that it was just full of coding knowledge instead of magical arcana. “Well, I’m assuming y’all are cultists. I wouldn’t expect someone with the Farmer calling to hang out with a literal soul reaper.”
Griffin gave the matter some more thought, before shaking his head.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Sorry folks,” he muttered in apology. “As much as I’d want to help you guys, if there really is someone trapped in there, well, the interface says that I have a long way to go before I can ‘wield’ that staff. Now, I don’t want to find out what happens if I ignore that directive and accidentally break it, you know. Life is precious and to be honest, I’m more of a guy that’s in it for me. No offense.”
Griffin gave the staff a whole minute to convince him to the contrary, send some sort of morse code signal, but there was nothing.
Oh well, he tried.
“Now what….,” he mused. “I guess I can try and confirm my cultist theory.”
Another minute passed by him before Griffin made up his mind and reached for the silhouette of what appeared to be a tall woman, except for the knife ears and an excussively slender muscular structure.
[Analyzing….]
[Name: Sliver Knifeshadow
Age: 101
Race: Dark Elf
Rank: B-
Calling: Scion of Darkness
Class: Illusion Magus [E] (Novice) ,Shadow Magus [E] (Grand Master), Magic Assassin [R] (Grandmaster), Wild Magic [U] (Grandmaster)
Level: 108
Status: Deceased]
“Jeez,” Griffin remarked. “Definitely not your local farmer.”
He would be lying if he claimed that he wasn’t dejected by the discovery, because it meant that the staff that looked like it was formed out of pure obsidian was likely cursed. Or what he interpreted as cursed, which was essentially the same thing.
“Down to seven of these Analyzes,” he noted.
If he intended to survive in this place, he couldn’t squander the one advantage he had been offered.
Griffin began to circle the stone slab he was summoned on, taking in the features of the five deceased individuals.
The magic staves were almost definitely cursed. And even if they weren’t, Griffin still couldn’t wield them because of the interface’s requirements.
That left the robes, which were definitely worth squandering one Analyze on.
[Analyzing….]
[Name: Robes of Perfect Concealment
Classification: Epic
Requirements: 70 Proprioception, 35 Physical
Assessment: The Robes of Perfect Concealment offer the wearer complete protection against physical detection measures.
No noise is transferred to the outside world as long as the robes of perfect concealment are equipped. ]
“A bust,” Griffin threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Why am I not surprised?”
Just as he was about to stride past the desiccated bodies and inspect the tables, a metallic glint caught his eye.
“Huh,” He muttered under his breath, noting that he was looking at Sliver Knifeshadow’s corpse from a different angle. Sheathed under the cover of her Robes of Perfect Concealment was a silver dagger inlaid with a dull red gem. “Now that’s something.”
Naturally, Griffin wasn’t expecting much from what was likely another cursed weapon. But it was a dagger and…. daggers were cool. They were also much more his speed than a magic staff that was just a glorified stick if he didn’t know how to conjure fireballs.
“C’mon, give me something here,” He pleaded to anyone that could be listening. Well, the interface was, so it was worth a try.
[Analyzing….]
[Name: Dagger of Descension
Classification: Epic (Growth)
Requirements: Level 1
Assessment: The Descension absorbs the souls of enemies killed with the edge of its blade.
The trapped souls allow the blade to progressively evolve to suit its owner’s needs until the limits of the Epic Rank.
Status: Previous Owner Deceased. Blade’s level reset to one. ]
“Weeeeeell shit,” Griffin almost swore as he read through the blue interface’s analysis of the blade. It was definitely cursed but at the same time…. It was also usable. A blade, the bare minimum he needed to defend himself against whatever these cultists had gotten all those ‘Classes’ for.
Griffin didn’t know how much time had passed by him as he intently gazed at the dagger, as if he expected it to leap out and bite him.
“You know what, interface. If you’re going to play this game with me, then I might as well entertain you a little,” Griffin declared to a silent audience, not expecting a response.
“Back when they were looking for tech nerds to turn the cryptocurrency white paper into reality, I was far from the best guy for the job. Never a prodigy. Barely a genius. Did you know that? Well, maybe you did…,” Griffin trailed off as old memories began to resurface.
“Do you know why I was chosen over people far more talented than me, the indubitable best? Well, there was a bit of luck involved in the process, if I’m being honest,” He explained as he lowered his knees a notch.
“But I proved myself above all doubt. Why? Simple,”
“It’s because I adapted to everything they threw at me, not matter how ridiculous the proposition got,” Griffin declared as he reached for the cursed dagger.
[Dagger of Decension’s owner has changed. New Owner- Level 1, Griffin Thorne]