Upon exiting the cluttered room we don't see the other group, and so we wait here, rather than look for them.

Within a minute the group returns, with Lt. Hywel at their head.

"Oy, Argus! What's in tha' room then? Other than a bunch o' mouldy webs." Hywel talking in his usual accented slur.

"Got a witch AND some mouldy webs. And you?" Argus throwing out his usual mischievous grin, almost trying to goad him into a witty verbal battle.

"Lots o' ‘itches, didn't kill non since we need to join back ‘ere though. I thinks it's a sleepin' area, and so most are probably sleepin'."

"Then lets make sure they aren't waking up."

After Argus finishes his conversation, he returns to our group and relays it in case anybody missed anything.

Upon finishing this we all set off through the large double doors, covered in a faded engraving showing children playing on various of the games found in here.

More peculiar is that they are depicted to have slightly pointed ears and much thinner eyes than is usual.

Provided this isn't just artistic preference, would this mean that these guys weren't human?

Certainly, there are plenty of myths and legends of who lived in these lands, but these vary so much that it is best to entirely disregard all of them.

Most however tend to believe the ‘witch persecution squad', the most popular cult in the ‘civilised world'.

They publicly state the reason for the monsters, dead kingdoms and general shittyness of the world is magic. Some bullshit about how when magic was accepted there was incest, demon children and a magical apocalypse to top it all of.

Well. Since humans are the only intelligent being around, this ancient race, and any others, are probably long dead fro what ever reason.

Most likely from a more plausible reason than ‘magical doom'.

Even though the possibility of meeting a descendant from somewhere like this is impossible, this is exhilarating for me and Torben both.

Although both of us have enough self control to keep our tongue inside our mouth, this basically is a culmination of all of our childhood fantasies we use to tell each other as bedtime stories.

How we are going to explore far off lands with new foods and strange languages, going on grand adventures against vicious monsters.

The first time I went into a forest as a child at 10 I almost wet myself. Everything just seemed so amazingly different from the dry lifeless world I was use to.

And this forest was still in the barrens, with trees barely passable for living and very little wildlife.

My first time out of the barrens and into an actual forest was in the middle of the night, with the intent to pillage some villagers that must be so rich and lucky to live amongst such intoxicating life.

Even the dirt felt richer.

None of that can compare to this. Not every green leaf and pretty flower combined.

Drawing out from my mesmerised state, I focus on the tunnel we now walk down.

Unlike a tunnel simply mined out, the tunnel walls, like all others in these ruins, seem uniformly smooth in some areas. Probably indicating that all of these tunnels were once clean and skilfully carved masterpieces, before thousands of years worth of age gradually chipped at these walls.

In fact, it's a miracle that these tunnels haven't collapsed… well, most of them anyway.

On top of this is that non of these tunnels have any supports to add structural integrity, not that I'm qualified to comment on anything to do with architecture.

As we moves forward, we pass many rooms to either side of us, though since we've been told these have been checked during the scouting group I resist the urge to scour them for anything of interest.

This soon brings us to a inter-section in the tunnel, and at this point Lt. Hywel raises his hand, indicating for us to stop.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Argus makes his way to the front of the group and I follow just behind him, looking around at my surroundings.

This pathway continues forwards, with another tunnel going right.

However, 20 metres down the off-shooting passage shows that this tunnel wasn't quite as lucky as many of its siblings, with an abrupt ending of rubble.

Straight onwards looked, and likely is, relatively undamaged.

Both tunnels had stone signs, similar to previous ones we've passed.

Upon walking up to these signs, I lightly brush my hand on the worn stone, passing a small current of mana into the stone to quickly translate the text.

The blocked path reads ‘Communal Staff Area', whilst the other shows ‘Directional Hub'.

The attention of the others was a set of double doors on the left wall, once again made of metal.

Unlike the engraved doors we passed earlier, this one looked to have always been plain and devoid of detail.

Cheapskates.

Two people have their ears on the door, with a anxious crowd seemingly frozen as they wait.

Soon a hushed voice speaks at a volume that would be inaudible provided that it wasn't already completely silent.

"I hear a couple of women speaking, they aren't being all that loud though, so I'm not sure on what they're on about."

Lt. Hywel stands at the front and gestures at his sword to ensure everyone has their weapon out.

He needn't have bothered since the last incident with us being careless likely remains fresh in all of our minds.

Then he points to all of the archers present and bring them forwards to just in front of the door.

Argus and Hywel stand on either side of the door, preparing to push both sides wide open.

Hopefully, this door will be equally as silent as the engraved metal doors from before.

Once all of the archers have nocked an arrow Hywel began to count down with his fingers.

3.

2.

1.

Upon one, the archers raised their bow and drew back the bowstring in a fluid motion as the door swung open.

The first thing I see is a table in the centre of the room, sat at which are the two chatting witches.

The door thankfully was silent, and so both witches took two arrows. Dying before even given time to react.

The room is rather plain, with rows of beds lining each side of the room, much like a communal soldiers barracks.

Separating the beds are metal draws and similar furniture for clothing, all salvaged from different areas in the ruins judging by how non of them match.

Seven witches are on the uniform beds, with all but one of them being asleep.

The unfortunate restless girl was no more than 16, and was frozen in wide-eyed horror.

The only archer to have yet to loose his arrow was Petri, who quickly ensures no sound would ever leave her throat.

A moment later she fell back, a fletching sprouting from her skull.

The remaining dealers of death run forward towards each of the unaware witches, with myself running to the sleeper the second furthest away.

As I swiftly draw my dagger across her throat, she opens her eyes and looks around confused.

Perhaps thinking, who is this man? And why are his friends stabbing me?

"Shit!"

Looking up towards the voice, I see two men and a women heading towards the furthest witch dive behind cover.

The previously asleep magic caster standing in her nightgown, an arm outstretched, with blue runes quickly forming in the air in front of her pale open palm.

Before I can make an attempt to throw my dagger at her, three arrows find her torso. Followed by another shortly afterward, just to be sure.

All nine of the of the witches alive 20 seconds ago are now dead.

Time to move on.