Stood there almost butt-naked, save for his tatty green superhero vest, Kieran assumed he must be quite the sight to see in this fantastic natural lighting.
He paused as he witnessed some serious definition on his delts but quickly disregarded this as an illusion from the way the torchlight flickered.
After clearing away most of the black ooze and blood that smothered him, the cool air gently caressed his exposed skin. Also, he low-key admired how quickly he removed all the bodily impurities. Despite this swiftness, the gunk still left him smelling like the worst ass crack he could ever imagine.
Kieran didn’t mind the stench anymore, it had been a lot worse before, he almost cried just thinking about it.
Thankfully, his sense of smell took a far backseat to the more enjoyable cooling warmth that lingered throughout his respiratory system all the time now–something to do with the mana he’d be shovelling down in his lungs and chest, most likely.
Ever since the system confirmed mana could be absorbed like qi for cultivation, he spent most of his calm moments trying to breathe it in naturally with each normal breath. Kieran definitely felt it come more naturally over a short time, but couldnt maintain it consistently yet without strong focus. And even with the great warmth this energy filled him with, raised goosebumps across his torso warned him to scavenge some fresh clothes quickly from somewhere, literally anywhere.
Despite his quick search, however, no suitable clothing existed in the cave with him, only a few sets of soiled leather shorts and an even less salvageable grey tracksuit covered in various bodily fluids. Not that he would ever steal piss-soaked clothes off a corpse, let alone off the first person he had ever seen die in real life.
With a resounding wet slap, his formerly adorable grey Primarni shirt splatted to the floor, unrecognisable. Every clean speck of fabric long since violated, sacrificed to scrape another dirty spot of his body clean. He’d done all he could for now.
The vest is gross but it'll have to stay. I can't go full shirtless in here just on principle. Don’t ever go full murderhobo!
Hiking his damp jeans back on despite the tiny amount of icky residue still inside them, Kieran cowboy-shuffled over to the closest of the dead orcs. looking closer at the messy wounds they all bore, fresh memories of the chaos returned. Each fragmented moment jumped to another savage part of the bloody killing that took place not long ago.
He closed his eyes in focus, mainly paying attention to the final murderous cuts made by his own hands. The vision of the scene stood out resoundingly clear in his mind–a single breath, a single cut, dead.
Remarkably, he could still feel how his body had worked together as one unified being and not just the disjointed nervous system and limbs he usually moves with. His entire being fought for the same goal as one, to kill his foe in a single strike. It was all over before he even knew it.
Kieran didn't want to forget these events, he knew he needed to be even better next time, more confident and sure of himself. And it wasn't smart to assume he'd always have the element of surprise paired with slow-reacting orc brains.
Why were they so slow anyway? I felt fast as shit compared to them, but thinking back i was moving so slowly, huh, weird how that works.
"Ok," he sighed, commanding himself to focus on the present, not the past.
I've gotta find a way out of here alive-Somehow...
Deciding to stop procrastinating any longer before another group of orcs came searching for their missing Uber eats order of 'man flesh kebabs', Kieran did a final check over himself and his new ‘inventory’ of sorts. Again, he wished the system would give him a cool spatial inventory already for simple convenience' sake, and again, the system ignored him.
Emergency magic wand in my sock? Check!
Big goofy-ass Neanderthal club? Check!
Torchy boy, to guide the way? Check!
Big iron on my hip? Check!
He grasped his hand on the tattered handle wrap as he confirmed to himself it was secure in the belt loop of his jeans
…High chance of dying in some skanky underground tunnel system? He thought.
"Check!"
The corners of his mouth peeled to a small smile, and then his smile dropped and he let out an extremely long sigh.
Kieran scraped the blood off his shoes as he quietly shuffled over towards the large door of the cavern; ready to make his great escape. He patiently waited next to it, as if ready for someone to burst in on him at any moment-Nerves truly on edge. Behind the silent, listening figure, barely lit torches still cast misshapen dancing shadows across the craggy floor; not truly showing the display of gore and death that lay strewn about the cavern.
The door ahead of Kieran looked rather similar to those from typical run-down dungeons in RPG games; a little shorter than normal modern house doors, forged from simple nailed-together boards of heavy wood now stained from many years of moisture exposure.
Pressing an ear to the cold moldy barrier, he slowed his breath and listened intently, hoping not to hear anything at all.
Nothing? fingers crossed this was the only group of them roaming about in here. Taking a deep breath and willing the other side of the door to be deserted, Kieran grasped hold of the old dangling iron ring handle and pulled gently, ready for what comes next.
The door didn't budge at all.
He leaned back into the pull slightly, using gradually more body weight to ease it open. The door still didn't move an inch.
Did they lock it on the way in? Lemme try the poker key. Wand? But its a key? Stick key?…whatever I'll call it Jeff for now.
Kieran rested a palm on the heavy wooden door for balance support, he leaned onto his left leg and hooked his right foot up to pull out the small rod from inside his sock.
As he lowered his foot back down, his weight shifted forward with a jolt. I'm so bloody stupid. It's a push door of course it fuc–"Ah shit!" The ground greeted him harshly under the open doorway. He lifted his head just in time to watch the door finish its heavy swing in a fast movement full of momentum. Kieran mentally braced himself and prayed nobody would hear as a resounding crash defied his silent pleas and echoed out, booming through the dark tunnel ahead.
The door swung back slowly, as if possessed by timid ghosts. Something lightly shoved the heavy door back toward Kieran's frozen, upturned face but luckily it slowed to a halt on creaky hinges.
A solid thud of something solid crunching against the ground sounded out from just behind the door.
Alarmed that he might not be alone anymore, Kieran sprung to his feet with haste before stepping around the large round wooden door, and grabbing the dropped club in his shaking hand.
He lowered into a home-run-ready posture just in time to spot an unconscious orc lying face down on the ground, dark blood quickly pooling around its head from some unseen wound. The body lay snuggly held in place by the door and the side of the long rocky tunnel.
Kieran crouched down beside the leaking green meatball, listening closely. He couldn't calm his own huffing breath enough to hear if the orc was still breathing as well. Dropping his torch, he reached across its muscular neck–disappointment struck as he felt a strong beat against his fingertips that he was relatively confident wasn't just his pulse.
Laying his stubby club onto the ground with care, he pulled on his belt, loosening the murderous slab of rust he'd grown attached to already with a grim frown.
This feels more like cold-blooded murder, but I don't have a choice right now.
I guess I'm just sorry that I'm not sorry.
Kieran lined the rough point of the machete up with the base of the unconscious orc's skull, assuming their nervous system setup was close enough to a human to make this a quick and very lethal injury.
"Maybe in the next life, you'll learn how to guard a door better bro"
He whispered to his victim.
Dark humor barely calmed his shaking hand as he placed his palm on the bottom edge of the cloth-wrapped handle. With both hands squeezing tightly and a sharp breath, he clenched his jaw and pushed down with quick force. The orc tensed up all over, then just as quickly it relaxed, emptied its lungs, and completely stilled.
The guilt of killing something lasted a while, that is until the joyous sense of mana filling up the surrounding air overrode his negative emotions. Kieran could clearly feel the heated energy leaving the orc's still-warm flesh as he considered this recurring phenomenon.
Do living things give off mana when they die now? I mean Darren gave off mana when he died too, though it was different to this orc's mana.
Hopefully, that's just a happy coincidence, if not I imagine shitty people would just slaughter their way to more power all the time...
Standing back up, Kieran started his deep breathing, hoping his skill would help too somehow. Once more he bathed in the warm touch of mana as he invited it into his lungs happily, the strength it filled him renewed his energy and conviction. The creeping fatigue that arose due to lack of sleep was being dissolved with every cycle, but after a few more breaths, Kieran noticed the feeling of mana around him dissipating quickly.
It's getting easier to feel the mana flowing throughout my body. Once I have time, I need to try some nice proper meditative breathing.
He surmised that doing so might help tremendously with connecting to the mana that casually floated around in the surrounding air, completely unclaimed.
I wonder if yogis and monks would be good with this stuff too, I'll look up that Wim Hoff guy's content when I get back home, that's for sure.
Kieran praised his luck at being saved by the door of doom, almost getting ambushed by an Orc as soon as he left the first cavern.
He even had a damn hatchet! I need to check my corners and clear my way through carefully from now on.
But for now... "Finders keepers, losers weepers" he chimed gleefully as he bent down to claim his prize.
"cheers orc number five, this is pretty nice"
He snatched a small hatchet out of the orc's limp hand to get a better look. It was a relatively short but ergonomic weapon with a curved wooden handle. roughly the size of your typical household hammer but fitted with a jagged wedge of metal the size of a brick. The head was no thicker than two fingers at its widest point and tapered to a smooth relatively clean edge.
He held the handle with a gentle hug of his right hand, slowly waving it through the air in short arcs and turns, mimicking hacks into a slightly shorter target.
"This feels much easier than the club ever did. Guess I'll swap them out"
Kieran wanted to keep everything he came across like a good little loot farmer—habits built from his countless years of gaming–but without magical holding bags or dimensional pockets, he was just a dude with two hands and increasingly limited storage…
Humming a sad violin tune, he said goodbye to the chunky club he hadn't swung even once as he gladly slid the small axe handle first into a belt loop just above his right hip directly opposite to where he kept the sword, he was also conscious of the edge not stabbing him by accident so he wriggled it to fit tight to his side. He felt much more confident with two weapons that didn't hinder his movement and slow him down as that ugly ass club did.
requisqat en pace, clubbo, until our next encounter...and he lay the cone-like log across the dead orcs' back.
Oh crap, almost forgot Jeff.
He turned behind him in the tunnel to pick up his wandlike key from where he'd dropped it. Kieran took one last look at the fading torchlight in the cavern behind as he slowly swung the heavy wooden door shut again.
"See you in the next life, you brave piece of shit" he whispered goodbye to Darren and his grand tomb, no longer letting himself mourn a guy who just as easily would turn a blade to him and his friend as he did to the orcs.
Weapon upgraded and feeling lighter already, Kieran faced the tunnel ahead and picked his torch up off the floor. Seeing the flickering flame slightly smaller than he remembered, Kieran hoped he'd have enough fuel in the burning rag to find the next area ahead, hopefully even a way out.
Exploring mysterious orc-ridden underground tunnels in the dark sounds fucking lovely.
At least there are no spiders, though, or I'll definitely piss myself at some point. He resolved to pick up the pace and keep an ear out for chittering in the dark corners.
----------------------------------------
Kieran stopped to catch his breath after a very uneventful but paranoia-inducing power walk through the cold, dark, and hollow stretch of tunnel. His progress had been slow with nothing but the feeble warmth and light of a tightly bound burning oil rag on a stick to guide him.
The torches' flame had dimmed a fair amount as Kieran regretted not bringing another one from the cavern, it took reminding himself that didn't have the pocket room for more of them anyway to stop him from thinking about going back for more weapons and torches.
His seven-inch long smartphone still lived rent-free in his right front pocket, claiming its rightful place without a question, but it had too many important things on there to abandon his phone even in a survival situation. Then his keys and cardholder in his left pocket that he definitely wouldn't sacrifice for an extra torch backup.
Luckily for him, there was a faint light up ahead growing increasingly visible to signal the coming end of this boringly peaceful excursion.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Back to orcs trying to bite me, or worse. How wonderful.
He decided to leave his torch on the ground and proceed carefully to the bright opening ahead, not wanting to announce his approach up the tunnel with a flaming signal torch to make him stand out. Instead, he decided to try to sneak by using shadows and stealth as best he could.
Where is my damn sneak skill man? come on! this is the perfect moment for some plot armour.
Every cautious step he took across the dry, uneven rock and dirt carried with it the intent for silence. Kieran solely focused on making as little noise as possible. He covered the distance without any missteps or trips as he neared the brightly lit opening, still unable to determine what bullshit fate had in store for him up ahead.
Feeling his determination to push on waver slightly at the last second, he slowly loosened his tight belt and with his right hand pulled his new–if not rough around the edges–sword free. This move felt more for some confidence than anything to do with getting battle-ready.
He justified it being called a blade despite technically being just a really crappy primitive-looking sword, even if it looked like a weird machete to his brain.
"In"
Feel the mana build inside…
"And out"
Let each breath connect with the air
Remarkably, It only required a couple of long smooth pulls of the ambient mana to clear out the stress he felt building in anticipation. He marvelled at the way he could always feel the mana around him now when he focused on his breathing. Not to mention being able to dispel his negative thoughts and feelings so easily, this was a novel experience for him, and it filled him with hopeful thoughts for the future.
Mana gets more interesting every time I interact with it, maybe in time...nah...
He’d never heard of mana or becoming a cultivator suddenly fixing someone's depression or other mental illness, but then again, what non-edgy protagonist in all the stories he read wasn't a great, confident leader from the beginning?
“I guess that's a bridge to cross later”
With his rising mood, his nerves also grew more on edge. Trying to distract himself productively, he gripped his sword with both hands and raised it before him. Kieran stood in a slightly crouched stance, left foot forward, blade held high and eyes closed softly in focus.
Last time I just ran in and hacked with all I had, if a fight breaks out in this area I need to be more cautious and tactical since I don't know what else is out there.
He began to reacquaint himself with some of the sword movement basics, just to be sure he hadn't lost his low level of skill with the weapon.
Conscious of his arm placement, he gently let the blade flow edge first through the air in practised imitations of his previous big slash. The edge moved smoothly through the air, and as he swung with more speed and force in each focused cut, he could hear the sound of the air parting with a light whooshing noise.
That feels better! it also sounds kinda satisfying.
A smile appeared on his face without his notice as he continued a few more practice cuts at the imaginary outline of an orc he envisioned in front, this one wore a pointy wizard hat.
Breathing powerfully and smoothly with each whirring slash and eventually a violent stab to mix up the flow. His feet slid gently over the loose stones with only the smallest of light scrapes to be heard.
The slight stiffness that once lingered in his shoulders was forced out of them by the blood and mana that circulated constantly throughout with each breath.
Okay…
Kieran lowed his weapon and let his limbs relax for a moment.
I think I'm ready now, as long as there aren't too many.
He mumbled “I am the anti-Leeroy Jenkins” in a promise to himself to be cool, calm, and collected.
Then moved with a big confident step into the light that illuminated the exit of the tunnel. Kieran took another step further but crouched down slightly so as not to draw as much attention.
The sudden change in brightness meant his eyes slowly adjusted with a few seconds of squinting and blinking.
The first thing he noticed? the bright glare of a giant brazier suspended in the distance, similar to a great blazing bonfire, but instead held aloft in a rustic metal bowl and suspended from a long chain that he couldn't guess remotely how long it must be from the confusing distance.
That's a big fire! Where do they even get all the wood down here?
Better yet, how can they even reach it when it's so high?
"It's bloody huge" He exclaimed, then his monologue whispered reflexively That's what she said...
The ruined cavern opened up expansively before him like a giant empty ocean of empty space reaching up and away from him, considerably more monstrous in scope than any large hall or cathedral he'd ever been inside, and more akin to a football stadium with how the wide, empty space is entirely enclosed by a circular high wall wrapping around the outside. The wall rose far ip into shadowed corners before joining a domed grey ceiling so far above that even the impractically huge fire could not entirely illuminate its surface.
Worryingly, he realised this huge stone chamber was riddled with giant stone columns that looked to have once served as essential support structures and not just for the egotistical artistic flare.
Only a handful of these crumbling towers still stood tall and proud, though they were all on the farthest side from him. The nearest pillars to the tunnel he'd just exited had long since fallen into varying piles of debris and rubble all around.
Holy crap, this place looks like a stone forest in the middle of a deforestation project.
With his eyes now fully adjusted to the light he could make out countless pockets of missing stone from the tall wall and ceiling above, apparently long since fallen to join the trunk-like pillars below. Giant slabs formed more small mounds and hills of rubble, one of which he was now standing at the base of as it partially blocked his view ahead to the other side of the hall.
Kieran was very grateful for this somewhat obscured view of him just standing there gaping like an idiot when he finally decided to scale the large craggy mound for a better view. It didn’t take long to clamber up a few of the huge step-like slabs to get a good look at the daunting panorama spreading off into the distance, and things did not look ideal by any stretch of his imagination.
His eyes followed the meagre trail he'd walked along as it split in two directions around another mound. Where they led, he couldn't entirely guess, since more hills of debris obstructed the view.
Deciding the only thing he could do was just pick a direction and commit to it, he lowered himself down strategically on his butt until his feet found steady ground once more.
“Right is right” he announced quietly
“But not for me cos the universe hates me, so left it is”
With that, he began to carefully tread over the slightly worn path, a sign he wasn't too keen on as it meant the Orcs must come through here more than he’d expected.
The surrounding piles of rubble slowly progressed from low mounds of cover into perfectly smooth stone slabs dotted all over as he made his way further down the stony path littered with rocks.
Some of the bungalow-sized pieces of smooth stone had alien lines and patterns scattered across them that he just assumed were artistic, as they had no clear purpose other than to look fancy.
Still, that's a lot of work just for an ornate ceiling in some shitty dungeon. Weird...
His mind wondered if maybe this place had some other purpose long ago, if there was even a ‘before’ when it came to dungeons, for all he knew they were just procedurally generated by the system with magic or something.
As Kieran gradually left behind the huge mounds of rubble, those enormous slabs decreased and made way for increasingly more preserved pillars. Up close he noticed that each pillar appeared three or four times his width and was composed of professionally looking cut stone bricks, much like the flooring around them.
With his mediocre eyesight in the random shadows, he couldn't even tell how high up some of them went, the darkness reclaimed those that climbed high enough past the source of light. Another few minutes later and he felt like he had wrapped a good quarter of the hall's length by now. At least he guessed as much since he had no solid point of reference with so many obstructions everywhere, but he’d been looking around long enough to get a rough bearing on where he was by now, and up ahead lay a few more mounds of rubble that he figured he should explore for a potential tunnel or literally anything. as long as it wasn't more orcs.
Once he turned the corner of the first mound, however, the pillars scattered about everywhere shone with a new light from somewhere up ahead. Carefully, Kieran moved up further. Peering over the top of a mount he spotted a small stone plinth topped with a burning flame that shone in the distance. He shifted angles to get a better look, and beside the small stone pillar with a burning mound on top, were more pillars.
Two parallel lines of what looked to be roughly twenty-foot-tall white stone monoliths lead the way up to a giant stone door that towered above the end of the intimidating stone procession.
Sheesh that's a big boy, how is anyone meant to open a door that tall and heavy? Or is it just to look pretty, it's not even connected to anything…Kieran tried to get a better idea of what the strange door leading to nowhere might be for, he remembered Darren mentioning the orcs torturing him at a weird door, but very little else. He did however notice small figures around the pillars, dotted beside each of the stone bases there appeared to be two symmetrical lines of green statues.
Awhh fuck my life! Of course!
He resisted the urge to kick a stone across the floor and instead crouched down behind the wide pillar base closest to him.
That's a lot more than two orcs! Shit, what do I do?
Peering over the corner of the pillar's base he counted eight orcs total, all knelt down fully like perfect motionless servants in prostration. Dressed just like the previous orcs he had encountered, with a measly pair of brown leather short-shorts and matching boots. Some had weapons on their hips but he couldn't see clearly from the distance.
At the far end of the two columns also kneeled another green figure and like its brethren, it kneeled facing away from Kieran. As his eyes scrutinised the distant figure, a thought struck him when they barely discerned a bright-orange feathered tiara held in place by he guessed a red cloth.
There's that wizard fucker?
Sorry again, asshole…
Kieran wasn't sure of his next move, he definitely couldn't win against even half of those orcs at one time. Not feeling even remotely confident of his ability to isolate and win a one versus one fight that many times, not without fucking up severely or gassing himself out.
He had played plenty of sneaky stealth rogue and assassin games in his time and he had some ideas of what tactics to use, but lack of experience meant he had zero confidence in pulling them off. If Kieran had learned anything in his brief life-and-death combat, it's that games did not prepare you for shit. The real thing was considerably harder and less feasible in every single way, even for those trained in stealth and subterfuge; which he most definitely wasn't.
Mostly he was full of unclear knowledge and complicated ideas of how to do things and not the actual experience required, admittedly caused by reading too much fiction or spending countless nights diving into Internet rabbit holes instead of living his own adventures–until now that is.
If it wasn't for the meager HEMA and MMA experience he’d gained over the years, he was under no delusion that he almost definitely would have died to the first or at least the second orc back in their cell.
Maybe there are other ways out of here they aren't guarding whilst they all pray or whatever they are doing.
Wait, what would orcs even pray to? Orc gods?
His brain when to a place he wasn't proud of, and he sure as hell hoped there were no Orc gods whatsoever.
Please don't tell me there's a huge beautiful orc goddess out there, I know too many degenerates who would convert purely for their "Strong Orc Mommy'' in no time at all…
Myself included…He shamefully admitted to himself whilst signing a cross over his chest.
Kieran noticed a slightly less unstable mound with a slight path off to his left, it appeared to wrap around the outside wall of the cavern where it had avoided the majority of the falling rubble damage–he really hoped it would lead to his salvation.
Each uncertain step he took across the shifting pebble-ridden floor brought new thoughts of caution and worry to him. He had to be almost halfway around the circumference of the large cavern wall now, yet he still couldn't see any other tunnels or doors leading out of this great hall.
If there's nothing on this side I'll double back and try the other end of the hall, there have to be other ways out and I might have the time since they look pretty cosy
He found it strange they would even try to open the giant door by asking human captives instead of just trying to break it down with force, that seemed more their MO anyway but he chalked it up to these orcs just being incredibly stupid as he kept searching further around the length of the wall.
He thanked the tiny modicum of luck in his veins when he finally spotted the dark mouth of a tunnel slightly further ahead, still half concealed by a small hill of broken rocks from his angle of approach.
As he neared the dark gaping maw that he prayed led to his freedom, he noted it was much larger than the tunnel he had first snuck through to get here. Easily able to fit multiple people side by side, the large round chasm was roughly the size of a pedestrian underpass–the kind made to fit a solid stream of bodies through with room to spare. Only, this tunnel had small burning torches hung intermittently along its sides instead of the synthetic white spotlights from back home. The small flames glowed less bright as they led deeper into the distance of the tunnel, making it just visible enough to walk through without a torch of his own.
Kieran followed the tunnel more cautiously than ever, strongly aware that any noisy disturbance could bring a whole squad of angry orcs down on his back, trapping him for sure.
The dark rocky path beneath the earth seemed to continue for half a mile or so, maybe less, but he couldn't tell visually. To his nervous legs it definitely felt like a good ten to fifteen minutes of constant walking though.
Where the hell does this go? Please just lead outside already.
His prayers were answered eventually, the darkness ended up ahead by what looked to be a flat wall blocking the path in front. The complete lack of lights illuminating the way past the fifty or so metres he had left to traverse meant he couldn't see too clearly either.
More due to him being too scared to head back where there were definitely orcs, he pushed ahead into the darkness. Once he reached the end of the dark path, he realised what blocked his way: a large heavy wooden door, possibly painted blue once, before the damp got to the flaky tall panels that loomed above.
The large door was almost a carbon copy of the one that led to his dungeon room, but at least twice the height and width, for some reason. It also looked reasonably reinforced with strips of metal and wood across its surface, giving it a more daunting and rugged look.
This is less Hobbiton and more sex dungeon than I would like, honestly.
But anyway…
“What's behind lucky door number two?”
Kieran resigned himself to whatever came next, he gripped his sword tightly where it stretched out in front of him, a part of him wanted to draw the hatchet with his left hand too but he figured he'd just play it safe with the weapon he knew the best for now. Maybe I can get a duel-wielding skill at some point, that might be cool
With his one free hand, he gripped tightly around the metal ring handle and steeled himself for whatever awaited him on the other side. A solid yank pulled the door free of the stone walls, the only resistance from the gentle screeching of the hinges that made him cringe from the loudness of it.
He stopped pulling and peered around the missing door to check if it was safe. Inside the dark mouth, he could see a single wall-mounted flame of some kind, sticking out of a distant back wall where it lightly illuminated only the immediate area.
A room? hmm...I don't hear anything.
Kieran took a resolute but quiet breath as he cautiously stepped through the archway, paranoia clawed at his mind.
I should have brought one of those torches for fuck sake, maybe I can snatch another still outside?
His hindsight regret was interrupted, freezing him to the spot as he heard a quiet moan of distress in the depths of the dark inside.
The sound didn't strike Kieran as a very zombie-like groan, which was the only reason he didn't immediately run and take his chances with the damn orcs.
Anything but rotting zombies, please, I can't do zombies in the dark man it's too bloody much.
He listened a little longer without moving a muscle.
"Uuuhhh" another moan, almost painful sounding.
"Shhhh" he heard someone else whisper ever so quietly from the same direction.
Are there people here? Who just shushed?
He crept forward a little, trying to be silent on the loosely cracked rocks that carpeted the floor. like an idiot, though, he moved just a little too fast and his shoe slipped over a small stone. By the time he was still again, it was too late.
The noise from his misstep had clearly announced his presence in the room to whoever or whatever was there as if they wouldn't have heard the creaky door already.
A metal rattle in the dark rang out once and Kieran saw a small silhouette at the very edge of the far torches dim glow
Oh god, don't try to eat me, man.
As Kieran thought to ready his blade, he was interrupted by unexpected soft words. "Please…just leave us be…''
a meek shadow on the floor cried softly from the dark. Kieran could hear the fear in the shaky voice, and he realised it was a young girl.
Before he could begin to ask what she had meant, a much deeper young man's words overtook hers from the same shadowy area.
"Please…just don't hurt…my sister"
The young man's words were barely louder than the girls but it sounded as if he struggled with each syllable, subdued by fear and pain.
"We told you, already" he groaned where he presumably lay chained near his sister.
"We have no mana cores we can’t do it, so please just allow us to return home" his regal tone pleaded in clear queen’s english between shuffled breaths.
"I won't even...inform my father's men of this incident"
Your father's men? Who actually says that in real life? Who's your dadd–
"Please…whatever our Uncle paid you, we can quadruple within the day, just–please! I beg you!" he wheezed.
There was a lot of choking, the wet raspy sound made Kieran cringe in sympathy as he feared interrupting the man but also didn't want him to continue to struggle.
"Let me and my sister go, please" He croaked and finished just in time for a fit of coughs to overtake his body.
Small whimpers of pain betraying his injured state between each wheezing gasp.
Kieran stood there silently and listened as the man spoke, afraid to be rude by interrupting the sincere pleas but also very unsure what he should even say until he remembered the man was actually talking to him.
He mentally slapped himself for just realising that these people couldn't see him at all, definitely not from where he still stood in the pitch-black entrance to the very eerie dungeon cell.
Almost a little guilty that he'd scared some innocent people, Kieran responded with an uncertain "Erm…Hello?" as he stepped forward slightly to push through the nervousness. He was confident in what, or rather ‘who’ he had just stumbled upon…
“Fellow prisoners?.”