[ Warning! You are approaching the end of the map! ]
[ Warning! You are approaching the end of the map! ]
[ Warning! You are approaching the end of the map! ]
[ Error! You have reached outside Gate 13’s parameters! ]
[ Error! Error! ]
Dasha opened his eyes. He wasn't falling, he was seated. He was somewhere that tasted like purified oils and paint. The space was rather large and occupied by several shelves, a wide workbench, and boxes with materials. A hooded man sat ahead with large arms and shoulders that pressed through his robes. His back was turned and he was inscribed on a piece of parchment on the wide workbench. The grayness of his robes blended into the walls as they were the same shade. It was difficult to tell if he was even alive until his black boots appeared out from beneath the robes and his arms shifted along with his long feather quill.
“So you have arrived at last. I have long awaited your arrival, Valknut.”
Dasha's expression remained unchanged even behind his mask.
The hooded man spoke again. “Are you apart of Li Xuanming's Sect?”
“This should be the Hidden Objective,” Dasha stated. “Where is it?”
“The Orthodox Sect—as greedy as ever, I see.” The man stopped writing. He peered over his shoulder, his hood just barely hiding his features. “Take it.”
[ HIDDEN OBJECTIVE found! ]
[ Congratulations! ???
HIDDEN OBJECTIVE: ???
Receive:
100,999 XP
9,999,999 PP ]
“Is this all you can offer?”
“A gate naturally absorbs leftover particles of energy and uses it to fuel players with XP. The greater the level, the higher levels of mana. That is how the Heavenly Tower's gates function at the very basic level. In this realm, there is nothing. It is but a glitch that I managed to sneak in as an Administrator.”
‘Administrator? Administrator…a rank, clearly, but how do they connect to the Architects? Judging by his tone, it seems to be a position of great authority. Is it akin to the ranks bestowed in player dimensions? Guest, membership, and administrator…’
If that was the case, then following that line of thought meant that the Administrator was at the very top of the hierarchy.
“They say the creators of the Heavenly Tower specially built this gate—”
Dasha stared at the shadow covering his face. ‘So he must be the creator Daughter spoke of.’
“It must be difficult to avoid detection,” Dasha said. “I presume that's why you couldn't gather too much mana?”
“Sharp. Very sharp, my friend.” The Administrator turned back and started writing again. “That's right. This gate was specifically built for the Eye of Odin. It possesses an ability that discards reality itself. The mist that I planted would be useless.”
The Eye of Odin. This was the second time that he mentioned it. Dasha was missing something. ‘Is he referring to the eye Odin sacrificed? Assuming that is the case, that means someone possesses Odin’s eye and was supposed to be here. They should have been capable of navigating through this mist much faster than I.’ After all, at this point, he had been here for almost four days. He meditated at the beginning and then brute-forced his way through finding the Will-o’-wisps and redwoods. In the days he was meditating and training, three days should have been enough.
The Administrator turned back. Dasha was able to catch a glimpse of his auburn beard and olive complexion. “Hm? Where is Odin’s eye? I specifically instructed to bring the one with the eye.”
Dasha didn’t reply. He truly wasn’t supposed to be here—and where was here anyway? Slowly, the longer he looked, the longer the Administrator understood: something was terribly wrong.
“I understand now,” Dasha began. “You speak Hellenistic Greek.”
“Oh?”
Dasha peered over his shoulder. What he saw was a wall of obsession. There was a map of the stars, the three proofs of Thales's theorem, specific diagrams of Egyptian pyramids, and, most terrifyingly, gruesome images of beautiful men and women. One of them was a majestic lady in Greek armour and eyes that flickered between gray and blue. He had seen many photos of this lady in the House of Wisdom: this was Athena. Within the bloody circle were her fellow Olympian gods. Necks were splattered with blood. Not a single one was spared.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
A vendetta against the gods. A great mind. A repetition of the Ancient Greece language. Wax tablets leaning on the wall, some broken and others half-glowing from the magic imbued.
Dasha turned back over. “You must be Thales of Miletus.”
His face was exactly as Wilhelm Meyer illustrated: handsome, traditionally Greek with dark blonde hair and a full-beard. His eyes were gray and piercing and became filled with a certain sharpness. He was a genius, there was no point in keeping up a meaningless charade. “…who are you?” Thales asked.
Dasha didn’t answer. He sat there, looking left and right, burning everything in this space into his brain.
“You are not supposed to be here—” Thales blinked, his words cut off by the sharp slash of air. Dasha Pang had attempted to lobotomize him, but as if he was an illusion, his black gauntlet phased right through him. “Oh?”
“The creator of the Heavenly Tower; or rather, one of the creators. I figured killing you would be impossible. That does beg the question…why are you here? They say Thales was the first in Greece to explain the world in a way that did not involve the gods. I’ve read the books in the House of Wisdom. Many trace the decline of the gods to you.”
Thales stared up at him. “My masked friend, you are not supposed to be here.” His tone was that of a man endlessly curious, almost whimsical yet ultimately firm.
“But you built the Heavenly Tower,” Dasha continued. “So you did have a relationship with the gods at some point or another. After all, many of the Architects are gods themselves. I wonder what happened to put you, an Administrator above the Architects, in a place like this.” Dasha pulled his arm back and checked his surroundings again. “No windows. No openings. No air conditioning. You have been sealed here.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” said Thales. He put down his hoodie and ran a hand through his hair. “You—hohoho—you have ruined everything.” He was laughing, full of anxiety and joy and fear all at the same time.
“Where are you? Where are you sealed? Is escape what you seek?”
“...escape. Escape?” Thales inhaled, chuckled, and turned his back on him. “I have no use for you, man of the mask. I have my own plans.”
“How pathetically human, Administrator of the Heavenly Tower. ‘All things are full of God.’” His quoted remark caused Thales to stiffen ever so slightly. “Is that not what you said? Why reject me so? I killed the Will-o’-wisps and did as I was told. Your rejection does not make sense to me. I can help you.”
“No. No, you don't understand anything. I need the one with the Valknut.”
“Why?” Thales was a genius like him—so why? What was with his attitude? Why not tell him?
“The ignorant should remain ignorant. That is what makes them so.” Thales blinked and briefly returned to writing. “Oh, another thing to write—”
“Agreed.” Dasha’s gauntlets crackled. “Miletus. Today, that would be in Balat of the Aydın Province of Turkey. I will be sure to give them your name when I slaughter them. I doubt they will recognize the name anyway. A pathetic legacy with no people to speak of…an ignorance that the world will participate in.”
A man of humanity. A man that opposed ignorance. A man that was beyond his times. That was Thales.
“Oh?”
“You don’t seem to recognize this mask, do you? It belongs to the butcher of London. I will happily slaughter your people, Thales of Nothing. Unless…you have something to offer me?”
“Oh-ho.” Thales did not stand up. He remained, back turned. He put his quill down, calm. “What do you want?”
“I am here to amass power just as the tower desires it. So give me the power I seek.”
“For what reason?”
“To kill the gods.”
“No. No, no, no, you lie. If you were interested in such a thing, you would not speak with such thick dullness. You would be passionate. You would be with the Skeptic Society. You are not. You are…” Thales faced him again. In his eye was agonizing disappointment. “You must be the—”
“Just get on with it. I am going to slaughter you and the other creators anyway.”
“Oh. Ohhh.” The walls seemed to thin. The piercing eyes of the Administrator became dark. “To think I would agree with Confucius…you are what he feared. Yes, yes. You, my masked friend…you must be eliminated.”
The end of his voice marked a drop in the atmosphere. Everything grew heavy with tension. An incalculable energy crackled between Dasha and Thales. One of darkness, the other of nothingness. With a low, rumbling sound, the walls of the workshop began to crumble, disintegrating into a fine mist that swirled around the space like a ghostly veil. The floor underneath dissolved and the world became workshop space transformed into a dark, murky lake. Thales dissipated with the veil. The sky, which had been black, became filled with code.
'A blood lake and a sky of code...?'
Dasha was able to give a cursory glance at the blanket of green symbols and numbers before the blood red waters rumbled.
‘Something huge is swimming in the depths.’
“Begone for good, The One Who Will Devour The Darkness.”
The blood lake churned and roiled, a dark shadow forming. Dasha's Qi Sense flared to life. Whatever was under the water, it was massive. The lake continued to shake and the enlarging shadow touched his feet. That was when he dashed back and that was when the shadow summoned up form. A creature of nightmarish proportions, its form twisting and contorting as it rose.
[ Name: Scylla
Level: 90
Class: Sea Beast ]
Over thirty feet in height, Scylla was a grotesque half-woman monster. Above her waist, she was a woman with a deeply green complexion. Sprouting from the back of her neck were another six necks that were a deeper shade of green and were tipped off with serpents rather than human faces. Along her waist were six growling dog heads and rising from the waters, presumably her legs, were twelve green tentacles. A hydra maiden of impossible composition.
The twisted dragon-like heads cast a shadow over the lowly human. Dasha could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The once still waters began to shift faster. He raised his arms but was too slow. One of her leg tentacles lashed out, striking Dasha square in the mask with a force that sent him hurtling across the lake. His body skipped across the surface of the water like a stone, the impact sending shockwaves of pain radiating through his body.
He came to a skidding halt and caught his winded breath. Drip. A piece of white shrapnel fell. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, he reached up to touch his mask. “Hrm.” His fingers traced the jagged edges of the newly formed chip.
Thales was gone—and in his place was one of Greece's greatest killing machines.