Cira shouted at the goblins and waved them away. After a couple aggressive steps in different directions, they began to scatter. Like flipping a switch, once one ran, they all flew into a panic. Their frantic screams echoed through the necropolis as goblins tripped on each other and stumbled over just attempting to run away. She let them flee, of course, and it wasn’t long before their cries faded into the shadows. Only Cira’s crew and the dead remained now.

“Well, shit.” Jimbo’s arms were on his hips as the crew looked down at the bloodied goblin corpse on the ground. “I’m glad I didn’t have to fight him.”

“Yeah.” Joe agreed, “Thanks, Cap’n.”

“Man, you really showed him.” Even Skipper joined in, “You’re tougher than you look, Captain!”

“Wrong.” Cira’s counter left him blindsided, “I’m weak, I got my ass kicked, and I cheated. That fight was pathetic. You need to get your eyes checked.”

“Yeah, I even got some goggles for ya.” Jimbo chided. Cira only just noticed their absence on his face.

Skipper’s expression dropped and he was about to say something when James cut in, “So, are we heading back now?”

“Of course not.” Cira recoiled at the truly absurd question, “Kuja said it gets worse on the next floor. How can we possibly leave before assessing the threat?”

“Well…” the woman in question spoke up, “There were significantly less goblins the last time I came here so it’s difficult to say this was any better than what I went through. I didn’t even know they could cast magic.”

“Pfft. Don’t get me started.” Those shamans had some serious firepower. If we hadn’t been slowed down for so long passing the dormitories, I wouldn’t have collected enough darkness to take them out and they would have broken through.

“You’re literally covered in blood and just got your lights knocked out. We need to go.” James looked at her aghast and did a double-take to the goblin on the ground, “His biceps are as big as my head, and you took a punch to the face! How are you even standing? Why do you think the next floor will be any better?”

“I told you.” She gave him a sidelong stare, “We’re only taking a look.”

Growing irritated, Kuja loudly cleared her throat, “Ahem! If we are going, we should continue while the path is clear.”

“Gladly.” There was a line of paladins waiting to compliment Cira, but now they looked uncertain. She didn’t give them time to think about it and strode onward through the pavilion.

Kuja caught up and they reached the stairwell after walking for hardly another minute. The distant wails of defeated goblins still lingered, but nothing moved in their immediate vicinity. It was as quiet as it was dark and not even the crew dared speak. They timidly peered into the dark until the moment they reached the stairs.

This was also when Kuja cut through the tension—by scolding Cira, “Now, why would you do something so stupid? Your crew could have taken him down together, you wouldn’t have had to put your life on the line! Everything we’re doing would become pointless if you died.”

It wasn’t that reckless… I had confidence in myself. And a whole team behind me—no, I almost got beat to death by a goblin. “Think about it. If I hadn’t accepted his challenge, we would still be waist-deep in goblins. I didn’t expect them to run away, personally, but I still think I made the right decision.”

Cira stood by that, but she didn’t feel great about the fight. She proved nothing to herself but the litany of shortcomings she’d grown into over the years and her utter weakness. The gulf between her and a mere goblin was vast. If nothing else, it was something she would beat herself up over after she got a good bath in.

As they descended the stairs, Cira was still out of breath. Despite the healing, her severed leg still drove pain up her body like knives. Each step pushed her further past her limit in every way. I really need to exercise more. Was Estelle as toned as that goblin? I doubt she’d have agreed if I asked to see beneath her robes, though. I wonder if Nanri has even seen her abs. Would that come up in… history of witchcraft? While her mind wandered, she realized Kuja was talking.

“…so long as they do not attack us on the way back.” There’s that… I hope they don’t. “This next floor is not to be taken lightly. I don’t want to hear any of your chatter, understand? Stay alert.”

She addressed Cira’s crew without concern, and they all nervously nodded before turning to their Captain for guidance. “Don’t look at me. Take heed of Kuja’s wisdom in this place.” On that note, Cira turned to her for guidance. “What should we expect down here?”

“The first tomb is where the earliest generations rest.” She shook her head and continued with a sullen tone, “It is said we understood very little about the soul in the beginning. The spirits here I suspect to be much closer to the revenants you described, but they should still recognize the mark my soul bears. I do not believe they will attack unless provoked.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

This seems like the kind of situation where it’s unwise to ignore the word ‘shouldn’t’. “What mark? Does your soul possess a quality ours lack? Something to do with yours being reforged?” It was a given that they didn’t want to fight her ancestors.

Kuja prepared for a long-winded explanation when a voice cut into everyone’s minds, “Allow me. This ‘mark’ on her soul is something I believe your father referred to as a ‘sigil’. It is what you placed on my soul the moment you gave me such a ridiculous name as ‘Legs’.”

“Mr. McKlensky, there’s no need to be rude.” Cira peered down to her shoulder as the spider stretched its legs. Evidently having slept through the whole fight somewhere in her robes, “I remember Dad mentioning sigils when I showed him my curses all those years ago, but he forbade me from researching anything relevant. So, is it like a name stuck to the soul?”

“Not exactly. A title or a name can form a sigil, as long as it holds bearing on the marked being’s existence.” The mages shuddered in fear as existential knowledge that was far beyond them was beamed straight into their minds, “One’s origin can often be found in the form of a sigil, in which case Kuja would bear the same one as many of the spirits in this mountain.”

“Is that right?” That sounds like the kind of thing I would try to ignore, but I’m curious now. It sounds like Dad was hiding something from me. “Why did nobody tell me this before?”

Kuja made an uneasy expression and Cira creased her brow at the spider until he continued, “You didn’t ask. And before you do, the damage to your soul makes it quite difficult to decipher the sigils. It’s best if you learn to read them on your own anyway.”

“Whatever,” Cira didn’t like being predicted, “Just go back to sleep if that’s all you want to do with your freedom. Kuja, it’s not the revenants we need to worry about below, is it?”

“Unfortunately, not.” The woman hesitated for a moment and collected herself, “I wish I could tell you what I encountered, but I just have no idea. Hopefully, they’re long gone.”

“Luck is a lady who shines upon me with spite. Can you describe them?” Cira’s only goal was to identify the threat. If that much were accomplished, she would be satisfied to call it a day. “Physical features and ways it attacked perhaps?”

“I… I was just walking among the spirits, wondering why the tomb was so calm. I thought it devoid of life until I had made it a good ways in. Suddenly, it was like an army of beasts all fell on me in perfect harmony. Sharp claws and vicious fangs—long beaks and cloven hooves seemed to form from the shadows themselves.” Kuja shuddered as she recalled that day long ago, the whole crew had stopped on the stairs and paid rapt attention, “Not once did I get a good look at them, but their attacks came without relent, and always a different beast.”

“That… sure sounds like trouble.” Cira put a hand to her chin and thought deeply for a moment, “Are you sure they weren’t the manifestation of some spell?”

Cira could, for instance, create beasts with a simple conjuration of darkness.

“I’m certain. I only saw their extremities while they came for my life, but it was as if their souls spread throughout their entire form. I still don’t know what to make of it.”

“How fascinating… I’m sure you can see them, Mac.” She nudged the spider with her finger, “Care to weigh in?”

That son of a bitch is already asleep. “Well, it looks like we’re here. Any last tips?” Cira asked.

“Just be ready for a lengthy retreat… If we make it halfway to the next stairwell, we may have to run for a while to return here.” Kuja cautiously took a step onto the next floor. Just like above, it was paved with ancient brick, but Cira immediately noticed a change in scenery.

Flanking the door on both sides were caskets made of polished stone and carved into an ornate design. Just outside the range of their dwindling Lamplight, Cira saw square niches cut into the walls with skeletal remains laid to rest, long decayed. They were stacked six high and continued far into the abyss—presumably forever.

That was the feeling Cira got. It was a strangely solemn dread. As soon as she entered, the weight of the hidden revenants bore down on her. She could feel the pressure of the intense mana—stronger than those on the surface even—but there was something else mixed in. A similar feeling to that first stray she haphazardly approached in the Last Step, except there was a deep sadness which overshadowed the regret.

One revenant emerged from the shroud ahead and stared at them blankly. All but her and Kuja reeled back in fear, and Cira stared into its black eyes curiously. She could feel the countless years of anguish this spirit endured, but somehow it just felt so somber.

Are you mourning your people, just like Kuja? It must be hard having the ability to witness and comprehend such tragedy only to be utterly powerless, swept along by the tides of time. Instead of ancestors, you watched your children die.

Even more depressingly, this revenant wasn’t nearly as stable—or perhaps it was just that much older. It seemed to shiver, and its movements were unnatural, even as it just floated there. The spirit’s eyes held not a hint of the alert gaze the ones they met up top had. They seemed dull and near lifeless, as if the spirit was forcing itself not to disperse. It existed merely to wait for something, longing for it. But what do you wish to see, spirit? The return of the Archaean people? If I could help with that, I would…

To Cira’s knowledge, most souls were liable to decay after around the thousand-year mark. Sometimes they got lucky and passed on through this process, but too often did their will bind them. If they wanted to stay, that desire would be one of the last things to wither away until their essence had fully returned to the aether, never to be reincarnated again.

“I don’t want to linger here longer than necessary.” It would do them no good to bother the spirits in their rest, nor throw Kuja into danger before their eyes. “I say we draw these beasts in quickly and escape.”

“Of course…” She heard James complain from the back.

“How are we supposed to do that? It sounds like another bad idea.” Kuja grumbled and looked behind them, “What if they follow us?”

“They would already be upstairs unless they had a reason not to be,” It made sense when she thought about it, “Perhaps only the mana here and below is dense enough to support them.”

Kuja’s eyes went wide, “Do you… do you think you figured out what they are?”

“They could be a few things. I have seen groups of beasts across many species form herds before, but your attack didn’t really sound like that. It’s hard to say until I lay eyes on them.” Cira watched the faded revenant silently disappear into the darkness, “As for luring the beasts, I’m almost positive they’re hungry for mana. We just need to offer it to them on a platter.”