“Temp, hey buddy. You think you could dematerialize again?”

Silence.

The chair remained still, its frame eerily mimicking meditative repose.

Cal chuckled, then sighed, “This will be fun. Guess you're hitching a ride," he muttered. Cal hoisted Temp onto his back with a grunt. The AI's weight was negligible, but the absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him.

Instead, Cal felt like he had discarded weight himself. Cal was still injured, but his wound was healing – he was recovering now that his wound was treated. He was lucky that the arrow had missed his heart.

Cal stepped cautiously among the gnarled roots and his laughter died in the chilly air of the black tree forest. He ran a hand along the bark of a nearby tree; it felt slick, almost pulsating, beneath his fingers.

But Temp was not awake to offer any other insights, immersed in contemplation of its own soul. Cal couldn't know what Temp would find in such exploration, but he respected the process. After all, he knew the value of self-discovery, even if his was carved out of flesh and blood instead of code and circuits. If they hadn’t been running from a pursuer, he would have stayed in the alcove until Temp had finished this process.

Cal’s blue eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, searching for anomalies. Yet nothing stirred among the trees – no beast, no breeze, not even the scuttle of an insect.

"There has to be another way out of this place," he whispered to himself, as if setting a waypoint.

The forest seemed to loom over him, purple leaves rustling with secrets. Cal kept moving, his grip on Temp firm in one hand, and his knife in the other. Cal had been moving towards the edges of the underground cavity in hopes of finding another exit.

Cal's boots crunched on the alien terrain, a symphony of unknown minerals. The deeper he ventured, the more life thrummed around him. Vibrant fungi blinked in bioluminescent Morse code from nooks in the cavern walls.

A gentle ringing caught his attention. Cal halted. In the dim glow of the mushrooms, he spotted them— crabs with giant bells for shells.

“Bellcrabs, that was easy.” He gave a thumbs up. But no one was there to see.

Dozens scuttled across the forest floor, their carapaces gleaming like polished obsidian. Each bore an intricate bell-shaped structure atop its back, ringing softly with every cautious step they took.

"Curious little things," Cal murmured, crouching to observe them closer. The creatures moved with purpose, following some instinct that drew them in perfect synchrony. Their claws tapped against the stone, a strange dance in an even stranger environment.

"Never seen anything quite like you before," Cal whispered, entranced by the harmony of their existence.

Cal edged forward, the bell crabs in his periphery. His gaze flicked from one to the other, absorbing their rhythm. But as he sized them up, it became clear: they were no match for the behemoths of his past skirmishes.

"Hardy little buggers," Cal muttered, eyebrows raised. Their shells might withstand the odd scrape, but against a seasoned fighter? Doubtful. The bellcrabs stopped and turned in unison looking towards Cal and Temp.

"That's not creepy."

Cal in turn glanced down at Temp, a silent partner in this alien tableau. The AI remained motionless, meditative. A smirk tugged at Cal's lips—an idea.

"Let's see how you fare in the field, eh?" Cal said, more to himself than the chair.

He gripped Temp by the backrest, lifting with ease. Positioning the chair like a makeshift shield, Cal advanced. The crabs, undeterred by his approach, continued their march.

Cal coached, nudging Temp into the path of an oncoming crab. It struck Temp with a clink, recoiling only slightly before detouring around the unexpected obstacle.

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

"Sturdy as a rock," he applauded the chair, though Temp offered no reply. Cal knew Temp’s vitality was as strong as Cal’s, so a hit from the crab didn’t leave so much as a scratch.

Cal chuckled at his own antics. "You're not half bad in a scrap," he conceded, patting the chair's cushion.

"Though I reckon you're better suited for strategy than frontline combat." His eyes twinkled with mirth.

The crabs, blissfully oblivious, carried on. Cal's laughter faded into the sound of their large bells.

Cal lunged forward, the knife gleaming in his grip as if thirsty for the skirmish. Bell crabs scattered in a clatter of chimes, their resilience tested by the sudden invader. He swung Temp in an arc, the chair a bludgeoning extension of his own body—a comical yet effective parry to the pincers that snapped at his heels.

"Come on then," he grunted, ducking beneath a swipe from the largest crab. It bore wisdom in its eyes, a glint of understanding that this was no ordinary foe. The chair connected with a resonant toll, sending vibrations through the forest of black trees.

"Resilient little buggers," he muttered, admiring their tenacity despite the absurdity of the situation.

The crabs regrouped, circling Cal with a strategy born of collective intelligence. He pivoted, knife flashing out to catch a limb, a clean slice through chitin. The creature recoiled, bells tolling in distress.

"Sorry, bud," Cal said, without pity.

He spun, Temp colliding with another assailant, the sound echoing like a gong in the cavernous expanse. One by one, the bell crabs fell to the rhythm of Cal's dance—knife and chair in a duet of survival.

Breathless, Cal surveyed the aftermath. Organs lay exposed, pulsating softly with alien vitality. A part of him itched to absorb them. But he shook his head, turning away from the temptation. He still collected them and placed them away in his satchel.

"Useless to me – they are definitely not strength / dexterity" he whispered, though his voice carried a note of regret. Cal's muscles were sore, the adrenaline from the skirmish with the bell crabs still urging him on. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, scanned the shadow-draped forest for signs of more creatures.

Unfortunately, Cal’s adrenaline faded before he found another fight. His wound had opened up, and he felt the pain of his prior battle with the scorpion catch up to his new wounds against the bellcrabs.

Cal discarded the idea of finding another fight and moved with purpose through the thick underbrush. Cal inspected Temp as he walked. Not a scratch on the chair.

The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their bark glistening eerily in the dim light. Cal navigated the terrain with no sense of direction other than away from where he came from. Cal was looking for an exit, but realized he didn’t know why. He knew that even if he found the surface, he was still lost.

The cavern was open, its vastness akin to the outdoor forest above. "There must be a way out," he muttered. But the labyrinth stretched on, an endless puzzle carved into the bowels of the earth.

And so he continued, one foot in front of the other, mapping the cavern by landmarks rather than with Temp’s tracking.”

"It’s quiet today, Temp," he whispered, the sound barely carrying past his lips.

Cal passed by passages that opened up to further below, revealing large underground chambers where bioluminescent fungi and strange creatures painted eerie hues across the craggy surfaces.

The creatures skittered and floated within this alien garden – some with translucent wings, others with carapaces that reflected the glow like living jewels. Cal avoided additional fights now that he had already had his fun.

"Never seen anything like it," Cal murmured, crouching behind a jagged boulder. His gaze followed a creature with tendrils for eyes, watching as it navigated with uncanny precision.

He moved again, each step measured, respectful of the vibrant ecosystem undulating around him. The creatures took little notice, their existence entwined with the beating heart of the cave, indifferent to the interloper in their midst. The underground forest was oddly peaceful, though he was certain predators were lurking in the shadow eating their fill.

A path twisted out like a serpent into an ascent from the wall ahead, and Cal quietly moved to explore. "Path splits," he noted aloud, pausing at a fork. "Left feels right."

Cal's feet carried him forward, his mind alert for the telltale signs of danger or passage to the surface.

A flicker of movement caught Cal's eye—a smudge against the passage’s monochromatic palette. He froze, instincts flaring. A nook, and inside sat a figure, ragged breaths stirring the still air.