The Dread…? He thought.
It was difficult to piece together exactly what was being told to him through the note, but it immediately sent a chill down his spine.
Standing in that room, all he could do now was stare at the doors ahead of him: pitch-black steel, holding no discernable features and almost blending into the wall as if it shouldn't even be considered an entrance in the first place.
It was a place nobody should enter; he could sense that. What laid beyond those doors was an evil so dense, an entity so drenched in malevolence, that the air itself was thin by way of the acknowledgement of its existence.
…Can I do this? He questioned.
Doubt flooded his mind, but after a few moments, he squeezed his fist to reel himself back in, dissipating those intrusive thoughts of anxiety.
It doesn't matter if I can or can't. I don't have any choice but to try, he thought.
There were too many factors still left ambiguous, such as what the "seven tries" meant, and the true nature of the entity lurking in the labyrinth beyond the pitch-black doors.
Still, he knew waiting around wasn't going to get him anywhere, beginning to look around the room at the arsenal of medieval weaponry in search of anything that could be of use to him.
I'd just like my magic back, or at least my Dragonheart system…but I guess that's asking too much, he thought.
Greatswords and claymores weren't going to help him with his current level of physical ability, and a standard bow wasn't all too effective in his hands. Although, a crossbow leaning against the wall did strike him as potentially a fine tool to use.
…Let's give it a shot. Limiting myself solely to close-quarters combat is a quick route to failure, he decided.
Picking up the crossbow made of black metal on the floor, he slid the strap over his shoulder, letting it hang over his back before also picking up the quiver of bolts for it.
"Alright, what else?" He mumbled.
With a sword at his hip and a crossbow on his back, he now set his sights on something that he could defend himself with: a shield. There were quite a few options, ranging from monstrous, gate-like shields akin to what Everett might wield, but that simply wasn't a choice for him.
What caught his eye was a relatively small, but light shield of wood, plated with a layer of steel. It had a handle on the back that allowed him to slip his left arm through, keeping it attached to his left forearm without the need to hold it.
"This'll work," he said, moving his arm to verify that its weight was fine.
What equipment he had didn't feel like enough, but after being so closely intertwined with magic for years, he knew he'd always feel naked without his spells at his disposal. For the time being, this was the best he'd be able to do.
Alright…I guess there's no road left but the one ahead, he thought.
Slowly, he stepped towards the shadow-like doors, stopping before their towering, ominous form.
As he pressed one of his hands against the twin doors, he paused for a moment, slowly sucking air into his lungs as he readied himself.
"War" is beyond these doors–I don't know if it's waiting right there for me or not, but I should prepare myself as if it is, he thought, if it's an entity like Dread…then I really don't stand a chance in the slightest as I am right now. I might as well be an ant trying to fight a tank.
Finally, he decided to go through it despite the nervous thumping of his heart and his trembling fingers, pushing his hand forward as he parted the nebulous doors, releasing dormant dust that infiltrated his lungs.
Just as the doors opened, he raised the small shield attached to his left arm before moving in, hiding behind it for a moment as if expecting an attack.
–Nothing.
He was completely on edge, having to debate with himself just to inch the shield from his face as he gazed at the area he now found himself in after exiting the parted doors.
It was a vast space, with extremely tall walls that seemed to stretch upward for eternity into a blanketed void; the floors were made of black steel that echoed with the smallest of steps.
"Okay…Nothing so far," he mumbled under his breath, somewhat relaxing his guard as he looked around.
There was a distinct smell of tar and mold, like a repugnant mildew invading his nose as he gazed around the abyssal labyrinth; rusted chains clung to walls and bones were scattered along the chamber.
What he found quickly were the three different pathways he could go: forward, left, or right–there was no discernable difference between any path as only darkness could be seen down the corridors.
It really is a labyrinth…I have to find a single, tiny key here? He questioned.
With no coin to flip, he could only settle on whim to decide which direction to go; to him, "forward", or north, felt too obvious–though there was nothing really deeper than superficial guessing to supply him with a direction to go.
"...Left it is," he decided.
Choosing the leftmost hallway, he was surprised to find it quite spacious in its width, though there were chains hanging down from an unseen ceiling, veiling his path like vines hanging from trees. He had to brush these chains out of his way, causing them to smack into each other with noisy "clinks" sounding out through the quiet labyrinth.
The loneliness was something else, though that wasn't quite it; what he experienced was the ambiguity of it—unsure if he was truly alone, or if something was waiting in the depths of the maze. This uncertainty crawled over his skin like a sheet of ice, causing him to be alert of the smallest noises, jumping at the slightest touch of even a chain brushing against his body.
It was a gnawing anxiety; one he could not pray to find his way out of any faster.
I just need to find the key then get out of here, he thought, there's nothing else to it, right? In-and-out. Simple.
He reasoned with himself, knowing that whatever possibly lived in the grimy labyrinth was something better left dormant and away from him. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread creeping up on his body.
As he reached the end of the chain-littered corridor, he found himself in a new room.
"Huh…?"
What he found in the room resembled that of a museum, as if a snapshot of a city had been built in that one, enclosed room; there were brick buildings and stone-paved streets.
The chamber was as large as a standard house, with no ceiling but darkness still, yet there was a faint amount of life from an orange fire burning on the stone walkway.
It was perplexing; though a quick look around found three more corridors to venture down.
As he peeked into one of the windows of the superficial buildings that seemed incomplete and halfway cutoff by the restrictive size of the room, he found a disturbing sight: skeletons sat at tables, sitting in such a way they seemed to be chatting.
They were inanimate, yet there was a disturbing feeling that emitted from the sight.
"What the…" He mumbled.
Sure of it that none of the dust-laden skeletons within the cut-off buildings were moving, he still couldn't shake the unnerving feeling produced by their existence.
The interior of the shattered building looked different from the standard of architecture in Arcadius; beyond that, the furniture, decoration, and items inside seemed quite different as well.
Odd, he thought.
Though part of him was hesitant to, he decided to open the door as the small chime of a bell atop the threshold met his ears, as if it was a normal customer entering an establishment. The reason he decided to check out the partial building was simple: he wasn't going to cut corners in finding the key.
It's already like trying to find a needle in a haystack…If I skip over anything, I'll be here for an eternity, he thought.
Stepping into the abandoned establishment, he felt an odd atmosphere around him as he slowly moved past the skeletons that were sitting at the tables with their bony jaws agape as if in the middle of unheard conversations.
…I wasn't sure of it before, but I am now–this building doesn't fit at all with the era Arcadius is in, he thought, really, what is this?
It might be difficult to tell at first, but through the structure of the quarter-built building and the existence of an old school register and kitchen utensils laid out by the counter that were definitely not of a medieval time, he found the existence of the random building to be mysterious.
Something like this is just randomly sitting in this dark labyrinth…Is it some sort of junkyard? A museum? Ruins? I don't know, he thought.
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