More and more, he felt as though he was walking along a path set for him–the thought of which filled him with an anxiety similar to the gaze of Primordials. As he looked up towards the hole in the ivory ceiling, he placed it together.
'Those two who attacked me before…They said they were a part of the Children of Chaos. More than that, I wasn't sent here for no reason, was I?...There is nothing random about it. Was I supposed to find this? Is there something in Ennage they are hoping I encounter?' He considered.
It went without saying that the last thing he wanted to do was appease the goals of the dreadful duo that had assaulted his home. This theory of his unwanted transport to Ennage loomed over him as he explored the interior of the nebulous skull.
There was undoubtedly something dreadful about the domain within the old, colossal skull; the weird markings that were unintelligible to him as he passed by pillars of weathered stone, and the skeletons that laid in death.
"--"
Approaching a corner of the mountainous skull were a series of carvings had been etched into the aged ivory, he found himself able to somewhat recognize the symbols; robed figures, fire–an abundance of fire that ate away at civilization, and in the middle of it–
'What is that…? How?' He thought.
In the middle of the cultist carvings was one figure that made his stomach sink: a draconic man that bore the flames that ate away at everything around it. Around the draconic figure were shrouded figures–inhuman and enigmatic, seeming to arrive after the destructive flames had been released.
There was no doubt by the weathering of the material and the age of the carvings that they were decades old, perhaps even centuries, yet he knew without a doubt who that draconic figure represented. Even if he wanted to deny it, try to rationalize a different possibility, he knew that the thought plaguing his mind was the truth.
It was him.
'Why am I written here…? How would they even know about me? What does this mean?' He questioned.
All of it was far too much to take in or even to try to begin to understand, leaving him backing away as he got a larger perspective on the entirety of that wall: the carvings of flames were everywhere; represented through the etchings were entire cities burning away, countless people being swarmed by the blaze, eaten by it–utter desolation.
'No…I would never do something like this. It's wrong. It has to be,' he thought.
Though he knew internally that something like that was possible. It was a lie to himself to try and believe otherwise. As he attempted to assure himself, the memory played on repeat of his mind at the own backlash of his powers: that image of holding his dying mother in his arms.
'...Am I capable of something like this? This much destruction…Is this what the Dragonheart is? I can't let it out, then. I won't. Not until I know for sure…not until I know I can prevent this,' he decided, 'Seeing something like this…The chances of it. It's not random. It's not a coincidence. Something is guiding me…Is the path I'm walking predetermined, or am I following the wishes of something I can't perceive?'
What he stumbled upon could not be a mistake or coincidence, yet as he stood there in shock at the information etched into the interior of the giant skull, "something" else made itself known in the mysterious area with him.
Each step through the dimly-lit, ivory lair echoed against his ears, finding it to come from the portion up ahead he had yet to check. He kept his hand by his sword, moving back to the center of the unorthodox tunnel.
'Is this the one that Gavill warned me about? The person with a signature of a System?...I don't have a good feeling about this,' he thought, readying himself.
As he stood his ground in the face of the nebulous steps, watching the path of abundant darkness up ahead that his sight could not pierce through, the echoing of steps came to a stop. It was unnerving to have the singular sense he relied on in the unknown, foreign situation be suddenly swept away.
"Salamander," he whispered.
Invoking the fiery-red lesser spirit, he brought upon a layer of light that surpassed the dim, almost useless torches. As the reddish illumination of the lesser spirit stretched itself forth, bringing clarity to his sense of sight, he found–nothing.
Just as he let out a breath of relief–
"Ngh!"
Before he could draw his sword, he was tackled from the left, lunging at and grabbed onto by something unknown. Before he knew it, he was slammed against one of the ivory walls, pushing back against whatever it was that had tackled him.
"Y-y-y-y-you!"
Stammering out a hiss of a word, what spoke to him was a robed figure, large and disfigured with a face of old, wrinkled skin, seeming beyond the normal lifespan of a being. The horned figure already seemed like a walking corpse; sunken in, unseen eyes and non-existent lips that frantically stuttered.
"What the hell do you want…?!" Emilio asked.
"I-i-i-it's you…!"
The maddened figure clenched his arms tightly, shaking their head side-to-side rapidly as they continued stammering out unintelligible sounds. Having enough, Emilio pushed the robed figure back without any restraint, forcibly sending them flying across the tunnel.
"Get away–!"
Though he wanted to ask questions, considering those robes were the same as the dead worshipers laid out throughout the area, the push itself seemed to take any possibility of that away.
CRACK
As the wrinkled, horned figure was knocked against the other side of the tunnel, their body went limp and frantically whispered left their lips before–silence.
"--"
Emilio carefully walked over, trying not to be suddenly grabbed onto again as he knelt down, checking on the enigmatic figure. There was no mistaking it as he poked at their body:
'They're dead…Was this who Gavill warned me about? No, that can't be. A Reincarnator couldn't die that easily,' He thought.
The discovery of the mountainous skull came with far more than he could have ever predicted to find, though all he wanted now was to find the exit on the other end. Even for him, through the nightmarish bounds he explored, the enigmatic lair he found himself in was a place he did not want to stay; the echoes of noises unknown, the old, robed skeletons that littered the place, and the dreadful atmosphere of it all.
Yet, beyond all of the unknown oddities of the deathly place, it somehow felt as though the place was alive; as if it expected him.
'I need to get out of here. I feel like the longer I stay here…the more my brain gets tied into knots,' he thought.
Forcing himself to continue onward as each step of his boots echoed off of the ancient, ivory walls, the tunnel of darkness didn't reveal a light at the end of the path; there was not an exit through the neighboring mountains as he had expected.
"--" He looked at what laid beyond.
There was a wide, ominous descent of stairs that led downward into an area he couldn't perceive through the gathering of shadows, even with the glow of Salamander beside him. When thinking rationally, the first thought that came to his mind was the obvious danger that could dwell in such unknown.
Yet, again, he felt an odd force that almost tugged at his own will; gnawing at the boundless curiosity that dwelled on his mind with the intrigue of enigma alluring him. There were questions he needed answered; the faceless statue, the dead worshipers, and the carvings that represented the Dragonheart.
'What will I find down here…? Just what is all of this?' He questioned.
The cold air brushed against his fingertips as he stood there, questioning what he should do before finding the allure of his questions and curiosities being answered guiding his feet to descend the stairs.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Every step he took echoed greatly, traveling down the dark steps as even the light of Salamander was swallowed by the deep, foreboding darkness. He cast the lesser spirit away, opting not to risk giving himself away as he descended.
It was a long descent; the stairs numbered likely in the hundreds. For a moment, he stopped, looking back as he couldn't see the start of the stairs from which he came–only darkness behind him, just as there was in front.
The air was thin, interlaced with a darkness that crept on the back of his throat like the bitter taste of coal.
It was this lack of light that was so abundant and overbearing that he didn't realize he reached the bottom level of the stairs before his boots stepped down upon something new–a shallow puddle that splashes upon his arrival.
"Huh?"
As if a mist parted itself, the bountiful darkness left as he arrived at the bottom of the nebulous stairs, revealing where he had arrived: there was a vast, seemingly boundless, shallow sea that was no higher than a few inches.
This content is taken from freewebnove(l).com