Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
I am finally back on the first floor. The corridors are much the same as the lower floors, but they feel familiar to me nonetheless. As I pass through them, I come across little challenges. Something tells me that other people have cleared them already, creating an eerily empty place lit by faint torchlight.
The silence weighs on me. In the absence of immediate danger, the events at Dylan's camp flood back—Adaran's face as my blood shards pierced his throat, Melanie's rage, Riselle's tears. I push these thoughts away. I cannot change what happened, but I can focus on what lies ahead.
It is not long before I pass the goblin camp, which is still filled with goblins, and like before, I stay away from it. Finally, I come to the corridor where I experienced my first death. The memories are vivid—pain, fear, and failure.
The giant rat is still there, and warily, I draw my katana. The crimson river in my Domain stirs with anticipation. I approach the rat, which senses my presence immediately. It turns and hisses at me, the sound filled with clear menace, its red eyes glittering like angry orbs of hate.
It charges me, mouth open, teeth glittering, dangerously sharp. I wait until the last second and flow around it, slicing into its side, causing blood to spurt from it in a wave. The scent of iron fills the air, and that strange thirst tickles the back of my throat. I ignore it, focusing on the fight.
As I near the end of my movement, I slash downward, cutting off the rat's tail. It squeals loudly in pain; the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. I immediately turn, a good thing too, because the rat whips around, blood flying from the bloody stump of its tail. Its giant clawed paw tries to slash me, but I dive underneath it, come up, and slash forward with speed, cutting open the rat's chest.
It squeaks and heaves but is not dead yet.
You have critically injured the giant rat.
It tries to flee then, its squeaking high-pitched and desperate, but I will not allow it to escape. I hurtle forward, blade high, and slash diagonally downward like an avenging angel. The blade bites into the back of the rat and cuts through it as if I were slicing off a piece of ham.
Blood fountains, the rat squeaks a final time, and its body, slashed and bloody, drops to the ground like a sack of rotting meat.
You have defeated a giant rat level 9. Your katana skill has increased to level 12.
There is no increase in level, causing me to blow out a breath in disappointment, but I have been stronger than the rat. In fact, this encounter has been significantly easier than before. The more my katana skills increase, the better swordsman I become.
Yet, ever since Dylan told me that I was lacking in it, I have worried over his words. I had not had much time to consider it at the time, but once the danger passed, that seed bloomed. If I acknowledge the truth, I feel like Dylan is right. The skill clearly works for me; there is nothing wrong with it, but there is something wrong with me in the sense that I do not or cannot connect with the blade on a deeper level.
I laugh; the skill had literally come from the very manifestation of my spirit, from my Domain, and yet it does not feel like a part of me. I do not like getting lost in introspection, but I feel it is important to identify this about myself because it could very well cost me my life.
As I stare at the katana, gleaming with rat's blood, I realize something. When I craft my blood shard bombs, I feel a connection to them—to the blood aspect of my Domain. The destruction aspect feels familiar too, resonating with something deep inside me. But the sword...
Is it simply that I have no natural affinity for swordplay? Or is there something deeper? Some part of my forgotten past that recoils from the violence of a blade?
I shake my head and turn my focus towards the puzzle. I still have not solved it. Moving these pillars caused that rat to appear, and logic dictates that more creatures would appear if I get it wrong. Yet I have no choice but to try. I ponder and look at the symbols. A rat, a monkey, and a serpent.
I rub my chin, my eyes narrowing. The pattern seems familiar somehow, but I cannot place it. I try moving the pillar in the middle toward the monkey.
That is a mistake. Another flash of light, and suddenly a robed monkey appears. The robes are a deep silver gray and have a deep hood that is pulled up. I can still see into it, however, and the monkey's aged face stares at me, blue eyes ablaze with azure rage. The monkey has a flowing white beard falling into the robe, and it holds a gnarled staff in one hand. I analyze it.
This is a monkey mage level 12.
I ready my katana as the monkey flings a ball of silver, white, and blue flames my way. I cut into it with my katana, and the weaves burst apart as my blade slices through them.
Your enchanting skill has increased to Journeyman Level 5!
I grin; my blade's enchantment works! The spell-destruction aspect of the enchantment proves its worth. The monkey mage's eyes narrow, and it begins to run, bouncing over my head and twisting; its tail curled into itself. Its gnarled staff glows with silvery white light, smoke curling from it as it hurls another ball of fire at me in midair.
I twist and roll away. The fire detonates, an explosion of flame blasting outward. I raise my katana to a guard position, and it cuts through some of the magical fire, bursting the weaves apart. However, I cannot slash through all of the weaves, and a tiny bit of the fire licks my left arm.
I howl as my flesh burns, leaving an angry pink and singed patch of skin. Pain lances through my arm like hot lightning, and I hiss, my eyes watering. I grip my sword tighter and grit my teeth through the pain. It is not that bad, I tell myself. It is not, really. The monkey mage laughs at me, its lips parting over white teeth.
The crimson river in my Domain surges, responding to my pain and anger. I feel it reaching toward the wound, as if trying to soothe it. The sensation is strange but not unwelcome.
I hurtle towards the monkey, my hands tightening around the hilt of the katana blade, my vision tunneling. Just me and the monkey. It tries to hop over me again, but I am ready and raise my blade high, slashing through the air like trying to cut the very sky. The blade cuts off the monkey's left leg, taking some of the fabric of its robes with it. Blood rains down on me—a crimson shower. The monkey howls, crashing into the ground and clutching at its foot.
You have critically injured the monkey mage.
I let out a determined huff and ready my blade to finish the fight, but the monkey mage is suddenly suffused with golden yellow light, and before my very eyes, its leg is whole again. My mouth falls open, and my eyes widen. I step back, shaking my head. It has healed itself.
As of yet, I have not seen anything, creature or person, do that. I know that health potions exist; that is just obvious, but I have yet to see a single one. Yet this monkey has used weaves—healing weaves—to weave a spell that not only heals itself but also restores a leg!
Has the weave been granted by the Judge, or has it been a part of its Domain originally? I shake my head; those thoughts are unhelpful right now. I flow forward, moving like water and striking like a serpent, attempting to vivisect the monkey.
The monkey mage rolls away, and my deadly slash meets open air. The monkey has picked up its staff as it rolled, and now it is weaving again. The spell is a large one, as the flames had been nearly instant, and this weave clearly is not. I lunge forward, trying to distract the monkey and disrupt its spell.
It is not having it, however, and hops onto the wall at a run, dashing past me and landing behind me. I scowl, turning around to try again.
The monkey finishes its weave, and a wave of golden light touched with silvery blue fire rushes towards me like an oncoming tide. I feel a hand squeeze my heart; my pulse quickens, but I act with decisive speed, dropping low and slashing horizontally. I destroy nearly the whole weave, unraveling it as if I had lit it on fire, but yet again, I cannot entirely get rid of the weave.
I am blasted back with force, slamming into the wall at a weird angle. I drop to the ground; my arm burns worse than before, and when I look at it, a bone juts out of my forearm as if it had been stabbed through from the inside. My stomach lurches at the sight.
My whole body shakes, and my breathing comes in haggard, labored breaths. The pain is rocking my world. The monkey stalks toward me, eyes glinting with undisguised satisfaction. Dangerous light and silver flames begin to weave together, forming a beautiful pattern of impending death.
The crimson river in my Domain writhes, and the destruction aspect pulses with urgency. I reach into my bag of holding, fingers finding one of my remaining blood shard bombs. I grin at the monkey and laugh, my eyes narrowing.
The monkey eyes the orb, and its eyes widen. It tries to back away, but it is not fast enough.
"This monkey business is over," I say, and fling the bomb at its feet.
It smashes with a crack and shattering glass. Crimson shards blast outward, a cyclone of bloody crimson death that stab into the monkey and sink into its flesh. For the first time, I see the truly devastating effects up close.
The monkey vibrates, its eyes going dead and widening as blood begins to leak from its eyes. That is not all; blood bursts from the monkey like a crushed leech, and its body begins to pale as all of its lifeblood bursts and bleeds from it. It falls to the ground, lifeless.
You have defeated a monkey mage level 12. Your katana skill has increased to level 14. Your enchanting skill has increased to Journeyman Level 6.
I slump against the wall, completely spent. My body refuses to move any longer, and the pain that wracks through me is simply too much to bear. The bone jutting from my arm sends waves of agony through me with each heartbeat.
It is no surprise, then, when darkness takes me.
I do not die. So there is that, at least. The pain is still immense, but I am awake. Groggy, eyes blurry, mind foggy, but awake. My katana lies by my side. I reach up with my right hand and gingerly touch the bone that juts out of my left arm. That is a mistake, as pain pulses, angrily letting me know what a bad idea that was. I hiss and take several breaths.
You are critically wounded. You are bleeding.
I laugh at the Judge's message. A way to state the obvious. I take off my vest and tear it into a long piece of cloth. I carefully, ever so slowly, wrap it around my arm. It is still incredibly painful, throbbing with constant, burning fire, but I methodically push through it, wrapping it as tightly as I can.
When it is done, I look at the ceiling and simply breathe. In and out, steady and calm. The crimson river in my Domain seems to flow toward the injury, and I wonder again at the strange connection between my blood aspect and my physical blood.
It helps, if slightly. I regard the pillars. I do not understand why I cannot get it right. I know I cannot afford another battle. I am near death as it is, and now I cannot grip the katana with two hands. I have four more blood bombs, so I feel like I could kill anything else that appears if I use them instantly.
Yet I cannot keep relying on them; eventually something will be too powerful, or it will not do the job. If that demonic abomination had not been wounded by so many people trying their absolute hardest to kill it, I do not think it would have worked on it as effectively as it did.
Rat, monkey, or serpent. It has to be in order, so what is the problem? I blink; my thoughts are sluggish, and in my mind's eye, I feel like I am watching a hamster move on a wheel. It is lazy and fat, but it is moving, and it picks up speed.
My mother's voice echoes in memory: "Remember the old Chinese zodiac story? The rat rode on the ox to win the race, the tiger came third, then rabbit, dragon, snake..."
A light bulb goes off, and I hurriedly stand up, ignoring the stabs of pain. I rush to the far-left statue and move it to the rat. It clicks, the noise ringing around the room like a victory bell. Then I move the far right stone to the serpent, since the monkey is still in the middle.
The moment I do, it clicks, and a rumbling splits the air—a grinding of stone on stone as the wall lifts up towards the ceiling. It stops until only a tiny part of it inches out from the ceiling.
I laugh, my heart soaring and my brain bursting with relief. I have done it! I have finally solved the blasted puzzle!
I look down the corridor the wall has revealed, and the glint of a chest catches my eye.
But that is nothing compared to the engraved fang I see right above it.
The mark of the fang. The entrance to Lazarus's tomb. Despite my pain, despite my critical injury, I feel a surge of excitement. The crimson river in my Domain surges forward, as if eager to proceed, to discover what lies within.
I step forward, one hand clutching my injured arm, wondering what secrets await me in the depths of Lazarus's tomb, and whether I will emerge from it alive.