Chapter 2: Suspicions

  He jerked to his feet, backing against the wall as soon as he realised he wasn’t alone, pulling loose leather straps over his Brand. Zayne’s sole companion watched the sudden movement without a trace of emotion.

  In front of him, visible only by a single dim lantern that hung from above, stood the strangest old man that he’d ever seen. He was a mess of contradictions. Elegant white hair wrapped around his pallid, streaked scalp, combed to perfection, but his beard was a scraggly mess. His expression was calm, but his fingers were trembling. Zayne didn’t like any of that at all. That either meant he was trying to put on an act, or he was insane.Both of them wore the same thing; a leathery filth-stained cloth that hung loosely over Zayne’s shoulder.

  “Uh, hello?” he managed, after what felt like an eternity.

  The old man responded with a parted grin, revealing jagged gaps of perfect, glistening teeth, with an empty stump where his tongue was supposed to be. An uneasy shiver ran down Zayne’s back.

  Well, this isn’t what I expected. Instead of being plunged into an icy wilderness and forced to fight the Severspawn, he was with a crazy old man in a cramped chamber.

  Zayne took a look around the rest of the room. There wasn’t much to see. Black and brown grime was slathered all over the once pale walls, with dark green fungus growing out of the worst of it. He made a face of disgust, noting the pungent stench that swallowed his nostrils. Even worse than what he was used to.

  At the very edge of the room, their way out was blocked by rusty black bars, a lock slipped around the mechanism that would presumably open the door.

  None of this made any sense, nothing like the stories he had heard. He looked at the old man apprehensively. His upper torso was surprisingly muscular, compared to the spindly thin legs that barely looked like they were holding him up. Another contradiction.

  Surely that meant he was safe. Zayne considered killing the man before he even moved—then caught himself. He didn’t know anything about this place, and was about to murder an old man in cold blood. Sure, the guy looked insane, and was probably a simulation, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “So, are you… Uh, are you here for the treasure?” he honestly didn’t expect a response.

  Remarkably, the old man’s smile widened as he nodded. Pointing at himself and then at Zayne, he hobbled closer to the lock.

  Okay then. It looked like there would be no murder today. Of course, that meant that trust was out of the question, but it wasn’t like he would ever trust someone he just met anyways. He joined the old man, making sure to stay at a distance, but couldn’t help probing for more details.

  “Wait. How did you get here?”

  His eyes widened as the old man turned around, making a clicking noise and turning his hand.

  “A… key?” Zayne tried not to sound spooked.

  The vigorous nod only confirmed his fears. Were there multiple keys at the same time? Or was it the same key, that reappeared at different points? This inheritance only seemed to be posing more and more questions, and he was starting to get worried that he wouldn’t like the answers. Well, first, he would have to escape if he wanted to get anything done. As he moved closer though, he couldn’t help but think back to the three figures that he had conveniently forgotten about. Even if Zayne did manage to get the treasure, there was a chance he would be attacked immediately. And that would suck.

  That was why he needed to win. Hopefully that would allow him to awaken his Virtue.

  He examined the bars closely, pushing against them to see if they would budge. Peering through, all Zayne could see was gloomy darkness. They would have to take the lantern with them. The old man waved in an exaggerated motion, pointing to a section on his side. He mimed shoving against it with all his might, then gestured at his deformed hand.

  “You want me to push don’t you?” Zayne sighed, “Then could you at least move back?”

  As his companion complied with his request, he pressed his hands against the spot that was pointed out and pushed. Nothing happened. He inclined his head, and saw the vigorous gesture, gritting his teeth.

  Stolen story; please report.

  This felt a little too much like slave labour. Sure, the old man couldn’t push, but there was no need for additional gestures. He understood the message perfectly well. Holding his breath, Zayne tensed his still sore muscles and put all his weight against it. Sweat trickled down his face. It felt pointless, like pushing against a brick well, but after far too much effort, he heard a creak.

  The creak eventually gave way to a crumble, and a hole that he could barely fit through opened inside the patchwork of metal.Feeling a brief flash of triumph, Zayne turned around and saw the appraising look on his companion’s face.

  “Wait, you can’t fit through there, can’t you?” he realised.

  The old man nodded, but this time far too reluctantly. Smirking, Zayne reached upwards and grabbed the lantern.

  “Listen, we’ll be stuck together for a little bit, so I’ll try find a key. But first, you’ll have to answer my questions.” he said forcefully.

  In response, he received an open gesture of two palms. Zayne had no clue what that meant, but from the grudging jerk of the head, it was probably a yes.

  Now that he was in a position where he could get what he wanted, he… had nothing to ask. Since he couldn’t understand most of the old man’s gestures, all he could really ask were yes or no questions, and well, he had learned what he could know from those already.

  The old man was a fellow challenger, despite his unorthodox appearance, and had come in with a key just like he had. Where he was from, why he wanted it, well, they couldn’t draw letters out in the filth with their fingers.

  “Any clue about this place? Do you know whose it is?”A shrug was all he got, and Zayne had to assume that was the truth. Sighing at his pitiful attempt to extract information, he gave in. Questions could be answered later.

  He approached the small gap they had made tenderly, clutching the only source of light they had in between his fingers as he attempted to squeeze through. Sharp uneven edges jabbed against the leather, scraping the bottom of his knee as he hissed in pain. But eventually, he made it through. Pulling himself past the bars, Zayne landed with a squelch. Underneath him, the stone ground had terraformed into a viscous, sticky substance that shifted like quicksand.

  The lantern cast its light, and he felt his breath hitch. The filthy floor had broken away, revealing a hollowed, narrow corridor that extended both left and right. None of that was what caught his eye. It was that the entire thing was coloured a palpitating, bloody crimson. Every few seconds, Zayne visibly flinched as he watched a pulse ripple through cuts of what looked like walls of flesh. A beating movement, that trembled through the shifting mass that was the ground, before dissipating into white splotches that desecrated the ceiling.

  Vomit rose to the edge of his throat, horror churning up anything leftover of the food he had eaten. Only then did he finally lose his composure.

  What the fuck?

  It couldn’t be… But there was no other choice other than to accept what he was seeing.

  Clawing and scratching suddenly thrust his gaze behind him, as his heart fluttered in panic. But it was just the old man, whose leering face peered through the hole to take in the horrible sight that awaited them. Zayne focused on the twisted face of his companion, hoping to see at least some semblance of human emotion.

  Instead, he received another grin.

  “How the hell are you smiling? Did you know this from the beginning?” he saw the shaking of the head, and practically snarled.

  No. I need to stay calm. He exhaled sharply, trying to restrain himself, except each time he breathed, he felt the toxic air strengthen its hold over his faltering lungs. Malice slowly replaced his panic, manifesting in a self-deprecating sneer. Why was he scared? Either he got the treasure, or he died. No matter how much they all wanted him dead, he wouldn’t give in.

  Zayne turned back to the two pathways. His lantern flickered, the sudden movements suffocating the flame. Left or right. A decision that could very well decide his life, so he had to make the right decision. Right it is then.

  Carefully treading forward, he tried to keep his pace, but the movement underneath made it incredibly precarious to navigate. There was no way he was going to let himself fall into whatever this thing was, so his movement was slowed to a snails’ pace. Though that was perfectly fine with him. The old man would be left worried, which was what the bastard should be feeling, since he apparently didn’t care about being trapped inside the insides of a leaving creature. Honestly, even if he found the key, leaving that guy behind was the smartest move.

  Trying his best to placate himself with thoughts, he found himself painfully aware of the pounding inside his ribcage, which echoed over the deathly quiet. Not a single other noise disturbed the cave, apart from the heartbeat itself.

  Every single time that happened, Zayne’s own heart skipped a beat, because he had to readjust himself before he tumbled onto the shifting mass ready to swallow him whole. He tried to keep his gaze forward, but it was painfully difficult. He fidgeted, clammy hands holding onto the lantern in a nervous, slippery grip.

  Then, finally, after what felt like hours of painful progress, something emerged from the blackness. Set upon a patch of stone, like an island rising above the ocean, faint etchings were woven onto a blotched column of wood, that towered like a beacon of hope in a silhouette piercing the jaw of the ceiling.

  Despite his misgivings on the Celestials, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief envelop his senses. At least he hadn’t walked all the way for nothing. As he drew closer, Zayne took notice of the silver shrine that lay at the base of the altar, depicting the shape of a valiant figure carrying a spear.

  He pulled himself free from the sticky mass, and fell onto the rock with a sigh. I’m never going to take solid ground for granted again. But still, he wasn’t out of danger yet.

  Zayne clambered upwards towards the shrine. Now that he was much closer, he noticed the decaying age of the sculpture in front of him. Even though it was made of metal, it seemed incredibly fragile, a spiderweb of cracks plastered all over the silver exterior. The eyes and mouth were incredibly detailed, but some of the delicate features looked as though it had been eroded.

  A beaten staff, made of long, black wood, rested by its side. Looks like something the old man could use. He reached to pick it up, only for an inscription barely visible to catch his eye. Kneeling, Zayne was surprised to see he recognised the script.

  As he read what was written, he felt his heart lurch, filled with even more questions than he already was.

  “Welcome, champions. May you find eternal peace.”