The first thing that assaulted Kane was the smell—not the sweet, earthy scent of a forest, but the damp, mineral tang of cold stone mixed with the saccharine rot of forgotten flowers and a faint, coppery scent of old blood. His foot echoed on the worn steps, a lonely sound in a world built of nothing but echoes. He had been climbing for what felt like an eternity, the narrow staircase spiraling relentlessly downward into a suffocating gloom.
And then, it opened.
It emerged onto a wide, moss-covered platform, and his breath hitched. The air was thick and hazy, an ethereal fog that swallowed the world in shades of funereal gray. The ceiling, if you could call it that, was a swirling mass of bruised clouds far above, so high that they felt like the very roof of the world. And below him, a vertical chasm dropped into a bottomless abyss, a vast, yawning maw of nothingness. This wasn't a city; it was a tomb. An impossible maze of forgotten architecture, suspended in a void.
The structures around him weren't traditional buildings but colossal, interconnected blocks of dark stone, their surfaces covered in glowing, alien runes and creeping, bone-white vines. Bridges of jagged stone and tarnished metal crisscrossed the chasm, some crumbling into dust, others seeming to float without any visible support. Stairways spiraled and zig-zagged, defying all laws of gravity as they connected platforms at impossible angles. It was a metropolis turned on its side, a graveyard of civilization carved into nothingness.
A faint, sickly green light flickered from strange lanterns hung on the walls of the structures, casting a dim glow that did little to pierce the gloom. The light simply created more monstrous shadows, hiding more than it revealed. Somewhere in the distance, a low, guttural hum vibrated through the air, a sound so deep it was felt more than heard, like the slow, labored heartbeat of the place itself. It was the only sound besides the mournful whisper of the wind and the gentle, rhythmic drip of water from unseen sources.
Then he saw it. A small, dark shape flew through the center of the chasm, its wings catching the light. It wasn't a bird, but a small, personal vessel, a bizarre craft moving with a deliberate, haunting speed. It was a sign of life, proof that this bizarre, forgotten world wasn't completely empty. The sight gave him a mix of comfort and profound unease.
Kane leaned against a cold stone pillar, the surface slick with perpetual moisture, his eyes tracing the impossibly woven paths. He could see other small, glowing lights in the distance, maybe from other dwellings or more lanterns. This wasn't a ruin; it was a living, breathing place, albeit a melancholic and strange one. It was a labyrinth that had turned inward, building not outwards or upwards, but deep into the very fabric of its existence. He took a deep breath, the damp air filling his lungs, smelling of dust and sorrow. He was no longer just an explorer. He was now a part of this strange, vertical world, and he had to find out how to navigate it. The stairs behind him were no longer an escape route. They were the path that had led him home.
Linia looked at the impossible landscape, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and horror. "What type of maze is this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "How are we going to clear this?"
Kane's gaze remained fixed on the glowing lights. He exhaled slowly, a faint cloud of vapor visible in the frigid air. "Maybe one of the glowing lights is our exit."
Missy's voice echoed in his mind, its tone a mix of weary complaint and simple practicality. "Seriously? How many do we need to check?"
Kane sighed, a sound of hopeless resignation. "We have no choice. We need to check everything." He took a step toward one of the stairways, but stopped when Linia spoke again.
"So, you know the runic language, huh?" she asked, a strange curiosity in her voice.
Kane turned to her. "Yeah, I learned it in the Wilderness Survival training. It's standard for most ancient ruins."
As they began their descent down one of the zigzagging staircases, Linia's curiosity seemed to grow. She went to a nearby wall, one covered in intricate, spiraling patterns, and scratched a set of symbols into the moss. "Tell me what I'm about to write, then?"
Kane looked at the symbols she had etched. They were unlike anything he had ever seen, a script of elegant, fluid lines that seemed to dance on the stone. He shook his head. "No, I haven't heard of these symbols. What language is it?"
Linia blinked, a flicker of genuine shock on her face. "Seriously? You've never heard of this?" She turned away, her thoughts a closed book. 'It seems he's never heard about Ancient Feysac. How is that possible?'
Kane, intrigued but not bothered by her sudden silence, tried to discern the symbols' meaning. They were alien to him, a script from a forgotten epoch. "Where did you learn this language?" he asked.
Linia's expression became awkward, as if she'd been caught in a lie. "I… I learned it from… my… my hometown." She quickly changed the subject, not bothering to elaborate. Kane, sensing her discomfort, didn't press the issue.
They continued their climb down, reaching a glowing light that was at least a dozen stairways away. It was a cathedral, made out of a strange black stone with an intricacy of design that defied human engineering. The light was coming from inside the temple, a faint, hypnotic glow. Kane and Linia looked at each other, a silent agreement passing between them, and nodded.
They pushed the heavy door. When it opened, a sight both beautiful and terrifying met their eyes. A huge golden symbol, shaped like a flowing river in a perfect loop with no end nor beginning, was etched onto the far wall. The whole design seemed to represent an eternal cycle, a torment with no escape. Below the symbol, an armor was pinned on an altar. It was a pure black color, its plates appearing to be charred. But as Kane saw the armor, a strange, possessive compulsion took hold of him.
"Hey," he said to Linia, his voice strangely strained. "I'll get the armor. Watch my back."
Linia nodded, a subtle unease on her face, but she held her ground. Kane went to the altar and touched the armor. As his fingers made contact with the plates, he felt a strange, jarring roughness. It wasn't metal; it was wood. He was shocked. He had never heard of armor being made of black wood. He had no time to ponder this, because the plate immediately reacted.
The armor covered his arm, not by fitting over it, but by seeping through his skin. An agonizing, fiery cold consumed his limb. Kane screamed in pain. Suddenly, the golden river on the wall melted, a shimmering liquid gold separating from the stone and flowing toward him like a living thing.
The armor slowly, horrifyingly, seeped through him, covering his entire body. Kane's skin began to peel off, sloughing away in sheets like a monster shedding its hide. He tried to call out to Linia, but his vision was blurring from the pain. He saw her for a moment, an ethereal, unmoving figure, then realized she had been knocked out cold by an unseen force. He desperately summoned Missy and commanded her to help him, but she was violently repelled. Her form was thrown against the wall, a sickening splat of light, before she was smashed against the stone and vanished, her light flickering out.
Kane's head was forced upwards, unable to move, unable to see the fight, but he could hear the faint sounds of clashes in the distance. The golden river reached him, an intelligent, viscous current. It coiled around him, then poured down his throat, choking him, a hot, liquid metal flowing into his very being. His face was covered in a golden mask, suffocating him. He writhed on the floor, his body convulsing in unspeakable agony.
Then, his skin ripped open, sloughing off in ribbons and floating in the air, revealing the raw, exposed musculature beneath. "RAAAAAAH!" Kane's scream was a raw, tearing sound. It was an agony worse than hell itself. He wished for death, but somehow, he endured the pain, a primal will to survive pushing him forward. The skin that had floated in the air began to attach itself back to his body, merging with the black wood of the armor. It was a grotesque mockery of healing. The flesh reattached with a wet, sucking sound, and the armor plates sealed themselves to his new skin with a sickening pop.
Kane's body went limp, his consciousness fading as the pain finally became too much to bear. In his last moments of awareness, he heard a voice from the Spell, a cold, unfeeling announcement.
[You have received a new Attribute...]
[You have received a new Attribute...]
===================================
How was the chapter?
1.Peak
2.Good
3.Meh
4.Worst