***
After traversing through the steep and uneven terrains of the long cave tunnels, Vicheam, alongside his new friend 'Salt', had arrived at an enclosed makeshift camp. Before being chased and originally 'killed,' he'd set up camp.
Salt turned its eye around, taking great notice of the enclosed stone walls — It wasn't the ideal place to sleep, but it worked; the last thing you'd want was monsters or eldritch to see foreign things with the scent of humans inside their homes and cause havoc.
"It's just temporarily...".
Vicheam knelt towards a large leather sack resting under his makeshift bed; fortunately, the supplies he needed to continue traveling were still intact. There was a small feeling in him that made him think it was gone, knowing his recent luck had been a total mess.
Salt turned closer towards the bag, curious to see what was contained.
"Everything... Clothes, books, food..." After confirming everything, he grabbed it and equipped it on his back. He began walking towards the exit. Salt turned its eye back and forth between him and the camp, visibly confused.
No, it was completely drenched in water from droplets from the cave ceiling, the material was a total mess too, and carrying it would ruin everything else within the sack. After sliding through a thin gap, he made it to the main part of the cave.
Vicheam grabbed a lantern from the sack before lighting it with flint and steel. He had made it to the camp with his sense of direction intact, having traveled for years through caves; he was bound to have an exceptional directional sense. For what felt like hours of walking, he continued to traverse unfamiliar terrain upwards — the only sound he could hear was his own steps, squeaking bats, and the bombarding questions from Salt.
He didn't listen in too much, mostly focused on the path ahead, though Vicheam would lie to himself if he didn't feel less lonely. Having someone to listen to and speak with was a drastic change from recent years of being alone.
Vicheam happened to recall old memories of his friend, the ways she had always made him feel worthy and reliable, which made his body warm and even formed a temporary smile on his usually silent facade.
Vicheam continued walking the steep path before answering.
"It belonged to my friend before she passed away. It's something we discovered together; the key itself might not be valuable, but it's a testament of our journey and the time we spent together".
The distant memories kept coming; Esira, she had been Vicheam's travelling buddy since the climbing began, she was a strong and reliable woman that even Vicheam had a hard time catching up with. He would lie if he didn't envy her swordsmanship; the way her fluid movements had always been captivating was stuck inside his mind.
The question had caught him off guard, and for just a second, he'd forgotten it.
It wasn't until a second later that it came back to him.
"Oh... She had black hair-".
Then it happened again; he'd forgotten again.
"...".
Vicheam stopped in his tracks, a moment of silence following right after. Trying to recall her appearance, confusion began washing over him. All of a sudden, it felt like he had been struck with an anvil on his head. He could remember her voice and her movements, but for some reason, not her face.
"...It must've been a long time since I last saw her... that's why I can't remember".
It's been many years since he last saw her; usually, that time wouldn't make him forget her at all. At first, he believed that it was the mountain Rodan playing mind tricks on him — after all, who knows what type of insanity the mountain is capable of.
After a while, he ignored it, telling Salt.
"I might not remember her, but she was beautiful".
Salt's head was now piqued towards a ruined gate. Around the ancient door were old engravings picturing what looked like humans worshipping stars above them. He grabbed Salt by its neck, gesturing for it to be more cautious.
"...That's our next step to the 100th hill".
Vicheam said before his hand went into his leather sack.
<100th hill? What's that?>
"If you don't know, this world of ours is mainly formed by a mountain, it's been called Rodan, and for centuries, everyone who has climbed it has never returned; some say its peak can even reach the stars themselves".
Vicheam found the thing he looked for — A red chalk.
"It has levels to it too, until now I've counted about 99 hills from the beginning of my journey, every hill has its own distinct world to it. Usually, it takes me a month or two to enter the next hill,
He approached the gate even closer, pressing the red chalk on the frame of the stone gate, writing a number by crushing its end.
<100th hill>
"Each hill might be different, but they always have the same thing going on for them, chaos and their own unique sets of mysteries".
Looking through the contents of the bag, Vicheam prepared what he thought would work: a rope with a hook tied at its end. He settled it on his left shoulder he turned his head to glance at Salt. Every hill must be conquered and every hill must be climbed, which explains the rope.
"If you have any secret powers, Salt, you can share them now if you want".
Salt thought about it, looking up to the air.
"Alright, let's head out...".
Vicheam pushed the stone door back, the bottom gnashing against the floor as it had almost outgrown the door itself. With every fiber in his muscles — he managed to open it. A sudden fog appeared; there was nothing but a thick cloud ahead, and the mist began settling down around his feet.
"...It's cold...".
Without a second thought, Vicheam unsheathed his sword before taking another step into the fog. Being cautious and self-aware was everything he needed to make it past the mist, hopefully.
***
The further he walked in the colder it became; the mist served as a blockade for his view. His thin clothes were of the tiniest help. His steps were silent, and his eyes darted slowly and observantly around him. Having experienced monsters jumping from nowhere, this served as a reminder.
The floor was flat, at first sight, it was man-made, which would mean a part of humanity had been there. Out of nowhere, Vicheam was reminded of the big mystery surrounding the world mountain; he had seen a man-made structure after reaching the 50th hill years ago, and there was no explanation except for engravings or old stories of an ancient civilization.
Remembering Lorenzo and the men who had chased him previously, the ancient civilization might as well be true.
The walk was silent until Vicheam felt his foot stumble upon something. Looking down, his eyes widened in shock. There was a dead man. It wasn't unfamiliar either; he bore the crest of the Lorenzo guy, kneeling, inspecting it was likely recent too.
The skin was still intact, and just a few maggots had settled on his body, though what bothered Vicheam the most was his eyes; they were purely white, like his soul had been drained almost.
Salt spoke up, staring intently at the path ahead. The mist had made room for more view; there were more dead soldiers, looking at everyone, they all had the same feature, white, pure eyes. It wasn't until Vicheam continued walking and found one last person with a gigantic hole in his chest — like he'd been pierced by a large stalactite.
Something didn't sit right with him; it was not a human who did this. Vicheam took a deep breath. Only a cursed one would be able to do something like this.
"....".
It was silent, and mist began settling on top of the body, making it slowly disappear again. His body froze — like his mind gave him a warning. It wasn't until Salt began to speak up again, his telepathic voice hammering his head in the midst of silence.
Salt was looking 180 behind, serving as a third eye almost.
He let out a whisper, not capable of raising his voice.
"...You can see it?"
<...Yes... It's looking at us like we're dinner>
Vicheam had only one idea in mind: to run away, hoping to find the exit of the mist. Learning that Salt could see beneath the fog was definitely an advantage.
"What does it look like?"
Vicheam asked, still not having moved from his knelt position.
<...It's big, 5 meters almost, it has 4 hands, two of which are some sort of blade>
Oh shit, Salt knows how to use the metric system? For some reason that surprised Vicheam, even in a bad moment like this. Recalling the situation, Vicheam called for his rules(If you ever encounter an eldritch, make a run for it).
Before Salt could speak again, Vicheam firmly planted his foot on the ground before dashing in full speed ahead. He flew past the bodies, and the mist was against him, making it harder to breathe as he ran.
"I'm running for my life!? What else do you want me to do?!" Vicheam shouted, panicking.
Salt glanced at his sword and back to his face, visibly baffled by his decision.
"Those were probably against normal monsters!? Eldritch is an entirely different story!"
As Vicheam continued to run, he came across a boulder that had seemingly fallen from the sky. It was obvious from the crushed ground beneath them, then again, there were destroyed planks across the floor, skeletons, weapons... Has a war happened here!?
He heard the rumbling on the ground, for every second going past, the pebbles he ran past jumped into the air for a measly second. It wasn't just a slow pace; it was actually chasing him.
"I'll fight it if I can't find the exit within the next 3 minutes!-"
Suddenly, Vicheam's body felt the sudden instinct to duck. Once he did, a gigantic drill held by a red fleshed tentacle of some kind hovered just a few centimeters above his head — Its intention obvious.
"What the fuck...".
He muttered to himself before continuing to run. After a while of nothing, he came across a flat mountain wall. He could feel the rumbling getting closer, and without a second thought, Vicheam threw the roped hook onto a cliff hedge. He ran up the wall, dodging a second attack that drilled straight through the wall beneath.
Getting the right angle, Vicheam detached it before forcefully attaching it again to his right side. He began to run alongside the steep wall and still felt the eldritch creature hunting him down.
—Crush!!—
The wall shook for a second and forced Vicheam to jump off the wall. He got a glance of its head, a round bald head made up from uneven fleshing. Yes, it's definitely an eldritch.
Vicheam held his sword tightly, trying to sneak in a slash from above. With precise control and loading the strength in his arm, he sent it down with a swift motion.
—Slash!—