12~ Secrets, can’t keep ’em anymore?
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The ancient iron gate, worn with years of neglect, creaked and groaned as it reluctantly slid open, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard. Its gears and tracks protested with every movement, but it still functioned. As Dillin stepped through the archway, he noticed the air around him grow chillier, a sense of desolation seeping into his bones. Beyond the iron gate stretched a straight corridor, its two ends lined with stone walls that curved inward. Set into these recesses were glowing candles, their flames flickering eternally without ever burning out. Dillin squinted, curious about the material keeping those candles lit, but figured it was probably some arcane sorcery at work.
The instant the door swung open, a putrid stench washed over them, so foul it made Princess Filisia wrinkle her nose in disgust.
“Ugh, this smell is like… someone dumped a dead body into a pool, filled it with water, and then let it rot for a week!” she gagged, her tone a mix of revulsion and disbelief.
“How can something smell THIS bad?” Dillin exclaimed, clamping his hand over his mouth and nose as he trailed behind Filisia, slinking forward like an awkward reptile.
Each step deeper into the corridor only intensified the stench. Along the walls, various doors hinted at rooms within, and from these came the origin of that unbearable odor. Filisia exchanged a glance with Dillin, then cautiously peeked inside one of the rooms.
In the pitch-black interior, visibility was zero. But the stench lingered, heavy and oppressive. Summoning her courage, Dillin entered the room, holding up a pistol rigged with a flare mechanism. A pale glow illuminated the room, revealing… horrors beyond imagining.
The walls were lined with vats filled with a sickly green liquid, inside which floated what appeared to be human organs. Some still appeared to be twitching faintly. The bl**d had been drained away, leaving behind tissues bloated with decay, emitting a nauseating aroma that sent Dillin reeling.
“Gah… gahk!” Dillin retched violently, his body heaving as he tried and failed to breathe through the miasma. Filisia acted quickly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out before slamming the door shut.
Once outside, she gently patted his back, helping him regain his composure. “Calm down, Dillin,” she said, though her own face betrayed a flicker of unease.
“What… what IS this place?” Dillin wheezed, his voice hoarse from the strain.
Filisia shook her head, leaning against her massive sword. “Could this be a Demon Race laboratory meant to dissect the Light Races?”
“Possibly,” Dillin muttered, “but wouldn’t the Demon Race use their own language, rather than Common?”
“They might,” Filisia agreed. “And besides, creatures like Orcs or Goblins lack the intelligence to construct something like this. The builders must be more sophisticated—but intelligent Demon Races usually dwell in the fertile central regions, not here in the wilderness. Of course, they could’ve commissioned someone else clandestinely…”
Questions piled upon questions as they ventured further into the labyrinthine passage. The exit they’d entered through had vanished, the flickering candlelight now barely cutting through the oppressive darkness. Each step forward felt heavier, the ceiling looming lower, as if threatening to cave in at any moment.
As Filisia systematically checked each room, she found similar horrors—a grotesque array of organs preserved in unnatural fluids. The silence was broken only by Dillin’s soft footsteps and the rhythmic clatter of Filisia’s heels against the stone floor.
Suddenly, the oppressive darkness was pierced by the faint glow of a candle far ahead. Had they reached the end at last?
“There’s something there,” Dillin announced, peering ahead. At the very end of the corridor, there was a single flickering candle mounted on the wall. Beneath it stood an old, unassuming wooden chest.
“Something feels wrong about this,” Dillin whispered, though he approached cautiously nonetheless.
Filisia raised her massive sword and nudged the chest open with its tip. Inside lay an ancient leather-bound notebook, its cover worn and battered by time.
Dillin and Filisia exchanged a wary glance before cautiously inspecting the book. To ensure safety, they sprayed it with a vial of alchemical mist, ensuring no hidden traps would spring to life. Satisfied, Dillin flipped through the pages… which turned out to be completely blank.
“Huh? Is this thing useless?” Dillin muttered, disappointment clouding his expression.
But as he reached the back pages, something glinted—a small, nearly invisible label in the middle of the notebook. Intrigued, Dillin activated his Divine Analysis Technique, revealing yellow-painted letters forming a single sentence:
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
Before they could react, flames erupted from the label, engulfing the notebook in sudden fire. It dropped to the ground, leaving Dillin stunned.
BOOM!
The floor shook violently, throwing Dillin off balance. Filisia grabbed him just in time, preventing him from face-planting.
“What’s happening?” Dillin shouted over the rumbling, clutching his chest as his heart pounded in terror.
Above them, the walls groaned and creaked as though some monstrous presence had begun hammering away at the tunnel from the outside. A massive crash signaled something massive slamming into the iron gate behind them, sending tremors through the corridor.
“Get down!” Filisia ordered, shielding Dillin as debris rained down. The vibrations ceased abruptly, replaced by slow, deliberate thuds—like the footsteps of a titan approaching.
They came from behind.
Filisia spun around, her gaze sharp and determined. Whatever awaited them, she stood ready, her sword held high before her. In that moment, a single thought crossed her mind:
If only Tillysha were here…
A voice from memory chimed in: “Why doesn’t Miss Filisia learn to rely on others? She acts so independently all the time…”
Filisia dismissed the thought, focusing entirely on the present threat.
The oppressive blackness swallowed everything. Suddenly, Dillin tossed a flare, the light illuminating their surroundings—and the towering, grotesque silhouette before them.
Massive arms covered in veins like tree roots. A scaly body smeared with bl**d and slime. Three tails swaying menacingly, neither draconic nor humanoid. But the worst part… the head. It was a malformed infant, incomplete features twisted into a grotesque parody of life. Its blank, unseeing face seemed to grin cruelly at them, the grotesque parody of humanity unnervingly real.
“WHAT IN THE LIGHT IS THAT THING?!” Dillin screamed, his knees nearly buckling under the sheer horror.
His weapon fired a round—useless. The b*llet ricocheted harmlessly off its scaled hide, sparking and fizzling away.
“Okay, so firepower won’t work,” Dillin muttered, already formulating a plan. “Maybe… something else?”
He scanned the walls, his Divine Analysis Technique searching for answers. Behind him, Filisia launched herself into battle. For all her strength, one swing from the monster’s fist sent her careening into the wall.
“This thing…” Dillin whispered, his mind racing. “…is beyond us.”
Yet hope glimmered faintly—behind them, a single candle still burned amidst the darkness.
Could it hold the key?
“Filisia! Keep it distracted!” Dillin shouted, his voice resolute.
—
And now, at the brink of doom, Dillin reached for a glittering blue butterfly clip hidden in his pocket…
To be continued…
