My mind is somewhere dark.
An objectless place, devoid of any anchor that my consciousness can latch onto. Simple blackness, everywhere I look. For all intents and purposes this is probably what the afterlife is like if you believe in purgatory. I can't tell which way is up or down, or even if such a thing as directions exist in the first place. It's strange, having no senses functional.
I can't see anything, can't hear anything. Can't smell, touch, or taste anything at all. It's not like I'm lost; I remember what brought me to this place. I was on the cusp of death before I blacked out. So, is this what it's like to be unconscious?
No, it surely can't be. By my understanding, you don't have a sense of "self" when you're out, your sense of time simply shifts to when you wake up, be that mere seconds, or many hours later. So, where am I then? Am I in a coma?
I try to move. To will my real body to, just, wake up. I try shouting, running, even swimming through this endless void. Nothing works, and it feels like an eternity passes by the time I stop trying.
Well, this sucks. I think to myself, spinning silently in the black.
. . .
Time passes.
As to how much, I'm not quite sure. I simply existed, like I was in a state of hibernation, for a spell. That is, until I felt a presence. It passed right by me, like we were two patrons of a night club, mingling within the crowds. And amongst these formless faces, I see her for a fleeting moment, stalking by with such immaculate grace that I'd think she was a ghost.
An apparition of a woman; a fleeting sight of ebony hair and bright blue eyes amongst the darkness. She must've noticed me too, because she turns, revolving to face me as she passes back into the darkness of the void, falling out of obscurity just as our eyes met.
W-Wait!
I try to reach out, to chase after her. But my legs run on empty air. I never see the woman again… But I do hear a voice. One that's distant, seemingly echoing about the void. No more than a whisper, but I cling onto it like a man drowning out in open water, and my fingers just grazed against a lone board amongst the waves.
Who are you? The voice asks. I almost smile. Hello? Who's there? Can you hear me? I try.
It feels like an eternity passes; I begin to think I was just hearing things. But eventually, the voice returns.
Yes. I can hear you. Though I'll ask again. Who are you? I… My own memories, of times before I ever even came to this forsaken world. A part of my identity, my property; me. Stolen away by a spell. I can't even remember my own name. I don't have a name. I'm Nameless.
Another eternity passes.
I see. Sealed away by a spell then, I presume? You must be a human. I unintentionally shiver. And you're not?
Another eternity.
No, little human. I am not. You may call me Apollyon. Sounds like a terrifying name. It's nice to meet you then.
Another.
Hah! The voice barks. And you have manners to boot! I wonder when your species obtained that? I suppose quite a lot of time has passed, since I've met another human. I hear a distant growl join her words. Much to my dismay. So, are you dead too?
The time that spans between my words and her response, it feels like we're pen pals or something. Seemingly entire weeks, or maybe even months, pass before I hear back from this Apollyon. And every time a new letter comes, I open it eagerly, listening to her voice with bated breath.
Oh, little Nameless, we aren't dead. Though I suppose I got rather close. And as for you, I don't know how you're still alive, considering where we are. Then again, I haven't a clue how far away you are. It certainly takes time to hear from you again. I'm in a cave of ice, somewhere within a mountain. I fell down here after an ice dragon attacked me, and I haven't been able to wake up for a while.
An eternity later, Apollyon's voice comes, laced with intent I can't decipher.
Was his name Frostbite? She asks. How does she know that? A frightened thought comes to my mind. Did he get you too? Apollyon seemingly laughs at that. No. No, he did not. I may be here against my will, but that spineless lizard only wishes he could face me. … I'd certainly love the opportunity. Calling Frostbite, a Lv. 2048 dragon, a spineless lizard? Just what is this woman?
…
Wait.
Here? It sounds like Apollyon laughs. Yes. Fell into an ice cave? Then you must be in the same place I am. Welcome, to Frostbite's lair, Nameless the Human. I'm in his lair?! Oh, calm down. That slob rarely leaves his treasure room. You could build an entire colony for you humans in his caves, and he probably wouldn't know about it for at least a few millennium.
She hesitates, until her whispering voice returns, seemlingy demanding.
Though, my question still stands. How are you still alive? I'm not sure I am. If you were dead, the Great Creator would've already taken you. Then, why can't I wake up? Something must be keeping you alive, albeit barely; you're probably teetering on the edge at every given moment. That's the only way you can enter this realm naturally.
If I had my body, I'd shiver.
That's a comforting thought. Her next words come like a hiss in my ear. As if what she says might be overheard by another. I can wake you up… Her voice dies off. …But? Nameless, if you will, I have a favor to ask of you.
And she'll wake me up if I help her?
I'm all ears. When you awaken, I need you to find a small box. It's a very peculiar one; you'll know it when you see it. Take that box, and run away with it. As far away as you can. Can you do that for me? I… Yes. I can. I just so happen to be a good runner. Good. Then…
Her voice hangs a sort of suspense in the air, one that lasts far too long to hold it's weight indefinitely. So… I begin. How are you going to-
Apollyon's presence bears down upon me out of nowhere. If I use the same analogy, its like she ran right up to me from across the room in the nightclub, shoving other patriots aside and getting within inches of me. I never see her face. I only see a thin and elegant hand, smooth fingers ending in sharpened nails, reach out of the darkness, pressing against my chest. With a force stronger than a truck hitting me, I'm shoved. Right out of the void, the darkness, the depraved sensations, and back into my body.
. . .
My light brown eyes snap open. Almost immediately, dull pains and a constant thrumming in my head wracks me, making me want to convulse. Ow... My fingers move for what feels like the first time in decades, twitching before curling in, cracking and popping as a thin layer of ice encasing them shatters.
Now that I glance around at the rest of me, I'm completly covered in frost. I look like a slab of meat that was left exposed in the freezer for too long. The places my body makes contact with the rimed ground have crusted over as well, as if I've partially fused with the floor. I can't move.
A bitter form of cold enwraps me; I don't have a shred of body heat left to give. Apollyon, that voice I spoke to, is right; how am I still alive? I check my status, eyes slowly widening at what I see.
My health has barely climbed back from that sliver of a sliver I once had, sitting comfortably in the red. It looks as if it wants to grow further, hovering slightly back and forth near the 10% mark. But a strange black line pierces through my health bar at that 10%, restricting me from healing any further.
I select it with my eyes, and that red notification pops up in my vision again. Frostbitten. Defense and Health regen severely reduced. Mobility severely reduced. With it, comes the other notifications, stacking atop one another, as if the system that runs this world suddenly remembered I exist. Six of them in total, many saying that my ability to regenerate my health has been reduced.
The concussion explains this pounding sensation in my head. The notification of a broken limb tips me off that my right arm is bent wrong. The notification that I've entered Frostbite's lair frightens me, but what truly catches my eye, is the time.
The calendar here follows Earth's almost to a tee, though the year is different. Otherwise, it goes day:month:year. The first day I got here, it was the twelfth month of the year 263. I lost my name and was banished the second month of the next year year. Now, the time reads 16:7:265.
My frozen over mouth breaks open, and I let out an inhuman noise of surprise, remembering I still don't have a tongue. "Auuh?!" I was out for over a year?! I try to forcefully get up from the ground, finding great difficulty to do so.
My right arm stings something awful, and maybe I really did fuse to the floor. With a noise like Velcro being ripped apart, I tear myself free, immediately falling back over. My left leg won't work. How? How am I still alive? I should've starved to death long ago, or died of dehydration. Scratch that, it should've been the cold that takes me first. It's freezing down here.
Now that I'm thinking about it, my hair has grown back. Not just that, but it's become overgrown. Covered in frost, it hangs down nearly past my shoulders in length; it looks like someone attached a dirty mop to my head. It certainly didn't grow that long overnight.
I check those notifications once more… The one about being in an extreme climate isn't there. It's horribly cold in this cave, but it's not affecting my health. Is it an oversight? A glitch? Is something like that even possible in this world? I glance down at my left leg, finding the skin beneath my torn pants to be as black as a shadow; my own flesh is stiff and cold to the touch.
Frostbite's breath attack did something horrible to me, and I'm still feeling the affects an entire year later… Have I really been in a coma down here for that long? I find that fact hard to swallow.
Given time, I rise to my feet, wincing at the dull pain turned fresh that begins to bite at me. I'm alive. That's what counts. Though, I don't know for how much longer, I can already tell there's no escape for me.
I hobble through this iced-over cavern, to where the ceiling suddenly stretches upwards. I stare up, into this wide chasm, at the partially snowed over opening high above. A blizzard still rages on outside, ever unending, threatening me with a swift and terrible end. If I leave these caves, I won't last a minute out there. As far as I am concerned, until I get rescued, or Frostbite finds me, these ice caves and tunnels are my new home.
I find myself watching that blizzard high above me for longer than I wished to, becoming lost in my thoughts. My tears, which I shed a year ago now, are still frozen to my cheeks, frosted over and locked in time.
Jen…
I frown, clenching my teeth. I'm sorry. Despite what I think, what I tell myself. Your death is my fault. I shouldn't have tried convincing you. I should've prevented that situation from ever happening in the first place. A situation where she had to shove me out of the way, to save me from a gruesome fate. It was my legs that locked up, when that field boss spawned out of the floor before us. It was my fear, that cost Jen her life.
It should've been me that shoved her out of the way that day, and ensured that she lived. Gregor is right, as much as this blood I begin to taste in my mouth sickens me to admit that. I am a coward. I couldn't save Jen. It was her that saved me instead.
If dying didn't mean making Jen's sacrifice be for naught, I'd kill myself here and now. What a sorry excuse for a man I am.
I turn away from the chasm I once fell down, limping away on a stiffened leg, clutching my right arm that hangs loosely at my side. I can barely stay upright, but I trudge forward, feeling something burn deep within the chill that runs through my entirety.
Fingers pointed at me in scorn. Haughty expression filled with disgust when they gaze upon my withered form. The insults, the cries for my head. The tar, the feathers, the blades, the fists. The poisoned food they forcefully fed me in my cell. The monster slime they mixed into my drink, and the serrated metal they baked into my bread. The sleepless nights. The wailing and crying nights. My tongue hastily and improperly cut off with a dagger, and forced down my own throat. Gregor's innocent face, as he stood above me, staring down without a shred of empathy in his eyes. "Do you regret it?" His unassumed voice asked.
I crack a molar.
I guess there are, other reasons, why I can't die yet. There are a few certain people, no, an entire kingdom, that I want to pay a visit to first.
Need to find a small box. My mind echoes. A small box… Something tells me, that if I find this woman who calls herself Apollyon; she has some way to get me off this mountain. I may have the chance yet to escape from this lethal fate. I need only find a small box, and run away with it. As to where, I'm not sure. But I'll cross that bridge when I get there.
. . .
To put it bluntly, I wander.
The clock reads that I do so for about a week.
When I was arrested and taken to my cell, they stripped my inventory of everything I had. I have no food, no water, no weapon to speak of. If this were real life, and I somehow survived being unconscious for over a year by some miracle, I wouldn't last much longer. But I don't get hungry, or thirsty. The temperature here makes me shiver constantly, but it's nothing more than an inconvenience. The cold has lost its fangs, so to speak.
I only get tired, needing to take constant breaks. But it's hard, when my eyes close. I find no peaceful rest to speak of. I haven't been able to since Jen died. I have constant rings under my eyes these days.
When I try to sleep, I relive her death, and relive the horrible experiences I've had since then.
Like when the guards let a mob into the prison, to drag me out by my hair, and tie me to a pole. I was paraded around the kingdom, struck and kicked like I was a pinata. They covered me in boiling hot tar, and sprinkled me with feathers.
Or when "volunteers" would occasionally replace the guards keeping an eye on my cell; I was constantly and suddenly under attack by new faces on a weekly basis.
And perhaps the worst of it all, was when my classmates would come visit me. They almost never said anything. They would simply stand there, in more and more fashionable armor as the days ticked by, staring at me. They themselves never stooped to the depraved violence the guards did; their upbringing on Earth was probably the result of that.
They weren't raised in this world, where monsters prowl the lands and a coming apocalypse looms on the horizon. They aren't as cutthroat and morally stunted as these other people, and maybe that's what makes them look like heroes. But, even if they didn't take their chance to harm me, they ostracized me instead.
They would merely gaze upon me like how one would a rotting piece of trash on the sidewalk, or something rancid they stepped in. I can withstand the beatings; I was already used to it before I came here. I can stomach the poisoned food; I know they wouldn't dare try to kill me yet. I need only bear through the pain, and hope for brighter days to come. But those gazes my classmates gave, those were the most dehumanizing things. I wasn't worth the breath to talk to; that's what their silence said. They didn't stare in disgust of their fellow man, but in disgust of a pig wallowing in its own filth.
Whatever Gregor told them, or rather, what he didn't tell them; he's made me out to be some sort of inhuman freak. All because I got his beloved sister killed.
Before long, my own terrors force me awake, and I stare up into the ceiling of this ice cave, sighing. Thus, that is how my days are spent, wandering through this labyrinth of slippery floors and cavernous tunnels. I shamble, lie down to sleep, awaken hours later from a nightmare, then return to shambling once more.
Over and over again.
In these constant cycles that slowly begin to drive me insane, I explore, finding nothing but endless paths and sudden dead ends. Everywhere I go, each new part of the cave is covered completely in ice, like someone came in and painted the walls, floor, and ceiling with it. I partially slip with every step I take; my only saving grace being that these caves are all flat. Like I was atop a frozen ocean, and an entire mountain grew atop it.
Many times, I have to retrace my steps, trying to keep my mind busy by memorizing what paths I already took and making a mental map of it. Frostbite the dragon never appears, but neither does anything else.
That is, until the dawn of the thirteenth day since I awoke.
I reared a corner in the tunnel, biding my time by counting the dangerous looking icicles that practically cover the ceiling. I step down with my one good foot, and I hear a distinct crunch. My heart skips a beat; I quite nearly let out a yelp of surprise. I raise my foot, balancing awkwardly on my dead, frostbitten leg.
Small shards of bone fall out of where they stuck into my sole, skipping across the floor and becoming lost in the white accumulations of frost. Beneath me, partially submerged into the ground and frozen over, is a human skeleton.
I unintentionally gulp, having a fleeting sense of panic when the thought it might be an undead crosses my mind. But the pale white corpse doesn't move, its skull nowhere to be seen.
The bones have a layer of rime on them, and I can see the legs beneath the floor, jutting down into obscurity in the dim light that sources from nothing. I stepped on one of its outstretched arms, breaking what looks like the radius bone in two.
It's then, that I notice the skeleton was holding onto a sword.
...
A sword.
A real weapon.
Its tip has been sliced clean off somehow, and its overall condition is terrible. Rusted and chipped, it's a design I don't recognize. If I had to put a word to it, it looks ancient. My one good hand reaches down, and takes it, slipping the rotting leather handle out of the skeleton's weak grasp, breaking a few bones in the process.
I hold the tarnished sword aloft, admiring being able to wield one again. It's no better than a piece of gardening equipment; I can't slay a dragon with this. But it's something, and that alone is enough for me. I stash it in my inventory, and read its stats and description.
Weapon: Ancient Sword. Required level to use: 5. +12 Attack. No skills. 'A decrepit blade, left unused for millennia within the depths of Frostbite's Lair. Its storied history is only betrayed by its weak attack, which can barely draw blood.'
Truly just barely more than nothing; a beginner's sword has more than double the attack. In fact, last I checked, my fists themselves had an attack power of 10 at Lv. 1; I essentially found a sharp metal stick.
I stash it in my inventory for now, as it's not like I can use it for anything. Still, I feel a twinge of hope. Maybe there is a chance I come out alive from this after all.
A small box… A small box…
After that skeleton, I begin to find more and more things besides constant ice. I find other frozen skeletons, some of them sometimes hanging down from the ceiling. I find broken weapons, none of which are in as good of a condition as the ancient sword. And I find rotten wooden shields stuck in the walls, which I'm unable to pull free.
A half of a wagon in this cave, the skeleton of some large beast of burden in another. The floor, which once looked like polished glass over water, is beginning to be filled with impurities, ranging from shards of wood and iron, to entire bodies stuck down there. Their faces, though mummified and wrinkled, are recognizable. If they were still alive when they got stuck down there…
I couldn't imagine it.
The discovery that truly takes me aback is a sudden large beam of timber laying crooked in the middle of a cave, frozen over and leaning against where it broke off from the rest of the beam, which stretches into and through the wall. There is a tattered white cloth attached to the beam, through frosted metal buckles and frayed rope weighed down by hanging icicles.
It takes me a moment to realize it, as I shuffle past the beam, as to what it truly is. It's a mast. The white cloth are sails. This is part of a ship. Up this high in a mountain range? Just how long ago did this happen? Or rather, how recently has this cave, this entire mountain, been formed?
I follow the direction the mast leans toward, crossing into a massive room within the caves, tailing the body of carved timber that lies fused in the walls. On this side, in this new and utterly colossal room, I find the rest of the ship.
Surrounded by scattered debris and bodies, and absolutely covered in frost, the large and barrel-shaped body of what must've been a Galleon ship hangs partially suspended from the ceiling on the back wall, the front of it completely exposed to the air. The ice that entombs most of it; it looks like they were once waves. As if this ship was in the middle of sinking at sea, befeor the entire ocean froze over.
Its side has been smashed through, spilling its contents down onto the cave floor, and…
I freeze in place, my own breath getting caught up in my throat. Beneath the Galleon, which sticks out of the cave ceiling at a diagonal angle, is an utter mountain of gold.
Glittering coins and shining gems, opened treasure chests with pearl necklaces and ornamental chalices. Heaps and heaps of treasure, stacking high enough to nearly reach the bottom of the Galleon. Such a sight is enough to take just about anyone's breath away.
But I'm not looking at the treasure. I'm looking at the massive white body that surrounds it, encircling the gold and silver with wings tucked up and tail flicking up and down in small increments.
Frostbite is here, sleeping away with a deep and thunderous snore.
I quite nearly wet myself again, not that I have any water in me left to lose. I hastily retreat the way I came, pressing my back against the wall beside the fallen mast. My heart beats furiously in my chest, my skin tingles something awful. I clamp my one good hand over my mouth, as if my breathing could somehow give me away.
Frostbite, here. Just on the other side of this wall. A level 2048 ice dragon sleeps a mere stone's toss away.
I sink to the ground, trying and failing to get my rampaging heart in check. Standing there, completely exposed, suddenly seeing what could easily kill me; I nearly passed out from the shock. I haven't found the box yet; I haven't even discovered an exit to this place. If Frostbite finds out I'm down here with him now, then my death is all but guaranteed.
What feels like hours must pass, and Frostbite never awakens. He slumbers and snores away, unassuming of the wretched scent I must be practically wafting everywhere I go. I don't know what to do, but I can't go back the way I came. There's nowhere new to go but this "treasure room" and whatever lies beyond. So unless I want to spend weeks longer retracing my steps and hope there's another path somewhere, I can only move forward.
I take a deep breath and steel myself, pushing against the wall to hoist me to my feet. With reservations plaguing my movements, I peek back out into the treasure room, quickly making sure Frostbite is still there.
He is, his chest rising and falling steadily.
My eyes wander, and I can faintly see a new tunnel on the other side of the room, which must lead to an exit eventually…
This is a terrible idea.
With careful, shuffling steps, I leave my cover, wandering out into the middle of the treasure room. I can't help but keep an eye on Frostbite as I move, overanalyzing every movement, no matter how small, he makes. Time and time again, the dragon shifts, and I go as still as a statue. He turns over, facing me.
I can see his closed eyelids, sitting just above the rows of sharp black teeth. A serpentine forked tongue flicks in and out with his breaths, his nostrils flex and wane with each rumbling snore. The spines across the ridge of his back bristle and relax with the rise and fall of his torso. His forearms lie unmoving, talons bent up to hold onto something small within.
I give that particular area a long stare, quite nearly making it to the other side of the room. I wonder if those long talons of his can cut through steel? It'd surely make mincemeat out of me regardless. If Frostbite didn't play with his food a year ago, maybe I would've been done in by those same claws.
It's not a fun thought.
I go to turn away, reaching for the wall of the new tunnel, ready to leave this room behind forever. There's nothing I can do to kill Frostbite as I am, even if I went over there and stuck my ancient sword into his eye. I'd be a fool to mess with him. I just need to keep looking for-
Nameless.
I stop in my tracks. It was nothing more than a whisper, barely recognizable as a voice. The noise of my own feet sliding across the ice would be loud enough to drown it out, but…
I glance back, at those claws, which are certainly holding onto something small. From within the darkness between those navy-blue talons, I catch a lone glint. My heart sinks into my gut.
Surely not… Right?
...
I reach out, and grasp onto it, thrusting my arms between the bars of claws, rescuing the prisoner trapped within…
When did I get over here? What happened?
I blacked out for just a second, and now I stand mere feet away from Frostbite's head. His massive body completely encircles me and this mountain of treasure to my side. I stepped over coins and gems to get here, making all sorts of noise in the process. I even tripped over his tail, and yet he still didn't awaken.
And now I stand here, hand in his, grabbing what calls to me and pulling it out. I'm a fool. A complete and utter fool.
Unknown package in hand, I scramble away, stepping back over the minefield of scraping coins and lashing tail, quite nearly tripping over it again.
I shuffle for the other side of the cave in a panic; I can't even hear when Frostbite's snoring suddenly stops.
I make it, and I press my back against the new wall of ice, once again unable to control my body as I heave and shake, my heart thundering in my chest.
Holy crap… What have I done? I nearly threw my life away! And for what? This…
I glance down at what I hold in my hand, and my thoughts trail off. I clutch onto a small box, which is beautifully adorned and decorated with gold designs and inlaid gems. It's heavy for its size, and it looks like it's locked.
Yet, when I place it on the ground, awkwardly falling to a knee with my left leg stuck out stiff, I'm able to open it simply by flipping the latch.
CLICK.
The lid swings open with a quiet whine, and what rests inside takes my breath away.
The ice around me is immediately illuminated a cool blue, and a subtle form of heat wafts up into my face. Within the small box, cushioned by purple velvet, is an uncut crystal, near the size of a common smartphone. It's colored like a sapphire and shaped like natural quartz, but an unmistakable light revolves about within it, casting this azure hue over everything in shattered patterns.
So beautiful.
I pluck it free of its confines, and lift it into the air, finding it to be the source of the unnatural weight. What a gorgeous gem, even if it is still in an uncut state. Something about it is alluring, mysterious, and supernatural. Like I suddenly held the power of the world itself in the palm of my hand. That, or the power to destroy the world itself.
I take it into my inventory, and try to read its stats. Everything is covered in question marks, except for the name, and the description.
Tortured Soul. 'The life essence of a Great Beast once slain, and now rests within this raw crystal.'
I take the crystal in my hand again, staring longingly into the aura of light that dances about within it.
Is this who you truly are? Apollyon?
I wasn't expecting an answer, and I certainly wasn't expecting the ground to start rumbling. But Apollyon's voice practically shouts in my head, as a deep and murderous growl rumbles through the caves.
What are you waiting for?! An invitation!?
I feel my heart skip a beat. I peek out back into the treasure room.
Frostbite is awake.
His eyes are glowing red.
His head snaps right toward my direction, toward the glowing blue light that comes from the crystal in my hand. Frostbite roars.
Run!
ROOOOOOOOAAAAR.