In Finnish mythology, Will-o’-wisps were thought to be guardians of great treasure buried by fairies. The treasures could be located with a mythical fern seed. A supposedly rare phenonon. In reality, fern flowers did not have seeds and instead had spores to reproduce. That single fact put the stories of the Aarnivalkea, Will-o’-wisp, into question.
So how about Wales? The British? The forr assud the Will-o’-wisps to be a fairy light belonging to goblins called the púca and the latter associated them with jack-o’-lanterns. The Irish lent the existence to leprechauns or to the folktale of Stingy Jack. So many stories, so many similarities, yet so many breaking differences. A keen mind would recognize that history was distorted with authenticity. Not everything was a hundred percent accurate.
It didn’t have to be. Those similarities had to be an sothing.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
Dasha’s fists slamd into the ground over and over again. He needed to dig. There was a great possibility this was the start of the main objective.
Slam! Slam! Slam!
The dirt kicked up from the force of his punches. The ground shook. He stopped twenty tres deep, leapt out, and dug another hole. Then another. Then another. Finally, he decided to focus on a single hole. He kept going until he was a kilotre deep.
Nothing.
’Tch. I suppose thinking no one else tried this was a fool’s dream.’
He considered several more punches. At full strength, it was easy to dig up the dirt. Maybe it was so deep that ordinary players couldn’t find it. Minutes later he discovered that was not the case.
[ Warning! You are approaching the end of the map! ]
What he found buried deep underground was an black tal. Raw and thick enough to give no discernable pattern, it was an alloy that Dasha could not break with all his might. A low of this world and, in all likelihood, most worlds hosted by the Heavenly Tower. The gauntlets crackled at the challenge.
Unbreakable? As if. He couldn’t do it before but maybe now—
"Black Cards." His muttering of the skill caused three black cards to appear between the digits of his closed fist. It was intended to be a projectile technique. However, by inflicting self-damage, it was possible to bolster one’s strikes. It was a caveman’s way of attack. Even so, it was effective.
Slam! Slam! Slam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
The obsidian did not yield. Every ti the thin black cards exploded, he muttered again, ’Black Cards.’ A self-inflicting wound for a great sense of power.
It did not matter. Hell wouldn’t open itself to him.
Blood dripped down. The crunch as his fist left the obsidian was loud in his ears.
’Maybe if I was as strong as her or the Emperor...’ He stopped and touched the mask. ’To think I would ever compare myself to another in such a pathetic tone. I should get rid of this mask soon.’
He glanced up to gauge the hole he dug himself into. The world was too dark to see how far. Luckily, he kept count: 2.4 kiloters. A hole so deep that light did not intrude on him. Total darkness embraced him. It was why he chose to use Black Cards. The Dark Sorcerer Class and its skills gained effectiveness during the dark. It wasn’t a stated elent but an instinctive conclusion every player recognized. In the day, the holy elent was stronger and darkness was weakened. In a territory such as the Silent Forest which possessed no sun, darkness held the advantage.
In darkness so steep, Dasha had figured the obsidian would break. "But no. The Architects built this to be impossible to penetrate. No point in punching further." He activated Qi Sense. "Ah, there it is. The mist doesn’t linger here, thus I can see."
The hole he made was ten tres wide, seven tres long, and two kiloters deep. Bouncing between the circular hole was going to take dedication and precision. His thighs coiled up the necessary strength, Qi gathering up in his stomach and then the legs, and he launched off. He closed his eyes, feeling the air rush over him. He counted.
’Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...!’
Dasha could not see. The world was too dark. But to see beyond one’s five senses was what he trained for. He went higher and higher and as soon as he reached the crescendo, he slamd his foot onto the dirt wall and bounced over. His initial jump took him thirty-seven tres height. The rest would have been done on foot.
The darkness was quite disorienting. Flickering between Qi Sense and his footing was easier said than done. "Tch!" His foot missed and he shoved a hand through the dirt, his body dangling. He was halfway there. To think he ssed up...
He was agitated. He should have been able to do this without any mistakes. He should have made it to the top, darting between the walls as he switched from Qi Sense to intense physical movent. He could do it in combat, more or less. Why was this different?
’Because I can’t see.’
That was the issue. Even now, halfway in his journey, he was in total darkness. Not a single ray of sunshine snuck through. No matter what he tried to tell himself, Dasha had habits. He relied on sight. He relied on taste and sll. Here, there was none of that. Only the overwhelming stench of dirt stood.
’Sandhya Chadha would have been able to navigate through this without issue. She’s blind, her senses are sharpened.’ Dasha continued to stare at the bottomless darkness. Left, right, up, down—it didn’t matter. All of it was the sa.
’I need to be the sa. I need to be one with the darkness, with myself.’
He had to be efficient. He had to complete this gate. He had to do this fast. At the sa ti...
’This is the perfect place to hone my Qi Sense. It may take hours or days but...’ His head hung down. Darkness. ’If I ditate at the bottom of this hole, I will be in true darkness. True silence. Nothing will disturb .’
Dasha dragged his arm out and dropped to the bottom.
Reviews
All reviews (0)