Mythshaper
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Chapter 61: Hell is Home
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 13:25:33 +0000 UTCWichter
Wichter bolted across the dark, murky plain with only one of his companions in tow. Fear had clawed its way into most of his men, and they hadn’t thought twice before abandoning him. Of course, he could not blame them, considering how absurd his plan was—if it could even be called a plan.
To follow a mysterious figure who controlled a horde of monsters? That sounded like a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, he could still rely on Dock. The former imperial soldier had been his most trusted ally since they had joined forces on a misadventure.
Their relationship was not much of a friendship but rather one of mutual benefit—they understood each other. Although Wichter still couldn’t fathom Dock’s motive for following him into this disaster.
The dark figure and his horde of creatures had gone far, though it wasn’t difficult to track them. They had not bothered to mask their trail or remain silent throughout their march.
Even after finding the trail, Wichter and Dock decided to keep their distance, ensuring they weren’t discovered—as much as that was possible. Half an hour later, the horde seemed to reach their destination and slowed down.
Nothing much changed about the landscape. It was still dark, murky, and filled with stale air. However, this place exuded a fear far more ominous than anything Wichter had encountered in the dungeon thus far. And he had fought creatures above Level 100 in here. The chthonic, ominous aura radiated from a pit ahead of them, its depths beyond anything their eyes could follow.
A catatonic feeling gripped his heart, and all the mental defences he managed to muster fell short of overcoming the effect. It was as though he were staring straight at the abyss.
Yet, the creatures of darkness did not flinch before diving straight into the pit. The mysterious cloaked figure remained at the edge and turned its head towards them, freezing them in place. It waved its hand, and a cloak of ethereal presence clouded their forms, obstructing the abyssal aura from invading their minds.
“Still think this is a good idea?” Wichter asked in sign language.
“Never believed it was.” The lizard man shrugged. “But I am absolutely sure we couldn’t find a way out of this dungeon no matter what we try.”
“Is that why you decided to follow me?” Wichter cocked an eyebrow.
“Partly,” his underling said. “In the end, I trust you more than those fools. It was a simple decision between following a group of weaklings or sticking with someone strong. You know what a sane man like me will always choose.”
Wichter gave the lizardfolk a long look. If only he could feel as confident in himself. If only—
A shiver ran down his spine as the cloaked figure crept in their direction. Though they were hundreds of metres away, those deep, nebulous eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness and lock onto his soul.
“A pity,” the figure said. “I thought more of you would choose to follow me.” It gestured with its palm toward the pit. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”
Although Wichter had heard the voice before, it still felt piercing to his mind—androgynous, and yet so very intelligible for it to come from any monster.
Wichter shot a meaningful glance at Dock and followed, measuring each step, to where the horde had disappeared.
“Climbing down will be a pain,” he muttered. Perhaps Dock would manage with his wings, but he was still too exhausted to use them properly.
Wichter turned his gaze from the pit to the cloaked figure. Even though he could detect that the figure was of gold rank, there was something else—something different about him, or it.
It wasn’t the first time Wichter had encountered gold-rankers. He had met dozens, even mingled with a few strong ones, yet none exuded an air like the one before him.
Was it because it ascended from a monstrous beast? he wondered. He wanted to ask just that, but the question that escaped his mouth was, “Where does this pit lead?”
“Hell,” the figure answered curtly, its mouth opening far wider than any human’s should—more like a killer shark than anything human. And Wichter noticed more than one pair of eyes on the figure’s face.
“Don’t look worried… Hell is home.”
Marvel had been staring at the scroll for an inconveniently long time—longer than it should have taken her to read. Assuming she could read, that was. She was adamant she knew the common tongue of the humans, claiming it was part of her guardian training.
Besides, if the spiders could form a contract with another race, they should have a decent grasp of the language. With that in mind, I left the task to the spiderling.
“So, what did you find?” I asked, unable to endure the silence any longer. “You’ve been examining it for ages.”
A couple of Marvel’s eyes flicked toward the two humanoid figures standing a dozen paces away. Silent, reclined, but not at ease—their postures gave them away. I stayed prepared for a sudden attack, even if they showed no signs of hostility.
“This paper... I can’t find any fault in it,” Marvel said with an air of irritation. “I’m afraid this agreement paper is legitimate.”
I sighed in relief inwardly. If the paper was legitimate, then the two had no reason to be hostile toward us.
Marvel seemed to pick up on my thoughts, though still too invested in the terms written in the agreement to indulge me.
“So, what’s the problem?”
Marvel responded with an empathetic wave of annoyance. “Nothing. Nothing,” she said. “It’s just... I didn’t know we had a treaty like this. Or that the Mother even agreed to it.”
“What are the terms of the agreement?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. “If you don’t mind telling me.”
I had no clue if the spiderlings—or this world—had their own version of NDAs, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if they did.
“The agreement entailed a simple trade deal between two parties involved, along with compliance to a mutual exchange of agents in response to certain problems,” Marvel said. “I never knew we sent any of our kind to the humans over the ages. Perhaps Silence had been there, but that was before my time. And she never returned.”
“And them?” I asked. “Did they ever send agents here?”
Marvel gave a brief echo of denial.
“Well, now seems as good a time as any to ask them why they’re here.”
Marvel agreed. Although she wasn’t among her clan’s decision-making members, it made sense to discuss the trespassers’ objectives before taking them to her elders. She straightened, steeling herself as her mind cleared. Finally, she turned her full attention to the intruders.
“I’ve examined the treaty,” Marvel said, her mental voice turning regal. “While it appears you haven’t come unbidden, this agreement does not grant you the right to pass through the gate. This is the sacred land of our clan. Not everyone gets to enter here, even among our kind.”
The human girl’s eyes flicked toward me, as if to silently ask why a snake like me was allowed here if it was such sacred ground. But she held her tongue.
“Look around you,” the girl said instead, gesturing at the dozens of corpses strewn across the ashen plain. “These creatures didn’t leave us much choice. Besides, I was under the impression that we’d only get to speak with the elders of your clan after entering through the portal.”
Well, she wasn’t wrong about that, I thought to myself. All the spiderlings and elders had already passed through the portal, evacuating their colony completely.
“That still doesn’t explain why you come to us,” Marvel said.
“We demand an audience with your elders,” the girl, Isla, replied, “or the All Mother, if possible, on behalf of Empress Iskandar, the original holder of the treaty.”
“And what do you seek an audience for?”
She exchanged a look with her companion. “You may find our goals align tragically, considering you are fighting the same problem as we are: the scourge of the land.”
Marvel gave Isla a long, wary look, prompting her to continue.
“Just as your clan has been besieged by these creatures, our kingdom is in a similar position,” Isla said. “Though, in some ways, it’s even more insidious. The scourge has infiltrated our hierarchies, turned them, unmaking all our attempts against them improbably.”
“That seems like an easy problem to solve?” Marvel perked up. “If one of our members shows any sign of corruption, we quarantine them until the filth is completely cleansed. Even in the rare case where one turns completely, it would never go unnoticed.”
“Exactly why we need your assistance,” Isla said. “Your ability to distinguish between the uncorrupted and those lost to the scourge would be invaluable.”
“How could you not distinguish between the two?” Marvel asked, incredulous. “It was like telling apart water and oil.”
“We have tried, but the scourge has grown cunning.” Isla sighed. “I fear only the Empathic spiders may be infallible in seeing through their veil.”
“You are not wrong,” Marvel said proudly. “We are superior at this.”
Then Isla delivered her final move to turn Marvel over to her side.
“I see you were injured in the fight,” she said, her eyes flicking toward Marvel’s damaged appendages. She gestured toward her elven companion. “He can help with that.”
