Garden Of The Abyss

Moved onward out of paranoia that the recent outburst of noise caught the attention of the roaming minotaur, Ren left the claustrophobic corridor of cells. The next room was barren, darker than any previous room as only a faint torch kept the small chamber lit, holding only a single wooden chest in the center.

--This really is starting to resemble a RPG dungeon...minus the part with being disemboweled by a minotaur.

"That totally doesn't reek of being a trap."

Every cell in his body told him not to open the chest, but the door that led to the next area was sealed completely shut, to the conclusion that opening the chest likely would open the next path.

It was less of a door and more of a slab of smooth stone, unmoving even after a few kicks to test its strength.

"Here goes nothing!"

He confronted the ominous chest and reached down, flinging open the lid of the chest before jumping back, expecting something inside to reach out for him.

Standing on guard for a solid few seconds—nothing happened. He slowly inched over the chest, peering into it as he checked the contents it held.

Sitting inside the enigmatic chest was a lever, the bottom of the container was cut out, leading to the chest itself being connected to the flooring.

"This chest is really playing with my emotions here."

Forced into another daunting situation, he slowly wrapped his fingers around the stone lever, gulping down his worries before pulling it back.

A "click" was heard in response to the pull, the boulder of a door began to rumble before slowly retreating up to reveal the exit of the room.

"Really? Is that really it? Not complaining…"

Moving forward past the newly unsealed exit, the next area he found himself in stretched wide, holding three different doors on each side of the tall standing walls.

Spots of crimson were imprinted onto the floors and walls, sending a chill down his spine.

—Those spots can only mean death isn't far from here.

Looking up, the ceiling was hidden by shadows, leaking down murky droplets of water. At the very least, it seemed danger wasn't imminent. His stomach rumbled, causing him to sit down on a slab of fallen stone before retrieving the pouch tied to his belt, pulling out a piece of stiff bread.

Finding his appetite was difficult with the overwhelming musk that filled the dungeon's air, but without filling his body with nutrients—pushing onward would be suicide.

Pressing his teeth into the bread, he had to use all of his jaw strength to carve through the stiff, crunchy exterior.

After finishing the less than savory meal, he took a gulp of water down his throat from his canteen before getting back up with a stretch. A yawn left his mouth, outside of his control.

"I didn't even consider how I'm going to handle sleeping...I don't expect this to be a short venture."

—Beatrice told me this could at least take a few months, but seeing how I performed against that bull-man…I don't know.

Faced with three paths to try, none looked welcoming. A choice didn't need to be made, however, as a familiar thud resounded through the dungeon.

All of that confidence he possessed through his small victories came crashing down as he shakily unsheathed his weapon.

"—Took your sweet time."

From the doorway that sat directly across where he stood, beyond the darkness that veiled the beast's presence—he could sense it. The ear-grating squeal of the minotaur's axe being dragged across the ground filled his hearing as he waited, full of anxiety.

The steam-like hot air that emitted from the beast's nostrils became visible before its body, its heavy-hooves steps bringing it into the room.

"Round two."

This time, he met the monster on an equal playing field, this time in a chamber with vast space that wouldn't inhibit the battle.

A few bright, burning torches illuminated the space with an orange tinge, leaving nothing of the minotaur to the imagination. It was minuscule, but the slight changes from last time settled the fear etched into his body.

As if responding to him, the colossal beast formed of muscle and savagery let out a roar that shook the walls, as well as Ren's grip on the handle of Belus.

With the beastly roar, its malice rang through the chamber—commencing the second battle between the two.

"Araphel: Blackout."

A flash of black consumed the entirety of the stone battlefield for a moment, dissipating as it left the minotaur in a frozen state as its senses had been robbed from it.

—Sight. Touch. Hearing. Smell. Taste. Blackout brings these senses into a temporary void.

Taking advantage of his opponent's hazed state, he rushed towards it with his blade coated in magical energy.

Even halted by the absence of senses, being near the beast brought him into a territory of fear—feeling the heat that emanated from its body before he swung his sword against its midsection.

As he had feared, the blade bounced right off of its herculean hide, questioning if he had actually struck an iron wall. A twitch of the beast's hand marked the spell's effect ending—much sooner than he had expected.

"Dunkel: Shadowstep—!"

There wasn't a moment to spare as he released the incantation, his body dissolving into a shadow before reappearing behind the beast as it missed its heavy swing.

The force generated by the swing felt as if the monster had cast wind magic, kicking up dust and sediment as Ren thanked his own reaction time for him still being in one piece.

Instead of a slash, he opted for a stab this time, pushing his body forward as he used his sword as a lance. It pushed past the surface of its skin but stopped against the solid muscles that laid underneath.

The sturdy muscles pinched the tip of the blade as he attempted to pull it.

—Are you kidding me? It's literally flexing on me! I'm going to be crowned the king of Britain if I pull this sword out!

Using an amplified reinforcement, he yanked the sword loose before dashing out of the minotaur's range as it swung around for a quick swing of its massive, obsidian axe.

Missing its swings, a visible rage overcame the already bloodlusted creature as steam blew from its nose. Veins bulged against its skin, dragging one hoof against the ground as it prepared to charge—lowering its head.

"Oh crap."