There must be a hidden Luck attribute. Mine must be S-Rank.
POOF.
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
E-Rank Night Runner slain.
►Shard Obtained
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
The cheetah disintegrates into black mist. I lay limp, bleeding, absent-mindedly staring at the vast grey sky.
That was far too close. I knew it was a risk coming here, but I didn't think that risk would end up a death sentence requiring a miracle to bail me out of.
Bastard skidded to a halt. The resulting inertia of the abrupt stop threw me backward, and the cheetah far forward, a bit off its mark. It basically threw itself onto my Shiv.
This big, beautiful Bastard saved me. I do love getting my money's worth.
My alignment of the wagon was so perfect that we were headed straight for our destination.
And the fight was so long that we made it here. Unless Bastard wanted to be crushed into Corrupted paste, he had to exercise a bit of autonomy and stop before he crashed into Darrow's tomb.
We are parked right outside of a single stone cube with a door.
So far so good. Seems like the Landeskogs don't guard this super secret burial ground. Surely they would have accosted me by now.
I'm not in a rush. I don't see any more Corrupted from the top of this very small incline.
I spend a few minutes in an injured daze. The drugs have worn off. I slowly rummage through my medical supplies, struggling to wrap my legs, thighs, head, and stump in bandages.
The life of a disabled, armless man is already too much for me to bear.
My arm is lost to the wilds. I won't be able to reattach through a Favored healer. Limbs can't regrow. The body is intrinsically linked to the Soul. One Soul, one body, one arm.
I'll have to get an Essence-compatible prosthetic. Do I even want to think about how much that costs? Not really, but I can't help it.
1,000,000 Gold.
It would take me thirty years of whoring myself out on the streets to make that kind of money. I can only do that make-up product resale trick once, and that got me only 9,000.
I'm not sure if it'll help or hurt my image either.
I'll stand out as a one-armed Dim student, sure. Whether or not that'll manifest as admiration or a mountain of laughs remains to be seen.
On the bright side, I've obtained two E-level Shards. Great. Whatever. I'll use them later.
Now it's time for the big prize.
***
With Bastard parked outside, I take a deep breath and stare at the stone cube.
It reminds me of a military bunker entrance. Likely simplistic to keep it innocuous.
My only issue is the door. It has no handle. It's just a rectangular slab of concrete.
I search for hidden slits, punch it, kick it, stab it, but it won't budge. Guess I'll have to force my way in somehow.
Thankfully, I have incredible foresight. Or just extreme luck. With all this recent evidence, the latter is more likely. Please let this work.
Out of my bag, I take out a small grey orb. It's an artificial Artifact that I got from the Interrealm Hub.
The grenade. It's the grenade. All my hopes and dreams rest on a potential scam.
I didn't use it during that fight with the Corrupted because I was afraid of it. Endangered doesn't care for the item, but I can't tell if that's because it will explode and therefore I have nothing to fear, or that it won't explode and I'll be perfectly safe.
Only one way to find out.
Moving Bastard and the wagon away, I place the grenade on the door and run as fast as my little scarred legs can manage. Several of my wounds reopen. It stings and burns, and all I want to do is go home and have my servant peel grapes for me and wipe my ass.
I peer at the bunker door from behind the wagon. My heart beats through my chest. Then it doesn't beat at all.
…
BOOOOOOOM.
Off-beat, shrapnel, dirt, and debris fly into the air.
The explosion is a high-pitched squeal. The fuse time was far too slow; Luck strikes again. I would've been dead had I wasted time using it in a high-speed battle.
After the dust settles, I gleefully waltz over to the door. Man, everything just works out for me. Besides the arm. And my abject poverty. And my impossible mission, the dead parents, the lack of gifts, etc. Didn't mean to cry or trauma dump. Just a bit nervous.
Anyway, the concrete slab now has a small crater where it tilts inward. I dig my singular set of fingers into the crack of the side and pull with all the weakened might I can muster.
The concrete gratingly scrapes against the ground. Eventually, through great effort, I pull enough to squeeze in.
It's pitch black. My preparation has once again paid off as I light a torch to lead my way.
I'm in a dark tunnel. More aptly, it's a staircase.
My boots echo throughout the darkness. I take a shaky breath, inhaling the dry dust. It doesn't rain out here. No rain means no musk, humidity, or rot. A decent choice for a burial ground.
After an eternity of fearfully walking downward, I make it to my final destination.
A modestly sized stone room. In the center is a conveniently unlit bonfire.
There's something strange. Shapes in the darkness that should not be.
I curb my fear of the unknown and toss my torch into the bonfire. The room lights up.
There is a single rectangular stone coffin. But behind that…
It's a tree. That was the oddity I saw. There's a tree down here. A great, beautiful oak. Perfectly normal, and extremely healthy.
Well, save for the woman's head sticking out of it.
Long, unkempt hair of pure silver falls to the ground as the head lies limp.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
The woman encased in wood begins to move, twigs and branches cracking and snapping around her, yet more reforms to hold her in place.
"My love…?" the woman croaks. "You… are not."
I stare at the oddity in bewilderment. Then the pieces fall together.
Those blinded eyes belong to Ranni Landeskog-Luikots—Darrow of House Landeskogs' wife.