03 / 04 / 2019 - Bezgarz, Khtonres.
Two hours later, Second Gate.
Thud
Thud
Thud
Lifting his head, looking at the huge open gate as he arrived once again at the starting point — through the strand of black hair, illuminated by a soft orange glow.
The pale profile is rosy and a bit healthy, but it can't hide the dark circles beneath the eyes. Though plain and perfunctory, his face is tight and cautious, lips pressed thin.
From the thousand-yard stare of hollow emptiness, those dim eyes were now constantly processing information — the beautiful eyes aglow in orange and red.
Step by step echoed through the silent circle outside the gate. The area had darkened considerably; the silver lamp behind him had quietly lit itself up, signifying the coming of night.
He lowered his gaze and looked around — various wrecked or overturned transport cars, some transit point or perhaps a parking lot.
Until he stopped beside the debris and scrap of a transport car, his eyes reflected the broken window glass and dust inside.
Crouching down, his bare feet stepped on the glass. Reaching to his knee, he grasped a worn-down toy, crinkling as he held it.
Silent — its appearance was like a miniature of something, a golem of rocks perhaps.
'How much time has passed…?'
He asked himself: Where were the corpses? Where had they gone? Annihilated, how? He wanted to understand it; he had been saving this question at the back of his mind.
'What actually happened?'
Propping his body up and patting his knee with his empty left hand, his eyes still on the golem toy — fitting in his hand — as his goal drew closer, he found he had quite a leisurely pace.
Then, turning his body back to face the gate, he strode forward once again. He put the toy in the ragged pocket of his track pants, which were still barely intact.
Blazing heat hit his face and body, along with the smell of metal, combined with a fresh breeze from the open cliff — a conflicting environment.
Minutes passed as he arrived and stepped onto the inner platform. Now was the time for his objective.
"Gate Keeper, huh?"
Looking around — warm glow everywhere, leaving this place without any dark corners at all. How could he find the gatekeeper's resentment?
'Another hindrance and problem, huh?'
Crossing his hands above his chest and walking aimlessly. In fact, he did not hate it; encountering the unexpected like this was how the sentient were supposed to be, no?
"You've come after all… burp"
And that was when he stopped — hearing the same foreign characteristics as before, already familiar, so much so that he doubted his ears about why it could appear here.
"How could you be here, old man?"
He turned his head to the right — between his incredulous gaze and plain face — even speaking Japanese now, he did not doubt that the old man would understand what he meant.
How the hell could he be here?
Then his gaze narrowed at the old man who was drinking from a bottle of booze or beer, perhaps — just like their own characteristics in folklore or myth.
The old man was sitting on a bench, floating atop it, and strangely, still holding a book in his left hand close to his chest — and then…
'I know that they have muskets, but how could a sniper rifle be invented here?'
'No, no, no… the technology of this civilisation itself has proven to be some years ahead of humans, so it's not strange, right?…'
'Then again, there is no certainty that the old man is trapped in that hall and cannot roam around, no? In the end, is this old man a ghost or a living being…'
His gaze lowered slightly, the corner of his eye twitching at a weapon resembling a sniper rifle lying on the bench beside the old man, slumped casually.
"Why can't I be here? After all, our goal is the same — to Althr Baldr, hah!"
"You must be confused, no? Wandering around like an old dog, searching for a Gate Keeper…"
Burp
"Haahhhhh… hah?"
His gaze was back on the old man after hearing such a disturbing burping sound; he was now shaking the bottle down, lips pursed, looking as if not a drop of liquid remained.
Clank
Throwing it backwards with his right hand, now empty, he lay back on the bench's backrest, looking drunk.
'What the hell is this old man?'
Shaking his head, the urge to complain — silent and suppressed since he came here — was back. But then again…
'How did this old man know? Is it that obvious?'
'Then again, what should I do? To trust or not to trust?'
He was back at the crossroads once more as his gaze flickered — before he even began to verify what the old man said, the old man had spotted him first, and then this old man was spot on with his guess.
"Durinn — it is the title of the Keeper of the Second Gate, and you are right to come here as his post is around here…"
Snapping awake, he untied his hands, lifted his head and met the old man's eyes — the old man had already lifted his head from the backrest and was looking at him.
Then, with his right hand, the old man took the rifle and placed it over his shoulder, and walked through the air towards somewhere.
"If you still don't trust me, you'd better see it for yourselves and verify it for yourselves."
The words echoed from the deep white mist on the platform. He frowned, clicked his tongue, and began to run to catch up.
"Wait for me, old man!"
…..
Minutes later, at the Innermost Circle of the platform, Keeper's Post.
"It's here, now figure it out for yourself."
After the old man finished talking, under his widening eyes, slowly, the old man disappeared like morning dew — dispersed in ashes, carried by the breeze.
'What kind of sorcery is this?'
No matter how many things he had seen in these past few days, it was never enough — refreshing his understanding every single time; though his cognition was flexible.
"Huhhhh…."
Well, he decided to follow that old man; now, let's see what he could garner this time.
Looking around him, the temperature in this area was incomparable to the outer rim of the Helzogg; even on the inner side, there was another platform, hidden by the mist.
'Well, let's think about it again…'
'Although I don't know much, if I have to map it out… then perhaps, the city is expanded with Helzogg as its centre, no?'
Still, even if it was not important, he wanted to do it for some reason. Thus, he closed his eyes to map the exact image of what he had in mind from what he had been through so far.
First, a cliff — imagine a cliff. As he closed his eyes amid the sticky heat, sweat trickled down to his hair, temples, and cheeks; yet he tried to concentrate.
'Don't imagine the scale, but let the scale increase as the image grows.'
On this cliff, you dig out or scoop a plate of area. Done.
After that, you dig again, but this time in the middle of the plate. Helzogg. Done.
If my guess about the old man is correct, there are three plates: Mezakeir, Bezgarz, and Althr Baldr.
'Which is true after all — then move to Helzogg.'
Helzogg is like a cylinder? He tilted his head, eyebrows drawn together — even then, he couldn't resist the unbearable heat.
Zooming into the three-dimensional image of Helzogg — again ignoring the scale, width, and height before placing the components.
'Platform.'
As he imagined it, one by one, various rings were inlaid onto the inner side of Helzogg, behind the gate itself.
'The first, I will call it the Outer Side or Outer Rim.'
'Then my position is on the Inner Rim or Inner Side.'
Two rings, each occupying a significant size, but still. The centre was left vacant — understandable, as it would sear you into charcoal perhaps.
Well, now it was clear. Opening his eyes, amid the interspersed mist was a house or a post that the old man had mentioned — silent, with a billowing sound from down below.
Lifting his head, he began to walk for a closer look.
His feet masked by the sound of bubbling from beneath, he took in the architecture in front of him — more like an open, small hall or perhaps a gazebo.
Holding his breath, and as the mist faded, he spotted a figure sitting in silence in the middle of the gazebo.
Arriving at the edge, he circled it for a clearer look. Eventually, stopping behind the motionless figure, he lowered his eyes — the same as the figure of resentment.
'You are dead, no?'
Its body was dark, with two eyes like red lanterns looking down below, absentmindedly. It wore a hood and the same robe as the old man, but it was not aggressive.
He knew what to do, and was sure of it — but before this…
'It really is like a circular control panel.'
Turning his head around, this figure — Durinn, as the old man had said — was sitting in the middle of a control panel filled with various levers and gears.
'Well, now I know. Let's begin.'
Shrugging off any hesitation, he took his gaze back to the Durinn and reached out with his right hand to touch the illusory figure of resentment.
'Cold.'
It was very cold, breathing out cold air; eventually, his gaze blurred as a storm of myriad emotions — anger, regret, confusion, and then madness — enveloped him.
The chill climbed up from his hand, to his arms, then spread to his whole body. His knees gave way, his head was dizzy, and eventually, slumber took his clarity.
———
If everything could go back to before all of this began, would Khtonres still be allowed to exist? Lowering his blurry gaze, he looked upon the lever in front of him.
The Durinn Machinery Chip.
"Ah…."
Through his shrivelled throat, a dry voice resounded — warm and cold tears began to flow. Perhaps at the last moment of his life, he finally realised the truth.
'Years upon years we built this — the Warden and Prisoner getting along to survive…'
'Now, it has come to this… what have we become…'
He did not resent anyone — or perhaps he resented the dwellers of the Capital. For their dependency and reliance had blinded their eyes.
Soon it would be his turn to fall, just as the others had. Before lifting his head from the control panel, he glanced one last time at the Card in his shrivelled skeleton-like hand.
"Councillor, have you anticipated this? Or perhaps, it is just our arrogance that was wrong after all…."
Looking all around with his stiff shoulder and head, he gazed upon the unchanging scenery; his eyelids were heavy.
He regretted it.
"Oh, Allfather, may ya know of those disastrous sludge that reside in Althr Baldr — of the deception and wrongness that befell upon us!"
"Hahah…. Cough"
Covering his mouth with his left hand, his head heavy yet light at the same time — blood and innards thrown up from his mouth.
Grinning, his head hung low, his body eroded by the Shadow and Darkness.
"Ye pitiful creatures dare to venture and lay your hands upon the Nine Worlds…"
"Your shadow illuminated by the wreathed Fire Giant, be smitten to ashes by the Storm Lord!"
"Allfather knows your actions, you disgusting snakes!"
"Hahahahah!!"
"KAHHHH—!!"
Eyes widened as the Shadow enveloped his body — pain, pain, as if dissolved thread by thread in acid; the hollow darkness corroded his skin and flesh.
'At long last, is peace…'
Sight darkened, the recollection ended.
———
"Hahhhh…. Cough"
His hands were trembling, as if fished from water, pale and sweaty. He struggled to prop his body sideways to stand.
Creak
Clink
Clink
His gaze was blurry, slowly adapting and coming back from the haze. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his gaze — his hands grasping the dusty, uneven ground.
"GHH—!!"
'The purification begins.'
Pursing his lips, he contained his pain and screams. There it was again — another force, domineering — his arms trembling to hold on.
The door opened, and whatever it was poured out onto his body, burning everything in its path to purify once more.
"Haahhhhh…"
Dark mist overflowed from his closed lips, eyes completely glowing red; after a while, as his eyes winced and grimaced in pain, the pain eventually passed.
"Huhhh…."
Letting out a pent-up sigh — now white — his ragged body soaked in sweat, hair and shirt sticky.
"Now, you are done! Let's get to the platform."
Startled, his body flinched as his gaze hardened, but then, after regulating his breath, he let out another sigh of frustration as he slowly propped himself up.
Swaying slightly, he ignored the old man and only shook his head. Stepping beside the empty seat, he took the thick, flat card that had fallen to the ground.
"Lead the way, old man."
He decided it was not worth arguing, stuffed the thin, textured card into his pocket, and answered the old man.
"Follow me, then!"
The old man wasted no time; with his hands full, he levitated and then disappeared into the mist once again.
…..
Swooshh
Leaning on the wall, he gazed upon the passing scenery of boundless red mist — it felt like being trapped here in solitude, but oh well, he was not alone, at least.
Looking to the right, the old man was inspecting his weapon and its parts with a tool and a piece of cloth he had found from somewhere unknown.
Drifting into his ears was the whirring sound of the platform as it descended — at that, his eyes were drawn to the weapon in the old man's hands.
By its shape, it resembled a sniper rifle in his world. That was why he classified it as such for ease; why invent a new term when the old one exists, right?
(Note: For design, it is similar to L96A1.)
Tracing its aesthetic and shape — a long, heavy, straight dark barrel, probably 70 cm. The body was compact and solid, but there was no scope.
Well, with this old man's powers, how could he bother with such a thing, no? But wasn't that idea contradictory — he still used a weapon? How strong was the old man really? He didn't know.
Back to this — as the old man wiped the body, it was white in colour, in contrast to the black barrel; the design practical but beautiful in a sense.
The stock was compact and linear with the rest of the body — not excessive but controlled. There was also a thumbhole grip perhaps for stability.
"Don't you want to know more about this place, boy?"
Well, he wanted to — but was the old man sure he wanted to give it for free? That's what his gaze wanted to say as he looked at the old man, who still focused on his gun.
"Hohoho…. By your nature and this short interaction, I can probably guess what you had in mind… but you don't have to worry too much about it."
His forearms, as revealed, were bulging as he aimed the gun with one hand like holding a pistol — one eye open as he aimed — causing Akane's eyes to twitch at the sight.
Then again…
'No bullets?'
There was no magazine or anything. Shifting his gaze to the middle part above the trigger, he spotted a strange cylinder. What the hell — was that a cylinder like a revolver's?
'No, no, no, it can't be… but it is just similar, no? Look again — it looks like a hexagon, doesn't it?'
Focusing his gaze, it was indeed a strange hexagon; as he narrowed his eyes, the old man took back the gun and placed the stock on the ground.
"Huuuhhhh…"
Letting out a breath of white mist, the old man leaned his back against the wall and — sitting cross-legged on the ground — looked towards Akane.
"Since this journey is long, probably a few hours, as Althr Baldr is deep enough to touch the Second Seas' surface,"
"You can ask what you're curious about, boy — perhaps you want to know why you fell into Mezakeir?"
Stroking his beard with his left hand, he looked up at the sky shrouded in white mist; his gaze was tranquil, that of a sincere old man.
'Well, I have nothing to lose anyway…'
'Then again, if I ask, the old man is the one who answers, no? Perhaps some things may be left unanswered…'
'This is a chance to learn…'
Then Akane also took back his gaze and crossed his hands, looking at the sky the same.
"What exactly happened to this place? And by what you say, am I not normally supposed to land in Mezakeir?"
"Also, where did all the Dwarves go? Where did their bodies go? Why are there so many out-of-place creatures here?…."
"…"
Since there was a chance, he spewed all the unanswered questions in his heart about this place unreservedly — leaving the old man smiling, still stroking his beard, slowly.
But as the young boy finished, he did not immediately answer. Instead, he lowered his heavy gaze towards the book at his side.
His left hand moved to reach for the book and grabbed it.
"If you want to know the full story, I'll give this book to you later… but now, I'll just retell it slowly…"
Looking at the book placed on his legs, head low, he began to answer the question, starting from the reason for the young boy's fall.
"I have waited a long time — for some foreigner, no matter how slim the chance — to come to this place…"
His rough hands touched the surface of the patterned book; various emotions rose like a wave — guilt, anger, regret, and others — but still he kept his voice steady.
"As you said, you are not the first to come… but they were not the ones I hoped for; instead, what they did was unknowingly bring doom upon themselves."
"And as I waited, they built various passages… attracting something — yet I don't know their intention — until later on,"
"This is also the reason you came here, no?"
He lifted his head to look at the young boy.
"After years upon years of waiting, someone finally came… different from them, but your destination, in fact, is Azngur — their place to dwell."
"That day, as I sensed it, I shifted your spatial landing into Mezakeir, so that you came here."
"And as for the reason of everything, it is aligned with our destination — Althr Baldr."
Letting out a breath, Akane listened in silence, just looking at the old man telling his stories calmly, and even then, he did not resent him.
'If I had fallen into Azngur or the surface, as the old man said, perhaps I would have died long ago.'
Because he would have fallen into the den or the heart of Bishop Marten, perhaps. As he thought, the old man continued after a while.
"I'll keep it short while maintaining the point, since the long version involves the history and the reason of the dwarves themselves…."
Puffing out a steamy white breath, he stroked his white beard once again.
"There, beneath Althr Baldr, lies a sealed part of a malevolent entity — presumed to be a Foreign Deity."
His right hand gripped the barrel tightly; the old man's eyes bulged as even Akane could feel his rage — the air trembled, and even the machinery began to speed up unconsciously.
The elevator began to accelerate with a swoosh under his might.
"Years upon years, we dedicated ourselves to studying that sealed malevolent creature."
"Benefiting from its flesh, parts, and remains to forge a creation called Khtonres — but now… in just one day, as the seals loosened, it affected all the Automaton!"
"Slaughter, carnage, and disorder of logic from their Machinery Chips, as they became the spawn of 'It', murdering my kin!"
Lowering his head, his hair swaying as he tried to keep his eyes open to listen to the old man's explanation while keeping his feet in place.
"Now, there are those foreign forces from your lands that try to use 'Its' power — how dare and how bold they are!"
"BUT HOW COULD THEY EVEN SUCCEED!!!"
Standing up, the old man was raging, roaring as the elevator sped up once again — questioning how lowly creatures dared to touch upon the materials of their creation!
'Shit, this old man is crazy!!!'
Thinking in his head, his body now sliding to the ground, his stomach churning as he had to endure the old man's rumbles and rages for the next few hours as promised.
Then again…
His eyes flickered, the corner of his mouth twitching.
'Is this your goal, Bishop Marten?'
Gradually, as the old man talked more of the situation, another perspective — an image of the entire situation — was unknowingly built up in his mind.