The craggy walls are painted red, and so is the floor.
Now that the immediate danger is over, Julien feels some of the tension leave his body, along with a healthy dose of bile. He hacks and coughs to get rid of the terrible combination of sensations. There is a sour and burning acidity in his mouth. Torturing his nostrils is a cocktail of smells that is undoubtedly caused by the contents of rat bowels and bladders. No longer focused on an imminent threat, Julien gets a full dose of what he can only describe as a livid hell.
He steps away from the terminator rat that now lies on its back. The enormity starts to sink in. Alive! He…survived. His ribs hurt enough to qualify as a sensation of the living, right? He keeps his breath shallow, not just because of the pain in his chest.
How many? How many did I kill? Did we kill?
As if pulled by some magical force, his eyes stray to the faceless body of the man who was his companion for five minutes or so. He realizes he doesn’t even remember what he looked like. To think, his chances for both companionship and an additional source of information got snuffed out in an instant, simply because fate chose to put a rat version of Conan the Barbarian on his path.
It’s not fair. Fantasy game worlds are supposed to be awesome. The mystery road always pays off!
Julien sniffs. His sight has turned blurry. He blinks furiously and shakes his head. No! There is no time for pity. He strangles the whiny voice inside him and walks up to his latest kill. He takes a long, hard look at the muscular, furred body: legs as thick as a modest tree trunk, a barrel-like chest covered in blood and vomit, one shoulder pierced by a sword, the other sporting his bone dagger. It left a trail of punctures across its neck, throat, and face.
Planting his right foot firmly on the beast’s chest, Julien grips the sword tightly. Straining his muscles, he pulls the blade free with jerky movements. Then he retrieves his bone dagger. Turning away from the rats, he looks at both weapons. At least I have a good weapon now.
Better equipped, Julien walks up to the poor man who had somehow gotten himself stuck in the same hell. Trying to keep his brain partially shut off, Julien strips him. He tries not to see the nightmare that his face has become. Surely he will make much better use of the clothes and cuirass than a dead man?
Some very uncomfortable moments later, Julien faces the crossroads in a very strange combination of clothes. He is wearing his shorts over his new, pocketless pants and the cuirass above both the new and old shirt. A belt ties it all together and supports a worn scabbard that hangs at his side.
I must look like an idiot. Still, you never know when extras will be useful.
Now what? A brief look at the upper left of his field of vision shows the precariousness of his situation. The blue bar, his source of magic, has dipped below an eighth, and the red bar, his health, has not a lot more left. I can’t stay here. If those pests return with more terminator rats…
Julien takes one step.
On the other hand, what if I run into them wherever I go?
He halts.
But what if the exit is nearby? Movement is better than waiting for death to find me.
As Julien starts walking, he revisits his strategy to get out. Leaving scratches at the intersections was okay, but picking a random direction had been plain stupid. A straight line is the quickest way. If there is one, of course. Will the maze let him go straight?
Relaxed is a state that becomes quite alien to Julien. Walking as softly as possible, he strains his ears to pick up any sound of shuffling, rustling, or the faintest squeak. He checks behind him every few steps and approaches each intersection very, very carefully. Ignoring the empty feeling in his stomach, he walks on.
At some point, his autopilot takes over. His mind starts to wander as he mechanically places one foot in front of the other, scratches the wall with his dagger at the intersections, and keeps an eye out for what he feels is an inevitable confrontation.
That level-up totally saved my skin. Without those combat skills… What were they again? Triple Thrust? Dodge? Precision Strike. Disarming Strike. Right? Oh, and Battle Cry. He remembers each one with a jolt. I wish I knew more about them. I mean, how do they even work?
Julien can guess by the names and his experience of the previous battle, but he’d rather know the exact details. What are the conditions to activate? What are the costs? He had noticed his magical energy declining as he dodged those heavy blows from the club. And are there new ways to gain skills? It seemed he had discovered some by making a correct movement in the right context. Could he also do that without looking death in the eye? He holds up his sword.
Maybe I’ll try that out later, once I’m out of this.
But there was more. When that level-up message had popped up, it had said something about leveling up through combat. Are there other ways? And those screens popping up; that was another thing that bothered him. The stupid things obscured his view at the most urgent moments. Still, the message had mentioned something about his Fool suit. Unlocking some slot or something?
After crossing yet another intersection, he sighs. So many questions! But since both bars still look as sad as before, asking the Fool is not an option. If only there were some way to consult him without activating the complete suit. Or activating that lens he mentioned. Having access to info without the risk of losing it for who knows how long. That would be great.
Ordering his questions according to importance, Julien arrives at a T-intersection.
Acknowledging that overanalyzing will not help, he turns right without too much thought. As long as it doesn’t lead me straight into a rat’s nest.
Not letting up his vigilance, Julien is surprised to shuffle along a straight tunnel that only has a few side tunnels, all to the right. Paying them no mind, he keeps a straight course.
When he hears a faint squeaking coming from one of the turn-offs, he freezes. He swiftly positions himself at one of the corners, closes his eyes, and listens intently.
There it is! No! No, no, no. Not again!
He recoils, turns around, and starts picking up the pace. When the threatening side tunnel is more than twenty meters behind him, he almost starts running. Hearing the first of those swift footfalls echo around him stops him in his tracks. Better to be silent.
His heart beating in his throat and his ears on high alert, Julien walks on. At some point, he notices the ground gradually inclining. Could this be it? Finally, a way out?
Gradually getting steeper, Julien struggles over the uneven ground, having to resort to climbing in some instances. There is light up ahead. Daylight! He goes on until he carefully pops his head above ground. It is brighter than he thought it would be. He squints against the sunlight that warms his face.
Trees all around. No movement as of yet. He breathes in deeply as his eyes flit left, right, and up, scanning carefully before concluding that it looks like the middle of an orchard.
Am I finally safe? Can I get some rest, at last?