Jean leaned against a wall, his gaze locked on towards the training circle. He crossed his arms and held a pouting face. Many people had come to this little event, even people from other villages. This was the place where the Knightsguard could show their strength to others. Callum, in his polished armor and calming yet quiet charisma, had dragged Jean to watch. He called it "exposure."
"Trust me, it'll be good for us," he'd said with a cheerful face. "We need more info. We don't really know where we even are. Sparring with them could build confidence."
Confidence. Right.
Jean watched from afar. Two trainees took very wide swings towards each other in the ring. Cheers from the crowd had erupted as one disarmed the other in a wild manner. It was eventually Callum's time. He stepped into the ring. The person he was fighting seemed to be very experienced. Without a doubt, Callum and the knight were very close in skill. It had ended in a draw. Meanwhile, Lydia was laughing nearby, already making friends with others. Elise hadn't come, saying it was too much work for her—obviously just being lazy. And Ronan? He was literally glowing in a corner, surrounded by others who were also glowing. Oddly enough, they all looked like glowing lanterns.
Jean jumped in an uncomfortable manner. The metal plate embedded in his arm had given a quiet whirrrk, as if the gears were shifting. He flinched slightly. It sounded like the gears were rubbing against his flesh.
No one else noticed. It's not like anyone truly found anything about him interesting.
He tapped his cold blue metal plate. A blue interface appeared before him. Nothing out of the ordinary. He had nothing. No strong power. It might sound helpful at first, showing people's stats. But if everyone can do that, then it's useless.
He was tired of pretending his ability was fine.
"Jean!" Callum shouted across the ring. "You up next?"
Jean gave a fake smile. He gave a thumbs-up. Callum turned back around to continue his conversation with the others, paying little attention towards Jean.
Jean pushed himself off the wall and turned the other way.
He walked away almost as if he was in a daze.
He pushed past the cheering crowd.
Into the forest.
He didn't even say goodbye. No one noticed.
The forest air was humid, cold, and felt hard to breathe. Moonlight filtered through the tree leaves. There seemed to be no path, but he kept on walking. He felt as if he had lost control of his body, but he felt somewhat calm. His boots crunched against the moss and grass.
His breath came out in a cloud. Something in this forest felt hypnotizing. It seemed like the middle of summer, and yet it was still so cold.
The plate in his arm let out a faint click, almost as if something had activated.
Jean didn't notice the quiet noise.
Jean winced at a sharp pulsing pain in his head.
"Agh—" he stumbled slightly, leaning against a big rock.
This pain felt as if it was guiding him. Like the migraine was trying to tell him something.
He stepped forwards.
Throb.
He stepped backwards, and the pain lessened slightly.
He turned left. The pain grew. Turned right. It lessened.
"...What the hell? Ugh."
He kept walking. The pain flared up every time he went the wrong way. It was as if it was telling him to go somewhere.
So he followed the direction of least resistance.
It began to get dark. Hours had passed. Night began to settle in.
He found a small field and sat down near a tree. The metal plate whirred again. Jean hit the plate with his hand in frustration.
"Of course. Everyone gets the cool stuff, while I get a pulsing brain GPS, telling me to go to stupid places."
He leaned his head back, gazing upon the stars. "Who am I kidding? Half this place is probably fake." And yet the stars seemed so real to him.
"Maybe this world didn't give me a defective system. Maybe I'm the defective one."
The pain had subsided while he rested. He then stood up and began to follow the pulsing pain again. It grew soft and steady, like his body was being guided towards a specific direction.
Eventually, the trees opened up again.
A lake.
Dark. Still. The surface seemed desolate. No wind. No life.
Jean stopped. Something felt strange, as if he should have left the place.
The lake felt so wrong.
It was like something inside the lake was waiting for him.
A cold breeze blew across his barely clothed body, but he didn't shiver.
Enter the lake.
The system had finally begun to talk to him. It felt almost corrupted when speaking. It kept on repeating itself, telling Jean to enter the lake.
The water pulled at him. Not physically. Mentally. The lake felt as if it was whispering, telling the system to make him enter.
He took another step forward.
His breath began to slow. His limbs felt like they weren't his. His body moved on its own, like he was walking through a dream.
The metal plate whirred louder.
He trudged deeper into the lake.
The cold hit him instantly, biting through his clothes. But he didn't hesitate. Nor did he stop.
He walked deeper.
Deeper.
His shoulders submerged.
Then his mouth.
Then his head.
Then darkness.
He began to swim. Deeper into the lake. He didn't know why.
The system kept on repeating for him to enter. He swam deeper through the lightless water.
And then air.
He surfaced in an air pocket deep within the underwater cave. He gasped, climbing out, water dripping from his body.
He had finally regained consciousness. He didn't even understand why his body began to move on its own. The chamber he stood in was massive. Stone walls met with glowing fungi. It was just enough to see by. At the end was a giant door.
Massive.
And covered in the same eye-shaped rune.
Jean froze.
They were the same as the door he chose when his group split up.
This time it wasn't just the symbol. It had impossible language.
The same light blue glow.
The plate clicked in his arm again.
Jean swallowed.
He approached the door, water dripping from his sleeve. His fingers trembled as if the door was a button that activated a nuclear bomb. He didn't push hard, but it opened easily.
A low rush of air escaped from within. Dust shot out at his face. Jean staggered back, coughing.
He wiped his dust-filled face. Then he stepped in.
The air felt clean, even though it was dusty.
He blinked.
A red carpet stretched from the massive doors to the end of the hall. Tall black stone walls covered from both sides. It had a curved ceiling. Red banners with black symbols hung from the walls and ceiling. The floor was polished and shiny.
On either side were pedestals.
Dozens of them.
Each held a grotesque statue.
Jean walked slowly, dripping water onto the carpet with each step.
He looked at the first statue.
It was humanoid but with elongated limbs and sharp fangs. It held a blade in one hand and was missing another.
Jean tried to look at its face.
THROB.
Pain slammed into his head.
He stumbled backwards,
clutching his temple.
"What the fuck was that?!"
He turned away and began to walk further down the hall, eventually being met by more statues.
He looked at the next statue.
This one had dozens of hands. They reached out in every direction it could. His eyes began to move upwards to look at its face.
Pain again.
He walked forward down the hall.
He kept walking, glancing at each statue. Not stopping.
The statues grew more grotesque as he passed. Each felt wrong, as if they were alive but trapped. It felt nightmarish but as if he knew what they were. He didn't know why, but he also felt as if he had a connection with them. But something deep in his instincts told him to come closer.
The hallway stretched endlessly.
And at the end—
A grand pedestal.
Larger than the others.
And on it...
It was not another statue, but a chest.
Jean stopped,
slicking his wet hair back.
The metal plate on his arm let out a small click and opened up. It showed a small slot, as if something could be placed inside.
He didn't know what was happening.
He felt cold, tired.
He felt he had completed nothing on this journey. He was in a creepy underground castle, soaked and scared out of his mind.
"Why me?" he asked himself.
His voice echoed eerily.
No one answered.
He knew whatever was in the chest, his system wanted. He knew that he had to put whatever item was in the chest into the slot on his arm.
Jean approached the chest.
And pushed it open.