As the sensation of falling abruptly ceased, a strange stillness enveloped her, yet it was quickly replaced by a disorienting dizziness that spun her world into chaos. She struggled to grasp her surroundings, each blurred vision and whirling thought pulling her deeper into a labyrinth of confusion and fear. Was this a nightmare, a dream, or something far more sinister? As her mind fought to make sense of the chaos, faint whispers echoed in her ears, hinting at secrets buried in her past and a destiny she had yet to uncover. With every dizzying turn, she felt herself edging closer to a revelation that could change everything—if she could just find her footing amidst the swirling storm of uncertainty.
Ryoma opened his eyes to a dim, flickering light emanating from above, casting eerie shadows across the cold, concrete walls of the underground chamber. Disoriented and struggling to remember how he had ended up in this unfamiliar place, he slowly sat up, his mind racing with questions and a growing sense of unease. As he took in his surroundings, he noticed faint symbols etched into the damp surfaces and the distant hum of machinery echoing through the silence. Memories of a betrayal, a desperate escape, and a mysterious figure chasing him flickered through his mind. Determined to uncover the truth and find a way out, Ryoma pushed himself to his feet, each step cautious yet filled with a burning resolve to confront whatever darkness awaited him in the shadows.
The air was thick with the oppressive smell of mildew and a foul odor akin to burnt ashes, filling his nostrils with every breath as he moved cautiously through the dark passage. Roughly hewn stone walls, scarred and scarred by time, were covered in patches of green moss that clung stubbornly to the damp surface, whispering stories of neglect and forgotten secrets. The flickering light of a few scattered torches cast long, menacing shadows that danced eerily with every gust of unseen air, creating a restless, almost alive atmosphere that made every step feel like walking deeper into a nightmare. As he pressed forward, each creak of the stones and each flicker of light seemed to echo his heartbeat, fueling his growing sense of dread and curiosity. What was this place? Who had built it, and why had he been brought here? With every passing moment, the mystery deepened, hinting at ancient horrors and hidden truths lurking just beyond the reach of the flickering flames, beckoning him to uncover what lay beneath this forgotten labyrinth.
Before Ryoma could even fully sit up or take in his surroundings, a chilling realization washed over him: he was encircled by several figures, their presence both intimidating and mysterious. Clad in long, dark robes that draped their forms like shadows, they moved silently, their faces obscured, leaving only piercing eyes visible—eyes that flickered with a mixture of wary curiosity and underlying apprehension. The flickering torchlight reflected off their eyes, casting an eerie glow that seemed to probe his very soul. A heavy silence settled over the group, broken only by the faint rustling of their garments and the distant echo of dripping water. Ryoma's mind raced, trying to decipher whether these figures were allies, enemies, or something far more complex—guardians of a hidden secret, or perhaps captors holding him in some dark, ancient ritual. The tension in the air was thick, and every breath he took became a test of his composure as he faced these enigmatic strangers, unsure of what fate awaited him in this shadowed chamber.
Long, sharp-tipped weapons were clutched tightly in their gloved hands, glinting ominously in the flickering torchlight, casting fleeting reflections that danced across the damp stone walls. The air grew thick with tension as the figures surrounding Ryoma tightened their formation, their silent presence more intimidating than any words could be. Suddenly, from the midst of the circle, one figure stepped forward—a taller, more imposing silhouette that seemed to dominate the dim chamber. His eyes, sharp and calculating, bore into Ryoma with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. Clad in a dark robe adorned with strange symbols, the leader's every movement exuded authority and purpose. The flickering flames cast shadows across his face, revealing a stern expression etched with years of secrets and burdens. As he drew closer, Ryoma felt a mixture of fear and curiosity—was this figure the key to understanding where he was, or was he yet another obstacle in whatever dark ritual or hidden agenda was unfolding? The silence stretched taut as the leader paused just beyond arm's reach, eyes flickering with unreadable emotion, daring Ryoma to speak or make his move in this ominous, deadly stillness.
He possessed a lean, commanding presence that seemed to fill the chamber with an aura of authority and purpose. Adorned in opulent dark purple robes embroidered with intricate golden thread, each stitch shimmering faintly in the torchlight, he bore arcane symbols woven into the fabric—marks of power and ancient knowledge. A small, dark metal circlet rested atop his brow, its simple yet elegant design marking him as something akin to a prelate or a high-ranking cleric, a figure revered and feared in equal measure. His movements were slow and deliberate, each step echoing softly against the stone floor as he approached Ryoma with an air of calm confidence. His piercing eyes, sharp and unwavering, burned with an intensity that seemed to cut through the shadows, revealing a mind always calculating and aware of every detail. As he drew closer, the flickering flames cast shifting shadows across his face, highlighting the faint lines of age and wisdom etched there. The silence between them grew heavy, charged with unspoken questions and silent recognition of the power he wielded. Ryoma felt the weight of his gaze pressing down, as if the man was weighing his very soul, ready to reveal secrets buried deep within the arcane and the shadows—secrets that could change everything he thought he knew about this mysterious place and himself.
The prelate bent down slowly, his gaze sweeping over Ryoma from head to toe with an intense, almost piercing scrutiny that seemed to strip away his defenses and lay bare his very essence. His sharp eyes lingered on the mundane clothing that clung to Ryoma's frame, a stark contrast to the ornate robes of the cleric—an unremarkable guise that belied whatever strength or secrets he carried within. The prelate's gaze then shifted downward, noting the fresh scrape marring Ryoma's skin, a silent testament to a struggle or escape, and the faint remnants of a sigil drawn on the cold stone floor beside him—an ancient symbol, half-erased by time or hurried movement, but still potent enough to suggest a ritual, a curse, or perhaps a protective ward. As he studied Ryoma, a heavy silence fell over the corridor, thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint, rhythmic drip of water echoing in the stillness. The robed figures surrounding them held their breath, their bodies tense and motionless, as if afraid that even the slightest sound or movement might shatter the fragile moment. An air of tense anticipation hung in the stale, almost suffocating air, each figure waiting for the prelate's decision—whether to condemn, to interrogate, or perhaps to welcome this strange outsider into the shadows of their dark domain. In that suspended moment, every heart beat louder than the last, suspense thickening until the prelate finally straightened, his eyes flickering with unspoken questions and ancient knowledge, ready to unveil the secrets buried beneath his calm exterior.
As the prelate's gaze lingered on Ryoma, a sudden shift overtook her—her face contorted into a mask of utter dismay, as if a terrible revelation had struck her to the core. Her eyes widened with disbelief, burning with an incandescent fury that seemed to ignite her entire presence. Without warning, her hands flailed wildly in a gesture of exasperation, as if trying to shake off an unbearable weight of disappointment. Her imposing composure shattered like fragile glass, replaced by a raw, unrestrained outburst of rage that echoed powerfully through the cold, stone corridor. "Aaaaaaargh! Another utterly USELESS one I've summoned! Another FAILURE!" she bellowed, voice trembling with a mixture of fury and despair. "What in the blazes is wrong with this cursed incantation?!" Her words reverberated off the ancient walls, a tumult of frustration and anguish spilling forth—a stark contrast to her former calm authority. Every flicker of her fury revealed a deep frustration rooted in countless failed attempts, and beneath it all, a profound disappointment in her own craft, in the dark forces she dared to command. The air grew heavy with the weight of her wrath, leaving Ryoma—and everyone else present—caught in the storm of her unrestrained fury, the echoes of her despair lingering long after her voice faded into the oppressive silence.
Her voice, now laced with bitter frustration and a desperate edge, cut through the charged silence like a whip. "Get this idiot out of my sight!!!" she barked, her tone sharp and commanding. Her eyes narrowed in exasperation as she pointed dismissively at the figure trembling nearby. "This idiot looks like a dumb koala!!!" she sneered, her words dripping with contempt and disbelief at the spectacle before her. The outburst echoed against the cold stone walls, revealing her mounting impatience and the depths of her fury—her composure shattered completely, replaced by a raw, unfiltered rage that left no room for politeness or restraint. Every word she spat was a mirror of her mounting desperation, a plea for relief from what she clearly saw as an unfixable mistake—an error that had pushed her to the brink of madness in her relentless pursuit of power and perfection.
Her furious words reverberated off the damp dungeon walls, causing the other robed figures to flinch and exchange nervous glances. The prelate, overwhelmed by her own fury, began pacing agitatedly, her magnificent robes swirling around her like a storm cloud of silk and gold. Her hands gesticulated wildly, slicing through the air as if trying to shape her swirling thoughts into tangible form. Under her breath, she muttered a torrent of angry, incomprehensible syllables—words spat out in a frantic, almost primal language that echoed her rising frustration and despair. Every step she took was a restless dance of agitation, her mind racing as she grappled with the failure that haunted her, the dark secrets she dared to wield, and the mounting chaos threatening to consume her carefully crafted facade of control.
Ryoma, still reeling from the sudden and jarring transition, could only stare up at the enraged figure with a mixture of bewilderment and shock, his mind struggling to process the chaos unfolding before him. Her furious outburst, the swirling robes, and the wild gesticulations painted a picture of someone pushed to the brink—her expectations of whoever or whatever she had summoned were evidently far from reality. It was painfully obvious that their "expectations" were drastically different; perhaps she had envisioned a powerful ally, a sacred guardian, or some mighty being, but what she had instead summoned—or perhaps what had appeared—was a far cry from her hopes. Ryoma's eyes darted nervously, uncertain of whether to fear her wrath, seek to soothe her, or simply wait for the storm to pass, all the while realizing that in this strange, shadowed domain, nothing was quite as it seemed, and nothing was going according to plan.
The prelate's seething frustration was palpable, a tangible wave of disappointment crashing over the chamber as her rage threatened to spill over once more, her fury a dark storm cloud looming overhead. Her eyes flickered with fury and despair, a reflection of the chaos and failure that haunted her—an unspoken acknowledgment that this unexpected arrival was yet another disappointment in her long, arduous quest for power. Without warning, she turned away from Ryoma, her robes billowing wildly as she gestured dismissively. The robed figures moved swiftly, their expressions grim as they seized the bewildered Ryoma. Still in his stunned, surprised state, he was roughly thrown out of the dungeon, the heavy door slamming shut behind him with a thunderous echo that reverberated down the dark corridor. As he stumbled into the cold, dark passage, the muffled sounds of her angry muttering faded into the silence, leaving him to grapple with the shock of the encounter and the grim realization that in this twisted, shadowed realm, even the most carefully laid plans could unravel in an instant.
Ryoma winced as he clutched his side, blinking in confusion. "A… a...ouch… what's wrong with that girl?" he muttered, glancing at the bishop, who was busy cleaning his pants with an air of detached indifference. The unfamiliar surroundings stretched out before him—an entirely new world filled with strange shadows and unfamiliar sights. His eyes darted around, absorbing the eerie silence and ominous architecture, feeling more lost than ever. This place was unlike anything he'd known, and every step he took only deepened his bewilderment. As he hesitated, trying to make sense of his surroundings, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on him, each moment hinting at dangers and mysteries lurking just beyond his sight. His heart pounded with a mixture of curiosity and dread—he was truly in a new world, and he had no idea what awaited him around the next shadowed corner.
Ryoma let out a quiet chuckle of relief, whispering to himself, "Luckily, they weren't clever enough to notice I took these coins." His eyes flicked to the gleaming golden coin in his hand, a small but valuable prize he managed to snatch. A sense of cautious satisfaction washed over him, but he quickly suppressed it, knowing he had to act fast. Carefully slipping the coin into his pocket, he thought to himself, "It's better I get out of here before they realize I'm missing. If they catch me now, I'll be in real trouble." With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, Ryoma silently backed away, his heart pounding with urgency. Every second felt like a narrow escape, and he knew he couldn't afford to linger—getting away now was the only way to stay one step ahead of those who might be hunting him.
/ After a long long time : 2 thousand years ...later ./
Ryoma exhaled a long, weary breath as he finally arrived at the outskirts of a bustling town. The exhaustion hit him hard, and he couldn't help but feel like melted ice cream under the blazing sun—drained, sticky, and on the verge of melting away completely. His senses were overwhelmed by the cacophony of sounds—the chatter of merchants, the clatter of carts, and the distant calls of townsfolk going about their day. Glancing around, he hesitated, uncertain of his next move. "Where should I go first?" he wondered aloud, his voice tinged with fatigue and a hint of nervousness. His eyes darted between the crowded streets and the shadowy alleys, weighing his options as the weight of his journey pressed down on him. Every step forward felt both like a small victory and a new challenge, and he knew that whatever he chose, the town's twisting maze of streets could either be a refuge or a trap.
Ryoma looked around, taking in the bustling scene with a mix of curiosity and cautious interest. As he moved through the crowded streets, he observed the throngs of people—merchants shouting their wares, townsfolk haggling over goods, children darting between carts, and travelers passing by with hurried footsteps. The lively atmosphere was surprisingly vibrant, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel a flicker of appreciation. "What a pleasant city," he thought, a faint smile touching his lips despite his fatigue. His gaze then drifted to a small pouch tucked into his belt, and he silently estimated the amount of gold coins he'd managed to acquire—probably a decent sum by now. He examined the intricate design of one of the coins, noting the craftsmanship and the symbols stamped into its surface. "Hmm, interesting design indeed," he mused, a spark of intrigue igniting in his eyes. Carefully, he tucked the coin away, already pondering how he might use his newfound wealth or what other treasures might be hidden within this lively city.
Ryoma tilted his head thoughtfully, pondering his next move. "Hmm, what should I do now?" he wondered aloud, a hint of uncertainty flickering across his face. As he scanned his surroundings, something caught his eye—an unusual object or perhaps a mysterious symbol—prompting his curiosity to spike. Suddenly, a bright, energetic icon appeared before him, pulsing with a vibrant glow. An alert flashed across his vision: **Skill Unlocked: Checking Ability**—accompanied by a brief description: *Allows the user to see details of objects, environments, and their levels.* Ryoma's eyes widened in surprise. "Eh? Such a useful skill I've just gained," he thought, a newfound sense of excitement bubbling up. He examined the icon with interest, already imagining the possibilities it could unlock in navigating this strange new world and uncovering hidden secrets.
/This story continues. /