DUNGEON FILE 009:
ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH
I trailed behind Mendell in silence, the unfamiliar weight of the jian bumping awkwardly against my hip. I forced myself to stare at the dusty ground, because honestly? Looking at him right now, even just the back of his stupidly fancy cloak, made my stomach want to heave.
If there's truly beautiful strong women in this dungeon, why couldn't one of them have whisked me away and protected me instead?!! Pft. I'll try not to be ungrateful.
Eventually, our path led us a considerable distance away from the noisy chaos of the main market streets, towards a quieter, more dilapidated section of the [Sanctuary].
Here, nestled amongst crumbling walls and the raw cavern rock, was a small fountain mounted into the wall.
The fountain's stonework was old and weathered, flat and simple aside from a few carvings on the edges of the well that appeared like a variety of animals and potentially Dungeon beasts(?) running in circles.
It almost reminded me of the symbol calendars we used back in the Obsidian Empire. Water spilled from the spout in a steady stream, pooling into a basin at its base.
"Ooh, water," I murmured, suddenly realizing how parched I was from death. "I could do with a drink." The salty brine of the ravine's tidepools made me realize just how much I ached for fresh water.
"…Best not. I would highly suggest you avoid drinking water from any fountains shaped like this one; I'm sure it would not settle very nicely with your gut. This is actually known as [Well]. I'd be surprised you've never seen one, but I know better than to overestimate your knowledge of the world [System] by now."
"Oh Gods. Is this another thing I was supposed to have already somehow learned about back up on the Topworld?"
Mendell did not reply, instead opting to step closer to the basin, pull off his manchettes and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic beneath the armor. He placed his hands on the edge of the basin, and the water churned to life.
It shimmered, and a faint silvery mist rose from it, swirling around him in a divine kind of way. The Hunter leaned down, and let the water cascade over his cupped hands.
Then, like a priest performing a baptism, he splashed it over his face with reverent care. Slowly, he let the water wash over his face, the droplets glistening on his skin like diamonds.
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and I could see the faintest glint of satisfaction on his expression that came with this ritual.
"What are you doing?" I asked, watching as he wiped the luminous water down his face.
Mendell didn't look at me as he straightened up, his wet hands gripping the stone rim of the fountain. His sharp grin returned.
"Spending [Essence] for stats at the well," he wiped the water out of the damp hair strands over his eyes. "[Strength] and [Dexterity] this time, mostly. You'd be surprised how much easier it is to survive when you can swing a sword faster than the other guy."
"Must be nice," I muttered under my breath, hands tight around my new sword's hilt. I recalled how Mendell fought the nautilus back in the ravine, mentioning something about 'harvesting the [Essence]'. So this is how it worked; the ability to become stronger…
"I suppose I'll have to… farm some of my own, won't I? Ugh… I can't—"
"Can't do shit, yes. We've established that," Mendell interrupted.
Damn him! I hated how easily he dismissed me.
"Then help me get some, if we hope for any chance of finding Ardenne," I established, my voice more confident than how I felt. "There must be some weak creatures, slimes, rats, something in the ravine I can kill to—"
Mendell laughed, a short, sharp bark of amusement. He seemed almost offended at my request…
"Weak? Sure. There's plenty of weaklings around here. Maybe you should check the gaols you came from for any other newcomers like you. They're easy pickings, you know. Hell, maybe they'll even think you're putting them out of their misery."
I recoiled, horror flashing across her face. "You're joking, I'm not stooping to that level!"
"Oh?" His playful tone vanished instantly, replaced by a rough, grating edge. " Did Niamh's speech about my actions get to you? Do you still think we can reach the lowest layers just by slowly grinding away? How do you expect to make any change by doing nothing, exactly?"
"Huh?!"
"Hmm, do you think it easy for every other person here to adjust to taking lives? Do you believe they are all just scum like me? Unless you'd care to stay in the [Sanctuary] until you starve to death without a coin to your name over and over again or go [Unbound], you'll have to kill something. The 'scum' who get stuck here, they don't have the luxury of feeling sorry for themselves. So don't reject the concept so disgustedly that way, Ayauhcihuatl—I'm sure someone must have taught you, it's terrible manners."
Fuck.
Is this because I criticized how he achieved his strength earlier?
Perhaps it was a bit harsh, but so is murder!
"Maybe the sexy shopkee—uh, Niamh,—was right. It's terrible for you to try to decide the type of person you think I should be! Do not speak of my potential. Maybe I don't want to sink to whatever level you think I'm capable of."
Mendell's settled back into a weary frown. He turned away slightly. "Look, I'm not here to make friends again like old times," Mendell stated. "I'm terrible at speaking to people, anyways. But I promise, Ayauhcihuatl, I'm only trying to be sincere. And if you don't wake up to the fact that you need to fight—really fight—you'll be seriously hurt before you know it!"
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Finally, Mendell turned away, his tone softer but still frusterated. "You'll figure it out eventually, or you won't. Doesn't really matter to me! But don't ask me for my help and then scorn the answers when you don't like them. This is supposed to be a team effort."
I could do nothing else but stand, heart pounding in my chest, feeling smaller than I had ever felt before. But I'd be damned if I let him see that!
I had no choice but to keep moving forward, even if I didn't know where we were going. Even if the world around me was cold and cruel.
But damn, I hated it.
I hated everything about this place.
——
Our path led us back out to the Sunken Ravine.
I didn't trust the dark, and I didn't trust Mendell much either—not after the way he had spoken to me—but this was the only natural path.
Whether he wanted me here or not, no matter if I hate him or if he dislikes me, I needed to learn about the Dungeon in order to make any change to it. And more importantly, to find Ardenne.
Mendell moved with that infuriating, efficient grace of his, eyes constantly scanning the narrow, twisting path ahead like a bodyguard scouting for threats.
The silence stretched, broken only by the squelch of our boots in unseen puddles and the distant, unsettling sounds of the Dungeon.
Just as the quiet started to feel suffocating, Mendell spoke:
It was unnaturally rough, like it had been torn out of him. "...Look, I'm sorry, alright?"
I blinked. Had I heard that right?
"I know. I'm... not good at this. Talking. Apologizing. Hell, being around people in general. You've probably noticed. If it wasn't obvious, I don't really do the whole... human interaction thing ever since I was forced down here. So, yeah, sorry if I struggled at giving advice without sound like an asshole. It's not personal." His words came out with the elegance of a boulder tumbling down a slope.
"I get it," I muttered, my voice smaller than I wanted. "I'll get over my issues. I'll cope, and together, we'll find your brother."
A small pause.
"But you really are terrible," I smiled. "At apologizing, that is."
I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him, or myself. I just didn't want to hear him saying how weak I was again.
"And you're terrible at surviving, so we're even," Mendell looked at me, but his eyes were more softened now, just a little. "Uh, sorry."
We walked on in a less tense silence after that. The ground began to slope gently upward, and the stale, metallic air thinned almost imperceptibly.
A faint breeze, carrying the scent of damp rock and something vaguely moldy, whispered through the canyon.
We were still in the Lower Ravine, clearly, but a different part—much narrower, a confusing maze of slot canyons and tight passages. Avoiding the murky tide pools littering the ground became a constant, annoying dance. My tattered dress scraped against the rock walls in some of the tighter squeezes.
"Where are we going?" I asked, mostly to break the silence—and partly because I was about to trip on my own nerves.
"We're back in the Lower Ravine, evidently," Mendell returned back to his usual cheeky expression, glancing over his shoulder. "You want to fight? Well, you've gotta start somewhere. A Lustrous Nautilus should do fine for your first lesson, so we're heading to a nest."
"...A Nautilus?" I raised a brow. "Wait. You mean that disgusting, oversized tentacle-snail thing that almost skewered my stomach?!"
"They're not difficult. They're actually pretty weak, which is why they hang out in the upper layers, the first and second, of the Dungeon to eat the bodies that get dropped in from the surface. Bottom-feeders, essentially."
I looked up, heat crawling down my neck.
I'd nearly been killed by a bottom-feeder!
...I wanted to vanish into the stone.
"Thanks," I muttered, cheeks burning with shame. "Glad to know I was nearly killed by a glorified shrimp."
Before long, we arrived at a large pool—shallow, cloudy, and coated in something that smelled like rot and old blood floating on the surface of the water like an oily thin pulp.
And in the center of it, the creature swirled. Its shell spiraled like nauseating stained glass, slick with iridescence and decay—the Nautilus.
Mendell stepped up behind me. I tensed, but he didn't take my sword. Instead, he corrected my stance, nudged my elbow, adjusted my wrist.
"Relax your grip," Mendell informed from behind me with a massive grin.
He seemed… really far too enthusiastic at the opportunity to talk about combat.
"We're using a jian here, so we're working with precision, not brute force. You never contest force; you divert it. Let it slam at you, and as it does—step to the side, guide its edge with a deflection. You can tell when it will do so because of the churning water, which makes it particularly predictable. It truly is amongst the simplest of foes!"
"That doesn't sound simple at all," I muttered but attempted to adjust my grip nonetheless.
"Once it surfaces and flares its shell open, it's exposing its siphon. That's the weak spot. You're not aiming for a wide slash. Drive the blade right where the shell meets flesh. If you miss, reset. Don't flail."
He patted the jian's pommel lightly. "The jian's advantage is redirection and versatility—It's a stupidly light sword so you shouldn't struggle to make use of its benefits. I'm almost jealous of its elegance~!"
"I feel as if I should be taking notes…"
Mendell unsheathed his own weapon—the long, thin estoc—and stepped into the puddle.
"Watch and learn. It's a different fighting technique with an estoc, and it's way heavier, but you can still understand the Nautilus's attack patterns by watching me."
He moved with a practiced grace, stepping into the shallow puddles of the ravine with his estoc raised. The water rushed unnaturally, the moment the water shifted, the nautilus sprang forward, tentacles lashing.
Mendell dodged to the side, his movements precise and fluid, his estoc blurred—flick, flick—severing the extended tentacles near their base. Before the creature could even react, he lunged, driving the estoc's point deep into the exposed siphon with brutal accuracy.
The creature let out a horrible screech before collapsing back into the water, its [Essence] glowing faintly as it dissolved into the air like a bloody black smoke which Mendell breathed in.
It curled like smoke and drifted into Mendell's lungs, which he inhaled like someone enjoying fine wine. He then turned back to me, smirking.
"See? It's soo simple~"
"Yeah, you would say that."
Then, without warning, Mendell barked, "Move! There's one in the pool behind you!"
Crap!
I spun around, the jian clumsy in my slick palms. I inched closer to the edge of the pool behind me, sword raised and looking for the sign of the churning water.
Another nautilus let out a low, bubbling noise, and then—tentacles shot from the pool with a horrid sloshing noise.
"Shit!"
"Stop panicking!" Mendell barked.
Oh, yes, because that helps.
I shot him a glare but forced my lungs to steady their breathing.
Redirect.
Don't flail.
Siphon.
When it lunged again with a spray of brine, I sidestepped, then rushed forward and thrust the jian at the creature in that fleshy weak spot.
The blade sliced through the air and plunged into the hard, iridescent shell with a terrible crack.
Technically a miss, but the nautilus screeched nonetheless, its tentacles flailing wildly as it tried to pull back, but it was too slow.
I wrenched the blade free and took a step back, heart hammering. For a second, I thought it might retaliate, but the nautilus let out a soft, defeated gurgle and collapsed, its body twitching slightly before it fell still.
I stood there, trembling.
My breath ragged.
My fingers numb.
I had done it.
I had killed my first creature!!
A disgusting spurt of oily [Essence] suddenly sprays onto my arm.
Ew, ew, ew…! What is this smell??
I can't tell if I want to celebrate in victory or faint in guilt and disgust… !
The decision is made for me as my vision slowly fades to black.