"What do you know about this dungeon?" Kael asks, sipping a warm cup of coffee, the steam curling up in the cold, damp air. 'Since this dungeon is in the country, the elf prince should have some information.'
The elf prince stands up, his pale, graceful hand brushing the dirt away as he raises it toward the ground. Slowly, a sapling begins to grow, its roots spreading beneath the earth. The tiny plant shoots up rapidly, expanding, twisting, and branching out until it forms a lush, verdant couch. The soft leaves and thick vines intertwine, creating a cushiony seat that looks both regal and natural. The prince leans back into the plush greenery, running his hand through his soft, silken hair as he gets comfortable.
"This dungeon appeared shortly after Father took the throne, a bit over 700 years ago. I'm not entirely sure why, but I discovered that the creator of this dungeon—whoever they are—holds a deep grudge against all elves."
"How odd," Kael murmurs, tapping his head thoughtfully. 'So Leena has been here for 700 years, and that man mentioned he's been here for 700 years as well. He was likely dragged into the dungeon during its development.' He sighs, tapping his TSI and scrolling through the data. 'This doesn't add up. When I started training my body, I used some time to write down everything I remembered about the story. I only vaguely mentioned this dungeon as a way to introduce the prince; this place was never meant to be important. The prince gets the flower and takes it back—that's how it's supposed to go. I never created Leena or Mirelith. I doubt I triggered a butterfly effect since everything I did in the Great Empire couldn't have affected the elf kingdom.'
Kael stands up, his face etched with frustration. 'There's only one possibility I can think of: the prince and the adventurers manage to stop Leena from achieving her goal, or at the very least, something happens that prevents her from interfering with the main storyline.' He looks at the prince. "So what did you elves do to piss off Leena?"
"Leena mad at elves? Now that's a joke," a disturbing, low, cracked voice echoes through the cavern, sending a shiver down the prince's spine. The voice is thick with sickness, the sound of it making the air feel heavier, more oppressive. The prince's eyes widen as he turns cautiously, trying to locate the source, while Kael remains unfazed, continuing to enjoy his coffee.
'What's this? Where's that voice coming from?' The prince glares around the dark cave in confusion, unable to see anyone. He glances at Kael, who seems utterly calm. 'He's not reacting? Did he know they were here?'
With a resigned sigh, Kael stands up, his expression untroubled. 'I couldn't sense them at all—they must be the strong monsters the system window mentioned.' He turns his head slowly, his eyes scanning the darkness. "I see you. Why don't you come out of the shadows and talk to us face to face, both of you?"
"Hmm, this one's interesting," a second voice, similarly cracked and sick but pitched higher, replies from the darkness. Slowly, two figures emerge from the shadows, stepping into the dim light of the cave.
They stand about 5'3", their bodies twisted and grotesque, yet oddly symmetrical. The first is a man, the second a woman, both with dark gray, flaky skin, cracked and peeling in places as if their very flesh is crumbling away. Chunks of skin are missing, revealing the sinewy, decaying muscle beneath. Their mouths are black, filled with spiky, needle-like teeth that seem too sharp for their ragged appearance. The man has short, matted black hair, while the woman's long, tangled hair hangs in greasy strands. Their clothes are little more than brown, tattered rags that barely cling to their bodies, leaving much of their strong, muscular frames exposed. Despite their decayed appearance, their bodies are unnervingly well-built; the man's muscles ripple under his sickly skin, and the woman's abs are clearly defined, as if they were warriors in a past life.
What stands out most, however, are the red blindfolds covering their eyes and the wings on their backs. The wings are like a grotesque parody of a butterfly's, yet shaped more like dragonfly wings. They're torn in several places, stained with black lines, and covered in filth, but there's an eerie beauty to them, as if they once belonged to something graceful. The patterns on their wings are unique—intricate designs that seem to shift and shimmer in the dim light, but now they're marred by decay and neglect.
Kael observes them carefully, his mind racing. 'They're the same type of monsters as before, but these look more evolved—no, not evolved, but mutated. They've gained a consciousness, likely from their time here. Their wings are different too. The patterns are unique to each, unlike the previous ones. They're bigger, stronger, and obviously more dangerous.'
"Are you saying Leena isn't mad at the elves?" Kael asks, his voice steady as he assesses the situation, his eyes never leaving the creatures before him.
The man of the two tilts his head toward his female companion, a twisted smile spreading across his cracked lips. "Can you believe this fool?" he says, his voice a sickening, rasping croak that grates against the air.
The woman's hands twitch violently as she smiles, the movement jerky and unsettling. "He's just an I-D-I-O-T," she hisses, the words almost sing-song, but with an undercurrent of malice. Out of the corner of her lip, some black sludge leaks out, thick and tar-like, dripping onto the ground.
The man laughs, a dry, rattling sound that echoes through the cavern. "Has it been a century already? These two are targets," he says in that same sickening tone, as if savoring the words.
The woman's eyes flicker with something dark and primal. She grabs the man's arm and, with a sudden ferocity, bites into it, tearing off a chunk of his flesh. "Don't be stupid," she murmurs mid-bite, her voice muffled as she chews on his meat. Raising her right arm, she points at Kael with one twitching finger. "We do the second test. The elf can wait. I smell him on this human."
The prince, who had been watching with a mixture of caution and disdain, now looks around warily. "What the hell are you talking about?" he mutters under his breath, 'Are there more of these things around? Damn it, these restrictions are frustrating.' He glances back at Kael, who still seems unnervingly calm. 'He still has his guard down. What is he planning?' With a smirk, the prince waves a hand dismissively. "I'll let you be since your business is with him." He steps back, returning to his makeshift seat of vines and leaves, clearly interested in seeing how Kael handles the situation. 'Prove your worth,' he thinks with a satisfied grin.
'What a bastard,' Kael thinks, though he keeps the smirk on his face as he taps his chin thoughtfully. "Test? I guess you two must be responsible for testing us on this floor." Despite the eerie calm of the two creatures, Kael senses no immediate hostility. He walks back to his table and casually pours two glasses of coffee, offering them to the pair. "Have a drink; you look dehydrated."
The two monsters exchange a glance before turning their attention to Kael. "What a strange human," the man mumbles, his movements sluggish as he stumbles closer and takes the coffee. The woman follows suit, her hands twitching as she struggles to hold the glass, but she manages, barely.
"I've never tasted something so weird," the man states, his voice slurred as some of the coffee dribbles out of his mouth, mixing with the black sludge already oozing from his lips. The woman holds her coffee for a moment before pouring it into her mouth, the hot liquid trickling down her throat. For a brief second, she seems almost normal, but then, with a disturbing snap, she stuffs the glass into her mouth, crunching down on it with a grotesque grin. "What a bitter drink," she says, her voice garbled as she spits out shards of glass, wiping the blood from her mouth with an unsettling calm.
"Umm…" Kael blinks, momentarily taken aback, before slowly filling up another glass. "I go by V," he says, handing her the refilled glass. "There's sugar and cream on the table; make it as sweet as you want."
The woman smiles, her teeth stained with blood and bits of glass. "I have no name," she says simply, before walking over to the table and dumping an absurd amount of sugar into her coffee, stirring it with a twitching hand.
The man shakes his head as he watches her, but before he can speak, his body seizes up, twitching violently. A dark, sickly hue surrounds him as his nails extend, becoming a deep, unnatural black. His body convulses uncontrollably, his nails digging into his own skin as he drags his hands down his face, leaving deep gashes. With a guttural gasp, the violent spasms suddenly stop. "Not again," he grumbles, his voice thick with frustration. "We lost our names."
"We don't have much time left since we have little control left," the woman says, her voice surprisingly calm as she continues to dump sugar into her coffee, her movements now somewhat more controlled. "Call us whatever. The test you take is sparring against one of us. You choose. You have to survive for one minute," she explains, lifting her coffee—which is now more sugar than liquid—and taking a bite out of the thick, syrupy concoction.
Kael nods slowly, trying to hide the unease creeping up his spine. 'That guy scared the hell out of me,' he thinks, his mind racing as he weighs his options. He looks between the two, assessing them carefully. 'Her twitching isn't as violent, so her control must be higher than his.'
"Okay, I choose you," Kael says, pointing directly at the man with a calm, steady gaze.