It growled with a guttural, incomprehensible sound, caught between swallowing and forming coherent words. The beast struggled, attempting to engulf Ulah in one gulp. Each swallow made it easier for the sword to slice through the throat's walls, eliciting an enraged response. The beast's only hope was that Ulah might be trapped in its emerging sea of saliva.
Ulah, his grip slipping, fought to retain his hold on the sword. As he descended, his weight, sweat, and the beast's saliva combined, making it an arduous challenge. He inched toward the abyss, knowing that any further descent would expose him to stomach acid, a painful, lingering death.
Steam clouded the environment, suffocating Ulah as he reached the edge. He looked up, desperate for any sign that his efforts made a difference, but it was pitch-black, his eyes struggling to adjust in the absence of light.
Blood automatically merged into the sword, enhancing it, but he couldn't witness the transformation, buried deep within the flesh.
The beast, veins throbbing in its bloodshot eyes, coughed violently, but nothing emerged from its throat. The audience grew increasingly concerned, exchanging worried glances as chatter escalated.
Then, the beast ceased coughing. Ulah feared his efforts were in vain. Closing his eyes, he grappled with his fear.
A miracle occurred—the beast swayed, unable to maintain its balance, before suddenly collapsing to the ground. It did not cough, its veins receded, and it merely stared blankly, its posture resembling a dog begging for mercy.
Ulah was disoriented. He slipped off the sword, finding himself on what was now the throat's floor.
"Did I win? Is it on the ground now?" Ulah scanned the ceiling, reaching for his sword. With effort, he overcame the slimy surface, his hand closing around the hilt. He glanced down, only to be met by a haunting silence.
Then, the beast collapsed with a deafening thud, cracking the ground plates. The audience was left speechless, their mouths agape. A sob escaped from one of the spectators.
But as the crowd's shock transformed into anger, Ulah's smile widened, unaware that the fallen beast held iconic significance.
"I guess we've established he has no magic. Let's conclude this and let him leave," Zoh urged, trying to extricate Ulah from a perilous situation.
"Why are you so eager to release him?" questioned the Mage Sentinel.
Zoh hesitated, processing the unfolding events, torn between his loyalties.
The Mage Sentinel stepped forward, revealing himself to the weary Ulah.
"Who are you?" Ulah asked, his energy dwindling.
"Stage 3 will soon commence," the Mage Sentinel intoned.
"Before that, may I know your name?" Ulah inquired, struggling to stay conscious.
Ulah found himself back in the dungeon. The dim lighting took a while to adjust to, and he blinked rapidly to hasten the process, yawning, a common tactic for inducing sleep.
Exhausted, he dropped his sword, collapsing to the unforgiving floor, wracked with pain. A healer entered, the same one who had assisted him before. Ulah groaned and curled into a ball.
The healer, through intricate hand movements, conjured spells beyond Ulah's understanding. The sight of the beast's saliva disgusted him, and he began retching on his side. Swiftly, the healer turned him onto his back, palm on his chest, a radiant aura enveloping him, forcing Ulah to close his eyes. The weight of saliva on his clothes disappeared, and his throat cleared.
Stepping back to assess the boy, the healer, finding no further need for their services, exited through the gate. Ulah rose, retrieving his sword.
"Stage 3. Probably three more of those Leviathans," Ulah muttered in frustration, his dread of being devoured lingering.
He performed a few stretches, eager to regain his composure. Unwanted saliva lingered, and he took solace in the return of his sword.
"Stage 3," the world shifted in a sudden, dramatic transformation.
Ulah stood alone in an unfamiliar city under the bright sun and clear skies. It bore no resemblance to any place he'd ever seen. Puzzled, he ventured forward, hoping to discover the purpose of this new stage. No massive advertisements adorned the buildings, unlike his previous adventures.
Perplexed, Ulah contemplated his surroundings, grumbling about the possible arrival of a boss set to decimate the city. His mutterings were interrupted by distant screams. The echoes and uniform architecture made it challenging to discern the screams' origins.
Without delay, Ulah dashed in the direction of the cries. Long streets and empty shops blurred past him as he struggled to close the gap to the source of distress. His body began to fail him, his determination keeping him moving forward.
Finally, after an exhausting twenty-minute sprint, he reached the building where the figure stood. Bursting through a window, he found a hallway with an accessible emergency staircase leading to the top. He ascended, knowing he had no other choice.
Breathing heavily, he approached the unmoving figure. And then...
"What's this? A black cloth atop some boxes?" Ulah sighed in frustration. Another prolonged scream resounded, but this time, he knew the quest had failed.
"Stage 3 failed. All stages are now complete," the Mage Sentinel announced.
"How the—" Ulah began, bewildered by the revelation. He searched around the box for answers but was abruptly transported back to the dungeon.
"What was the point of bringing the sword?"
"If successful in locating the target, you would have found someone waiting for you. But as you failed to locate that person in time, Stage 3 is over."
"Okay, have I completed all the stages? I need to know if Mr. Tumi is safe and to understand what's going on. Please, don't harm him. He's just a bunny caught up in all of this."
"Whoever this Mr. Tumi is remains a mystery to me. As for you, I can't guarantee that the outside world will hold a favorable view of you."
"Why? Can you explain why the staff I had was so dangerous?"
"Words alone can't convey the potential damage you could have inflicted upon our world. We've retained the relic, and as for you, you are now free to go."
"No, wait. I'm not from here! I was sent through the portal by that staff. Please, let me go back home. I promise never to bother you again."
"I can't discuss this further. For now, you'll be released by the Knights of Kresa. Goodbye."
Two knights entered, spears pointed at Ulah as he moved forward.
"Drop the sword!"
"No. I want the staff back, so I can leave this planet," Ulah demanded.
"Stand down!" The other knight inched closer, spear at the ready.
Ulah, his eyes filled with determination, grasped the sword firmly, prepared for action.
Tense seconds passed, and then the knights lowered their weapons.
They retreated, leaving Ulah to lower his weapon as well.
"That's better. It wasn't so hard, was it?" Ulah advanced toward the open door, the knights stationed before it. The door slammed shut, confusing Ulah.
"What? Is there more?" Ulah questioned in frustration.
He sprinted toward the doors, slashing at them with the sword. The attack created a small hole, through which Ulah tried to peer. He saw no sign of the knights. Repeated attempts to widen the hole yielded little success.
He retreated and observed the dungeon, puzzled and fearful. As he inspected the room further, exhaustion overcame him. He dropped the sword, collapsing on the ground. Everything faded to black.