Ivan and Lorson stood rooted in contemplation, an overwhelming wave of confusion crashing upon Lorson. The situation before them – the enigmatic quest, the armed figures – left him uncertain about the best course of action. Lorson had a knack for cunning words, but he sensed that this armored group wasn't likely to be receptive. In his mind, two choices loomed: Fight or flee.
On the other hand, Ivan appeared to be brewing something more calculated in the depths of his silence. His contemplative demeanor hinted at the workings of a strategic mind, crafting plans and schemes within the recesses of his thoughts. His reverie was shattered by the relentless inquiry of the stern figure.
"I asked, who are you?" the man's voice boomed again.
"We are travelers from a distant land, drawn by tales of your noble warfare. We sought to lend our strength to your cause by joining your ranks," Ivan began, weaving his fabrication.
"Do you think we require assistance against the cowardly Venai warriors?" one of the armored men interjected skeptically.
"Of course not. It is an honor we seek, the chance to stand shoulder to shoulder with your renowned kingdom in vanquishing the Venai menace," Ivan continued to spin his web of lies.
"What renowned kingdom do you speak of?" Azonai, the Tyrant King, inquired.
"Huh?" Ivan feigned surprise, a tinge of panic seeping into his voice. A crucial flaw in his ruse had been exposed, and he scrambled to regain control of the narrative.
"Your noble kingdom, the one for which we yearn to fight," Ivan stumbled, realizing that his carefully constructed plan was unraveling before him.
"What is the name of the kingdom you claim you had come to fight for?" Azonai's voice dripped with suspicion.
At this juncture, Ivan was acutely aware that his plot had crumbled. It wasn't that he hadn't anticipated such a question; he had simply underestimated the speed at which it would arise, or even if it would at all. After all, who could have foreseen that supposed defenders of a kingdom would be ignorant of the kingdom's name?
"Ah, you see, we hail from a distant land as I mentioned earlier. The name of this particular kingdom isn't frequently spoken of, which sometimes leads to its slipping our minds," Ivan hastily interjected, striving to salvage the situation.
"I understand, yet you managed to recall the name of my enemy's kingdom quite well," the Tyrant King remarked, his tone brimming with skepticism.
The truth was evident: Ivan had been bested this time. The balance of wit had shifted, and he found himself questioning whether his plan had been inadequately devised or poorly executed. It hardly mattered; in this bout of mental maneuvering, he was outplayed, an outcome further underscored by the king's next words.
"Seize them both and confine them. Once the tournament concludes, I shall personally extract information from them through torture," the Tyrant King proclaimed, prompting the armored enforcers to approach Ivan and Lorson, blades at the ready.
Lorson whispered, seeking guidance, "What's the plan now?"
"Say nothing and move," Ivan responded quietly. The guards closed in, securing their captives with chains around their wrists.
Now, once again imprisoned and relocated, Ivan found himself without the foreknowledge that had served him before. This time, he faced a situation that appeared to be more challenging.
"Why the bloody hell would anyone fresh out of the tutorial willingly take on a quest like this?" Lorson whispered, perplexed.
"I don't have the luxury of time. I need to grow stronger as quick as possible. Besides, and this quest can't be done if a player above level sixty," Ivan explained.
"Level sixty? You've got a long way to go before reaching that point, right? Right?" Lorson's disbelief seeped into his voice, but Ivan maintained his silence, refusing to confirm or deny the assertion.
"There's no way…" Lorson's voice trailed off.
"Shut up and keep moving," Ivan instructed Lorson, his voice hushed.
"And I assume you also have a plan to save us from this current predicament?" Lorson inquired.
"Working one one. At the moment, our best course of action is to follow them. Listen, Lorson, I couldn't care less about what happens to you outside of this quest. However, within this scenario, we need to collaborate. We both stand to lose and gain something here. Don't embark on any reckless endeavors on your own," Ivan cautioned.
"Ofcourse, I'm not a dumbass. Do you think I want to be trapped in this place indefinitely?" Lorson retorted.
"Good, then let's stop talking," Ivan directed firmly.
The procession of armored guards and captives continued to traverse a path through the forest. Eventually, the winding route led them to the heart of the kingdom, revealing a breathtaking sight.
As the Gunzal kingdom sprawled out before them, a sense of contrast and contradiction filled the air. The grandeur of the architecture clashed with the sparseness of the streets, creating an atmosphere of eerie anticipation. Tall, imposing structures rose to touch the heavens, their intricate facades casting shadows over the otherwise barren avenues.
However, chants and roars hinted activity from a grand colloseum in the distance.
Most of the men followed the tyrant King and departed, while Ivan and Lorson, led by two of the men, were directed down a different path.
As they ventured deeper into the Chambers, the surroundings grew increasingly dim and somber, the heavy aroma of iron lingering in the air. The halls seemed to echo with the cries of those who had previously inhabited this place.
Their journey halted in front of a cell. One of the guards opened the cell door, motioning for them to enter, and once they were inside, the door was promptly shut and locked. At the end of the hallway, a flight of stairs hinted at a lower level, a descent from which escape appeared unlikely.
Taking up position at the hallway's entrance, the guard stood watch as Ivan clasped the cell bars. The bars were formidable, not entirely impervious, but any attempt to break them would certainly result in a cacophony of noise.
Ivan, however, had formulated an alternative strategy from the moment he laid eyes on the small barred window high up on the cell wall. Though his plan seemed viable in his mind, its success remained uncertain until it was enacted.
"Hexthorn," Ivan whispered.
Lorson observed in bewilderment for the initial minutes as nothing transpired, a reaction that Ivan had anticipated. Hexthorn could only manifest where other vines, vegetation, or natural ground existed, similar to Ezra who summoned vine minions from her own vines.
However, even in the absence of vegetation or vines within the cell, some lay not too distant outside. With an anticipatory gaze, Ivan observed as verdant tendrils snaked their way through the small window. As these vines traversed, they interwove and coalesced into the form of Hexthorn, Ivan's three-foot vine minion.
"Alright, pay attention. Do you see that guard?" Ivan began, but he halted mid-sentence while studying Hexthorn. It dawned on him that Hexthorn couldn't comprehend intricate commands. Its intellect was as rudimentary as a stone.
Acting swiftly, Ivan swiped to summon his system window and promptly allocated five of his stat points to enhance Hexthorn's intelligence.
[ Hexthorn +5 INT]
"Okay, now, do you understand me?" Ivan inquired. Hexthorn responded with an enthusiastic nod, its movements resembling those of an exuberant child playing with its vines.
While Hexthorn's intelligence had improved, it still lacked the ability to speak and seemed to possess the cognitive capacity of a youngster.
"That will do. Listen, go and knock out that guard—use your vines to strangle him or something—and bring the keys back to me," Ivan instructed.
Hexthorn nodded in acknowledgment, reconfiguring its tendrils as it exited the cell, moving with a playful wobble. It made its way beyond Ivan and Lorson's view toward the guard.
"Do you truly believe that thing can accomplish the task? It seems a bit...stupid," Lorson commented.
"I think it should be capab—" Ivan's voice trailed off as the guard's body was forcefully slammed to the ground before them, Hexthorn's vine constricting around his neck.
"What the fuck?" Lorson exclaimed jump scared by the sudden slam, as he stared at the unconscious guard, Hexthorn bobbing over to his unconscious form and extracting the key, then presenting it to Ivan.
"I said strangle him... but I appreciate your efficiency," Ivan remarked as he accepted the key.
"Now what?" Lorson queried.
"Let's go have a conversation with the king," Ivan responded, a determined glint in his eyes.