The moment Arthur saw the orc, he forgot everything. His mind went blank, and he sat motionless on the sandy ground, unaware that even his breathing had stopped. This sight represented his deepest fear, a nightmare etched into his memory. No other encounters with orcs—whether it was the rhino-man or the night hawk—could compare to the terror he felt now.
Arthur had never seen this red-skinned orc before. On the night of the great fire, aside from the two orcs who chased him to Ford Town, he hadn't directly faced any others. But the sheer presence of this one filled him with unparalleled dread.
The silver sword, which Arthur had previously driven into the ground, now toppled as he fell back, the hilt landing heavily on his foot. The pain jolted Arthur's awareness, but his legs remained weak, and he couldn't stop the tears and snot streaming down his face.
The red-skinned orc wielded a massive axe, roaring into the air as it aimlessly prowled the clearing littered with weapons. Wiping away his tears, Arthur attempted to use the silver sword to help himself up, but the blade wouldn't provide stable support. He collapsed to his knees again, further unsettling Parish, who was strapped to his back.
Now isn't the time to be scared... Arthur's legs were trembling uncontrollably. He clenched his fists and punched his thighs hard. Parish still needed saving—there was no time to fall apart.
Fueled by Parish's desperate state, Arthur steadied himself against the earthen wall and stood up. The first step was complete. But what about the second? The second step meant getting past the orc to the tunnel they had come from. Parish was too weak to move independently, his body shrunken to half its original size, leaving Arthur to feel the oppressive atmosphere of the underground labyrinth.
Arthur's eyes were swollen, his complexion turning sallow. Without Parish constantly providing hydration, his body was reacting to the severe environment. Time was running out. Arthur discarded the silver sword, hoping to bolster his courage, and stepped toward the clearing.
The orc heard the faint sound, and though its back had been to Arthur, it swung its massive axe backward in an instant. Arthur knew he couldn't perform an evasive roll like he might have in a combat gym—Parish's presence on his back made such maneuvers impossible. Instead, he crouched low, shielding his head with his arms, and dived forward under the axe's arc. With his eyes tightly shut, he sprinted blindly into the tunnel, clutching the light-thread sphere. Behind him, the red-skinned orc's enraged roars sent chills down his spine.
At last, Arthur emerged into the chamber where the corpse piles had been. To his surprise, the corpses were gone. He didn't immediately investigate their absence but instead set Parish down gently on the muddy ground. Placing the light-thread sphere beside him, Arthur ensured his companion had some illumination.
Parish was now reduced to little more than a faintly beating heart, teetering on the brink of death. Arthur began to rise but was struck by a sudden wave of dizziness, forcing him back to his knees. His vision went black.
Why am I suffocating all of a sudden? Arthur's stomach contracted painfully as he struggled to draw oxygen into his lungs. Crawling forward, he stumbled toward the wall where the corpses had once been.
Although the surface showed no sign of the corpses ever being there, Arthur's hand came away sticky with a vile substance.
"So the corpses were real. Was the rest a hallucination?" Rubbing his fingers together, Arthur wisely chose not to sniff the residue. Considering the decaying state of the corpses he had seen earlier... best to let it be.
The Mark. Arthur needed to locate the mark Parish had mentioned. As he ran his hands along the dirt walls and wooden supports, he finally found a wolf-head emblem near the ground, opposite the corpses' original position.
This must be the wolf totem. Arthur touched the area around the emblem, hoping to uncover any clues that might lead them out of this nightmare.
Elikrom.
The low whisper, absent for some time, returned to Arthur's ears. Coupled with his lingering dizziness, the combined pressure made him lose focus. Even the wolf totem blurred before his eyes.
Protect yourself.
Arthur realized the current situation: Elikrom's remnants were amplifying their protective force, launching a mental attack on him. Perhaps those earlier whispers had been assaults too. When his fingers brushed the wolf totem's eyes, a strange light engulfed the entire mural.
In the blink of an eye, a nauseating stench overwhelmed him again. Arthur didn't need to turn around to know the two decayed corpses had returned. His mind cleared suddenly, sharper than ever—a sign he had escaped the nightmare's grip.
A faint cough interrupted his thoughts. Parish seemed to have regained his normal form, his body no longer shrunken or withered. Instead, he looked like someone who had simply taken a long nap and been roused by the corpses' putrid stench.
Realizing where he was, Parish stood, snapped his fingers, and conjured water to cleanse himself and Arthur. He then directed a torrent of water at the corpses in frustration, washing away their odor. The memory of his earlier helplessness lingered, fueling his anger.
Arthur watched Parish's outburst with a wry smile. Shaking his head, he raised his hand, noting a newfound weight in his fingers—a simple necklace, strung with a beast's tooth the length of a finger.
Holding it up, Arthur called out to Parish: "Mr. Parish, do you think this is the Hebrew family's hidden secret?"
Parish paused, adjusted his scholar's robe to regain his composure, and took the necklace. Examining the tooth closely, he nodded.
"Yes, this is the Tooth of Elikrom. I can sense the residual power of the god within it."
Relieved, Arthur felt the tension ease. At least this perilous journey hadn't been in vain. As for why he could hear the tooth's voice, Arthur attributed it to his grandfather, who had once hidden the tooth in his books. The true reason remained unclear, but it must have something to do with the tooth's powers.
"This wasn't for nothing. We've retrieved the Hebrew family's divine relic." Parish produced a finely crafted metal box from his inner pocket and placed the necklace inside. "Young Hebrew, the Tooth of Elikrom will remain in my care for now, but it is, ultimately, yours."
Arthur shrugged, unbothered. Keeping the tooth would be like a child clinging to a stack of cash—he couldn't use it or protect it. Leaving it with Parish was the best option.
Now there was only one task left: returning to the surface. But were the patrol teams still out there?
An eerie sense of unease crept into Arthur's mind. Scanning the chamber, he saw the tunnel they had entered from, the corpses, the vanished totem, and the wooden supports... Then his eyes widened in horror.
Where there had once been an opening to another chamber stood a stone wall. Worse still, protruding from the wall was part of a human hand, the fingers clawing desperately toward the surface.
It was the hand of one of the patrol members.