Searching for Andromeda 66 Sacrifices to Attain One's Goals Part 1

Ephraim nodded. When he was transported to the last floor protected by the guardian, he was shown the only way in and out; the fiery doom he had encountered with the cryptex. When the guardian showed him the floors, he was able to pinpoint where they are and how they would get into the last floor. The images the guardian had showed him were in order - with the lake he fell in actually the second to the last floor, whilst the fiery traps just above it.

"To get into the dungeon's last floor," Ephraim said, "a key is needed."

"A key . . . ?"

"Yes," Ephraim then drew a key in a necklace wrapped around his neck hiding inside his clothes. It was the one that came out when he solved the riddle in the cryptex. The ones that helped him talk to the guardian. "This key."

The key was returned to him by the guardian when he was transported to the clock tower to save Samuel. The guardian told him that he would need the key.

"Isn't it much more convenient to leave it here?" Ephraim asked the guardian.

"You will need it, Human. Sooner or later. Everything is all according to fate."

"You got into the last floor . . . ?" Arletha's eyes widened, looking over at the key dangling into thin air. Ephraim shuffled it back inside his clothes, but she still couldn't take her eyes off of it. "Then Wahid's vessel—"

"No, I didn't claim it." Ephraim clarified, looking at Sam. "It's not what we're after here."

"Then what?" Arletha asked, confused. There was no other purpose in the dungeon than the vessel. It would be a trick to believe him. But then again, this Ephraim had the chance to claim it. So why didn't he?

"It's complicated." Was all what Ephraim could say. It really was complicated, considering there was a huge possibility that this wasn't a mere simulation and they were really in what the guardian said to be 'Andromeda's Realm,'��it wasn't any coincidence of some sort that the space station and this place were named 'Andromeda'. For sure, there is a corresponding reason behind it. And that was what Ephraim need to find out . . . at least, that would be one of the things he had on the list. The first thing is to locate where his team fell into.

And of course, survival.

He shook his thoughts off. "I'll explain later. What's important right now is your comrade's health," says Ephraim, noticing Hosea breathing heavily as beads of sweat dripped over his forehead. His complexion wasn't getting any better, and from what they said earlier, his 'mana' was close to depletion.

"Okay, okay." Arletha exclaimed, her hand holding Hosea's almost clumsily, panic laced all over her voice. "I'll—I'll transport us to Yael and the others. Then we'll leave together on the last floor."

Ephraim nodded. He had seen this group already, and he had seen where they were fighting. It was a distance away from the crumbled tower, where a dead body laid and being feasted by the monsters. Ephraim thought about that body. Did that person belong to the group? He glanced towards Arletha whose hand was trembling slightly—and then to her grave expression breaking her strong front.

With that, Ephraim knew the answer.

Arletha took a deep breath as the hex in her boots glowed whilst Samuel held Hosea to his side, clinging into Arletha's shoulder with Ephraim on the other side.

"Hang tight!"

**

According to the Book—a guide created by the retirees in the Red Alaris Guild—the city of the dead is a customary space in almost every dungeon an adventurer may encounter; albeit from the oceans, forests, or any of the countries in every continent—the Necropolis had long existed with different designs and versions. It has been said to be built by Wahid as a trial to perfect human beings and their habitations. Wahid, the creator of the universe itself, was said to create multiple realms in order to attain his ultimate goal. To whatever that was, the scriptures weren't very clear.

The countless dungeons found in every country were said to have existed beyond time. Some only had appeared fifteen to five years ago, and some had already existed even before kingdoms were established. The dungeons were also simultaneously sinking back to the ground or the sea from time-to-time, whereas to why that occurrence keeps on repeating, people did not understand. For instance, the dungeons in the black sea. They kept on reappearing and disappearing so abruptly in an endless pattern as if Wahid was playing with them.

Wahid, the world's creator, was beyond comprehension, but He was a supreme being . . . at least, that was what the Ancient Scriptures foretold. Written in the language of رمال or Rimal, the world's history had been engraved in the books kept by the Rim, a tribe that resides in Raam—a country located in the Southern Continent, Erde. Everything that was ancient existed in Raam, but only rich Historians were interested to scrutinize and translate the confusing language, given the fact that رمال or Rimal is only taught to the nobility and the royals.

The scriptures in Raam were said to have been inscribed at the beginning of time, handwritten by the first humans perfected by Wahid. In the scriptures, it is said that the dungeons harnessed multiple dimensions and realms that harbored both treasures and monsters. But dungeons aren't popular because of those two reasons. Not for the gold nor the hunt. Dungeons were widely known due to the power they hold—

The power to rule the world.

Or more specifically, the weapons contained in the dungeons that carry a tremendous amount of power. These weapons are called Wahid's Vessels. The vessels are guarded by a deity, a minor god created by Wahid, who rules a certain realm contained in the dungeon. An example of them would be Ma'an, the Water Deity, conquered by the first king of Feyfrost several generations ago; Ard, the Earth Deity, conquered by the royals of Asphora before the wars. These deities reside in the vessels and are the ones to give the weapons their special powers. The deities aren't able to leave the dungeon, as per Wahid's rules. What they only can do is to be surmounted.

In the book, the dungeons harbor multiple floors with the Necropolis usually in the middle. The city of the dead serves as a guide to adventurers searching for a clue where the vessel would be. It is rumored that the city of the dead possessed all the answers—which is why Yael and the others had Necropolis in mind as their numero uno place to go.

But then again, these were secondhand information, perhaps also thirdhand. The conquerors were kings and nobles in power—whilst Yael and his party were unassuming buccaneers. Of course, they wouldn't be able to get much more data other than the rumor that Necropolis is their key to be able to claim Wahid's Vessel. Those in power rarely share erudition, after all.

"They're not supposed to be this strong . . ." Pelmon breathed heavily as he finished slashing one of the necromorphs attacking them. It fell to the ground, sliced in half—but then they witnessed the same thing happening all over again. The slashed flesh of the monster began to connect on its other half like a thread connecting a ripped cloth.

The necromorphs unleashed an alien sound and then emerging before Yael and Pelmon once again was the face of Vashti, which had vanished and appeared constantly like a cog in the system, tricking them into an illusion that she was still alive. The necromorphs unbridled what looked like a howl—an outlandish sound, like that of clicking in the tongue nonstop.

They were fighting these monsters for a whole while now. The necromorphs still regenerated constantly without fail. At this rate, they were wasting their time fighting immortal monsters.

"These aren't recorded in the book!" Pelmon exclaimed, slashing another monster impending to attack.

"No . . ." Yael mumbled. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"Hah!" Pelmon unleashed a battle cry as the blade of his sword carved into the necromorph's back. He began to slash the blade and cut the claws in the back of the monster, who now let out an agonized scream.

"Damn it, it's regenerating again!" Pelmon uttered. He gritted his teeth. At this degree, they won't have any time to search for clues about the dungeon's last floor. Pelmon panted, heaving deeply. His mana was close to being depleted; he could feel his body growing wearier in exhaustion. They had to defeat these monsters and get done with it, or else they wouldn't accomplish their goal!

Only if it were that simple . . .

More necromorphs were coming to them in hoards. Pelmon and Yael pressed their backs together, standing side by side as the monsters surround them.

Pelmon's gaze darted towards the clocktower—and then, his eyes widened as he sees it crumbling completely as the ground vibrated and cowered.

"Yael, the tower!" Pelmon exclaimed.

Yael thinned his lips as he parried the attack of the necromorph. In his peripheral, he also saw the tower crumbling. He held the handle of his ax firmly and swung it to the necromorph's head, splitting it into two.

"No . . . Arletha . . . Hosea . . ." Pelmon's lips trembled. He let out an outcry as he began to frantically swing his blade. The feeling of desperation washed over him as the tower completely erupted from the distance. More monsters surrounded the entire space.

And when all hope seemed lost, a breeze had sent the dust scattering all over Pelmon and Yael with a circle of gust forming in the ground. Pelmon's eyes widened as his jaw gaped, beholding the silhouettes shrouded by dust—

Landing before them was Arletha, and in her arms were two men and— ". . . Samuel—!" Pelmon breathed, meeting Samuel's electric-blue eyes.

Samuel waved a hand, "'sup?"

Chapter end