Chapter 68: Descent into Darkness

  The air grew colder with every step Niko and Fumito took, their footsteps echoing ominously down the long, spiraling staircase. The dim light from the few torches lining the walls flickered erratically, casting long, warped shadows that seemed to dance across the stone. The deeper they went, the heavier the atmosphere became, as if the mountain itself were watching them, waiting.

  Fumito’s hesitation was evident. He glanced over his shoulder, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. His voice was low but strained, barely audible over the hollow sounds of their descent.

  "Are you sure this is a spawn point? It’s... unsettling down here."

  Niko’s expression remained calm, though his eyes betrayed a glimmer of caution. He tightened his grip on his staff and responded, "I’m certain. I received a message. There’s a spawn point deep within this mountain."

  Despite his composed demeanor, Niko was taking no chances. His spirits, invisible yet ever-vigilant, were close. The Mantis Spirit hovered silently at his side, its sharp, gleaming limbs ready to strike. The Steampunk Bee buzzed faintly, its mechanical wings emitting a faint hum that only Niko could hear. Behind them, the imposing figure of the Ratman of Rust moved with eerie grace, its jagged sword showing its fierceness. The rest of his ratman army was still spread through his mountain keeping vigil. Though the spirits weren’t visible to the naked eye, their presence was palpable, their energy rippling in the still air.

  Even with this protection, Niko remained cautious. This was his territory, but something about the depths of the mountain felt... different. Uncharted. Dangerous.

  Ghastly rats scurried between their legs, spectral forms darting into the darkness ahead. The rats served as scouts, their glowing red eyes piercing the shadows. Niko smirked, appreciating the cunning of the Rattan Shaman who had sent them forth. If anything out of the ordinary was noticed, they would screech alerting Niko of anything. Sneaky indeed.

  Fumito broke the silence again, his voice a mix of curiosity and unease.

  “There’s so much buried inside this mountain... old prisons, strange bunkers, sewer systems leading to nowhere—or worse, to places that don’t make sense.” He shuddered. “It’s like this mountain was built to confuse or trap anyone who ventured too deep.”

  Niko’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t received any detailed information on the inner workings of the mountain despite owning this territory. The records he had read in the library didn't match this strange stairwell to the depths. The surface and immediate surroundings were clear in his mind, but the depths remained a mystery. It frustrated him. How could something be within his domain yet remain hidden?

  “That’s strange,” Niko murmured. “You’d think owning a territory would give me insight into everything within it, but I’m blind to what’s down here.”

  Fumito chuckled, though the sound lacked humor. “Well, maybe the mountain itself is keeping secrets. Who knows how deep it goes?” He paused, glancing at Niko. “Still... I’m excited about hitting level 20. Can you believe I’m already past level 10?”

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  Niko glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so special about level 20?”

  Fumito stopped in his tracks, turning to Niko with genuine surprise. “You don’t know?” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “Levels one through twenty are foundational. That’s when you’re building yourself—your skills, titles, stat points, mastery of your weapon. But once you reach level 20, the world appraises you.”

  Niko’s interest piqued. “Appraises you?”

  Fumito nodded. “Yeah. It takes everything—your skills, your titles, your attributes—and gives you a grade. But more importantly, it assigns you a class. It’s a major turning point. No one really knows how it works exactly, but that’s what people in the settlement believe. Reaching level 10 is rare enough for most normal people. Level 15? That’s even harder. And level 20?” He shook his head. “Almost impossible.”

  Niko frowned, his mind racing. He thought back to the Brush of the Wooden Painter he’d found, the one that required a class related to painters. The concept of a class had seemed abstract before, but now it loomed over him like a puzzle waiting to be solved. What kind of class would he receive? His abilities were unique, centered around spirits and summoning. Would his class reflect that? Or would it be something entirely unexpected?

  “How do you know all this?” Niko asked, narrowing his eyes at Fumito.

  Fumito shrugged. “It’s shared knowledge. When I first arrived at the Tera Settlement, older survivors talked about it. Everyone who’s lived there for a while knows about the significance of level 20. It’s why so many people fight tooth and nail to survive, to reach that milestone.”

  They continued in silence, both lost in thought. The air grew colder, and the scent of damp stone and mildew thickened as they reached the bottom of the staircase. The faint drip of water echoed through the darkness. Before them stood several heavy wooden doors, their surfaces worn and cracked with age, metal reinforcements rusted from time.

  Fumito gestured toward the doors. “Two of these lead to the sewers. I’ve barely explored them, and they’re... unsettling. The third door?” He pointed to the far-left door, its frame slightly crooked. “That one leads to a prison. I only went in briefly before retreating. Too many unknowns.”

  Niko stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the prison door. His hand brushed against the cold, rough wood, and he felt a faint chill run up his spine. Something about this door intrigued him. There was an undeniable pull—a sense that answers, or perhaps more questions, lay beyond.

  “Let’s check out the prison,” Niko said, glancing at Fumito. “If there’s anything of value down here, it’s likely hidden where no one dares to look.”

  Fumito hesitated for a moment, then nodded, gripping his sword tighter. “Alright. But stay sharp. This place gives me the creeps.”

  As Niko pushed open the heavy door, a low groan echoed through the hall, as if the mountain itself protested their intrusion. The darkness beyond felt thick and oppressive, and the air was colder than before, carrying the faint stench of decay.

  They stepped inside, their footsteps muted on the damp stone floor. The narrow hallway stretched ahead, lined with rusted iron bars on either side. Shadows flickered across the walls as their torchlight danced, revealing skeletal remains slumped against the prison cells. Some of the bones were human. Others... weren’t.

  Niko’s breath hitched. The air was heavy with an eerie stillness, and the deeper they ventured, the more it felt as though something unseen was watching.

  “Welcome to the heart of the mountain,” Fumito muttered, his voice low.