"The Fob of the Abundant Maker's Timepiece" -Part II-
Chapter 39
Mars frowned and examined the surroundings.
"It's there," he repeated, this time more softly. "Hoku... it hasn't moved."
Hoku stared at him, shaking his head vehemently. "It's the same in both directions now."
He glanced down at the compass in his hand and scrutinized it.
He proceeded to close and reopen it, hoping for a different result.
Hoku's thoughts churned in a commotion.
Mars exhaled, a fleeting shadow crossing his eyes. He slowly raised a finger to his upper lip, lost in contemplation.
"The greatest vulnerability of a navigator lies in disorientation. Falling under it will lead you toward the risk of losing your bearings and becoming adrift," he phrased slowly.
Hoku tilted his head slightly. "Did you say something?"
Mars lowered his hand. "These tunnels aren't crafted to harm the body but to fragment the mind. Archivist Lunhard designed them to challenge those who depend on mental clarity over physical strength. For elixir users like us, the peril is cognitive disarray."
He gestured toward the compass in Hoku's hand. "That device isn't merely a guide; it's a tether."
"A tether to what?"
"To your sense of self. The compass is linked to your consciousness, just as my pendant is to mine. It draws upon our mental states, maintaining its function unless we suffer fatal harm."
A solemn silence settled between them, the weight of Mars's words adding to the already oppressive atmosphere.
Mars stepped closer. "You activated it at the right moment. The confusion you're experiencing isn't an illusion; it's a targeted pressure, calibrated by that infernal reading stone. Lunhard, the keeper of this passage, is meticulous in his designs."
Mars paused to collect his thoughts. "The tunnel remains unchanged, but your orientation has shifted. You're being rerouted without moving. The passage doesn't employ special tactics; it relies on the ever-changing nature of these recesses. They reconstruct themselves without reason. As a navigator in a place that defies navigation, your compass anchors your identity, provided you remain coherent."
Hoku's throat felt drier as he inquired, "If I hadn't opened it...?"
"You wouldn't realize you were lost."
Mars kept the lantern raised in front of him, and they both looked down at the compass.
The arrow spun erratically, like a trapped insect.
"Why isn't it working?" Hoku asked.
Mars remained silent for a moment. Then, softly, he said, "Your compass reflects your mental state. You know you're lost, so it mirrors that confusion."
Hoku looked up, his expression serious. "What should I do?"
Mars met his gaze steadily. "Decide which direction is forward. Trust in yourself, even when direction seems meaningless."
Hoku turned back to the tunnel. Both ends appeared identical.
But if Mars can still see the entrance we came from, backtracking would be futile.
He clenched the compass in one hand and began to walk.
Although the arrow had slowed somewhat, it still was not proving a definite direction.
Mars walked closely beside Hoku, studying the compass over his shoulder with a taut stillness. "It's not broken," he assured, noticing Hoku's whitening fingertips from gripping the device. "I believe it's adjusting, as before. It should soon fulfill its purpose and guide us."
Hoku's voice was barely above a whisper. "Where would it guide us to?"
Mars hesitated, a shadow flickering across his features. "Based on what you've told me, and considering the gaps in my own memory about this conversation, I surmise that your compass responds systematically to guide you out of danger and towards necessary routes or locations to succeed in certain situations."
Hoku's gaze shifted between Mars and the tunnel. "That doesn't seem like a directional function. It almost suggests the compass possesses its own memory, reacting based on pre-existing answers."
"That's a plausible theory," Mars replied. "However, in this tunnel, which lacks a conventional directional model, such a reaction from your device might be inevitable."
. . .
Hoku discerned further nuances that accentuated the tunnel's uncanny nature. Unlike typical tunnels that bore rail tracks and curved gently, this one descended in a subtle, stomach-swaying pitch.
The walls sometimes picked up brief glimmers, as if moisture had only recently peeled away from the roots above them. These roots rustled and swayed like leafy vines caught in a draft, though no origin for the breeze was evident. The scenery ahead seemed to repeat endlessly.
After a prolonged amount of walking, with both Mars and Hoku casting brief glances at the tunnel's surface, Hoku felt a sudden sensation as if the glass of the compass had been tapped. His thumb rested over the glass cover, and the sensation felt almost like an inaudible thrum.
Mars angled his head, his gaze narrowing. Though he hadn't noticed the compass's reaction, something else seemed to have caught his attention beyond it.
"...Do you hear something?" Hoku asked, his voice lower than he intended.
"No," Mars said, instinctively dropping his hand to his side. "But I feel that we're going in the right direction."
Hoku glanced down at his compass. The needle had finally settled into a slight deviation from true north, as if it had found its destined path.
They pressed on, and Hoku embraced the compass closely.
A sudden scent wafted through the tunnel, catching Hoku and Mars off guard.
It carried the sharp tang of fresh blood, undercut by the subtle sweetness of blooming petals. The contrasting aromas entwined, neither dominating, creating a dissonant harmony that unsettled their senses.
No source was visible, leading Hoku to surmise that a hidden draft carried the scent from deeper within, only now reaching them as they ventured further.
As they progressed, the tunnel transformed. The ceiling began to arch into jagged formations, disrupting its prior curvature.
A hollow wind moaned through, now audible, though its origin still remained unseen.
An unusual structure disrupted the pattern ahead. Upon closer inspection, they realized the tunnel forked, presenting two divergent paths.
One path was narrow, brittle, and choked with fine, swaying vines, as if stirred by a discreet breeze.
The other opened wider, its stone pristine and unobstructed, resembling a beckoning void.
Hoku noted in silence, 'The arrow was pointing in this direction after all…'
Hoku cleared his throat softly, stepping toward the clearer path, but Mars reached out and gently grasped his arm.
"Wait," Mars murmured. His gaze wasn't fixed on either path but on a subtle light emanating from beneath his collarbone. The glow traced sharp edges beneath his scarf and clothing.
'That must be his pendant,' Hoku recalled before diverting his attention, assuming Mars was already aware.
Mars' lips parted slightly, as if tasting the air while deep in thought.
"I don't think that's the correct route," he said.
"How do you know?"
"I don't," Mars admitted. "But choosing the less obvious path has served us before. Remember, we chose the third door at the beginning because it wasn't obvious."
Hoku frowned, glancing at his compass. Though he had turned toward Mars, the compass's arrow adjusted, pointing in the direction he intended to proceed.
After a moment, he spoke. "Isn't 'obvious' a bit subjective here? One could argue it's obvious not to trust the route that seems obvious."
Mars tilted his head, puzzled.
Hoku sighed, attempting to clarify. "Regardless, you advised me not to dwell on uncertainty. I'm choosing this direction because I trust it might lead somewhere necessary."
He smirked slightly. "...At least, that's what the compass seems to suggest."
Mars pursed his lips and lowered his eyelids as he hummed, "Ah, I see. Please, proceed."
Hoku inclined his head slightly, emitting a soft, amused chuckle that briefly lightened the muggy surroundings. Turning, he advanced into the clearer tunnel.
. . .
The tunnel behind them seemed to fold in upon itself, erasing their passage. The earlier aroma faded as they progressed.
Their journey remained uneventful until a fissure appeared ahead. It had begun subtly at their feet, unnoticed, widening with each step into a yawning chasm.
Hoku halted, examining the fissure before kneeling to inspect it.
His fingers hovered near the edge, noting it wasn't bottomless but shrouded in darkness.
Brushing aside the chalky surface, he revealed that the fissure wasn't natural stone but dried-over organic matter.
It was a seam of fused root-threads, like a cauterized wound.
Mars crouched opposite him, observing.
"This doesn't seem like a natural collapse," Hoku said quietly.
"Given how straight it is, it definitely wasn't coincidental," Mars agreed. "Though I don't think it was dug..."
Mars spoke with the cadence of someone recalling a line overheard in a place they weren't meant to be.
Hoku settled back on his heels. "There's nothing else that could explain it, though."
"Technically, you're correct," Mars replied, straightening his posture. "But considering the nature of this place and the improbability of someone digging a large fissure in the ground without a purpose, I suspect it might be the result of something that wasn't entirely sealed. Perhaps there was another passage within the tunnel. This place is riddled with random spaces."
Hoku pressed his hands against his knees, rising to his feet while keeping his gaze lowered in contemplation.
'If anything, that would make even more sense because it would seem impossible. But given where we are, it makes the most sense out of any other possibility.'
"We should continue around it. There's no need to dwell on something that's no longer here," Mars suggested.
Hoku offered a simple hum of acknowledgment before proceeding.
They moved sideways along the ridge for several meters until the ground began to close back up.
The arrow in Hoku's compass remained fixed in its position.
However, after some time, another scent emerged from an unseen source.
This time, it smelled like…
Hoku tightened his features, 'Burnt bone?'
The scent didn't arrive in a rush; it layered itself, faint at first, then stronger, then sharper still, like memory working in reverse.
They pressed forward, stepping over a cracked ridge of fossilized vines, some still damp with red-black oil.
Hoku halted before resting his palm on one of the fractured stalks. A faint wisp of steam rose where his skin met the surface.
"It's still warm," he noted in a low voice.
Mars furrowed his brow, contemplative. Together, they turned to examine another anomaly affixed to the base of the wall just behind them.
"It resembles… a jawbone," Hoku observed, crouching for a closer look.
He studied it silently. The object didn't quite resemble bone; it bore metallic indentations, and its hue, though obscured by darkness, wasn't entirely pale.
"May I see the lantern?" Hoku inquired, not diverting his attention.
Mars stepped forward, raising the light over Hoku's shoulder. A glint caught both their eyes.
"Copper?" Mars ventured.
Hoku adjusted the lantern, bringing its glow closer to the artifact. His frown deepened.
"Too pristine to be ancient," he noted. "It's as if it were placed here recently."
The copper jawbone stood upright, wedged firmly. Its teeth bore deliberate carvings of tally-like slashes that were etched into the enamel.
Behind it, a mark marred the wall.
It hadn't been painted but rather scorched in the shape of a short chaim.
After a pause, Hoku added, "If that's the case, someone anticipates our steps. Could it be that Lunhard individual you mentioned?"
Mars lowered the lantern slightly, causing the flame to cast elongated shadows.
"It's a probable explanation," he murmured. "Though it's not typical for passage keepers to assist those they're meant to challenge."
Hoku arched an eyebrow, rising to his feet. "How would such artifacts aid us? They seem more like distractions. Unless…"
He paused to consider. "Unless they're markers, to confirm that we're on the correct path."
Mars gazed into the lantern's flame, his expression had become distant, as if he were sifting through fragmented memories.
A low hum escaped him, lingering for a moment before he abruptly shifted his focus to Hoku.
His eyes widened briefly, and a flicker of realization crossed his features, then settled back into composure.
"These aren't markers," he stated with unwavering certainty.
Hoku tilted his head, curiosity piqued.
"They're substitutes," Mars continued. "Stand-ins for components required to summon an entity known as the Nymareth. The purpose? To open a passage within these tunnels, allowing us to retrieve a stabilizer for your compass."
"Substitutes? For what exactly?"
Mars's gaze drifted to the surroundings. "Originally, an altar stood here. If we had chosen incorrectly at the outset, the tunnels would have looped endlessly, leading us back to this point. I can't recall its exact appearance, only that it existed."
Hoku surveyed the area. "So these remnants are what's left of it? Why leave them behind?"
Mars reached out, his sleeve brushing against the copper bone. "The altar wasn't merely dismantled, it was either taken or collapsed from misuse."
"Then what's the significance of these bones and copper objects?" Hoku inquired, gesturing toward the peculiar artifacts.
Hoku's gaze drifted downward, noting the glimmers that caught the lantern's light.
They were coming from minute shards of glass embedded in the earth, their presence subtle yet deliberate.
"Restored remnants," he murmured, the tunnel's acoustics amplifying his words beyond intent.
Mars continued in a steadier tone, "These fragments, though seemingly recent, are integral to the altar's original form."
"If restoration was possible," Hoku pondered aloud, "why not reconstruct the altar in its entirety?"
Mars remained silent with his thoughts veiled. After a moment, he spoke, and conviction laced his words.
"Perhaps," he began, "the altar's absence is intentional. A test, maybe, or a necessity born from misuse."
Hoku's eyes narrowed as an impenetrable sensation filled his chest and throat.
"Then," he concluded, "we should rebuild it ourselves."
- ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼◼◼ -
「 Early entry from the Archivists passage records」
「I」
Two young men, one with hair as white as winter's midst, the other draped in the shadows of black, have appeared in my tunnels.
One with a single gaze of emerald, the other with two, as if battling between worlds.
The one with white hair has betrayed the one with black. He traps him with the tip of his sword, though the cause remains unknown.
Yet, in his treachery, he betrays himself as well. He cannot claim the fob without the timepiece.
「II」
It has come to my attention that this white-haired individual's actions were deliberate, even intentional.
Before he slit his own throat, he scrawled something upon a blank slip, and swallowed it.
I am consumed by the desire to know its contents.
But alas, as is his role, both the message and the man are unreadable.
「III」
The one with black hair has returned, at the beginning of a new sequence.
I am disappointed that he no longer travels with the man who took his own life.
I was nearly inclined to surrender myself, simply to ask this man what happened.
Now, he is accompanied by one who is partially blind.
It seems his title, his role, has been marked: Bleeding Sigil.
I am left with deeper wonder…
What has he sacrificed to bear such a theme as his own?
- ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼◼◼ -
To be continued…