Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I missed last week chapter cuz busy so tryna catch up.
thanks for reading!
Armour: Molten Armour (Vanity - CAU Robes)
Weapon: Uzi (High-Velocity Bullet); Molten Bow (Ichor Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(12/12): Charm of Myths, Ankh Shield, Terraspark Boots, Luxor's Gift, Deific Amulet, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, MOAB, Harpy Ring, Aero Stone, Skyline Wings, Warrior Emblem, Sniper Scope
Health: (400/400)
The Guide wasn't exactly sure how he had gotten here.
He wasn't a violent person. He had grown up rather sickly, and as a result, had always shied away from physical conflicts whenever able. In his maturity he had grown out of his illness, but the aversion to violence remained. It was very likely that this hatred was fueled by jealously, but regardless of the reason, the result was this: He had convinced himself that it was a shameful, pathetic thing to argue your points with your fists and your muscle mass. Those brutes which brawled outside alehouses, or scrabbled in the streets like a mob of feral animals were the basest humanity had to offer, nay they were almost subhuman. Before long, The Guide truly began treating them as such. He would much rather die than stoop to that level.
So perhaps this deep-set belief was what drove him to now act so cruelly towards The Monster Knight. The creature was the very epitome of all he scorned. A beast. A brute. A being who scarcely had two brain cells to rub against one another, and whose primary strength was his immense physical ability. He was driven by turbulent emotions and his knowledge of both worldly things and social etiquette were vanishingly lacking. It didn't matter that The Knight knew about his shortcomings and was anxious because of them. He chose to ignore that the man had only walked this earth for about a month. Neither did he acknowledge how utterly crestfallen The Knight looked whenever The Guide blasted him with a scornful gaze.
It was easier not to consider these inconvenient little things.
If The Guide was going to kill him, he would do his best to convince himself The Knight was well deserving of death.
Because of course, The Guide was no murderer. He wasn't an evil person - like a mob boss or hitman. Of course not! These were extraordinary circumstances and The Monster Knight was a danger to the public. This was self defense. This was removing an individual from society for the general good. I'm not doing anything wrong. Circumstances have forced my hand. Anyone would do the same thing...
*drip...drip*
The Guide emitted a grunt as he stood from a crouch and brushed the debris from his legs, noting -with no little displeasure- that the caked blood which had seeped into these stones hundreds of years ago had stained his knees and ruined his pants. He hated being dirty. He hated the feeling of blood on his hands. The discomfort festering in his chest and the nagging worm burrowing in his head. His moral compass was condemning him, igniting a burning guilt and turning his peace into turmoil. But of course, he wasn't doing anything wrong. Circumstances had forced his hand. Anyone would have done the same thing...
He repeated the encouragements to himself ad nauseum.
They didn't help.
He still felt sick as he let the lies sting his teeth. His guts hurt as they flowed like a torrent from his tongue. He could feel them staining him black, but in this position, he couldn't be truthful. He was at a point where could no longer reverse course, for The Knight would surely kill him should he reveal a betrayal. In his entire twenty-six waking years, he had never once envisioned himself in a situation like this. Orchestrating murder under threat of death? Plotting and lying and laying traps? Of course, this would be the last time. He'd never, ever do something like this again. He just needed to do this once, to save his own life, to rescue The Stylist and to rid the world of this dangerous creature. Once he was finished here, he would use his vast newfound wealth to fund many charitable ventures. He would be generous to the poor, and he'd build orphanages, and truly become an altruistic benefactor.
This wasn't going to make him a 'bad' person.
After all, he wasn't doing anything wrong. This was self defense. Anyone would have done the same thing.
...
He mouthed the words in a silent chant as he stared at the shimmering surface of his freshly activated portal. Half of him wished to simply leap in and escape this place... but the logical part of him knew such behavior was simply asking to die. Even if he emerged at the other end of the portal (which was only just outside the Jungle Temple's entrance) and destroyed the gate such that The Knight could not follow - The Knight would surely escape the temple maze and overtake him on the staircases before he could flee. If he wanted to survive, he needed to kill The Knight... and hopefully the brute didn't have any more bursts of inspiration that meddled with his plans.
He made his voice tired and condescending.
"Are you done, Knight? Have you finished? Have you confirmed that the statue sufficiently dead?"
"..."
The Knight didn't face him. He was standing at the foot of the silent golem, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath and his blade shimmering in the torchlight. The Knight didn't ever seem to physically tire - yet at this moment he seemed to radiate exhaustion. He moved rather erratically, as if his nerves were frayed with electricity. His breath was harsh in his lungs, each panting beastial rasp was torn from him as if not by his own will. He wasn't blinking from behind the slatted visor. His vision was continually brought back to The Golem, as if he were consumed by a bloodlust to destroy it...
And underlaying all of it was a deep sense of doubt and confusion.
He had attacked The Golem for about three hours... and finally, after much difficulty, he managed to turn his back on it.
He faced The Guide sheepishly and nodded.
The Guide offered him a fake smile. He forced the sarcasm out of his voice and spun kindly lies.
"You could have believed me, you know. I haven't killed anyone before, and I don't intend to start now."
"...I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven, Knight. Now, will you cooperate? I still need beetle shells."
"I will."
All he could hear was his breath.
That ragged rasp of stale humid air, billowing from his lungs and scraping along his throat as he hunched there, panting and gripping the hilt of his blade until his hands cramped under the pressure. His skin was crawling, crawling like a thousand bugs skittering beneath his skin. It itched and he wanted to tear off his plate mail and scratch himself bloody, but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. His gut was telling him there was danger here. A monster, sitting right in front of him, composed of stone so hard, it shattered his pickaxes.
But... it didn't move.
It didn't fight.
It just sat there for hours and hours as he tried his utmost to destroy it. Eventually, his compulsion began to run him ragged. The acid in his veins was beginning to burn. The venom in his head had long gone sour. He smelled a monster, but he couldn't see one. He sensed malice, but there was none to be found. Was he beginning to lose his senses? The Guide, who knew leagues more than he, was sitting upon The Golem's stone foot without even a hint of fear shadowing his face. He looked eager to finish his work so he could leave.
He certainly behaved as if The Golem was no danger.
Perhaps my senses deceive me...
The Terrarian took a deep breath and did his best to ground himself. He shut his eyes and fought to calm his aberrant blood. The chamber was silent and humid, reeking of old blood and the subtle incense of burning sandalwood. The stone underfoot was the colour of rust and smelled strongly of copper; The Terrarian briefly wondered if it only took on this colour due to a myriad of sacrifices enacted here (The Guide, true to form, had given him a history lesson as they descended through The Temple. The Terrarian retained some of it) or if they were simply iron-heavy naturally. From high above, vines crawled on the dark ceiling, serving as conduits for erratically dripping water.
With how wound up he was, The Terrarian flinched at every droplet. Behind him, The Guide was pacing around a circle of papers he had glued to the floor - excitedly lecturing about some magical nonsense The Terrarian had long since given up trying to understand. He sensed if he girded himself and descended into that rabbithole of foreign concepts and complexities - he would emerge far more confused than before. So although he really did seek to escape his ignorance, he chose to focus and ignore the stream of drabble nagging at his ears.
"...-and once they spawn, you need to drop them into the portal. The other side leads to The Temple entrance, where I set up the first ring of talisman. You may recall seeing me constructing it. Now, are you confident you can catch something delicate without breaking it?"
"..."
"Knight? Please pay attention. I don't know why you love that statue so much, but listen first - ogle later!"
The Terrarian blinked; he didn't even realize he was once more staring at The Golem. With a jolt, he tore his eyes away and refocused them on The Guide - who was, understandably, annoyed. The man pulled off his satchel and pointed downwards at the shimmering portal afore them. He spoke very slowly, as if he wouldn't understand him otherwise.
"Okay, fine. I'll keep it simple. This leads outside. When something is dropped in-" The Guide tossed his bag into the portal. It dropped past the shimmering opaque liquid and disappeared. After a moment, it leapt back up from that glassy surface; The Guide managed to catch it with some difficulty.
"It's a good method of transportation. It can teleport nearly anything that falls into it. When the portals are placed flat on the ground like this - objects are effected by gravity. Make sure you use your wings to stabilize yourself when you drop through."
The Terrarian paused to once more tear his gaze from The Golem's gemstone studded visage. He scrutinized The Guide briefly before his attention was once more drawn by the idol.
"... I...I'm going through?"
The Guide frowned at him. His voice took on a tone of authority.
"Yes you are. If I leave you here alone, I fear you'd spend the rest of the night staring at the statue and not collecting beetle shells. Maybe its a good thing you didn't come down here alone after all."
"..."
The Guide was now standing in front of him. He snapped his fingers to draw his attention.
"Besides, since you're obsessed with the idea of The Statue being a monster, you should want to get away from it. Right? Are you scared to go through? Should I go first to show you it's safe? You look like a teenager with a crush right now, and I don't think you're hearing a single word I'm saying. Did you hear me?"
"...Yes."
"Good. Are you still suspicious? Do you want me to test the portal? "
The Terrarian hesitated briefly then shook his head, no. After spending three hours testing his theory on The Guide's malignance, he was quite sheepish in testing it further. The portal seemed safe enough, and he had seen the sister portal being built on the outside of The Temple. If The Guide wanted him to catch Beetle Shells, so be it. It was the least he could do after causing such an unnescessary ruckus. With a deep breath, The Terrarian disappeared his blade and spread his wings, stirring the air to lift rise over the ground. The Guide shouted at him as he prepared to dive headfirst into the portal's surface.
"I need you to watch The Portal carefully once on the other side! I'm going to drop beetle shells through, and you've gotta catch them without breaking them! Do you understand? It might take a few minutes, and I might move the portal, so even if it deactivates for a little bit, don't worry. Just keep watching it!"
It knew it's role.
The scripts carved in its stone gave it life.
The blood shed upon its altar gave it purpose.
This was the sacred place where the people's vengeance was borne.
(-even if it deactivates for a little bit, don't worry! Just keep watching!)
For, with their dying breaths, that was what they wished for. Vengeance. That the wrongs done to them would be done sevenfold upon their attackers. That for each of their children that were killed, ten of their enemies' would be crushed beneath their fury. It was for this that the ancient lihzards reside as stains in the walls and as the seepage betwixt the cobblestones. They would not fall beneath the blade of massacre. No. They instead gave their lives to power Their Golem.
Their souls were packed into canisters, glowing fuel full of quiet rage.
And their blood was slathered upon the chamber walls until the stones were rusted and the very air screamed.
(Phew... okay.)
And so, The Golem which had once been a protector of The Jungle temple was made a machine for war. It became a machine that would kill all those who trod in this sacred land, but bore not the sigil of its creators. It was fueled by the sacred text carved into its tongue - the word of life. The words of creation - and thus it lived. Yet without the souls of its people, it did not move. It did not fight.
For there was no curiosity in The Golem.
There was no rage, no frentic emotion, no thought, no being.
It just waited. And it watched. It watched as the small man wandered about it, pasting little strips of paper on the ground in a circle around it's feet. It watched as he dipped his finger in the grimy mud and carefully wrote the protective sigil of it's creators upon his forehead. It stood still as the man clambered up the altar and placed a canister of Lizhard souls there...
The man raised a stone to smash the canister.
And the moment the delicate glass shattered, the portal underfoot shimmered to life.
The Golem has Awoken.
Faze: You should try to avoid dying, You somehow come back uglier.
MK: TT_TT
Sorry for short chapter haha...
I don't have a good excuse.
Thank for the review Duke! And lol at Shadow realm but actually accurate lmao