Chapter 32

[Snake Report]

The statues down here in the spiral hall really bother me.

They’re just… around.

Placed beside what might be doors, or maybe crypts, shut tight along the outer edge of the hall. None of which I’m keen on trying to open, at the moment.

Other than that, there’s no obvious purpose to them.

They're not Golem, just statues.

At least the Golem make sense to have hanging around. Those, actually do things for their creators, but statues are just creepy.

Especially in the dark.

In the ruins of this strange place.

The place where real monsters tend to hang out and habitually latch onto people’s faces.

I don't care how great my vision is, because the statues still startle me. I set the one shaped like a giant centipede on fire.

Again... if I remember correctly.

Shadowed form, too many legs, rearing up along the wall…

Far as I’m concerned, that will always be terrifying on a primal level. There's just no way around it.

Ug.

Just one more thing to make me want to look back, to see if I’m being followed.

And that’s not even going into the fairly legitimate concern there might still be a ghoul down here, because I vaguely remember there was one.

There definitely was.

I remember that.

Which, is saying something, because my memory of the last trip down here is sketchy at best, so it must have made a lasting impression.

This long, winding hallway…

Eveth had thought it might be ruins, from some ancient time, and I think that it is, in some sense. But these are not the kind of ruins that were made by humans.

The Large Frog God is gone, but the work they left behind hasn’t changed.

Earth Magic built this place.

All of it.

As if a massive tower into the ground, spiraling down.

Down.

Down...

Down...

…

It's weird, being back here.

The Dungeon, as a whole, is a little too familiar. Considering this is the place where I was reborn, I suppose the feeling aligns with comes back to a horrible sense of homesickness.

There is a little bit of longing for… a part of it.

As much as I hate the place, it raised me. Molded me, of all people, into someone who could survive in this world. And there's a piece of me who almost wants to forget how bad it was.

That urge to go back.

Back down into the depths. To find that island, somewhere in the pitch black depths of the underground lake.

Where the waters were black, like ink, and the walls were never tall enough…

We are hated, now.

I’ve read as much from what Gaia has to say, you don’t need to remind me.

Even if we return, it will not let us live in peace.

Never thought it would.

Hated…

You’re unusually talkative, today.

I serve you.

Sss…

It’s stress, I think.

Stress seemed to be the major trigger for my maybe-psychosis, maybe-magical brain injury.

I’ve noticed the trends. Speaking up when I’m in danger, or when I’m in combat. Sometimes, though, it just talks at random.

You going to tell me what you are, today?

I am he… as you are he.

Alright.

Did you know that I regret every, single, time I bother to even think of asking?

As you are me.

Okay.

Wait a second. Say that again?

…

Or don’t. That’s fine too.

…

It's stuff like that, right there.

How the hell do you know that?

…

The only way you know those lyrics, is because I know them. Unless that particular album was popular enough to cross over dimension lines.

... maybe it was?

…

Did you even know they were lyrics?

You ask of song? They will sing of your greatness! Serpent of the flame, serpent of the sky: the scales who have seen beyond-

Oh, shut up.

…

Better…

See how they run like-

I'm going to murder you. I swear to the Tiny Snake God, I’ll find a way.

Sss…

Talking to myself.

I mean, I’ve always been talking to myself.

You could call it a coping mechanism, but I’ve been at this for so long that I’m not quite convinced “coping mechanism” is accurate. At this stage, though, it might be more of a permanent personality trait.

The legacy carried over from when I was human. Habitual tendencies, which have continued ever since I got here.

Maybe, this is a problem.

Chatting away with a secondary personality isn’t normal, right?

In my past life, I think most people would probably consider this a serious issue, and point me to a pharmacy.

A psychologist would probably find a polite way to tell me this is just another sign that I couldn’t cope with the hardships of this life, and my survival to this point has utterly broken me.

I’m not certain.

All I know for sure is that I remain consistent.

Great One…

I told you to be quiet.

… Yes, Great One.

I’m not in the mood. Just speak up if something is coming to murder us- I mean me.

If something is coming to murder me.

Because I’m not sure if you’re real.

…

Better…

There.

Perfect.

Sssss…

I’m not really sure how to explain this.

Maybe, you would think that I’d be better suited for a secondary entity lurking within my brain. What, with my many years of preparation and practice in idling spouting nonsensical and unreliable narration. But, that’s not the case.

It’s invasive.

Like a little parasite, tied to my thoughts.

I want it out.

Heck, if I had the choice to pull the trigger right now: I would.

I want it gone.

As if I really need any more reminders on the subject of mental instability.

I’ve been seriously debating what they are. As in, whether or not this is entirely due to my exposure to some really, messed-up, God-awful, shit, or something else… Or both?

I’m starting to wonder if, maybe, they were inevitable. Some sort of unpleasant side-effect of reaching the Godly ranks of monster-existence. If Monsters were once revered as Gods, bestowing miracles or boons to those who worshiped them, there’s no way an unintelligent beast would thrive without logic of some form.

It stands to reason the system might opt to provide one.

Or

Maybe this thing is just some twisted abomination of my [Spirit Attendant] spell, that got just as utterly fucked up by that blood ritual as I did.

Considering that Imra and I had our wires crossed, I don’t find that to be much of a stretch, either. My Earth magic was messed up, so why not that too?

Down, down, into the depths. Into the hungering hatred of all that wishes us damned. Towards the throne of a fallen God. Back to where we once spoke and learned: Where power claims lost souls, to devour or enslave…

BE. SILENT.

… yes Great One.

Or, third option: I could just be crazy.

Yeah.

There’s that, too.

My findings on the subject of mental self-analysis have been remarkably inconclusive, considering the amount of time I’ve spent trying to puzzle everything out.

All I know is that going back into the Dungeon, has made it worse.

The deeper in, the stronger that influence.

Although… I can’t say how far I’ve had to go, so far. Or how long it took to get here.

Even with the Large Frog God gone from this place, time doesn’t seem to fit quite right.

It's as if the entire hall, the entire tower into the earth, soaked up some residue from that magic. Enough to keep a stain of it, even after everything that happened.

All I know for sure is that we’re in quite deep, now.

I’m in.

We’re…

Shut up.

There are broken Golems, now.

Evidence, trailing along the hall, and signs of battle everywhere. Caved-in skulls and corpses of stone. Chests pierced and gouged open, right to the cores. Shattered bits of mana crystal are glowing from the wounds, like luminescent specks of blood.

It was good I didn’t bring Rocky or the others down here. I don’t think they’d like to see all of this.

How strong was that Ghoul?

It doesn’t even seem possible for a single person to have done this much.

Cursed blood… forest blood… together the threat still lives… even in death…

You see it?

It is but a husk… yet still a danger… soon…

Soon?

Beyond… the doors…

The doors.

Staring up at them, they’re impossibly enormous. The hall growing to fit them, space widening out to accommodate: it doesn’t even seem unnatural.

But, just like that, we’ve reached the end.

Maybe it was a mistake to come back down here.

It’s all coming back to me, now.

In little clips, I can see those visions. The memories that aren’t mine, showing me a different life. Of another monster, growing along a very different path to strength.

If I hadn’t been born with my mind intact, I wonder if I would have ended up the same.

If maybe I would have killed, and killed, and wound up a slave.

Powerful, but chained.

Ultimately just a tool.

Maybe, it’s as the Large Frog God said, and they were waiting for me. That they set the board, just-so, and they predicted, one day I would show up here.

But... I’ve got to wonder if I was just a fluke.

Surviving the way I did.

It hardly seems repeatable.

If you had me attempt everything that happened, from scratch, I’m almost completely certain I would die.

One tiny mistake, and something would have gotten me, one-hundred times over.

But, at least the massive doors are open this time.

We approach…

All I’m seeing is an empty room, and a throne in the middle of it. The place where a God sat, for upwards of several hundred years… The ambient mana is still thicker than normal, but I suppose that would make sense, considering. Still, there’s nothing else.

The throne room is empty.

Sss…

All this way, and still nothing.

No breach, no breaks in the walls… I must have missed something. Maybe those doors, those crypts by the statues? It was possible they could open, but I didn’t want to add to my problems.

Not quite nothing…

Ah.

Do tell.

There is still danger…

And where’s that?

Beyond.

Ssss…

Slithering any further into this place makes me decidedly uncomfortable.

But…

They’re right.

There’s a crack, behind the throne. Not a natural break in stone, but something that has been chipped away at by tooth and claw. Burned, and melted, by acid…

This leads into the main Dungeon, doesn’t it?

I am he as you are he as you are me…

Every fiber of my body is hating me for even approaching this, much less going into it. But if I’m going to seal this back up, I need to know how bad it is.

At this depth, we must be far enough down that I could cave it in… or something…

“Clack.”

Did you hear something?

I am he as you are he…

“Clack.”

Ssssss… there it is again.

Hey.

I’m serious: did you hear something?

As you are me…

“Clack.”

Well.

On the bright side, at least now I know where the spiders came from.

But this is going to be-

“Clack. Clack. Clack.”

Alright, now I’m sure of it.

Did you hear that?

I am the eggman.

Oh crap.