Under his right arm, Jack carried the heavy urn and--with the bloody rope over his left shoulder--led Hunter’s hound after the old man. With every step, he felt less and less sure of his decision -- everything about this place was wrong.

There’s no other way, Jack forced some determination into himself. I need to get that rose from him.

A flight of old stairs, descending down a tiny hill, creaked under his feet. Then, the cemetery’s heavy mist cleared and revealed an opening.

Well, there are other ways, but there’s also a far smaller chance they’ll work and… I’d rather face the dead with someone by my side. Those creatures are terrifying.

You might’ve been right, Hunter -- I don’t how I could escape from here.

Jack slowed down and furrowed his brow. He tugged at the rope over his shoulder, then turned around.

The hound pulled on the rope and wouldn't go past a certain point, digging its feet into the ground there.

Damn you like a bascalle, Jack groaned. You’re not helping me, stupid dog.

For a moment, the hound’s legs gave in and it slid forward. The animal’s eyes widened and it squealed, jumping back.

Jack fell, digging his own feet into the ground. He dropped the heavy urn and put all of his strength in the rope.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

He jumped.

A frown formed on Hunter’s face while his hand waved at something behind him. In the middle of a tiny grass patch, two metal beams stood, surrounded by headstones and small piles of crimson dust.

As his curiosity rose, Jack pulled his focus away from the mischievous hound.

Two metal poles formed a shape similar to a gate, yet led nowhere. To a normal person, that’d mean nothing, but to Jack... Well, even though the old man pleaded that he wasn’t a sorcerer, Jack couldn’t help, but come to one conclusion.

“Is that a portal?” he said. It even looks like the basic example most sorcery books provided…

“Sure, sure… That thing has been here long before me. Though it’s more like a gate whose other side you cannot see. It doesn’t teleport you anywhere, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t as awful as the produce of sorcery. Its side effects might be worse than ash of god or even a bad omen, but… who knows... ”

Goosebumps covered Jack’s skin. Those words aren’t making me one bit more eager...

Though now I understand the hound. Still, it’ll listen to me -- the faster I’m done, the bigger chances of survival I have. I won’t let a dog kill me.

Then, it happened. The hound went still and quiet while in the gates, a figure appeared. The woman that formed out of nowhere had pale skin and wore a dirty farmer’s outfit.

Jack dropped the rope and, for a moment, doubted his eyes. He closed them and took a dozen shallow breaths.

The woman took a step forward and disappeared.

Jack’s wide eyes made contact with Hunter’s.

The lady returned to existence, right in front of them. Her cold eyes stared at Jack as she walked forward and disappeared again. Jack felt the tiniest relief which evaporated a second later. The woman reappeared standing a feet in front of him, jumped and... turned to crimson dust.

Jack cried out and took a step back. Then, for a moment, he stared, dumbfounded. After his senses returned, he turned to the hound and pushed it.

“Run, boy!” he shouted. “Run for yourself!”

The dog growled then whimpered and escaped into the mist.

Shit! Jack cursed through the fear. Oh bascalle shit!

No, I… I gotta get myself together and get through this…

Hunter gave Jack an angry look and threw him the Gunpowder of the Deal.

“We could’ve used that dog, you fool. But no reason to waste our valuable time in hopes of finding it now.” he said. “I didn’t move my ‘sorcerer’ hands an inch, cast no spell with a damn wand. That was all this place and its… power.”

Jack gripped the Gunpowder of the Deal and backed away, for once deciding to listen to his instincts. You made a mistake letting me free from those chains! All of this is wrong -- I’ve got to run and… never face freedom in my life...

Powers that be, what am I thinking?!

Damn it, what do I do?!

Jack fought himself and stopped.

“What’s behind those gates?”

“You shall pass and you shall see,” Hunter said. “I understand you’re terrified. Fear is an awful thing, but one gets used to it. Now, give me your blood. Neither of us wants to be wasting time.”

“No, I… I can’t.”

“You don’t know what you can and what you can’t. But, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. See… a gambler is a man who wins and who loses. Normal men do too, but there’s a fundamental difference between them. The man rides the road of life, more or less knowing how it’ll end. It won’t go too bad, but also never too good, for the road always has the same destination. And the gambler? He’s got no clue where he’ll end up though he has the priceless chance of striking gold or having his head stricken off.”

Jack’s fear and confusion subsided. Indeed, he hesitated to admit it, but the old man spoke the truth. He was at a crossroads. If he ran, he’d either lay dead at the hands of a deadman or at the hands of a comrade, as a repayment for deserting. Perhaps he’d even return and face Guardian’s wrath. He knew him better than anyone did, except for Kreedence, knew coming back late and empty handed would be worse than death.

Every second with Hunter, things became weirder and weirder. Jack couldn’t begin comprehending where they’d end up in a day’s time. At least he could be sure that a purple rose would be his.

That fact swayed him.

Jack calmed himself even more, cut his finger and dripped his blood on the Gunpowder of the Deal. Then, he tossed the now crimson bullet back to the old man.

“Sure, sure… I was always good at convincing.” Hunter smirked as he soaked the bullet in his own blood. Done with the deal, he blew on his wound and inspected the Gunpowder of the Deal.

It’s happening, Jack thought as an odd feeling came over him. I’ve gotta truly follow his orders and keep going until the matter’s finished. Service for a purple rose. A fair deal.

What am I getting myself into? Even damn Guardian never saw weirdness like this...

Hunter nodded, turned around and dashed into gates. He disappeared. That second, a light force began tugging on Jack’s finger.

Jack picked the heavy urn up, taking one last breath of the cemetery air and went straight for the gates.

The world melted around him followed by his body disappearing. Darkness engulfed everything. Then, lights began to flash, feelings of pulling and pushing working on his mind.

Well this is a pretty bad first experience with portals…

Jack’s body returned, but darkness still engulfed everything. A pair of tears appeared in the nothingness behind which were scripture covered dungeon walls and looming statues.

Jack put his hand in the tear and ripped more of the darkness away until he fully materialized into existence. There, in the dim dungeon, he was greeted with a mad laughter.

I’ve a feeling this journey will take a while longer than I thought.

***

A lantern in Hunter’s hand gave light to a wide grin and a revolver covered in dirty cloths. It pointed straight at Jack.

Jack froze in confusion though a second later realized and swiftly grabbed the weapon.

Hunter nodded, also handing him a dagger.

“Sure, sure… Such a good feeling,” he said. “Finally going here and doing what’s been put off for too damn long.”

Good feeling finally having something to defend myself with, Jack thought then spoke, “what is this place?”

“Like the ground above is the Bruno cemetery, kid, these are the Bruno crypts. Obviously, they’re connected to the Maroon dungeons, though those are far out of our way.”

Maroon dungeons? “The families had an underground tunnel system?”

“That’s obvious in itself.”

The Brunos, Jack thought. I guess they buried their servants in the land above and gave themselves something fancier below. Typical nobles.

“Let’s get moving.” Hunter turned his lantern to the darkness ahead. “Some terrible things lie ahead and we won’t beat those things by sitting and waiting -- time only makes them worse.

Indeed, Jack adjusted the heavy urn under his arm and walked after, for the first time not doubting himself.

I’ll come out of this with a rose and knowledge probably no one else has, he thought, observing the incredible engravings on the dungeon walls

Huh, now that I think about it--

“Who are you going to bury here?” he said. The Gunpowder of the Deal protected him now -- he could speak his mind and ask away. “It’s obvious you’re afraid to bury someone up there, right? So, for some reason, you’re taking them down here.”

It’s an urn. What else would you put in there? Sweets from a bakery?

The old man pursed his lips, but stayed quiet.

The crypts were a stretch of dark chambers filled with coffins and statues. They had countless crossroads and winded into different sections.

Jack tried paying attention to the turns and stairwells Hunter took, but after a dozen minutes, started losing track. The foreboding darkness which hid something and the walls full of engravings pulled his attention.

The Brunos had written the scriptures in a tongue Jack couldn’t read or understand. The words winded, sometimes became colorful and sometimes circled idiosyncratic mosaics. No books Jack read could match their oddness.

“In what language are these?” he asked then added. “I understand you, but now that we have a deal, you don’t need to hide--”

Hunter growled and stopped in his tracks. His lantern flickered and his eyes were full of fury. “Oh, I’m sure you understand me -- I see through you as well. I’m not hiding a damn thing! No, I’m thinking!”

“But can’t you answer me?” Powers that be, I didn’t expect that.

The old man took a big step forward and locked his eyes on Jack. “Sure, sure… I could. But you wouldn’t understand a damn word.”

“What if I try?”

“Every damn fool can try,” Hunter said. “But how many succeed?”

“Those who try do.” What is the deal with you and all this silence-keeping?

“You wanna hear some secrets of this place? Sure -- the Brunos used the deadmen as servants. They used them as their most trustworthy torture devices. This place was the key of their evil plan. And guess what? They didn’t know the side effects of this place. And the side effects? Well… you’ll see.”

Ah...

“And the tongue on these walls? It’s so… unique.”

“You’ll see about that too. I have to get this urn to these dungeons’ core. The way there is winding and it’ll make everything clear.”

Jack sighed. Now that he was in this place, he could put the purple rose in the back of his mind, instead focusing on figuring out this place’s secrets. Though the old man prefered to stay quiet, not getting Jack closer to figuring anything out.

I’ve got to do more to prove myself to him.

Though I still gotta be careful.

Jack served the Swords of the Guardians for his entire life. The countless years of hell gave him two things: words to live by and an intense desire for freedom

He was close to that freedom -- only a quest or two and he would’ve never needed to face Company’s Heart again. Though this detour screwed him over and he’d certainly get punished for returning so late, he still wouldn’t be too far. Hopefully.

Guardian was the worst human being anyone who met him met. He was unpredictable and free from the confines of human decency. Though for a clueless rookie, that’d be hard to figure out for thousands upon thousands of companymen served him to the end of their abilities.

There’s so many of us now.

Jack’s human side hated Guardian to his bones, yet the other half had to respect the man for building a force that could bring kingdoms to its knees. And for taking him in when he was lost as a child.

"There are two ways," he’d said, "to forge your destiny. There are people who seek a new path and lead others. We are not those people. We, companymen, forge our destinies following orders. Serving, best as you can, the right person will bring you anything you desire."

Those words had led Jack to survival and never lied to him. He needed to work as hard as everyone else -- Guardian was like a father to Jack though he treated him as badly as he did his comrades.

And now, that terrified Jack -- his mind didn’t worry about the purple rose, but it constantly slipped to thinking about the punishment he’d face for coming back late.

Jack caught himself thinking about that and put his mind on observing oddities the Bruno crypts contained.

Hopefully we get through this as fast as possible. And like you said, old man, all this weirdness becomes clear to me.

Hunter stopped.

Jack kept going, expecting the old man to spit out an order or some harsh secret from the place’s history and return to his usual pace. Instead, shaking his head, Hunter caught Jack’s shoulder.

What? Jack met the old man’s gaze and turned around.

In the darkness, a deadman lingered. It’s skin was deep bronze and deteriorated, its head was bald and its eyes were blank.

Fear ripped through Jack. His vision entered a tunnel. Everything disappeared except the terrifying source of his panic. He stared for a moment, then jumped, grabbing his new dagger.

“Don’t make a damn move!” Hunter shouted, frozen in place. “Don’t worry, it won’t attack you.”

Jack remained as tense as ever. They say that with wild hounds!

“Not all the deadmen are who you think they are. Not all are hellbent on killing you. Some just wanna wander out and live their new life. Some are reborn with a duty,” Hunter spoke. “This one’s the Gatekeeper. It’s not evil, not here to kill you or to wander out into the world. This place’s power keeps it here, guarding the entrance to its true depths.”

Jack stared crookedly.

Still not attacking us...

“We must pass him if we want to reach our destination. If you want your purple rose.”

He didn’t lie, Jack eased a little and asked, “you ever gone past this thing?”

“Not really,” Hunter said, sighing. “But you’d be foolish to think I don’t know how to.”

“Well, how?” Jack said mindlessly, his focus on the wall behind the Keeper, dyed yellow by Hunter’s lantern.

Detailed snakes--engraved with gems--winded in the stone, surrounded by words of a tongue he could almost recognize. It wasn’t the same language that appeared near the dungeon entrance. Indeed, these words were colorful like the scriptures near the entrance, but also less wild.

“Before one can pass, the Keeper desires three things,” Hunter murmured searching in his pocket. “The Medallion of the Powers That Be, The Amulet of the Men Who Are Free…” he took two magical relics out.

Those… are those what I think they are? Jack was beyond astonished. Aren’t relics like these almost extinct?!

You’ve got to be an explorer of the most ancient caves or one of the most powerful sorcerers to get these.

“Coracoso,” Hunter ordered and the Keeper stepped away, revealing three holes in the wall. Hunter placed the medallion, the amulet, pointed at the empty hole and turned to Jack.

“And The Trophy of the Fighters Who See.”