Mutasm took his time searching for any bags or tools left in the large room. After a few hours of wading through bones that became dust as he touched them and shivering every time he did (he might not have been absolutely terrified, but he was still creeped out by the bones), he had found a few things of value, if he could call them that. Despondent, he sat near the pedestal’s rubble. The things he found until now sat there in their full and glossened glory. He looked at them for a while wondering why anyone would use resources so valuable for things that could be made by the cheapest metal one can find. This was just not right, it was like using rhodium for a toilet. It made absolutely no sense, it was either you were filthy rich beyond measure or you were mentally challenged.

In this case, he was sure it was the latter. Why would anyone use something so valuable to make nothing but a whittling knife, a pot, and worse than both a bowl? Why not leave a sword for him, or a dagger, even a shield would have been nice. Anything he could use to help protect himself from the abominable rabbits. Sighing at his bad luck he said to himself, “There is still a little bit more to search in between. Hopefully, I can find a fricken tool that is useful to fight with. How am I supposed to kill a three-foot rabbit with a unicorn’s horn and horror movie tentacles with a whittling knife and a pot?” Shaking his head, he groaned in displeasure.

Getting up with pop from his back, he stretched to loosen his body from sitting there staring at the fruits of his labor - no matter how little it was. He continued his search, going through the bags that were left farther out in the corners. But like always, things were not meant to go his way. “Ah! Nothing except a roll of old parchment! What am I supposed to do with that?! Write about the rabbit to death? Slap it with the parchment until it dies from brain damage? Hell, there isn’t even ink to write with!” While he did not know what he was supposed to do with parchment at this stage of his survival, he still couldn't lessen the value of what lasted for thousands of years. Maybe if he survived this all, and more importantly wasn’t killed then dissected, he could sell a few and become filthy rich, then again that was if he wasn’t mugged in some side street. The pot and whittling knife also saved him some time from having to make them from bark and stone. Skinning and gutting an animal with a stone knife was not an easy or clean thing.

He shivered at a memory - his father had taught him how to gut an animal without any sharp tools - as he sat in a veritable sea of dust and ash. As he continued to sit there, it struck him that he might have used a bit too much time searching. He needed to find food for today, or at the least a source of water and fire. Hurriedly he jumped up to his feet, only to wince. His legs were just too sore for any type of sudden movements. With a quick pace, he walked past the bend in the tunnel, and into the tunnel itself. Stopping, he looked back at it a bit confused at what was there, or the lack thereof. “Wasn't there supposed to be a passive influence? Guess it went away with the poor soul,” he said. Talking to himself might not be the healthiest of habits, but it was one that will keep him sane without contact with other people. Putting his thoughts in the back of his mind, he moved on to finish his task.

Slowly, he reached the wavering image, unlike the bend which lost its effect, this was still going strong. The suns rays came in unabated by the illusion, shining as bright as it would in the afternoon. Mutasm walked towards the edge of the illusion expecting to find some resistance similar to what he felt when he entered, but he stopped directly in front never finding out if the effect was still on. His breath caught in his lungs, eyes widened again, and feet began to shake. His poor heart could barely hold out anymore. He froze like an animal of prey in front of a predator without any hopes of escape. Because that was exactly what was in front of him. A massive bear-like monstrosity stood with its front of him with paws on the ledge, sniffing the platform and the illusion. It must have been incredibly big to somehow reach up with its maws of death. Other than a short snout, it was exactly what a black bear would look like. Its black fur glistening in the sunlight, while its snout wiggled about trying to find the owner of the unusual scent.

For a while, it continued to do so until it started growling in frustration of not finding the owner of the unfamiliar scent it had picked up, unbeknownst to it, he was standing right in front, behind an illusion its eyes could not pierce. Both stayed rooted in their spots, one hoping for an easy meal and the other afraid, if he took even a single breath, he would be that easy meal. It took a while, but eventually, the bear grew tired of waiting. It pushed itself off the ledge and landed with a massive thud. It started to walk away, but Mutasm was left even more frightened by what he saw. Even the bear had the ethereal and rotten tendrils coming out of its back each trying to reach him without success. His stomach felt like it was eating itself, and his feet - on which he had been standing on for nearly an hour while confronting the bear - could not hold him up any longer.

“Wh-What was th-that? How does a b-bear grow that b-big?!” screamed Mutasm in denial. Bears, or any animal at all of those dimensions, should not grow that big, especially with the same amount of gravity here as in earth. He didn't feel lighter or heavier, so the variation in gravity should be negligible when it comes to the size of anything. With shaky breath, and heart finally slowing down to something a bit healthier, he crawled back into the cave filled with the dust of hundreds of dead warriors. At least they of all things cannot form into a physical thing and caused him any more fright or mental drama. They will stay their spots for eternity if not disturbed by wind or another person.

Sitting at the bend where he had faced his greatest swing of emotion - from disturbing anxiety and fear to a peaceful state - only this time he stayed hidden from the illusion facing the once pedestal. He had his back on the wall and was seated like before - under the purple tree - doing his best to cope with it all. Slowly, as his mind continued in a state of turmoil, his eyes closed and body relaxed as he drifted off to a much-needed sleep; rest from the new world he had been thrust into without mercy. All the while forgetting he had yet to find any sustainable source of food or water to keep him alive. Then again, what good would a bit of food do for him if he was gobbled up in the process by some monster - fifteen feet tall and even more so when they stand upright - from nightmares and horror stories.