Randy

How long does this slope go for? Forever?

Just previously, tension was at an all time high, with the anticipation of stepping- err...slithering into the dark overpowering half of my senses.

Honestly, it’s not exactly dark, but the aura is there.

Was.

It was scary before, but it's way past that now. Too much of something will inevitably wear the effects down instead.

It's a horrendously long way down. Like, reaaaally long. I have been slithering for what feels like 5 hours now, and only now is the ground leveling. As grateful as I am to have mana assisted everything, no amount of mana will improve the incredible loneliness I get from this journey.

Instead, I try to distract myself and decides to grind my Trifecta during the trek.

[Earth Manipulation]! [Fire Manipulation]! [Water Manipulation]!

As I find out after casting them, they need actual Fire, or Water, or Earth mana to manipulate. I can't create, only manipulate. Such is whichever law of physics talking about creating or destroying atoms, or something like that.

Thankfully,the ground and walls here are pretty moist. With enough water manipulation level ups, I will able to get water for myself. Pure, uncontaminated, undiluted Dihydrogen Monoxide.

Nuclear powerplants must be jealous of me and my unending supply of aquadest!

And since it’s a 3-in-1 skill, I can just keep grinding [Earth Manipulation] and the other two will level up all the same. I wonder how that works.

Through hours of grinding I am now able to write and draw on the walls, although since the walls here are made of moist mud, I don’t think it takes a whole lot to begin with. I can also make a really tiny ice prick. It might just be useful, but currectly it serves no purpose.

There are also a few monsters down here, one of those Tapirs and what looks like a centipede-cockroach hybrid. Fighting them is really easy endeavour with [Bullet Spear] on my sleeves.

Too easy.

I might actually overgrinded. That, or human ingenuity.

Humanity, Fuck Yeah!

….

I have been walking for more hours, and finally, FINALLY, I STRUCK GOLD!

Not only the path starts to ascend, there are actual structures here. STRUCTURES! MAN MADE!

Firstly, there emerges a wooden railway of sorts, then a wooden cart, then a steel one, then a whole load of them, with mixed up materials here and there! Is this my luck stat in performance? If so, I’m deeply grateful for it. That wicked God better be happy. If I follow the trail it should lead to civilization.

Or at least to the exit of this pitiful gosh darned damp cave.

The more I look, the more I realize that the carts and tracks look like they are in a really bad shape, some of them are either dried out, petrified, or heavily fungi infested. It seems like this rail system is beyond ancient, with layers of rudimentary improvements stacked upon each other, for centuries on ends.

Not a good prospect, but I can still hope to see an end.

I double my pace and go on with renewed strength.

….

After walking for several more hours, I assure you that my “renewed” strength has now long gone. The entire event is back into a tedious lonely climb, although this time there's alot more fun conversing with yourself side your head.

Seriously, this goes on forever!

There are more structures as I pass. Some kind of mess hall, storage rooms, and what seems to be a smithy, all of which are dusted to oblivion and looks like they have been left sitting there for at least a century, and looted to dirt at least a hundred times now.

REALLY BORING!

No cool stuff to look for, no monsters to fight, not even someone else to talk to. I have been slithering on autopilot for hours, nibbling on a Megacada leg all the way. Pong gets really tiresome after an hour or so.

Do I even make the right choice? Should I be slowly digging the rubble out instead? I mean, I will be incomprehensibly mad if this passage ends up in a dead end.

Way to discourage myself, idiot.

I have been slithering more than a day. I'm starting to feel tired and sleepy. I probably should get some shut eye soon. Even Low Biohealing can’t fix general tiredness.

I spot a wooden door on the right of my path. It doesn’t look natural within the environment, like someone had dug out another cave and slap a door on the entrance, as opposed to the regular mining cave structure.

Finally, an interesting thing to look at.

The door’s surprisingly light too, like someone has been using it for decades before letting them to rot. I mean, it still started to rot, so whoever lives here left recently.

Slithering inside I’m greeted with a strong decaying smell, and a plethora of books. The furniture looks regular, similar to those you can find in a typical medieval house; some tables, chairs, mugs, and the likes. There’s a sink for some reason, with a Toto-styled mud tap.

What?

That aside, the room is incredibly messy. It’s like a cabin from titanic if it had sunk thrice, before being lifted out of the water and given a good dry blow with dust. Books everywhere, unwashed plates, piles of dirty cloth, and…

…and…

Oh God…

There’s an Elf corpse in here. No wonder it smells like miasma in here. It’s incredibly wrinkly and it seems like its pulsating, with flies and maggots opening night clubs all over it.

Death by old age, it seems. Even Elves do age, huh.

Ughh… if I have my human stomach I might’ve throw up. My calm-ish mind and my reactive guts is a really painful duality I have to stomach.

This is pretty spooky. Never had been good with deaths, and certainly not now.

But if the stereotype is correct then this world will have much more of it, at a much rapid pace. And since this is an Elf, there might be more. This must be one of those mixed-race world, might even be similar to D&D or something.

I guess…. I can give them a proper burial later?

*shudders* I will have to sleep outside. I ain’t sleeping with a corpse.

I still have to finish inspecting the room, and that’s exactly what I did, although with much more careful not to disturb whatever souls might be around. I am superstitious, don’t judge me!

There’s a crate full of items, all of which I have knowledge neither on their usage nor their price. A golden lamp/stand of some kind, a wicked staff, several gems of differing size and clarity, a few jewelleries, and a lot of other gizmos which shapes and materials I can’t even imagine.

One thing I knew from the start of my journey is that I will need to store as much items I can secure, especially with the advent of [Item Box].

So, I will.

I’m sorry for bothering you, oh wise Elf, but if I may, I shall take duplicate items.

[Item Box]!

I feel extra guilty for robbing one’s grave, but come on now, they’re dead! And its not like they’re going to miss it or anything. And since they die alone in a dusty cabin like this, they must be one of those outcasts with no one to miss them.

Still, I’ll leave some so it doesn’t look strange. Even professional kleptomaniacs have standards!

I’ll take some of your laundry and books too, if it’s okay to you.

I stumble upon an open book right beside the corpse. It looks like one of those Necronomicons, with decorations and everything. I lift the book away with some mana crystal and [Mana Expertise], and drop it down to the front door.

Looking at the last and only bookshelf in the room, most of these writings are bullshitly hard to even guess. It’s like if your typical Englishmen being shoved with Hanzi and them asked to convert them into Thai, and you’re looking at the result. I better head out an-

Hold up. HOLD THE FUCK UP!

BULL FUCKING HORSESHIT WHAT’S THIS?

“Dictionary of English to Lehvaslaiho - 23rd Iteration.”

I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! An entire book authored by the pen name.

Is this the work of God, putting such a convenient book like this here? Or are there actual people who arrived here before me?

As the book is actually dusty and degraded by wear and tear, leaning me more towards the predecessor theory. Not to mention they might not have printing press here, adds to the authenticity of this book being an actual work from someone before me.

The English used seems like those letters written during the era of World War 2. Old, but just relevant enough to still work. And all of these is cursive handwriting, which is tedious to decipher unless you had trained with cursive.

Mother, and school, I can’t thank you all enough for actually forcing me to perfect my cursive. Never knew I would have such a major use for it.

I can add and edit as I go, even when I have to learn writing with my tail. Seems like it’s what the previous owner did, and the other previous owner, and the other before him. There’re half a dozen different handwritings here, strewn about in a completely random istance.

Still, though, A legit dictionary. How bloody convenient.

After I think about it some more, it might not seem as convenient as it actually is. This means I have to actually learn the language, don’t I?

*sigh* Bastard God, at least give me auto translate, will you?. We literally have a systemic…. system, yet there’s no auto translate?

I’ll have to keep a bit more of your books then, oh kind Elf. Sorry for being a pinprick to your domain…

…even though you’re dead.

I can’t stand being in this stinky room being all lovey dovey with an Elven corpse. I’m heading out, period.

Slamming the door behind, I dig up a little crook on the soft ground to act as my sleeping spot and curl inside against myself.

Damn, if there’s any merit of being a snake, its that they sleep like kings.

Seriously, how comfy this is, to curl against yourself and do a little snuggle rub rub.

Really comfy…

Comfy…

….

….

….zzzsssssSSSsssss….

….

….

SSsssssshaaa……

I’m awake!

That’s the best sleep I’ve had like, ever! I actually feel refreshed for once.

Maybe because this is near-literally my first time sleeping without any care for the world. No university shit, no work, no nothing!

I’m starting to like this. I shall grab some food and-

WHOSE FOOTPRINTS ARE THESE?!

There are footprints of two sized feet scattered around the door, going from and to the top of the inclination. They’re brand new, obviously. Who are they? What do they want? Are they inside?

I might know the strength of this cave slash dungeon monsters’, but I don’t know the strength of the people of this land. They might very well be bunker busters, every single one of them. Not to mention there are two of them, one’s smaller than the other.

A child, perhaps?

That’s even worse! Everyone knows how parents tend to be around their kids! Not to mention they might see me as a danger noodle.

Well, I AM one.

After a snip of contemplation, I decide to peek inside anyways. My curiosity might kill me one of these times, and I really am afraid it might. But regardless, this is still a historical moment for me

My first chance of seeing actual living people.

Might they be Elves like that deceased one, or might they be humans, dwarves, or halflings, or even some kind of dragonlings?

…maybe not dragonlings, these footprints are clearly somewhat human feet-shaped.

I carefully peek inside the door, keeping my quiet as best as I can. Not even a hiss, not even a tongue flick. Just a snake moving in perplexingly slow speeds opening the door bit by bit.

This must be my insane luck values at work. The door is perfectly lubricated from the old clumpy oil, leaving not a single creak as it slowly opens.

*peek*

….

….

Nothing.

Whoever they are, they took the corpse away, along with the rest of their belongings. What’s left are what I presume trash, even to them. I think I hit the nail when I propose the idea that they don’t have printing press. All of the books are brought along with the corpse. If they weren’t as valuable they might leave some, but no. Swept clean.

The crate from earlier is emptied clean. I only took most of them I deem replaceable, has duplicates, and/or extra rare, but now everything is gone. They must’ve taken it with them…

…and the corpse. Yes, yes, I get it.

There are very few small potteries and Chinas they left behind, which immediately goes to [Item Box]. They are from a secret compartment I found by sensing the mana geometries of the room.

Whoever came down here did not know of the compartment. Which means, either the late shut-in elf never told anyone of his domain, or those which had came are not related and doesn’t know.

This is what happens when I get a shut eye for even just a night, trivia after trivia piles up with no answers found for any one of them. First the messages, then the sinkhole, then the corpse, and now this.

I will have to be even more careful. EIf I had been sneaking on 10, I will have to go past 11. Who knows what fighting prowess they have? Not to mention they outnumber me by at least 2 to 1.

I will have to raise my spell selections. Devise something more powerful. Something explosive. Something even more bombastic than the [Bullet Spear].

I had managed to create that compacted mana blast to launch the spears; I can probably scale that up.

I turn to my [Mana Expertise], [Mana Condenser], and [Mana Fine Control]. There must be something I can do to make this work. I envision something along the lines of mana grenades, with on-contact explosion.

I try compacting huge amounts of mana inside the blast cylinders I previously devised for Bullet Spear to work. A lot. A whole huge lot. More. MORE! MORE! MORE!

I ended up compacting 500 MP worth of mana before my control eventually fades and it diffuses out slowly like a pricked bike tire. Psshhhh….

THAT’S IT!

A simple overpressure mechanism, with loads of spikes surrounding the outer shell to work as shrapnel. I can just lob them with my controls on, before releasing them to let them explode. All thanks to [Mana Fine Control] for providing me with snap disconnection within my controlled objects..

A test prototype was made, all while I slither up towards the entrance light, which darkness had started to dispel by the warmup of the sun.

100 MP should be enough for now.

I dub thee, sir [Scatterbomb].

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, as they say. Even when I end up not using this, I still take pride in my works.

Now, as I’m nearing the exit, how should I approach this? After all, with the threat of the unknown present, I’m not naïve enough to just run out there and bask my scales in the warm yellow sun my cold-blooded self has been longing for….

….not really, no, but I figure that’s what snakes like.

Instead of planning right away, I opt to take a look first. As a last measure, I can even play the role of a typical powerless cave snake.

Killing will always be a last resort, and that's final. I'm better than a crazed gunman assassinating everything he meets. And besides, as I have never kill anyone before, I'm not keen on trying it out unless its absolutely necessary. Even when fighting with bullies desensitize me to hurting people, I won’t have the guts to actually kill someone.

At least, not yet.