Chapter 2: Deal

There was nothing in store for him. Nothing, but only certain death.

It was the first thought that went through his mind when he had first locked gazes with a skeleton, equipped with a sword that seemed too heavy for a walking pile of bones to ever carry.

But no. Instead of rushing at him, the skeleton only stared, as if he wasn’t worth anything.

If Tobias had to explain how he had gotten to this situation in a sentence or less, he would describe it like this; postmortem depression, (in)convenient timing, desperation, and anger were all key factors to his decision. So he stole the Father’s blade, and snuck off to train himself with it.

And then – this white door just pops out of nowhere, as it was literally stuck to a boulder nearby. And like any confused child, he decided to open it, only to reveal a swirling vortex which sucked him in.

And now, he was currently engaging in a staring contest at a skeleton – a contest that he was losing with each passing second. (Did skeletons even blink?) The dark pits which served as the skull’s eye sockets were too empty – as if it revealed a void instead of normal darkness.

Finally, after a few more seconds of staring, the armed and armored skeleton simply broke eye contact, and proceeded to wade off, its leather boots creating a dull thud against the stone floor as it walked.

Tobias’ hands felt relief when his grip on the sword loosened, as he let out a sigh. He lowered it, and with a small glance to see if the skeleton wasn’t planning anything (was it only walking around aimlessly?), he had begun to examine his surroundings.

The place he was in looked somewhat like a room carved out of stone – as if it was an underground room which was simply hacked and chipped away until it was spacious enough to function as a room. In the ceiling, there were chains hanging, which led to a bottle which contained blue-colored flames (since when were flames blue?), which happened to provide enough lighting to see the rest of the room in detail. There was a few red banners hung out, their edges frayed and their designs worn out. And there was only one exit to the place – a hallway forwards.

The hallway, where the skeleton was walking in, had blue-flamed torches hung about in set intervals, but Tobias couldn’t see any farther even with the illumination. It was almost as if there was a fog obstructing his vision... Was that a sign next to the hallway’s side?

So he walked forwards, careful to make his steps as silent as possible in hopes that the skeleton would not turn around and suddenly attack him because of noise. And when he reached the sign, he leaned forwards to read it.

The Capital of Death. Abandon all Hope.

Death.

At the mention of the word, his thoughts set off in motion, and his emotions exploded.

One was fear; cowardice. The desire to run away from this place, this accursed place in which the air itself seemed to choke the life out of him.

And from the shadows of fear... grew another emotion which grew with each passing moment.

It was anger. The fear in his heart was burnt away violently by newfound anger, born from an irrational desire to avenge his friend, if nothing else.

Anyone would be able to tell that what he was feeling is irrational. What he wishes for is irrational. It was simply impossible, implausible, and improbable. Because after all, Death was only a natural conclusion to every living being. One does not simply avenge anyone who was claimed by Death.

With sword in hand, he walked forwards, with shaking legs. Was he quivering due to fear? Was he trembling with anger, or dare he say, excitement? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that somewhere in this cursed place, he would come face to face with Death, if nothing else.

It was clear to him. The fog which concealed the end of the hallway. That was his goal.

There was no more hesitation. There was no time to care for anything else. The boy known as Tobias was shown a goal – one that he wholeheartedly agrees with, and he knows that he would eternally curse himself if he let his own fear be the reason why he let this opportunity slip.

The torches were irrelevant. The skeletons which came into view, staring at him with void-black eyes were irrelevant. The air which seemed to siphon his life was irrelevant.

A step forward. A step forward. A step forward. A step forward...

And there it was. In front of him – a wall of fog, so whitened, so blackened, so... deathly. Even his own self was telling him that if... no, once he crosses this wall of fog, there would be no turning back.

Yes. Step forward. There would be nothing else to do, but to take a single... step... forward...

Cross the Gate of Death, and be irreversibly changed... And what lied beyond the Gates, was nothing. Nothingness which stretched on for horizons, and yet, was only as far as his arms could reach. There was nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

There was only an Abyss. And within that Abyss – was a very familiar presence.

“And what do we have here?” That voice – so pronounced... So significant, it cannot be simply be described in any normal convention. It was more of a voice which belonged to an important figure – one that made Tobias feel like an ant in comparison.

“You... are that boy from before. The human that we have spared. Interesting, truly, interesting. Tell us why you are here?”

It was useless. His own sense of self was crushed by the sheer presence of Death. It was one thing for it to materialize in the real world, and it was another thing entirely to visit it in its own domain. The Abyss of Death.

But he was already here. It would be too much of a waste if his mind only shut down due to fear, and his rising sense of insignificance. No, he rebelled against it. He had to.

“I...” His voice came off too weak, “came to...” it came off too scared, “get my...” it came off too pitiful.

There was no one in this world who would ever listen to such undignified words, which were merely a step away from grovelling. He gave himself a mental kick, to chase away his thoughts of doubt and hesitation.

“I came to get my friend back.” He finally said, his willpower burning through his own shackles of insignificance – of his own fear.

“Is that so.” Death simply said. It was much more significant than him – yet it seemed to listen to his words, and seemed to understand why he said so. Indeed, it truly was a greater existence. “Even if you have tasted death, you would still come around time and time again, would you not? No matter. We will tell you something, in honor of your... resolve, if nothing else.”

“Become strong enough, and earn my respect.”

What... What did they say...?

“Until you do so, begone from this realm. It is not your time yet.”

And with those words – he felt the Abyss turn upside down. He felt his body travel through the entire Abyss, yet at the same time, he felt that he moved nowhere. He saw light once more, and saw the Gate of Death distance itself from him at astounding speeds. And then – and then...

There was nothing more.

***

The Father ran through the forest, carrying a sword. Just a nameless steel sword which had been kept well maintained, but otherwise had no notable features. He passed through countless trees, as he kept his eyes peeled around himself.

Where was that boy...?

And by some miracle, the moment the thought passed through his mind, light exploded from somewhere within the forest. It was powerful enough to make him cover his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly.

That light was familiar to him. During the days of his Dungeon Clearing, that light indicated that such Dungeon was cleared... He ran towards the direction of the light as quickly as he could.

Through the foliage, he could see a white door slowly breaking down from bottom to top, much like a stone crumbling into sand. But just before it disappeared, the golden plaque which labeled the door’s identity as a Magical Dungeon entrance revealed an ominous symbol which made his skin crawl; ‘X’.

Just a few feet away from the door which had disappeared, there was an unconscious boy. It was Tobias, and in his hand was the ever familiar relic-like sword he received from his own father.

This boy... did this boy just clear an entire dungeon by himself...? The sword he carried showed no sorts of usage. No scratches, no bents, no blood. Nothing to indicate that he had fought at any point.

But at the same time, it was impossible that he simply fled the dungeon. No, the dungeon’s door disappeared right in front of him. He knew that only cleared dungeons did that.

So the Father rubbed his forehead, as he felt a headache begin to form. No matter, as long as this boy was safe and in one piece, then he felt relief. Maybe later when the boy gains his consciousness, he would ask him.

So with a strong pair of hands, he hefted the unconscious boy on his shoulder, secured the two swords on his waist, and walked back towards the village.