I looked around at the illuminated space. It was a large, empty area stretching out to a wide chasm. A waterfall cascaded from high above, soaring past the cliff I stood on and splashing me with droplets of water. Far below, the liquid crashed against the ground. I assumed whatever river was the source of the waterfall continued down in the darkness, but I wasn’t about to test the theory by jumping.

Wow. An underground waterfall!

Who knows? Maybe it was connected to the same river that I fell into earlier. But again, I wasn’t tempted to confirm that thought. Too bad I didn’t have thumbs and a bucket, though, because it would’ve made for a convenient and reliable source of water.

I looked up at the source of light above me. It was too bright for me to look directly at, but it really gave off the vibes of an incandescent bulb.

I wonder what triggered it to light up? Motion, maybe?

If so, it was almost like magic. Heck, it might even be magic. After all, Nonparticulate Eradication doesn’t seem very much like a natural biological process to me.

But I guess there’s a reason I’m not a biologist. Maybe several.

To my right, the cliff was covered with moss and mushrooms. I was considering eating one, but then I remembered that one saying, “There are old mushroom hunters, and there are bold mushroom hunters; but there are no old, bold mushroom hunters.”

That probably applied to a lot more than just mushrooms here, though.

Next to the wild shrooms, a small wooden bridge crossed the chasm and led into the darkness of the other side. I pushed down on it with one of my legs and it barely creaked. It seemed stable enough.

So naturally, I crossed it. Who wouldn’t?

About halfway across I realized I should’ve observed the bridge to find out if it could be like one of those Blessed Glades, but it was too late now.

I did it anyway.

Bridge

It’s a bridge.

I sighed.

So helpful. It reminds me of text-based games…

Get mushroom. You pick up the mushroom. Look mushroom. It’s a mushroom. Yeah, that kind of thing.

The noise of the waterfall crashing into the ground far below masked another sound, one that I heard much more clearly as I crossed the bridge.

It was something like a low humming noise at first, but as I reached the other side of the ravine, I realized what it was. It was the sound of buzzing.

Two paths greeted me as I stepped onto the stone floor. A rough staircase carved into the rock descended down into the pit where the water fell, which—if it was safe—could provide me with that convenient water source I was talking about.

The other path was another tunnel, much wider than the one I exited.

And the buzzing came from there.

A large square tablet of quartz sat on the floor before the entrance to the tunnel. Symbols were carved into it, and they glowed a hot red, as though trying to warn people who could actually read them.

For fun, I observed the tablet. “It’s a tablet,” I expected the response to read. Instead, I got a mess of something in the magic box.

Saravani’s Warning

Jeten kaf ree, loran oSaravani, talmakaka ohalvas vovalania…

Yeah… I stopped reading after that little bit. Thanks, boxes, you just confirmed what I thought: The message was some kind of warning.

Did it help that the boxes romanized the symbols? No. Not really. All it told me was that somebody named Saravani was warning somebody about something.

He was also probably the guy that made the bridge and stairs. That would be my guess, anyway.

The tunnel still buzzed as I stood there staring at the message. I had to know what that noise was. Worst-case scenario, I could always run, right?

And to avoid being discovered, there was always Sneak. That should help mitigate the risk of exploring down the pathway.

So, I headed down the tunnel, sneaking carefully.

Did everything go to coprolite after that?

Yes.

Yes, it did.

Alright, pro tip: If you hear the buzzing, don’t go towards it. Not if you’re terrified of insects, anyway.

And now you might be like, “Yeah idiot, that’s obvious.” But hey, I’m a curious dinosaur. Sorry! This world is too good to pass up exploring!

It just so happens that when a tunnel fills with a loud buzzing sound which is way deeper than any kind of insect I’ve ever heard, my curiosity takes over, and I’ve just gotta see what makes that kind of noise.

Curiosity killed the cat, not the inquisitive little dino. But I wasn’t really sure why I decided to explore down the tunnel. All I know was that I was feeling ballsy AF (as fossil, for you degenerates out there).

So, into the tunnel I went, crouched as low as I could, and feeling like a cat as I stealthily crept up the tunnel. Or maybe a ninja.

Perhaps a ninja cat.

I’d class into that option if it ever appeared—that much was guaranteed. It’s just too darn good to pass up!

Mrrow! Watch out! Kitty ninja comin’ through!

These thoughts had me chuckling as I snuck down the tunnel, but I made sure to remain alert as the buzzing became louder and louder the further I traveled in. On a real note, though, cats would probably be the best assassins. They’d knock over a glass in one room, and while the target was checking it out, boom! Plus, they just don’t care. So no emotional scarring.

The dim light from behind me guided me toward the end of the tunnel. As I passed through the gateway into the large room beyond, I realized I was standing at the top of a stony hill. The rapid decline would bring me down to the center.

The center of hell.

The massive circular room had several dozen carved tunnels going in every direction outward from the walls, and out of those walls flew gigantic bugs.

Two types of bugs dominated the arena-like room. First were the large glowing bees, which illuminated the room enough that I could see most of the details I would’ve missed otherwise. They weren’t as bright as the light on the roof of the previous room, but their bioluminescence was more than enough. Each bee was the shape of a duffle bag stuffed with basketballs, lumps sticking out all over their black bodies like boils. Three stingers sprouted from their yellow-spotted chests and rears. Giant silver compound eyes crested their tiny heads. Somehow, despite their size, these bees managed to stay afloat as they traveled from hole to hole. Also, they were dripping a glowing liquid that sizzled as it hit the rock below them, leaving scars that marred the floors and walls. The other type of bug gave them a huge berth.

Those bugs were the beetles. Twice the size of the bees, with mandibles half their own size and a large, jagged horn that protruded viciously from each head, the shiny blue beetles carried massive globs of some solid brown material.

Eww… Is that… poop?