They hiked in a black valley. The heavy fog faded, yet the surrounding hills took its place in making Jack feel trapped. He tried--and failed--shaking the feeling that bandits lurked on the otherside. The habits of fearing an ambush were engraved in the depths of his consciousness.

They reached a part of the valley full of round mounds of dirt, out of which spikes stuck out.

Is this a hallucination or are these things moving a little?

The group of a companyman, a deadman and an old man stayed quiet, enjoying the smell of rot and putrid mud. Jack couldn’t bare it for long and started breathing through his mouth. Then, his tongue dried up and could only taste the light bitterness of the air.

“Have anymore potions?” he asked.

“Not for you.”

“Ah, this journey is becoming more and more like hell.”

“What happened to the ‘it’ll be just like an everyday nap?’”

“I thought this couldn’t be worse than hiking through the desert and wilderness in heavy armor. And it isn’t that bad right now, but it’s grinding on me.”

“Sure, sure... You have it easy. When I was a rookie soldier, marching was a death sentence for two men in a ten man squad.”

A rookie soldier? Interesting. “You’re going to tell me more about your old days?”

“A companyman who's unable to shut his damn mouth.” Hunter laughed and took out a pair of smokes. Lighting one, he chucked the other in the corner of his mouth. “I'm generous -- I’ll say anything that takes the length of a smoke to tell.”

Jack scratched his chin. “Full story of how you ended up here? I Need to know more.

Hunter nodded, gathering his thoughts for a whole minute. “In my world, two kingdoms ruled the continent and the families. Huh, this story might’ve even happened before the families’ rise,” he spoke. “Well, one of those kingdoms, the Meigihive, searched for sorcerers in its land. No, no, it didn’t hunt them -- it worked with them.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. That’s... incredibly weird. You really did come from a different world.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but you just gotta listen and imagine.” The old man nodded at the expression on Jack’s face. “The king--whatever his name was--wanted power and a castle to fortify that power. His highest sorcerers decided to combine both--also give themselves a little treat--and built a hall on cursed land.”

“And how’s that related to you ending up here?”

“I got too drunk on duty once. While running away from a sergeant, bumped into an old friend,” Hunter said. “Sure, sure… I know you won’t believe this because neither do I, but my old friend understood the precarious situation I was in. And he also owed me a favor. To save my ass, he helped me join a battalion in Rednaro. But that’s really only the beginning of this story. The battalion had too many soldiers. See, I’d made a thousand mile trip and I wasn’t going back. All the serious men thought the situation through with their halfwit brains and decided to make me commander so I wouldn’t take up barrack space.”

Jack laughed. “That luck’s unbelievable. Even more than a world where sorcerers aren’t hunted.”

“And that luck didn’t stop there. One day, the king finally called a meeting of all commanders. He needed an overseer for his brand new castle and he chose from his most trusted men. Well, he thought he chose from trusted men. Who knows what happened next, but I remember being picked, in celebration passing out at a tavern and waking up in a brothel.” Hunter cracked a grin. “You should connect the dots of what happened from there on out.”

“Indeed, sometimes luck and fate work in unbelievable ways,” Jack said. “For example, I have no idea how I’m here. And I’ve no idea how I became a companyman. Well, I do, but the weirdest things led me here.”

“Understand, when you talk, I wait for the sweet moment of you shutting up. But you know what? Go on.”

That's... good to know.

“My life started in the worst place there can be. It was so rough that, kinda like you, I don’t want to look back. Though I’ll say it was years of struggle then years of hell in an orphanage. Somehow, Guardian and the company ended up there and I was sold to them. They promised a lot, said they’d help in exchange for me helping them. The only thing that really changed was who used me,” Jack spoke. “I lived through even more hell--now serving the Swords of the Guardians--to reach better days. If I survive this madness and two more quests or contracts, I’ll be free from company. Though there’ll definitely be a penalty for being so late on this quest. Let’s say it’ll be... five jobs till I’m free.”

“What’ll you do once you get the freedom you hope for?”

“I... I don’t know...” Maybe running away to a far away island isn’t what I want. Exploring, uncovering secrets like this… is incredible.

“Cora freyo,” the pathfinder in front of them spoke.

Jack was taken aback for a moment.

“Hunter, corasam corabern,” the dead continued.

“What?”

“Huh, he wants me to tell you something.”

“Coradoze coramarazam v’ coraarbram y coracura.”

“Those who don’t know their future are like little boats: bound to be rocked by destiny’s waves,” Hunter translated.

“Those are some interesting words,” Jack said. “Who was he before he died?”

“A pathfinder who led all types of people through the mountains. He stopped at desolate peaks, murdered his followers and ate them.”

Goosebumps covered Jack’s skin. Oh, that’s far from a wiseman or a teacher...

“Sure, sure… I see turning into a dead as a punishment for what he did,” Hunter said.

“Corasima coraxa, coradoze.”

“I know.”

Jack's brow furrowed “Don’t the deads speak and understand only their language? With the coras?”

“Pathfinder’s… a bit more unique.” Hunter shrugged.

Oh right, Jack remembered -- this dead was like the first one he ever met. The businessman could mutter in the human tongue and even understood Jack. Though he'd forgotten about that dead -- it turned to crimson dust after saying a few words and was the thing that started Jack's descent into the depths of the Hall of Ceremony. Then, that looked like the most awful series of unfortunate events, though now, he wasn't sure if he'd return and change anything.

“Every single deadman’s a little different, even if their differences are almost unnoticeable. We don’t need to speak the tongue of death with Pathfinder.”

This means...

“Do you regret it? What you did?” Jack turned to the dead.

The Pathfinder walked a long distance before replying. “So coragiero cora corasent no coragaila.”

“He doesn’t regret anything from his life.”

“Corafuljo ba v’cora coratemo cora.”

“But he regrets being a fool and letting himself end up suffering in here.”

“Corajung v’cora skale, v’cora blogisare.”

“Kid, you have no idea what evil lies in this place and what even worse abominations lie within that evil.”

“Cora Hunter ora maz v’blogisare--”

“I think that’s enough talking with the dead,” Hunter interrupted.

“What do you mean?” Jack waved. “There are still so many things he’s got to say, right?!”

“His damn words are more delusion than truth. Remember what I said -- this places changes you, changes who you are. Isn’t it obvious that it alters the deadmen too?”

“Delusion or not, I still wanna hear what he has to say!” Jack spoke with more anger in every word.

“Believe me, you don’t! He wants to manipulate you. He needs to. Sure, sure… The bastard didn’t say, but he is part of the evil of this place.”

Jack growled through his teeth. The world became a little blurry and... drew his hands towards the old man’s neck. He stepped back from his thoughts and tried breathing the anger away.

“Alright.” Jack spat.

“Cora kau y… run…” The pathfinder wailed. “Coranos v’Hunter… time.”

***

They followed the pathfinder up a hill which opened a better view of the gritty landscape.

Jack slumbered far behind, sulking in his anger.

Damn you like a bascalle, he thought. I need to use every opportunity there is to know more about this place, but all you’re doing is stopping me!

Jack failed at fighting his frustration, yet he stopped and managed to turn the urge of kicking Hunter into kicking the ground. He landed blow after blow into the dirt.

The grain flew up and fell down in hypnotic movements.

Jack grinned and kicked harder. Let it all out, he thought then his foot hit something tough.

A clink came from the dirt.

Jack grabbed his leg and a moment later, a shout came from his mouth.

Hunter turned around and stared at him sideways. He spoke something in the tongue of death and the Pathfinder stopped. Then, he walked to Jack.

“What’s the matter?”

Jack grunted and let go of his leg. With the other one and with full force, he kicked the ground again to a loud clunk and a louder scream. “Stupid dirt! Stupid you! Stupid everything!” he fell.

Hunter shook his head and started walking back to the Pathfinder. He stopped halfway--realization on his face--and pointed at the hole Jack’s anger had dug out. “Interesting. Clear that dirt a little more.”

“Let me speak to the Pathfinder!” Jack retorted.

“Do what I say and I’ll let you.”

Jack heaved angrily for a short while before sighing. “Okay.” He got to his knees and started digging. A layer of dirt covered his hands.

Bit by bit, a metal slab came into view. As more ground cleared, inscriptions that outlined the whole thing and text that winded in the middle appeared.

Jack stood up, wiped his hands then wiped his forehead.

Beside him, Hunter crouched and put his finger along the text.

“Sure, sure… This is what I thought it is. Though the Underworld changed so much I didn’t even think it would be here.”

“Well, what is it?!” Jack threw his hands up.

Hunter waved. “Doesn’t matter -- a waste of time.”

“Not until I know what it is.”

“Sure, sure… You really must’ve sucked as a soldier.”

“Just say it already.” Jack struggled to control his voice. Don’t. Shout.

“These are instructions… To the Travelling Arena.”

That’s what you consider a waste of time? “Why don’t we follow them?!”

“This is not a leisurely stroll or an adventure to discover every corner of the Underworld. It might not look like it, but we’re racing against time. The faster we get to the Heart, the more likely we are to stay alive and you to get that purple rose,” Hunter said, walking back to the Pathfinder.

You’re a little quick to decide. “Wait! What is the Travelling Arena even?”

Hunter stopped and slapped his forehead. “A place where sorcerers tested and invented their greatest weapons. Though going there is a waste of time -- they kept countless deads there as guards and as dummies.”

“So, we could get ourselves some incredible loot and get to that Heart faster cause we won’t have to struggle with the deads for as long?” And I’ll get to discover something new?!

“Firstly, we already don’t struggle with them -- they’re simple, corrupted creatures. And second, we don’t have the time to go there!”

“We have the time and we’ll have more once we loot the Arena. Weapons are weapons, right?”

“Sure, sure… If you wanna go there, we’ll do it. But you better know -- you’ll have to deal with the rituals, the slaughtering and all the other shit. I won’t help a bit. And also, you’ll carry the gain.”

Jack grinned.