Game of the World Tree

▪️THE LAIR

Boxlunch and his combat team ventured cautiously along a deep and winding abandoned mining path that led to the unfathomable depths of the Dark Mountains. The discovery of this tunnel came after their thorough exploration of an abandoned forge nestled in the heart of Rivendell.

An uneven path lay before them, the ground adorned with rusted mining tracks, reminiscent of the railways back from earth. Yet, upon closer scrutiny, the worn-out tracks revealed faint etchings of ancient elvish runes, once brimming with mystical power but now faded into insignificance.

Smooth rocky walls flanked the path, their jagged countenance accentuated by dilapidated magic lamps that hung at measured intervals. Alas, these lamps had long surrendered to decay, rendering them useless after a thousand years of neglect.

Occasionally, some skeletal remains would appear before Boxlunch’s party, strewn haphazardly along the way. Clad in tattered garments, these unfortunate souls were likely the elves who had tragically failed to escape when Rivendell was destroyed in a single, devastating night ages ago.

Encountering such pitiful skeletal remains was not an uncommon sight for those who dared to delve into the depths of Rivendell.

In these moments, the players would usually approach these skeletal figures with eager anticipation, salvaging any remaining artifacts from the lifeless remains.

However, today was different. Boxlunch’s party exhibited a newfound reverence they hadn’t shown on their earlier excursions.

Upon stumbling on some elven remains, the group this time would first gather in unison, observing a solemn three-minute silence as a gesture of respect. They would then proceed to offer heartfelt prayers, with their voices whispering and vowing things like,

“Rest in peace, old buddy. Rest assured, I will bring your artifacts back to the Forest of the Elves.”

Only then would the players carefully gather the artifacts, stowing them in intricately woven backpacks crafted by skilled members of the Rageblaze Clan.

In every aspect, each member of the team conducted themselves with unwavering dignity, as if they were actually elves themselves, honoring the legacy of their fallen brethren.

The abandoned mining tunnel stretched forth, a dark and foreboding pathway. Within its depths, an eerie silence prevailed, broken only by the rhythmic footsteps of the players echoing through the narrow confines.

At Boxlunch’s command, the entire team had also muted their background music, emphasizing the gravity of their situation as they approached the deepest recesses of the tunnel, where the real danger lurked, demanding their undivided attention to detect even the faintest disturbance.

For within these shadows, crypt spiders were known to wander around, as they awaits for their next unsuspecting prey.

“Captain Box, are you certain that this path will lead us to an intact ore vein?” Asked Calabash, the inquisitive mage of the team as their journey pressed on.

“Yes I think it does…it is a mining road after all. Surely, it must lead to a vein at the tunnel’s end.” another player promptly replied, preempting Boxlunch’s response.

“But… haven’t other players also thought the same as well? They too must have followed this mining path, only to encounter some blockades or depleted veins,” Calabash reasoned with his doubts persisting.

Boxlunch fell silent momentarily before addressing the group.

“There are a lot of spiders in this tunnel.”

“Do the presence of monsters also imply the presence of ores?” Calabash inquired once more.

Before Boxlunch could answer, a clear and slightly annoyed voice interjected.

“Idiot, ores are a delicacy to crypt spiders. The presence of these monsters in this place is an unmistakable sign of an abundant ore veins!”

Calabash’s mouth twitched involuntarily.

The speaker was none other than Nightingale Shade, the female NPC whom they had rescued from the human smugglers.

When she discovered Boxlunch’s party’s intent to explore Rivendell, this elven maiden insisted on joining their team.

It was her presence that restrained Boxlunch’s team from indiscriminately looting the remains of fallen elves, for fear of lowering their favorability with her.

Calabash sighed, acquiescing reluctantly.

“Very well, I understand.” he conceded.

His gaze then shifted from Boxlunch to Nightingale with an expression of curiosity adorning his face.

“I understand the captain’s reasoning, but… why must she accompany us as well?” Calabash gestured towards the ashen-haired maiden.

“Tch, I am free to go wherever I want. Besides, you are exploring Rivendell, and who knows, you might require my assistance!” Nightingale defiantly pursed her lips, puffing out her chest with pride.

Having willingly embraced Eve’s religion, the ancient racial curse that had plagued her for so long had finally been lifted. As a result, her strength had undergone a remarkable surge, propelling her to the intermediate iron-rank in a single leap.

Therefore, she felt a measure of confidence even in the presence of these formidable chosen ones.

Hearing her words, Calabash shook his head, a hint of helplessness tinging his expression.

“Ah… you don’t understand Miss! We would be fine even if we were to encounter something beyond our level, but you would be done for if something happens to you!”

Nightingale raised an eyebrow, perplexed and poised to inquire further when Boxlunch’s resonant voice cut through their conversation.

“We have a situation. Be quiet.” he commanded.

In an instant, the faces of the players turned serious, and Nightingale felt a surge of energy welling within her.

Cautiously, she tightened her grip upon the dagger she had looted from a human mercenary during her rescue alongside her siblings.

Deathly silence enveloped them all.

At that moment, they faintly discerned a rustling sound.

Boxlunch hesitated briefly, then turned to Nightingale, whispering, “Position yourself at the rear of the team. If the situation turns dangerous, escape swiftly right away.”

Observing his earnest expression, Nightingale pursed her lips, with her eyes showing a bit of resistance.

“No, I refuse. If none of you are retreating, then neither shall I.”

Boxlunch fell silent, contemplating, before finally remarking, “We can be resurrected even if we die, but you cannot.”

With those words uttered, he finally redirected his gaze forward, leading the team onward.

“Resurrected…?” Nightingale silently muttered, her expression one of astonishment whilst inadvertently halting her steps.

The players did not halt their advance to wait for her, nor did they offer an explanation. Instead, they pressed forward with an even greater vigilance and silence.

After a brief daze, Nightingale comprehended the gravity of the situation and hastened to catch up with the team. On this occasion, she obediently assumed her position at the rear, whispering to herself as she went, “Resurrection… what does it mean?”

Boxlunch forged ahead, guiding the team relentlessly forward.

As they progressed, the rustling sound intensified even more as it echoes through the air.

Finally, they rounded a corner, and their eyes widened in unison at the scene that unfolded before them.

At the end of the path stretched a vast cavern, teeming with countless clusters of crypt spiders. Thousands of these eight legged monsters congregated within the vicinity, as their crimson eyes eerily aglow like lanterns in the stifling darkness, sending shivers down the spines of all who beheld them.

While the majority of the spiders were simply just small juveniles, a considerable number of larger adults also mingled amongst the clusters and deeper within the cavern, the players could also faintly discern the outline of a creature akin in size to the gigantic spider that’s guarding the entrance to the underworld…

This place…turned out to be the lair of crypt spiders!

For a fleeting moment, gasps of astonishment escaped their lips.

“Holy fu…” Calabash caught himself before the expletive could escape his lips, reigning in his tongue.

Boxlunch’s countenance darkened, as his expression shifting into despondence with each passing seconds.

Finally in an instant, he made a swift decisive gesture, waving his hand to signal a complete retreat. The air grew tense as everyone held their breath whilst slowly backing away with extreme caution.

However, in a moment of misfortune, one of Boxlunch’s teammates accidentally stumbled upon a stone while retreating, causing a metallic spider leg to tumble down from their backpack. The clatter of the leg meeting the ground echoed through the entire cavern, its resounding impact strikingly clear, absolutely catching the attention of all living creatures within the hearing distance…

Oh no!

Panic stricken alarm washed over the faces of all the players with their expressions utterly drained of color.

Meanwhile, the rustling sounds behind them also began to fade away, replaced by an ominous silence, punctuated by countless pairs of crimson eyes turning and staring at their direction in eerie unison.