Before Natalak could continue his travels, he sat at a large tree, checking his inventory to see what was left for him. Scavenging every little thing from the void bag, arranging them on the ground.
Two endurance potions are all that's left. His buckler is near broken in half. And Natalak's only weapon of choice is a short sword, nearly at its end.
Fortunately, he had spare weapons he'd looted from the last battle, from when he encountered Sheila's group. It was a primitive weapon: a club with an iron spike and a morning star. It was a shabby weapon for some people. But for Natalak's eyes, it was useful when encountering a foe that was resistant to slashing and piercing attacks.
Once he checks his weapons, Natalak draws his two armours, already worn down. The leather armour was already shredded from the waist from his past duel. The medium armour consists of plated steel and chainmail, and is mostly layered with leather, which has worn out.
It was brutally damaged to the point where the steel and iron layers of the chest were crushed and pummeled. Claw marks and slashing attacks still scar the armour's body; it held up well.
Natalak didn't wear a protective helmet, as it gives him a low view of his surroundings. Without time to spare, he quickly dons the armour and girds the short sword.
Suited and prepared, he stuffs everything back. And finally, Natalak equipped the claw-gauntlet, good for hand-to-hand combat. The claw-gauntlet was intimidating; its fingers were pointed, sharp enough to pierce flesh easily.
Following his preparation, he fell silent, letting his senses and instincts do the work. Acting like a radar detecting someone who might be stalking him.
For a minute of no sound and presence, he climbs a tree looking for a sight to see. At the top— Natalak stood, holding some branch to steady his balance.
"Okay… where shall I be heading?" He softly mutters.
Just a quick turn, he spots the fortress in a crumble to ruins, forgotten and ready to merge with the forest. Though it's a sight to see, beautiful ruins taken by nature are a good place for Natalak to uncover.
Climbing down, he then resumes his travels.
Hours of trekking and walking, he sits there on a bush, looking and circling the fortress. The place was dead silent, giving him the creeps that someone might be silently lurking, waiting for their victim.
As he circles the ruined fortress, he spots an entrance to a dungeon. He didn't dive into the fortress; instead, he gathered a few rocks. Natalak hurls pebbles, creating noise and luring and alerting an enemy hiding nearby.
Tired of waiting and still no enemies or monsters appear, Natalak's patience runs out. Willingly, Natalak goes inside the ruined fortress— exploring and examining, looking for something buried or hidden treasure.
The fortress's flooring was slowly sinking and crumbling. Grass and plants begin to bloom, covering the floor tiles. Exploring the large, desolate fortress, Natalak already senses a disgusting presence and a horrible smell in the area.
It took him hours to explore the building. Old furniture and odd trinkets are all that's left, rotten by time.
Exploring and seeking treasures in old, crumbling ruins was Natalak's passion. Taking a break, he takes this chance to enjoy this happy moment.
The warm weather, the sound of a silent, serene sensation. The cold breeze, blowing here and there. Natalak has never felt at peace, happily looking for treasures to loot.
Turning rotten furniture, kicking crumbling tables, lifting a wardrobe and even scavenging stone bricks.
While searching for something useful, he began to lose the thrill little by little. To his disappointment, he came across a forging room.
Old rusted tools, a broken-down smelter, and an odd, attractive wood, where half of its body was buried. The closer Natalak looks, the more he realises it was a chest. And without hesitation, Natalak immediately uses the sword as a shovel.
Anxious while pulling out the chest from the dirt. The chest wasn't heavy, but he could feel something was inside. Without missing a beat, he quickly brushes off the dirt, excited to open what's inside.
"Let's hope it's not a skeleton or something like Pandora." Natalak mutters.
Over time, the lock remained in good condition, but the passage of time was enough to break it easily. There was no magic; hell, he couldn't even detect if the chest had a magical aura, and a good kick was all it took to open the chest.
When the chest was opened, Natalak was a bit disappointed, for it was filled with only ingots, silver ingots, Natalak assumed. These, however, were not box-type ingots; they were more like an uneven, smooth-shaped silver ingot.
"What kind of metal is this?" Natalak said, touching the surfaces of the unusual compound.
The moment he pulled one to examine, Natalak was surprised by its weight; it was like holding a piece of fabric made of feathers.
"Is this a soldering lead?" Natalak tries to dig his nails on the ingot before checking the other.
Curious about these kinds of metal— pulling another one, Natalak brushes his fingers on the surface, to see if it is a soldering lead.
"The heck! What the hell is this thing?"
Shocked— after his sword hammers the ingot. He paused, carefully studying the item. The silver ingots didn't have any scratches; instead, his common sword was chipped. Heavenly stunned by what he'd found. Natalak was rather stupefied that it left no visible scratch.
"I got myself a good ol' loot this day." Natalak sneers in happiness.
Without a moment to waste, he quickly stuffed the chest in his magic bag. Finding a box full of ingots didn't satisfy his taste. And the day was still fresh, so he resumed looking for more treasures.
It didn't last long before he'd found a sword buried near a fireplace. The sword was dirty; its handle and guard were long in decay, but he didn't care as long as it would cut and kill. It is at least 1 meter long, making it a long sword. Its width was two and a half inches. What amazed Natalak most was its lightness, similar to that of the ingot he'd looted.
"Curious?" Natalak said, swinging the sword.
Whir-winding as he spins, slashing the weightless sword. It took him time to become accustomed to the weightlessness.
After doing his dirty swordsmanship, Natalak tests its sharpness on the tree. When he swings the sword at full force, the blade easily cuts the tree. It didn't fully cut the tree in half; it was sharp enough to dig in probably seven inches. And the moment he pulls the sword, he is dead, staring at the sword.
Measuring every inch, the blade held well; there was no damage or nicks to be seen.
"Oof… Bloody hell! I'm lucky to be alone looting this place." Natalak laughs in excitement. And as it was, the sword he'd found filled his satisfaction.
Moving to a new location, he fills his bag with whatever scraps he finds, even a small metal wasn't safe to his greedy hands. There were coins, but it's not clear whether they have value to the modern Vashkeil.
After hours of spending some quality time exploring, looking for loot, Natalak now stands, looking down an open hatch. He checked the ground and saw it was trampled; from the looks of it, it was trampled by many species. There were little tracks to be seen, but the ploughed soil gave enough hints that there were many that had entered the dungeon.
Measuring— the width was three meters, and the length was four meters. And a few feet away, he can see that the stairs going down become more pitch black.
Diving without light is just a matter of common ignorance. The long weapons aren't suitable for this kind of place. The weightless sword was sheathed at his waist. Without a scarab, he uses the belt as a holder.
Ripping clothes and using a suitable stick, Natalak created a simple, primitive torch that would last for five minutes. The slow step and careful treading in the dungeon. He was already filled with anticipation and tremor. And down the moist hallway, Natalak was beginning to feel uneasy by the silence of the place.
The more he walked deeper into the dungeon, the more he felt distressed by the darkness. And just a few steps, a dark and horrible wave-like radiation rams through his senses.
"Gahh… what just happened!" Natalak groans.
His head was starting to feel dizzy, as fortitude wasn't enough to withstand the dark energy like radiation. To regain his composure, Natalak steps back and quickly tries to purify his hazard sense. After that, he resumes again, not before he backs away and vomits from that putrid smell.
Back to where Sheila was—
The atmosphere went silent the moment Natalak walked away. The three continue toward the druid. Sei and Reith stood when they saw the three women coming. However, their eyes were searching for Natalak.
"U-uncle!" Chifya announced, dashing towards the druid, before giving a hug.
"Chifya?" The druid spoke calmly.
"Yes, it's me. Why didn't you return to the grove? You should have returned to the grove."
"I don't want to, I'm just glad you're safe. I'll ask the adventurers to remove the bound spell—"
"No, don't!" The druid intervenes. "I think this binding spell helps imprison the corruption that's been living inside of me."
"Apologies for my intrusion." Comes Sheila. "But if you regain your senses, is there a way you can remove the barriers? It might help us contact reinforcements."
"I can't, not while I'm in a bind."
"But what about the tarnished—" Chifya intrudes, but was quickly cut off.
"That won't be a problem." The druid intrudes. "I managed to seal it to a tree, I believe it was in a ruined fortress, probably in an underground dungeon. But there's a way of exiting the barrier, and we have to escape its border. I can guide you to the nearest border."
Without further ado, the group carries the druid and rushes to where the exit was. True enough, Sheila and Riya felt it as if they had just gone past an unseen thin sheet of paper.
Searching the teleportation scroll, Sheila extended it to Chifya.
"Lady Chifya." Sheila's approach. "Take this scroll, use it to teleport your uncle to Ravalind. There's a temple near the guild where you might be able to ask for help. And would you be so kind as to give this letter to the adventurers' guild?" Sheila said, her words were calm, but the atmosphere she gave was distraught.
"You're not coming?" Chifya was sudden.
"To be honest, there's a person I want to give my gratitude to."
"Natalak?"
Sheila nods before sauntering towards her comrades.
For Chifya, she was hammered in silence. Unspoken, she felt the feeling of being a castaway person, the feeling she didn't want to experience again. All she could do was watch the group gather their provisions.