Searching For Andromeda 59 The Dragon And The Sword

The dragon's voice was strong, stalwart, and unambiguous; marking it as a creature safeguarding tremendous power. The voice did not come just from its mouth—instead, it rang everywhere like a definite echo resounding into every possible corner. Ephraim was in a state of confusion and bewilderment; he was flabbergasted. If stepping into fiery dooms were already deadly enough, much more of the monsters chasing to kill them back in ANDROMEDA's lab, Ephraim thought to himself he shouldn't be shaken with such matters such as a talking metal dragon given he had encountered worse.

But it still was a shock for him. He was an archaeologist looking for good excavation sites to uncover vestiges of different kinds. He considered fiction to be one of the motivational push for him to take archaeology. But deep inside Ephraim, he knew that fiction only stayed as fiction. There was no way magical beings existed. Everything had roots of their own. That was what Archaeologists know. A sub-discipline they had in anthropology had opened his eyes to what led people of the past to create myths. It was to cover up for the things they did not understand.

Ephraim did not know how to respond—he remained frozen on the spot, boots glued to the floor. Everything he had experienced and seen had now shattered every basic foundation of his beliefs like that of a fragile gla.s.s breaking onto smithereens. The laboratory monsters could be inferred as commodities of a research gone awry. Anna could be explained as something like a result of advanced technology.

But this—a dragon made of METAL speaking to him like Shenron from Dragon Ball Z—was on a completely different page. How could science explain something like this?

"Human." Bellows the dragon, "Speak."

Ephraim parted his lips, feeling the lump in his throat. The dragon's eyes were a glowing red, similar to that of a blood moon. Its scales were ever-metallic; its unwavering gaze sent Ephraim stalled for a second, immobilized and unmoving.

"I—" Ephraim says, "Is this real?"

"Human," says the dragon, "do you mock ME, the guardian of the vessel?"

Guardian of the vessel? "What do you mean?"

"I am the guardian of the Vessel Nar," said the dragon. "I am the one who shall decide your worth."

Ephraim felt his throat going parched as he feels his heart beating loudly, like the same heavy stomps of the hunchback from the laboratory vibrating to the gla.s.s floors. A bead of sweat dripped across his chin. From what he had undergone so far, everything had been a.s.sociated with either combats or riddles. And unlike video games where he could resurrect, his life was now—the moment he had set foot to ANDROMEDA—on stake.

"I'm sorry," Ephraim utters loudly, "But I don't understand."

"Human." The guardian asks. "What are you spouting? You are now on the last floor of the dungeon. How do you not understand?"

Dungeon? Last floor?

"No, I'm not supposed to be here," Ephraim exclaimed. "I . . . I just ended up here. I barely survived those traps."

"Do you mean, Human," the dragon rumbles, "You are not after Wahid's Vessel?"

Ephraim shook his head. He doesn't even know what this vessel was. "No," he answers. "But I do want to know how I ended up here . . . and where my task force is."

"Hoh," the dragon exclaimed, "interesting. You are saying you are brought here upon your will, and you have no idea why that is the case?"

"Yes," Ephraim retorted. "It's all an accident. But I believe we found something valuable. Is there a way you can help us return?"

"There is no such thing as an accident," the dragon growls. "The great Wahid had meant for you to be here in Andromeda's realm,"

Ephraim stopped.

"What did you say?" He exclaims— "Andromeda's . . . realm?"

"Yes," the dragon says. "It seemed you have been brought by Wahid in Nar's dungeon—the fire vessel. And I, the Guardian, could see why."—said the dragon, perceiving Ephraim's heart as he sees a burning fire from within.

"Wait, hold on, I—I'm in 'Andromeda's Realm'? WHERE exactly is Andromeda's realm?"

"I don't think a Guardian of the gates such as I, will be the right one to answer your queries," the dragon rumbles. "For I, the Guardian, am the one who decides one's worth."

"And you—human," says the dragon, "are brought here for a reason."

Ephraim didn't want to be in a momentary feeling of grandeur, no matter how people would consider it cool. He was here because of an accident. He was here because he fell to that tunnel.

"I apologize, but I don't really think I am fit to get this vessel you speak of. My task force and I fell to the tunnel because we were cornered. Right now, I don't want anything but to return home with my team." Ephraim stated, trying to be polite. But there was a hint of desperation in his voice, marked by the slight quiver in his lips as he spoke.

"Home?" The guardian exclaimed. "If you want to get home, you shall acquire the vessel."

"What?" Ephraim frowns in puzzlement.

"The only way out to this dungeon is to retrieve what was lost—" the dragon explains. "and to retrieve what was lost, is to conquer Nar's vessel. The fire blade."

"But that's not my purpose," says Ephraim.

"Which is why Nar will not hand it to you." The dragon replies. "But you have a fire inside your heart waiting to be unleashed. Wahid sent you in this dungeon to have that fire harnessed."

Ephraim dismissed the last statement of the dragon. "If this Nar will not hand it to me, then I won't be able to come out here?"

"You shan't." The dragon says. "Unless you accept your fate, you shall not escape these grounds."

Ephraim knew it was a cruel arrangement. His life was decided by this 'Wahid,' and he couldn't even do anything about it. He thinned his lips.

"Fine," Ephraim mumbles. "But is there any way I can find my team?"

"Team? Your company, Human?" The dragon replied. "I have no interaction with any individual beyond these walls—but I do know each of the ones who had entered the premises."

Ephraim's eyes lit up. "C-can I see them?"

The dragon's red eyes gleamed—and then before Ephraim, conferred numerous places. He began to search one by one hastily, as quick as he could; he had seen several more people fighting off what seemed like . . . monsters? He stalled for a bit, examining every possible place the dragon was showing him.

He had almost given up—until he sees a certain, familiar figure running to the darkness endlessly. Ephraim's eyes widened as he reached to the figure, his finger slipping through the image the dragon was showing him.

"Samuel . . ." Ephraim utters breathlessly. "You're alive . . ."

Ephraim began to look for the other members—but to no avail, only Samuel was there and an unknown group warding monsters off.

"Human," the dragon roars. "Did you find whom you are seeking?"

"Yes," Ephraim answers. "This boy—he's the member of my team!"

"This youngling?" The dragon exclaimed. "So the One had brought you two in Nar's dungeon."

"I—I can't find the others—," Ephraim clenched his fist. "are they . . . dead?"

"Human, these are the only people whom I had found, and the dead had been slumbering here for a thousand years." The dragon exclaimed. "If Wahid had brought you to Nar's dungeon, then the 'team' you spoke of must have been brought to Andromeda's realm as well."

Ephraim did not know how to feel. "Then it's possible to find them?"

"I am not in the position to answer your queries." The dragon answers. "But I believe I could be of help."

"Really?!" Ephraim exclaimed.

"Umu." The dragon agrees. "The youngling you speak of is now on the brink of death, brought by his own fear."

Samuel? Dying because of his fear? "Then I have to help him!"

"You will not be able to save him," the dragon said. "He is in Charlotte's clock tower, located on the City of the Dead, where fear is the enemy. Those who had died aided Charlotte, the Fear Demoness, and now she could only be defeated by her prey."

Ephraim felt numb. Then is it a hopeless case? Does this mean he could only watch Samuel fight for his own life? Won't he be able to help?

"However—I can transport you to the Necropolis, where the clock tower is," the dragon rumbles. "You can be of a.s.sistance to him to fight his fears. But mind this, Human. You are not Charlotte's prey. She would not hesitate to kill you without discretion."

"That's fine," Ephraim answers. "As long as I could help him."

The dragon's eyes gleamed. "But Human, also consider that you could escape here now to save yourself. A step inside this door and you shall be granted Nar's vessel, and flee these grounds."

"I don't think I'm a spineless coward that leaves a friend behind," Ephraim answers. "But then again, I also don't think I'm an idiot who will go into the battlefield without a weapon at hand either."

"Then what is that you want, Human?"

"Something that could help us survive," Ephraim answers. "I need a sword."