Searching For Andromeda 68 Sacrifices To Attain One's Goals Part 2

Ephraim still couldn't bring his thumb into the things he was witnessing. Magic. How absurd. He didn't know how he would cope afterward, but he kept trying to force himself to understand that these things really existed. And maybe other happenstances beyond one's imagination also persevered in the depths of the ground and outside this certain 'dungeon.'

It wasn't long before they landed on the surface. And with a loud thud, with the dust slowly clearing, Ephraim sees two people holding their weapons: one with armor, and the other with a tough body holding an ax.

Arletha dropped them into the ground—Ephraim's eyes met that of the tough man, the one they called Yael, his gaze measuring and drowned in scrutiny. But these happened in just a matter of seconds. Ephraim swung the sword lent to him by the guardian straight to the necromorph's s.p.a.ce as he listened to the group talk.

Hosea was kept behind by Arletha, who now began to shoot her arrows to every necromorph that dared to approach. But the arrows deemed useless—they slowed the monsters, but they neither inflicted damage nor did they seem to perpetrate pain. Ephraim introduced himself briefly as he fought (never did he think in his life he would be literally fighting for his life as he introduces himself).

When the guardian told him that he could teleport Ephraim to the necropolis, it had also given him a guide about how he would find the last floor of the dungeon as well. Apart from the fact that Ephraim had seen the order of the dungeon's floors, the necropolis also had a pa.s.sage that connected into the burning doom. It wasn't easy to go back there, but Ephraim already had the key (and also the guardian made a necklace so that he wouldn't lose it). The key wouldn't be a free pa.s.s to make everything easier, but it would (undeniably) increase their survival rate.

Ephraim glanced around, searching for the trajectory of the constellations above them. The guardian said something about connecting the dots by going into the proper directions.

"Just remember the riddle that you have solved, Human." The guardian said before disappearing on Ephraim—like a fire slowly fading away to thin air.

The answer lies in Wahid's dragon and the dragon lies in Wahid's dragon. Ephraim already figured out that these two answers were both true. The dragon meant the guardian in the gateway to Nar's vessel, and the answer was the vessel itself. The inscription themselves held specific insignias—the answer was a star symbol, whilst the dragon being the head of well . . . a dragon. Ephraim lifted his gaze as he sees the insignias with the familiar inscriptions from the burning doom, the ones etched from the cryptex he had solved.

الجواب يكمن في تنين وحيد.

[إجابة] – or 'iijabatan being the answer; [تنين] – or tanin being the translation for the dragon. Ephraim had studied Arabic when he was still in the UHE. A fundamental portion of archaeology is a system combined comprising fieldwork and laboratory a.n.a.lysis. As it is every so often studied in a shared degree with anthropology, cla.s.sics, art history, or history—archaeology degrees often correlated with literary evidence and the study of languages as well. This is why Ephraim ought to learn decoding hieroglyphics—both hieratic and demotic. He also had to study Standard Arabic, among many other languages to aid his ciphering when he goes to excavation sites.

Oddly enough, this knowledge had aided him in times like this. Who would have known that dungeons also used Arabic in their carvings? But then again, Ephraim still had to scrutinize as quickly as he could about the other engravings unfamiliar to him. These were symbols which language was completely out of his knowledge spectrum . . .

But Ephraim Ignacio Hughes was an archaeologist. He was specifically trained in a.n.a.lysis. It only took him a moment to connect the possible dots the dragon was referring to. And a.s.suming he was right, they would reach atop a certain monument lying northwards in a higher ground. Ephraim was able to see that far due to what seemed like two moons—one large and one small crossing over to each other like spherical nodes.

He ran whilst slashing his sword to the necromorphs, who kept on coming without fail. But thankfully, Yael and the others were able to ward them off as they took turns in countless alleyways. Ephraim still glanced from time to time to the inscriptions above him, making sure he was turning the right way. If only there was something that would aid him—like a landmark, or anything that can aid them to the proper direction . . .

"Ephraim! Look!" Samuel exclaimed. He was carrying Hosea as they ran to follow Ephraim's lead.

Ephraim looked at what Samuel pointed to. Few meters in front of them were a lever beside a mirror. Ephraim immediately knew what it was—the mirror was spherical and shape and was facing downwards.

Ephraim had no time to lose. He ran as fast as he could and pulled the lever. The spherical mirror beside the lever then tilted upwards—the light from the moon bounced back to the mirror into one of the inscriptions, which then lit up yet another direction.

"East!"

Ephraim began to run to whatever direction the light was leading them, the constellations above gradually being connected by the moonlight being reflected by the mirrors. Ephraim began pulling each lever he would have his hands upon—north, east, south, west—until they were welcomed with the large monument standing proudly—a large fortress amidst the dead tombs.

"Is this it?" Arletha asked, "we're really advancing forward . . . !"

"Yes, but we've no time to waste! My mana's almost depleted!" Pelmon breathed heavily, "Ephraim—was it?! This is it right?! What do we need to do now?"

"We just have to get inside and this key will help us!" Ephraim said, showing the key to the group. They wasted no time, running towards the fortress. What welcomed them is a closed door and a keyhole.

And as Ephraim neared the key to the aperture, he was stopped with a voice—one he hadn't heard before, but had stopped everyone on their tracks. Ephraim retracted the key back as he slowly turned to the source of that voice.

"Guys . . ." a female, with blood all over her dress and mouth. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she spoke. But what made everyone stop wasn't any of these certain details. It was not her b.l.o.o.d.y dress nor her tears, not even the fact that she had reached them so swiftly.

It was the gigantic necromorph behind her, with its claws pierced on her bloodied belly.

"Why didn't you wait for me . . ." She says. "Why . . ."

The staff in Hosea's hand dropped into the floor as he slowly opened his eyes. Everything was a blur except of the figure appearing before them. There's no mistake about it.

The woman, with her familiar elvish ears, standing before them. The owner of the staff he refused to let go to.

The woman whose death he himself witnessed.

"Vash . . . ti?"