Searching For Andromeda 46 Dungeon | Part 4 Necropolis

"Well, platinum-blond. Isn't that the sign of royalty?"

"Well, indeed. But royals in Alaris? We're a republic. The Lord doesn't have any family members. The closest country would be Sembilica. But their royals don't have blond hair."

"Sheesh, don't get started with the Lord of Alaris. He's giving me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s!"

"Then, is the youngling one from the n.o.bility?"

"Impossible. Sembilica has better dungeons. Why would one country want to go to Alaris for its one and only dungeon?"

"But then who's the youngling? A random kid who found his way HERE?"

"In the Necropolis? How could the youngling survive the traps?"

"But look at the youngling's bruises! He had gone through so much from those horrible, horrible traps!"

"Hey, who're you calling a youngling!" Samuel bantered. "I'm 17! And my name is Samuel! Samuel Albrecht!"

The four people discussing to themselves glanced at Samuel with a look of both confusion and guesswork.

"Samuel the Youngling." It was Yael who first spoke. "From where do you come from? Do you not know that Dungeons are dangerous? Not because it's simply in the middle of the city of Alaris, you could just slip right through in."

"Hold on a sec, what're you people going on about? Dungeons? Alaris? Have I gone insane?"

The man with the robes then closed his eyes and propelled his arm forward, with his palm facing Samuel. "No. My examination magic says your mental state is perfectly alright. You do have abrasions and bruises."

"Hold on, hold on. I don't get this one bit. Where am I? Who are you people? And did you just say . . . magic? Am I dreaming?"

"Ah . . . the Youngling must have suffered so much to forget his memory of the place." The woman with elven ears says. She then ran towards Samuel, pressing her bosom to his face as she embraces him.

"Oi—!" Samuel struggles from the woman as his face grew redder at every pa.s.sing second. His cheeks were pressed to suppleness, after all.

"Well, there is no damage to his brain. I don't think he lost his memory." The man in the robes said.

"Oi, wait I said!" Samuel exclaims as he pulls away from the woman's embrace, his face was flaming hot from the contact. "I don't really know where I am, how the h.e.l.l I got here—heck, I don't even know who you people are!"

"Oh, where are our manners?" The woman with the elven ears says. "My name is Vashti, and this is our group. We're a part of the Alaris Red Guild."

"The name is Hosea, the Healer." The man in the robes says.

"'m Arletha, the bow n' arrow gal." A girl with the short stature says. "'Sup, Younglin',"

"And I'm Pelmon, the swordsman." Says the man clad in iron armor. "And that man holding you off is Yael. He's the one who found you."

Samuel scowls. ". . . am I in a show about medieval knights or stuff?"

"Medieval knights?" Yael says. "We know of no people who called themselves medieval knights, Youngling."

"It's Samuel." Sam corrects. "And I can't believe I'm saying this. Am I really in the dungeon?"

"You really don't remember?" The man named Pelmon says. "I mean, not that I don't believe you, but you've found your way to the Necropolis."

Samuel facepalmed, not understanding what they are going on about. "No. I'm—I—did you people see some . . . er . . . guys who got here with me? There's one girl in the group, by the way."

"Oh! It seemed you're separated from your group." Pelmon says. "It was Yael who found you. We don't know much because we were fighting off the Hydra who was chasing us."

"You were lying in the entrance of Necropolis." Says Yael, answering the questions written all over Samuel's face. "You were alone."

"Alone in the . . . what? Necropolis? You mean a city, right? But I don't see a—" Samuel slowly turned around, or more specifically, Yael turned him around, letting go of his grip to Samuel's collar.

Samuel's jaw gaped, as his eyes gradually widened, fixing his sight—beholding the city that just stood before and below him with a pair of new, roused eyes.

"What . . . the . . . h.e.l.l."

Samuel's pupils amplified as he sees a seemingly ancient city complete with infrastructures corroding and towering ruins. Something one would see not in the technological civilization he was living in. Something . . . primeval and old.

"This is . . ." Samuel slowly walked forward, seeing more of the city.

"Yes," Vashti exclaims. "The city of the dead . . . Necropolis!"

"Necropolis . . ." Samuel blinks and then turns towards them. "As far as I could recall . . . it's a is a large, designed cemetery with elaborate tomb monuments."

"Well, that's what I said," Vashti utters. "Anyway, Young un, you're found by our Yael. He's an excellent swordsman, like Pelmon. He's saved us several times."

"How in the world did I end up here?" Samuel says.

"You really don't remember?" Asks Hosea, the Healer.

"No, all I remembered was that we—and by 'we,' I meant my task force, or my team, along with some monsters—got dropped in a black tunnel leading to who-knows-where."

"Looks like who-knows-where is here," says Arletha. "In the Necropolis. But I don't see a hole anyway."

Samuel lifted his gaze—and then, that is when he sees the markings. Markings of constellations just directly above him with inscribed motifs that looked like they were made by an elaborate individual. There was also the design of the moon and sun bind to each other with other emblems Samuel couldn't see from afar.

And above all these things, he noticed the most peculiar thing ever.

"How come there are two suns . . .?"

"You really DON'T know?" Asks Hosea.

"How many times do I have to say it?" Samuel sighs. "No . . . I don't. I told you people that's all I could remember. And I'm considered as someone with ninety-nine percent retention rate."

Hosea then smiles, "well . . . if you don't really remember."—a pause as the healer points his finger to the sky—"There are two suns because this dungeon existed to a different timeline. Dungeons are created by Wahid—or the One. Dungeons are made by Wahid as miniature worlds containing the Tome of Knowledge—or simply Wahid's Vessel, in regular folk's tongue."

"Vessels . . ." says Samuel. "I get it now. Well, if I dismiss the fact that I'm from a completely advanced civilization. But yes, I get your point."

"That's a relief," says Hosea.

"So . . . you people came here for those vessels?"

"Well, we came here to help Yael get that vessel." Pelmon answers. "You see, only one can be bestowed with Wahid's Vessel. But we get the treasure too, so consider that as the bonus."

Samuel thinned his lips. Judging from the happenstances occurring, this seemed like reality. He pinched his cheek.

Vashti chuckled. "You're so adorable, Youngling."

Samuel's face grew red. Well, at least he knows he's not dreaming.

"So, Youngling. We decided to take you in for a while until you find your group." Pelmon says. "You're not after the Wahid Vessel, 'no?"

"What?"

Silence.

"Oh, come on, Pel. He's completely unaware he's in a dungeon. How could he even want the Vessel?" Says Hosea. "Right, Youngling?"

Samuel nodded. "Y-yeah,"—for a second, did Palmon and the others' gaze just darkened?

Pelmon flashed a bright smile. "Well, if he's not after the Vessel, then I'm fine with it!"

Samuel tilted his head. "Why does it matter anyway? N-not that I'm after it, though."

Arletha smiles. "Well, it would mean you'll be a compet.i.tion. An enemy." The girl smiles as her green eyes darkened. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"