Dual System: Ascension of A Nameless Nobody

“Damn, it’s dark…does anybody have a “light” spell, or something?” Hyun asked, rubbing his eyes as he looked around at the others.

“Nope,” he promptly replied, “I’ve got glasses on, man. If I can deal with it, you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Hyun sighed out.

Unlike the first room, the lengthy corridor was absent of the azure light, leaving them in total, silent darkness, filled only by the sounds of their steps echoing off of the dark steel.

He stayed in the front, utilizing one of the lesser utilized passive abilities inherent to the assassin-class: “Night Sight”–a self-explanatory name, allowing him vision that treats the darkness as nothing different than the light.

Though, he kept this to himself so that he could use it as a means of stifling Hyun’s complaints.

“Seriously, what’s up with this place? It’s so dusty,” Ara coughed up, waving her hand in front of her mouth to swipe away the dust that clung to the air particles.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” he said, wiping the interior of his glasses down before putting them back on.

Compared to how Obsidian Dungeon usually existed–cleanly and almost perfect, as was their nature as heavenly domains, this one was left dirty, as if long since abandoned by that nature.

“Be on your toes,” he warned, walking at the front, “I have a feeling something can pop out at any mo–”_.

Before he could fully finish his words, he stepped on the ground again, but this time hearing a click in response to the weight of his step.

“Wha–?”

From beneath him, the ground gave out, slipping away as he fell down a hole before any of the others could reach his hand–though Kamou definitely tried, reaching out to him desperately, but he was simply too far.

“Ghh–!”

“Jeong-Hui–!” His name was called out first and foremost by Kamou.

As he looked up, reaching upwards, the false flooring replaced itself before any of the others could follow him as he began to rapidly descend a grimy, lightless tunnel.

What’s going on–?! He thought.

It was narrow; he could tell that much by the way his body harshly bounced off each side that seemed just wide enough to fit him.

The smell was distinctly different once sliding down the tunnel–catching a scent of something rancid, as if the walls were inhabited by something rotting.

Soon after, his descent finally came to a stop as he fell into a dark room, managing to break his fall with a swift roll, though he still felt the impact in his knees as he sat there for a minute, catching his breath.

“…Man, what the hell?” He muttered to himself.

As soon as he lifted his head, he could tell something was wrong: even in the falling world, overrun with things thought impossible–this was wrong.

The obsidian walls that were normally kept cleanly and spotless within the seraphic dungeons were instead painted in dried blood; some etchings were nothing more than unintelligible ramblings, and some were somewhat decipherable symbols.

Perhaps worst of all, the stench of death filled the chamber he was in, prompting him to raise his azure scarf to cover his nose as he brought himself to his feet slowly.

“What’s this…?” He mumbled to himself.

He almost brought his hand to the wall to touch the inscriptions, but stopped himself just short as he realized how abhorrent it really was as he caught another whiff of the horrid stench filling the stale air.

The chamber itself was small and cluttered, filled with discarded barrels of muddied water and dusty crates; it didn’t feel like something occupied by Defects which required no such materials.

Each moment spent looking around the isolated chamber far below the others, the more worried and anxious he became, realizing where he stood was unnatural.

I have to regroup with the others–I’m in danger. I can feel it. I…can’t stop shaking, he thought.

Raising his hands in front of his view, he could see them constantly trembling, not even halting as he clenched his fists shut.

There was only one path onward: a dark stairway leading up to an unknown destination. However, the longer he stood in that dark, blood-written room, the more he felt the eerie atmosphere sink into his pores, prompting him to begrudgingly ascend the steps.

Each step he took, he could feel the cold, stale air occupying the dungeon brush against his skin as he kept his wariness high, making sure to keep his steps silent.

He almost couldn’t believe himself that his daggers weren’t drawn already as he slid them from their sheaths, holding them tightly in his trembling hands as he turned through the spiral steps, nearly reaching the summit of the staircase.

It’s quiet…He thought.

Unnaturally so; there wasn’t a sound to be heard–that was, until the very next moment.

It was a loud, metallic bang–repeated a few times over, almost in a stomach-churning, heart-racing melody that made him freeze like a deer in headlights.

“…What the?” He let out audibly in a mumble.

It was as if his instincts went into overdrive, all firing off as the synapses in his brain flared as if forcing him to react to the presence rapidly approaching.

Moving primarily off of instinct and pure reflexes, he leaned back, narrowly avoiding a blade that he didn’t see until after leaning back to evade its sharpness, watching as it slid directly past his eyes–seeing the harrowing fate that might’ve awaited him should his reflexes have been dull that day.

He didn’t see his attacker at first as the hallway atop the stairs was so densely filled with shadows, and they were dressed in matching, black robes that allowed them to blend with such darkness.

Flipping back, he naturally swerved into a kick that forced his attacker back as he created space, finally getting a good look at them as his eyes adjusted to the dense darkness.

A Defect…? No–this is a player–a person…? He thought.

On their face was a grin wide enough to stand out in the darkness, though after blinking a few more times, his sight finally stabilized in the shadowy setting.

At the top of the staircase which he came from, he was in a dark corridor that seemed to house many routes within the dungeon, though all of which were blocked off by the unsettling one before him.

“…Sinner. Sinner…”

From the grinning lips of the enigmatic attacker, those words repeated themselves in an eerie, delusional fashion.

“Why’re you attacking me?! We’re both in a pretty shitty place, you know!”

Though he tried talking to his cloaked attacker, his words didn’t seem to pierce his ears.

“Sinner…”

It was the same thing–seeming to be the one word capable of traveling from the enigmatic man’s lips.

Standing in place, the cloaked man was swaying side-to-side unnaturally, as if intoxicated, holding a jagged, unrefined blade in either of his hands, which seemed to be wrapped in abundant bandages.

[Player Check…]

[Error.]

[Information not found.]

The system’s information brought his eyes to a widened trance, or rather–the lack thereof brought him to a momentary still.

…It’s the same as before. My system can’t read this guy at all–but he’s still recognized as a player. Is he with those other guys…? He thought.