Hill assumed that around two to three hours had passed since he had begun climbing, and it had already taken its toll on his body. He felt drained.
The heat eased slightly as he headed further up, but his exhaustion accumulated, weighing him down like lead. The rock path grew narrower, the cavern walls closing in to pinch him as he approached the distant ceiling.
He'd lost track of how many precarious ledges he'd crossed, how many times he'd frozen when those glassy-black monsters skittered past on nearby walls.
I could use a good night's rest. He thought to himself, pitying his current situation.
Finally, the path leveled onto a broader platform, and the climb ended. Hill looked ahead for a way out of the cavern. His heart sank.
The path led to another dark hole in the rock – an ant tunnel like the countless others pockmarking the cavern wall. This was it? The reward for his climb was just another entrance into the nest?
Man, this sucks!
Disappointment hit him hard, briefly overwhelming his exhaustion. He'd risked everything, pushed beyond his limits, only to be funneled straight into danger.
He slumped to the ground, nearly giving in to despair. But there was nowhere else to go. Climbing back down through the nest was pointless; he'd probably faint from the heat. This tunnel was his only shot.
With a bone-deep sigh, Hill pushed forward. As he entered the tunnel, a wave of relief washed over him – the air inside was much cooler and damper, and it was still in comparison to the furnace outside. A small mercy, but he'd take it.
The downside hit immediately: complete darkness. The red glow from the lava barely reached a few feet into the tunnel. He was blind.
He paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust, but there was no light. Hesitantly, he reached out, feeling the surprisingly smooth tunnel walls.
Using them as a guide, he shuffled forward into the blackness, one careful step at a time. The silence felt strange after the constant roar of lava, broken only by his breathing and footsteps.
Several minutes in, his outstretched hand bumped something large, solid, and oddly textured. He jerked back, heart leaping into his throat. He did not like what he'd just touched.
He froze, listening. No clicking, no movement. Carefully, he reached out again, feeling the surface. Hard, segmented, cool to the touch – definitely one of those glassy carapaces.
But it wasn't moving. He ran his hand along its length, feeling the spiked segments... until his fingers met empty air, then something wet and sticky on the tunnel floor.
His stomach twisted. He crouched down, feeling blindly. His hand found a severed leg, then more of that viscous liquid – blood, or whatever these creatures had instead. The ant was dead. And incomplete. It felt like half its body was just gone.
He strained his eyes uselessly in the pitch darkness. What could kill one of these monsters so cleanly?
Frustration mixed with fear. He had powers now, right? A Soul Art, a Blessing. Maybe they could help? But how did he access them? He remembered seeing the glowing text after surviving the bridge.
"System?" he whispered into the darkness. Nothing. "Status? Open!" Silence. He tried more commands he vaguely remembered from pre-plague entertainment vids, all useless. Damn it, this isn't some game!
He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He concentrated on the memory of those glowing runes and how they'd formed from the motes of light. He pictured the swirling energy of the alien symbols as they shifted into text.
Suddenly, the darkness behind his eyelids gave way to a soft internal glow. The intricate symbols swirled into existence within his mind, clear as day, before resolving into readable text:
[Hillel - Awakened]
[Soul Art: Phantom Hand]
[Description: The phantom watches. From the unseen, a hand extends to guide, to assist, to manipulate when the wielder falters or overlooks. A silent partner in the soul's shadow.]
[Blessing: Frost Sentinel]
[Description: The lingering chill of the vanquished Harbinger suffuses your soul. Attacks may carry the bite of frost, slowing and weakening foes.]
[Curse: The Undying Brethren]
[Description: Defilement binds the echo. Many phantoms now cling to your soul, tethered by transgression. When consciousness rests, a hungry phantom stirs.]
He gasped, opening his eyes. The mental image vanished, plunging him back into darkness. It wasn't sight; it was... some sort of awareness. He felt like he was looking into his own soul. He closed his eyes again, focusing, and the text reappeared.
Okay. The Frost Sentinel blessing means I can use ice somehow. Not immediately useful for seeing.
The curse... he shuddered, pushing the thought away.
What about Phantom Hand? A hand extends... how do I make that happen? The description gave no instructions and no command words.
He focused on the Soul Art in his mind. Phantom Hand. It must be some ghostly appendage I can summon. If I focus... and picture what it would look like...
A faint tingling sensation appeared beside his right hand. He opened his eyes cautiously.
Floating in the air next to him was a hand. Semi-transparent, glowing with a soft, silky red light. It looked ethereal yet somehow solid, with long, slender fingers that were smooth and mesmerizing for some reason.
The crimson light pushed back the darkness, creating a small circle of visibility around him.
Hope surged through him. He tentatively willed the hand forward, closer to the dead ant. It obeyed, drifting smoothly through the air like an extension of his thoughts. He held it near the severed carcass.
The red light cast eerie shadows but revealed everything clearly. The giant ant had been sliced cleanly in half, diagonally across its thorax.
The cut was disturbingly smooth. Dark fluid pooled beneath the severed half.
Deep slash marks gouged the tunnel walls nearby, cutting through solid rock like butter. Whatever killed this ant was mighty and wielded some kind of massive blade.
Well then. I guess I have something else to be worried about. Fantastic.
Hill shuddered, directing the Phantom Hand's light further down the tunnel.
Click. Click-click.
The sound echoed from behind him, from the tunnel entrance he'd come through. Hill spun around, aiming the faint red light back down the passage.
Three pairs of glowing, multifaceted eyes reflected the light. Three glassy black shapes, spiked and menacing, were entering the tunnel, their long tongues tasting the air, their mandibles clicking. They had found him.