Chapter 21: Pathetic

In front of Arthur lay an iron wrought trapdoor. Its hinges were rusty at least around the outside, while it was cleaner, almost polished closer to the leverage. The top of the wooden framed device was dusty, though Arthur chalked that up to its position under the carpet.

'Did Charlotte use this?' Arthur questioned 'if she did, that would explain her paranoid looks…but not her blank stare or that creepy grin….let alone this smell,' He continued, realising his hand from his nose and giving the contraption a quick sniff, only to find himself immediately overwhelmed by the pungent odour.

*Blech* The scalding sensation of vomit quickly made its way up Arthur's oesophagus, the liquid rushing through any barricades his stomach may have possessed and increasing the swelling on his already inflamed throat before quickly reaching its destination…Arthur's mouth. He could feel it, chunks upon chunks of processed melted down food mixed with gastric acid brushing against his tongue and lingering against his teeth. He wanted to throw up, to just open his mouth and expose the evidence of his existence to the world. Yet, it was in this time of crisis that Arthur finally felt it, a robust horrific sense of foreboding that seemed to freeze every single cell in his body, something bad, neigh something dreadful was about to happen, and that premonition of fear only increased the more he thought of letting the contents of his stomach spill out, his mind had finally gotten its point across. Arthur wanted to turn back. He didn't want to be exposed to whatever his body was warning him was down this trap door, yet, at the same time, Arthur didn't want his efforts to be in vain. He knew it was foolish, dumb, and he rightfully deserved every insult to his intelligence, but he had suffered, suffered through so much to reach this point now, and he wasn't going to let his mind tell him otherwise, just once, just this one time did he want to do something that went against his very instincts, something that only he would be willing to do.

And it was with this thought, that Arthur mentally braced himself and swallowed the now cold vomit. It was a chore. It hurt, his throat felt scratchy, and every cell in his body screamed at his foolishness; however, he did it. Arthur could feel it fall against his stomach that churned in protest; the sensation was comparable to swallowing a mouthful and more of water all at once, a feat no human should be capable of or subjected to, yet one Arthur had willingly forced upon himself.

'*cough, cough,* Ahh, Ewww,' Arthur squirmed, disgusted from his own actions brought upon by his misplaced determination and foolish bravery. If he was the true protagonist of the story with his endless courage Arthur doubted he would have even second guessed himself when it came to exploring the trap door, yet Arthur couldn't do that. He was human, just some piece in the god's game. Even now, all his courage was artificial, brought forth from playing the act of Charlotte's hero and bolstered with the faint traces of adrenaline circulating through his body.

Looking back to the conjoined hall, Arthur could see it, a way to escape from this feeling of weariness that filled his very being. Freedom was only five steps away, each step progressively easier than the last. It would be a lie to say that he was not tempted, to just run away from all of this like his mind urged him, to remain ignorant of whatever was causing this foul stench until the time some maid came along and took it upon herself to push her limits revealing the contents of this place to the world, yet no matter how much Arthur wanted to run…He just couldn't. After all, he was a method actor, and right now, he was brave, stupidly so, to the point where his actions were more reckless than the courageous acts of bravery he had experienced playing through the gate to Avalon.

'You can do this,' Arthur chided. He wanted to take a deep breath right now to calm his nerves, but the fear of whatever gas or miasma this was infiltrating his body once again put him off. Tensing his fingers around the rusted steel latch, Arthur pulled, his movements slow and deliberate in stark opposition to his racing heart that seemingly threatened to beat out of his own chest.

*Creak* The rusted latch wailed, filling the silent hallway with an eerie sense of taboo; what Arthur was doing was bad, or at least it felt wrong, almost like it was going against the very will of the heavens as absurd as it might be, he could feel his heart drum against his chest it's mini shockwave reverberating throughout his now shaky body, this was his final chance to stop, to just shut the latch and run away, his mind screamed at him once again to turn back, but its messages were easily ignored by the steadfast young boy, who with one final tug, opened the trap-door.

What met Arthur's gaze was darkness, pure unfiltered darkness illuminated faintly by what the boy could only assume to be a candle at the bottom of a steep ladder climb. The flame danced in retaliation to the sudden influx of oxygen granted to it, its joy showing no signs of stopping…until it did, not even a second later, esteemed depression now the only pride and joy of the dimmed light.

'*gulp* here we go,' Arthur shakily hyped himself up. *Creak* Arthur slowly drew the open trap door to a close, fully enclosing the boy in darkness. He didn't know if this was a good decision or not; however, it was the one he made.

Placing one foot after another upon the flimsy wooden ladder that creaked in protest of Arthur's weight, he made his way down the steep climb that seemed to last an eternity despite the distance only being that of a couple meters, the only light that reached his eyes is that of the reflected candle light against the dusty stone walls. While the only sound that echoed throughout the enclosed space was the splintering of the wooden ladder. Until eventually, he reached the bottom.

*thud, thud,* With a light hop, Arthur left the ladder that seemed to give a squeaking whine of gratitude, the only sound that now echoed in the alleyway like expanse was the slow rhythmic taping of his feet against the cold stone floor, his left hand quickly removed the outer layer of his attire, his blazer, before he took his own shirt off throwing it around his head and tying it tightly around the back of his neck to act as a makeshift barricade to block out the horrific smell.

With both hands now freed, Arthur made his journey through the narrow passageway. He had been tempted at first to remove the gently flickering candle from its candelabra in fear that it might be the only light source available to him; however, that fear was quickly dispelled after Arthur spotted another candle, not even 20 meters away from the original one, and then another. 'This is quite a length alley,' Arthur commented. In front of Arthur now stood a large wrought iron enforced wooden door, its brilliant grey colouring having long since lost its shade, nor infested with the dirty bronze of rust while the rest of the door creaked under its own dampened weight. At first, the boy was tempted to remove his makeshift barricade to give the entry a whiff, but after due consideration, that idea quickly left Arthur's mind.

'I suppose this is it,' Arthur anxiously observed, the primal instinct to simply run away from all of this now blaring throughout his mind on full blast. However, it carried little to no effect on the determined boy, who, aside from experiencing a little pang of self-doubt, quickly dispelled the notion from his mind. He was here, at the source of it all. This wasn't the time to shrink away or run. No, now was the time to face this eerie feeling head on. Or so, Arthur told himself, his hands now pressed against the soaked door, its insides spilling out onto the young boy and staining his hands a dark…crimson colour.

'Huh,' Arthur wordlessly mumbled, a bolt of fear quickly running through his body, 'Why are my hands crimson? What's going on!' Arthur furiously questioned. This isn't what he signed up for when he wanted to find the source of the smell. Shouldn't this have just been some freaky sidequest where the end goal would be some lame ass reward? He should have gotten through the worst of it already, so why? Why did he feel so terrified of what was to come?

'I don't want to do this anymore,' Arthur furiously screamed. However, his hands remained plastered to the door. His body wasn't listening to his brain, it was acting on auto pilot, running solely off of what Arthur previously wanted to do, and that was to open this strangely crimson door.

*Creakkkk* The door slowly opened, the contents of a large room steadily filling Arthur's gaze.'Stop!! I SAID, STOP!! I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!' Arthur furiously screamed, yet no matter how much he willed his body to stop, it refused, and eventually, the door opened, and what spilt forth wasn't a pleasant sight to the young boy.

The room was large, really large, its closest equivalent that Arthur could think of being that of the Zepar family's dining room, or at least it would be considered large if not for the cages. Rusted iron cages dividing the ground space into portions. Tens, if not hundreds of human sized cages, no, calling them cages would be doing a disservice to the craft. They were prison cells, crafted out of the most rusted metal Arthur had ever seen in his life, so much so that the boy assumed that merely placing one's hand onto the brittle metal would be more than enough to slice through the skin. However, it was not these features that terrified the young Arthur. He had seen prisons before, and merely seeing one in the house of a marquis wouldn't be enough to torment Arthur. No, what scared the boy the most were the gadgets that lined most of the available space in the room, leaving what little area that remained to feel extremely packed to the point where Arthur thought he might develop claustrophobia despite never even thinking about the fear before.

Lining the room were items that Arthur could only describe as instruments for torture, from the steel made rack that hovered to the right of the entrance, the brazen bull, a modified version of an iron spider, all the way to the thumbscrew, every inch of the room was filled with torture devices. All of them shared one other trait in common aside from their purpose, a trait that created both shivers and tears of fear that spilt forth from Arthur's body. They were all soaked in blood, fresh blood, with the oldest patch only being a few days.

'They've been used recently,' Panic struck Arthur cried with chattered teeth. He wasn't brave anymore. His act had crumbled. No longer the hero he pretended to be, he was now merely Arthur, a scared eighteen-year-old boy who had found himself in a situation too great for him to handle. He wanted to run, to escape from this room and never turn back. He had found what he wanted to be the cause of the stench, refusing to acknowledge the real reason for it that could be seen if he were to only explore a little deeper. His purpose was fulfilled, he had accomplished his goal, and now he could sanely return alive from this expedition, so then, why did his feet not move?

'HAHAHA, it's the blood, right? The blood is the cause for the smell, whoop de doo, I found the cause, I'm such a FUCKING genius, now I can go back in peace, right?' Arthur deliriously questioned nobody, his breathing becoming rapid, yet no air was getting to him. He was hyperventilating. Just seeing the recently used torture instruments was too much for the relatively freshly transmigrated boy. He still had not fully adapted to the world and the overwhelming amount of sins it bore. 'RIGHT!' Arthur screamed, his right hand moving to clutch at his chest, his breathing faint all the while two illusory figures appeared before him, two very familiar figures, now a teasing, all mighty grin plastered on the two faces as they watched their "Son" suffer.

'God, you're pathetic,' the man's voice echoed throughout Arthur's boiling brain.

'And you wonder why we never gave you a name. It's because you weren't worth our time,' The woman laughed.

That's right, ever since he was born, Arthur's parents had hated him. To them, he was nothing more than unwanted baggage, an unwanted outcome from indulging in one another. He wasn't human to them. Despite being their offspring, their own flesh and blood child, they had never wanted to spend a second with the boy. Sure they may have housed him, allowing Arthur to live in their not so humble abode, but that was only because they were after the child support money the government had to offer, which they would always use to finance their next trip, leaving even an infant version of himself to scrounge up and consume whatever mouldy food had gone un-eaten, they didn't know the pain of being a literally nameless boy with no sense of value to his person, they didn't know the pain Arthur experienced seeing his classmates being picked up after school from their loving mothers and fathers, returning to what he could only assume to be a happy household while he had to walk miles all by himself simply because they were too greedy to lend their CHILD money for a bus.

They didn't even acknowledge Arthur's pitiful existence. He was simply air to them, or rather something less than air, at least air held value in that you needed it to live. No, Arthur was a parasite, a parasite that ruined their life. He was berated and mocked by his parents to the point where he had simply become numb to it all. His room, though empty, would always end up vandalised to the point that William's attempts to evict Arthur were something the boy considered child's play, yet despite all the pain and abuse, Arthur never got mad at his mother and father. Perhaps it was because Arthur was still an idiotic child at the time, but never in Arthur's life did he hate his parents. No, he didn't care if they bullied or beat him. All Arthur wanted was love. He just wanted to feel the warmth that came with being needed, to experience even a fraction of the happiness his peers felt. However, that warmth never came as on the very same day the gate to Avalon was released…his parents died. Their plane had crashed, taking their lives.

"Shut the fuck up. You aren't real," Arthur softly seethed, his breaths growing more and more sporadic in tandem with his anger. He had loved them once in the past and only in the past.

'Oh, did you finally grow a back bone you piece of shit,' The woman laughed once again,

'Not like that'd change anything, though. You're still you, a worthless child whose only value comes in the ones and zeros the government assigned to you at birth. You're pathetic,' The man leered, an involuntary fright of terror resurfacing in Arthur's eyes.

"Sor-" Arthur subconsciously stuttered. He hated this feeling, this overwhelming sense of powerlessness that seemed to assault his entire being. Didn't coming to this world make him strong? Wasn't he some unearned prodigious human capable of even beating a well-trained marquis despite a three year age gap, so then why was he so frozen in fear to fight back against their insults.

{The host is acting delirious please come to terms with reality,}

A system panel flashed in the corner of Arthur's eyes which immediately went unread. Couldn't it see that he was arguing with his demons right here? Isn't this the part of the story where the protagonist overcomes their childhood trauma and gains some vast leap in strength, so much so that Arthur wouldn't have to simply be afraid of all these torture instruments that lined the room? And although this statement may be true in the novels of old on Arthur's earth, it held no value here. He wasn't the protagonist of this world. Hell, he wasn't even transmigrated as some good looking prominent side character like he theorised the other transmigrators would be. Arthur was transmigrated as a mob with privileges. His body was the same as his one on earth, created just for him to live in this world, which, although a lovely sentiment, though it really didn't help him too much with looks or talent. Fighting his demons would be an ultimately meaningless battle for the poor boy. No special power boost awaited him apart from a sense of fulfilment and the fact that he'd have a better sleep at night.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Arthur screamed in denial. He was worth something, at least the system said so, see it even attached an unawakened body to his soul, couldn't they see that he was special, he was more than ones and zeros, Arthur…Arthur was human too.

'Pathetic,' The two called in unison, their spectral figures turning faint before ultimately vanishing into thin air, leaving the swollen eyed Arthur alone once again.

'Did I win?' Arthur foolishly questioned the sense of fear that had previously wracked his brain, now nowhere to be found while his breathing had returned to a regular stable form.

And it was when Arthur pondered his victory that he heard it, from the corner of the room, a voice came, one that would pull him back into the pool of terror he had only just managed to escape from and even further…to the depths of complete and utter fear.

"Hel-" A slovenly voice echoed throughout the claustrophobic torture device filled room. It was an unknown voice, a broken one, one that Arthur swore he had never heard before, yet one that seemed oddly familiar.

Immediately a bolt of fear flashed through Arthur's body, draining any colour that his previously rowdy face may have possessed. He wasn't alone. There was someone else here, someone calling for…help and just that sentiment filled Arthur's soul with a sense of foreboding dread. The same one thought from earlier instantly spread through Arthur's mind once again, the urge to run, he didn't know the voice, and if they had gotten themselves in here, they surely deserved whatever punishment they were receiving… 'but then again' Arthur sympathetically asked his gaze drifting towards all the blood stained equipment. What if it was him? What if he was one of the men who had been suffering through the utilisation of all the devices present? Wouldn't that just be too unfair? There were very few crimes Arthur would accept to be cause for such suffering. However, it's not like he'd play the white knight. Arthur had already theorised the perpetrator for such a cause, and he sure as hell didn't want to be exposed as knowing that girl's secret.

'Honestly, the safe option here is to just run away. I've seen enough. I-I don't think I'd be able to cope if I saw more than this…not yet, and maybe not ever,' Arthur skittishly decided, so then why did his feet betray him, why did they wind their way through the claustrophobia inducing horde of torture-instruments, with each step that sounded throughout the spacious horde he could hear a minute tapping somewhere nearby, was it signalling him to their destination Arthur could only presume so. 'TURN BACK! TURN BACK!!! DON'T GO TOWARDS THE SOUND!' Arthur pleaded, 'PLEASE JUST-just stop!' with a singular tear, Arthur begged. He didn't know why his thoughts and actions had been so disconnected ever since coming down here. Never in a million years would Arthur have suspected the cause to be the underlying curiosity that whirled within his mind like the darkness to his light. It wanted to see the man, to see what state he was in, how disfigured would his body be? How broken is his mind?. It wanted to know all of this, to satiate Arthur's curiosity for the truth of this world. 'Please, if you're not going to listen to that, can I at least ask you to hide away from him? What if he tells her that I've been here? I'd be fucked. Please…please'

Yet Arthur's pleas went unnoticed. His legs continued their journey in the most straightforward way possible with little regard for Arthur's future safety until they finally stopped. They had reached their destination.