Labyrinth of Shadows (2)

The passage was bright blue and etched with many runestones. I didn't know the language of this world and couldn't read them, hence missing out on the potential benefits they could provide. 

Another thing was added on my to-do list — learn the magic language. 

As I continued to walk in the passage, I soon heard the same ghostly whisper of 'do not pass'. This time, I didn't panic and had enough resolve to face whatever was coming at me.

"Traveler…" I heard a different word from the whisper. 

I stopped in my tracks and looked around, wondering who the voice belonged to. 

The sound of approaching footsteps fastened from the front and as I started at it, I soon felt a tap on my shoulder. 

Turning behind, I saw nobody. 

When I turned back again…

"Traveler!"

"Ahhhh!" My heart leaped out of my chest as I saw an old man's face an inch away from mine. 

I hastily took a few steps back and the old man took similar quick strides and closed the distance between us.

"Traveler!" The old man said in his hoarse voice, his eyes glinting with an ancient knowing. 

"See nothing but the truth that hides, hear nothing but the silence that lies, speak nothing but the words unsaid."

The old man's figure vanished once he finished saying that, leaving me baffled and more confused than ever. 

I tried to not think much about this encounter and continued walking. 

A hundred steps in, I encountered a fork. Fifty more steps later, the passage twisted and turned.

The ground beneath me became wobbly and I could clearly see and feel myself about to get crushed by the narrow walls of the passage, but I didn't panic this time around. 

I held onto the faith that I wouldn't die, as suggested by the lotus lady, and began moving forwards. 

Surprisingly, I was able to walk without any problems and soon cleared the wobbling passage, appearing before a pair of large wooden doors. 

I pushed open the doors and walked inside, finding myself in a hall filled with people. 

"Make room! Make room!"

People shouted as they brought a sick person inside the hall.

The man on the stretcher was put down on the ground beside a woman, both seriously wounded from their chests and bleeding black blood. 

Nuns in white and black robes came to tend to them, their expressions tense as they watched the two. 

In the same hall, in several places on the ground, men, women, children, elderly… they all grunted and rolled in pain as blood seeped out of their bandaged wounds. 

Nuns were constantly running around to heal people, but nothing seemed to be working as not a single person in the room was silent and in relief. 

"You, youngster! Don't just stand and watch! Help me out here!" A nun looked at me and exclaimed. 

After a moment of surprise, I rushed towards the nun to help her bandage the sickly. 

It all felt so real that it didn't seem like a trial at all. 

Had I not been able to see the system screen, I would've thought that I was teleported in medieval times or something. 

"Apply that on the wounds, I'll hold the woman." The nun said and pointed at a darkish yellow liquid in a bowl. 

I dipped some cotton in that liquid and rubbed it on the woman's wounds. 

"Ahhhhhhhh—!"

The woman screamed and shook violently.

"Don't stare at her! Wrap her with bandages!" The nun yelled. 

"Ahhhhhh!" The woman's shriek chilled my bones, but nervously, I used a white-colored bandage and wrapped it around her hand. 

I did three rounds of wrapping around the wound, then tore the bandage and tied a knot to keep the wrap in place. 

The woman gradually stopped thrashing around and the nun let go of her, then took me to another wounded person. 

I wondered what was causing black blood to seep out while disinfecting the wounds and wrapping bandages. 

Not holding back my curiosity, I asked the nun, "Hey sister, is black the normal color of blood?"

The old sister looked at me with a baffled look and said, "Young man, have you never been wounded before?"

"I have." I replied, not ashamed of being questioned like that.

"Then why do you ask?" The nun didn't understand me. 

"Please just tell me." I insisted. 

The nun shook her head and said, "It's dark red. If you do not know even this… maybe you should not be assisting me here. You should go out and fight instead."

"What's happening outside?" 

The nun looked at me in confusion. "Are you not aware?"

"Uhh… I was sleeping. Some guys woke me up and rushed me here. I seriously have no clue what's happening around." I made up an excuse. 

Surprise flashed in the nun's eyes before she knitted her brows and said, "No wonder you're here when you're needed outside the most. Young man, go out and fight. Someone else can replace you here."

And with that, I was immediately chased out of the hall.

Before I knew it, a wiry figure approached me. It was a man in ragged clothes, stained from weeks of wear. 

A coarse tunic, once brown, now hung loose on his frame, patched in places with whatever scraps he could find. His trousers were little more than frayed wool, tucked into mud-caked boots that had seen too many miles. A rough-spun cloak, threadbare and riddled with holes, clung to his shoulders like a second skin, reeking of sweat and smoke. 

His face, gaunt and weathered, was set in a scowl as he looked at me, up and down, taking in the pristine tunic and polished boots. 

"You look like you've stepped out of a noble's hall, not a battlefield," he spat, shoving a rusted sword into my hands.

"Out there, it's blood and death. Get yourself dirty, or you'll be the first to fall." Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode off, his tattered cloak flaring behind him like the wings of a battered crow.

I was insulted just like that. Though, the man wasn't wrong since I did come out of a noble house, a Duke house, to be precise. 

If only he knew the struggle I went through after that, he wouldn't be saying this. 

In any case, I began running behind the man in the narrow cobblestone paved streets of a medieval fantasy town, and reached a square bustling with lots of clings and clangs of metals along with the noises from monsters and men alike. 

The scene before me was chaos—men and monsters locked in a brutal struggle. The monsters were twisted, grotesque things, with limbs too long and eyes glowing a sickly yellow.

Their skin was mottled, like rotting flesh, and their gaping maws dripped with black ichor.

They moved with unnatural speed, claws slashing through the air.

The townsfolk fought with a desperate fury, wielding whatever weapons they could find— rusted swords, pitchforks, even broken furniture. 

Their faces were gaunt, pale with fear and exhaustion, their clothes torn and bloodied. 

They were outmatched, yet they fought on, hacking and stabbing with a grim determination, their only goal to survive another moment. 

I watched for a bit and noticed that townsfolk were avoiding getting bitten by these ghoul-like creatures. I kept that in mind and threw away the rusty sword. 

I took out the hero's sword from the system inventory and clutched its handle firmly, then charged right at the battlefield!