Light at the End

Magic exclusively existed within "living entities."

That was the logic within that dimension of dungeons.

Living didn't mean that the host of magic was conscious; that went for various items like their Class Stone, trees, and any other magic-infused objects.

Again, the naïve Crush had no inkling of this fact and would disregard it even if he did. This was unfortunate because he, a level 1 Coupler with the ability to directly infuse his unfiltered magic into entities, was momentous.

It meant he'd never know the path his creation undertook nor the cause it perished for.

**

Sticks, leaves, and moss are all meaningless independently, but when conjoined with magic, it becomes a combination. No longer single ingredients, but one unique collection, a new entity known as a torch.

This "existence" knew little. Not its name, the face of its creator, nor where it was conducted. All it knew, and all that mattered was the smooth, delicate hand that lifted it up in the darkness like a beacon.

An object, magic or not, had no nerves. It couldn't physically see the woman that wielded it, but it could sense they were glorious. If it could communicate, it'd compare her to colorful, sparkling stars that danced in a night sky. Yes, her hands bore it with a tremble, and yes, the sticky sweat she exuded made her grip faulty. Nonetheless, she held it gently.

Because of the nature of this inanimate being, it never knew the night or the blackout of the tunnel it moved through. There was always an intense jade light that illuminated its sights. It saw everything. The low rocky ceiling, the few glowing plants that did little to light the area, and the twenty or more humans that marched behind it.

It knew that it was the nucleus of that congregation. The saying, "Light at the end of the tunnel," didn't work in its case because it would be the one to decide where the end was.

Time operated differently in its world. What was a few minutes for the humans felt like a seemingly never-ending path, but that was okay. Long as the same beautiful sensation continued to carry it.

Eventually, its wielder lingered in a single location for longer than usual. Even then, it was happy to brighten everything the girl wanted to see.

Curiosity wasn't one of its characteristics. It didn't care to wonder why the many humans excitedly gathered around the wooden chest full of lustrous coins and mysterious objects.

Treasure was subjective to each, and it had already found its jewel. A Love that didn't sparkle or could be traded. As long as the humans were pleased, so was it.

The jade torch was stationary for quite a while as the humans fiddled with the coffer and its contents. All was well until it was suddenly tugged with a heavy hand. The tremble of its bearer's arm heightened dramatically as they aimed the light at a near commotion.

Soon after, several rat-like critters with two sharp buckteeth and red eyes scurried into its protective light. By then, it already knew what fear was by the shaky feeling of its carrier's hand. So, it could confidently decipher what the girl felt then was beyond that. The sense had to be terror.

The creatures assailed the group without warning. Many bodies were active, swinging swords, spears, and knives, and it knew it was all possible because of the powerful flame it maintained in that cave.

It had its role, just as its wielder, who hoisted it high while avoiding confrontation with the monsters.

From its perspective, it was a short bout, and the humans had won. Or so they believed as they celebrated. However, soon more varmints invaded the torch's ever-watching eye.

Another conflict ensued, but that was okay; it would gladly oversee another victory.

As battle resumed, a suspicious scuttle was discerned at the edge of its view. It was all-seeing; it naturally spotted the irritable creature sneaking up on their flank. Though, its angel was not so informed.

As the vile beast crept up, the jade torch wished it held a voice to alert them. Thus, it was inanimate and could only flicker danger signals to the girl.

Inconceivable. The red-eyed creature had arrived within mere feet of them during disarray. It bore its teeth before leaping and slashing the torch from its hospitable home in one swoop.

That was an unexpected development but nothing that couldn't be rectified; it just had to be lifted once again. Right?

If only. Red liquid occupied the square block it landed in, almost instantly tainting its fetching green flame. The damnable fluid soaked into its healthily burning organs, ruining parts of the moss.

Mere seconds after this, dreadful screams crammed the tunnel. More bodies hit the floor, and they could not find a suitable foundation to fight in the unlit cave.

While the torch didn't care about the stranger's suffering, it did feel- No, it experienced failure. Even when the same graceful hand lifted it again, the flames had diminished from a superheated sun to that of a simple candle.

The girl wailed something, but it had already begun a slow degenerative suffocation. It knew that her life would also be lost without its flame. Though, as it gradually extinguished, it sensed a sliver of delight in its loss. A feeling. "Even at our end, you present me with such longing. I wish I could have served you longer."

Like a wet mouth child terrorizing the last candle on their birthday cake, the final inch of light died. It had burned for as long as probable but then accepted its inevitable end. At least it cou-

"Please."

"Please."

Dainty and clean to one's ears, an urgent yet clear outcry begged. Odd, though, because objects didn't have ears.

"Please. Burn," pleaded the voice.

Impossible, the torch sensed. It was wet, and only black smoke flowed from its form. Still, the girl prayed.

Brief visions were planted within the item as it was held against the girls weeping face. First, it saw its beginning when it was just two branches hanging from an upside-glowing tree. Then it saw the unpleasant mug of a male carrying a book. Most importantly, it remembered the girl's face and how striking she looked underneath its warm green glow.

The torch, too, though inanimate, begged. "Please allow me to provide for this hand that carried me so carefully. For this is my only reason for existing."

Its authority was meager, yet, its resolve journeyed. Inches, yards, and miles away in search of the power to oppose extinction.

_

[ MP: ] -1 = 8/20

[ MP: ] -1 = 7/20

[ MP: ] -1 = 6/20

_

Back in the hub, Crush was presented with his window and angrily watched an unexplained and gradual decrease in his mana. "The fuck?"

A sudden warm spark struck the girl's face, causing her to recoil from the item. She watched intently, dismissing all the screams around her as she continued to pray in that murky hell.

The second spark was subtle but unmistakable. She bit her bottom lip in worry, gripping the wooden handle.

A new vibrancy filled the torch, and with the third ignition, a Combustion of jade-colored fire engulfed its upper half and returned light to the darkness.

It revealed the one-sided battle humans had faced but gave them new hope.

"Attack!" A bloodied man BOOMED, raising his axe to the creatures. With sight returned, the humans went to work, and soon all the mobs were all extinguished.

While the valiant fighters celebrated, mourned their losses, and collected their rewards, a simple light-bearer knelt down with her torch. As it inevitably lost its second wind, she held it and thanked it like a living being.

Eventually, it crumbled in her hands, returning to an assortment of sticks, leaves, moss, and cotton.

As it lay there, unrecognizable as anything, she reached for and carefully collected its components. And with a sniveling mutter, said, "Thank you."

**

**

The company returned to the hub with half its numbers and in tatters. A huge commotion was made as they were welcomed with praise for their selfless act.

There was considerable time spent debriefing and sharing their findings with the community. They'd also hauled back the creatures that attacked them for dissection and to see if they were edible.

The raid organizer was a man who was soon nicknamed "Zombie" because of how busted he returned. He required immediate attention but left his group while he sought two eccentric individuals.

As it happened, they were also awaiting his return.

Crush was at the boundary of the sea of people that'd formed around the fighters. As Zombie propelled through them, leaving a trail of his own blood, humans parted in waves.

Sprite nor Crush knew what to expect from the commotion that headed their way. But as more people moved to make way from the bloodied man, they saw his hunched, limp body swaying unconsciously.

Zombie's head bobbed sporadically in search of something, someone. As he neared, it could be observed that three more of his associates were trying to quell him and tend to his injuries. One on each of his sides that tugged his arms, and a third wrapped around his waist like a belt, dragging behind on the floor while pleading.

"Sheesh," uttered Crush. He'd prepped his entertainer personality for when the group returned. In his head, they'd bolt to him with thanks or in outrage that the torch didn't work. Whichever route occurred, he planned to address them courteously with contrived grins.

By the looks of things, the man was out for blood. Crush figured he'd surely been screwed by their product and was looking for them to seek revenge.

"What's the play here?" Asked Sprite, ostensibly glancing at the approaching victim.

Crush reached around his pants to ensure his dagger was still stowed, then the corner of his mouth drooped. "We have to face them here. Not like there's anywhere else to run."

(("We'll try and resolve it in a way that lets us continue to sell here.))

A large body in front of them kept them mostly hidden, but finally, Crush squeezed past the individual and waved down the battered man.

Zombie spotted him, then adjusted his course. He was damaged, yet he trudged forward with three humans weighing him down as if they were children.

He arrived face to face with Sprite and Crush, dripping insane amounts of essential bodily fluids. Zombie's skin was a pale brown like dry leaves, which explained his alias. He wasn't beefy like a wrestler but tall and brawny with jet, greasy hair styled rearward. He didn't wear a shirt; however, he did wear an unbuttoned gray trench coat that displayed his myriad of chest tattoos.

A head taller than Crush, the man peeked down at him. Faint of breath and carrying the stench of death that came with his clothing that looked like it was stained in red Kool-Aid.

Crush met the fellow's gaze, which was halved as his right eye was lacerated. He chose to let Zombie initiate the dialogue. He'd then utilize the scope of his expertise to dispute the man who looked like a modern-day mafia personality.

Zombie maintained an incessant, silent watch of Crush. It could have been interpreted as a transgression; only the man suddenly blinked rapidly as if he'd just woken up.

"Where?" He started in a soft, deep voice. "Oh, you," he added, looking at Crush with a fresh eye.

The man dug his damp hands into his trench coat and pulled out a small leather satchel. "I'm a man of my word," he said, handing the bag to Crush.

"If the animals were brought back can be eaten, we'll give you your share."

Crush took the bag, and at the same time, Zombie explained it was stuff they found inside a wooden chest. They couldn't find any reason to keep the items, but Crush seemed resourceful enough to make use of them.

((He really came all this way while on the verge of death just to reassure me he would hold up his end of the deal.))

With a fierce, spirited jerk of his arm, Crush extended an open palm at Zombie and smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you."

The man received his handshake, and with their objective accomplished, he fainted. Crush retained Zombie's hand so he didn't drop onto the ground too hard, continuing to watch him with an elated expression.

Underneath the clamors of the man's companions, Crush inadvertently mumbled, "Please consider us again next time."

It was a peculiar situation for them. They were never retailers for legit items and only profited from counterfeit merch. Nevertheless, something they created, an original product, was successfully peddled.

Both boys gaily returned to their safe boulder away from the crowd, awaiting word of the creature's edibility. They didn't expect another group to venture out immediately after one returned. Still, they kept their shop open in case another pack wanted to bargain for their triumphant torches.