Chapter 39: Crater King
Moving carefully through the grim cavern was the Cohort and in the lead Drake. Earlier Drake had informed the group of his hint on a way out, which they were at first doubtful of, hesitating to believe him.
This was rather expected from the Cohort who had all hopes long been crushed, they had explored the caverns far more than Drake, searched countless tunnels, and knew well that each one led nowhere.
That reason alone gave Drake no leverage to argue, so he simply got up and began walking away from the group’s campsite, leaving them behind.
This was the kick-start they needed for them to follow. After all, what was the harm in going, they thought. Picking up their weapons, strapping their swords back into their scabbards in haste, one after another, they followed right behind him silently.
That was how they had started another indefinite adventure through the caverns.
And their leader— Drake, found himself following the directions the system gave him using a large blue arrow that behaved like a compass, twisting and turning with uncanny precision to lead him through the tunnels.
If they were able to see this themselves, they would probably call him a mad man. Risking their lives to follow a blue arrow, how reassuring.
Drake following the system’s directions felt even more curious about it’s reach and uses which were alarmingly unending.
It could count number of enemies, give details to things the usual interface couldn’t, and even identify monsters which were not known. This felt too enigmatic.
Placing a hand under his chin, he fell deeply into thought — questions he wished to ask the system filling his mind and finally, he decided to ask them.
’What are you really, System?’ He kept his tone simple and light, somewhat hoping for a reply to come. But after some time none did.
"..."
’How are you even able to get this much information about things? Are you some sort of being yourself?’
This time, a familiar chime sounded in Drake’s mind, and a notification appeared:
{Questions regarding what the System is cannot be answered at the User’s current level of strength.}
’I see,’ Drake bit his lower lip slightly and drew in a long breath. Normal interfaces in this world were created and transplanted into every awakened individual to help them regulate and control their powers. That was the very reason for the interface’s existence. Whoever had crafted this system was a genius on another level. To create something this advanced was truly remarkable and revolutionary, which made it strange that his design did not become noticed enough for it to be the preference that all awakened used. And why was Drake with such a design in the first place?
This brought Drake to an idea of his own. ’If I survive through this, I’ll ask Stoick to take me to the creators of the interface. Whoever created this one must be somewhere there.’
Drake stayed silent for a while, sifting through the list of questions he wanted to ask the System. After some time, he slipped his hands into his pockets and yawned softly with nothing really bothering him that did not relate to the system’s origins.
Then, Jessica rushed forward from her group to reach Drake, stopping right beside him and drawing his attention.
She seemed shrunken — folding her hands, her head bowed in suppression, her demeanor carrying cold despair mixed with a hint of shyness.
"I’m sorry for earlier. I got a bit sappy and dulled your mood and all," she nervously proclaimed.
Just as Drake thought — she was quite a confused woman, a mother to be precise. This weighed heavily on him, not out of pity for her or her child, but because of what he felt as both his personalities of both worlds. As Kendricks Skylar, he had lived without parents and often wondered what having a mother would feel like. Even as Drake Drakon, he hadn’t spent much time with his mother before she was taken from him.
So, for himself or so he told himself, he spoke. "I understand you, Jessica. I’ll get you out of here alive."
Jessica was stunned, her mouth falling agape in utter bewilderment at what he meant. ’I only came to apologize, why is he... why does every conversation with him feel so distant and strange? He’s a good person but strange.’
After a long silence of awkwardness, Jessica finally replied, her voice filled with appreciation, "Thank you."
Although, while she was thinking Drake wanted to really protect her she didn’t know he said all this simply out of curiosity. What if his mother in his original world had survived? What if Drake Drakon’s mother and father were still alive?
What would have happened differently then?
There was no time to think of that now. The Cohort and Drake in the lead, slowly came to a stop, as their gaze met with a surreal spectacle.
Before their eyes stood the end of the narrow tunnel — but unlike the others, this one did not end in a plain rock wall. Instead, there was a set of large, arched, and beautifully furnished doors.
The arched doors were wooden, decorated with blue and white crystal-like ornaments that shimmered faintly in the dim tunnel light. Their surface was covered with visible sigil-like markings, and etched upon them was a symbol — a broken crown, depicted not as a sigil, but as an image.
"What is this?"
"Is this the way out?"
"What are those markings? I can’t read them... they look Runic."
Some of the Cohort muttered, pointing at the door in awe and uncertainty.
Blake in turn wandered forward until he reached Drake, shifting his attention from the majestic double doors to the masked man. "Do you think there’s a king there?"
Drake nodded. According to what the system had informed him, there should be. Seeing the arrow slowly fade with its final direction pointing at the doors made it all the more obvious.
Soon, the admiration of the alluring doors began to fade within the Cohort as they came to a grim realization — this could actually be the King’s room.
During normal dungeon hunts or whenever a Plague appeared, Kings only had rooms and doors when they were extremely powerful. If that theory applied here, then despite finding a way out, their deaths were still almost certain.
The cohort froze, contemplating the best way to approach the situation. Stepping into a King’s chamber without a plan was considerably suicide — especially against one as high-ranking as the Crater King.
Blake pressed his lips together and sighed, taking in the full weight of the matter. He was a strategist and the sole reason his group had survived this far. Unlike Drake, who wasn’t nearly as experienced in such situations; after all, the last time he led a team, most of them had been given a swift burial on the same day.
After much contemplation, Blake finally spoke. "We don’t know much about the Crater King, so it would be best if we used a decoy formation." He paused, scanning their faces. Seeing that all attention — even Unknown’s — was fixed on him, he continued. "The weak go in first to distract the boss and get him to expose all his skills, while the strong analyze the information gathered, then step in to end the fight once a weakness is detected."
It was simple enough — and surely the best formation they could employ in this situation. Drake had no objections, so he stayed silent.
"In this situation, my team is the weaker one, so we’ll do the distracting while Unknown studies the enemy," Blake said, swallowing his pride as he spoke.
No one objected. His team trusted his judgment too deeply to question it, and Drake had no better idea, so he complied.
With a plan set, Blake took the lead with his cohort, and Drake followed at the back. Blake signaled one of his men — a blonde-haired, skinny-framed man wielding daggers — to stay close. The man did.
When everything was in place, Blake reached the double doors. Placing his hands on their rough surface, he felt them for a moment, as though taking in the weight of what was about to come — knowing full well that whatever awaited them beyond might very well be a bloodbath that would claim their lives. He prayed silently for a second, and then, with all his strength, pushed the double doors open.
The doors swung violently on their hinges with a loud, echoing clatter that filled the chamber beyond.
"ARGGGGGH!" Blake let out a fierce battle cry, charging into the room with his men following close behind and Drake at the rear. His reason for yelling — to alert the King, or whatever horror lay waiting within.
Entering the vast expanse of the room, the Cohort charged a little further before halting, mystified by what they saw.
Their eyes darted across the massive space — no longer were they in a dark, grim cavern. They now stood in what seemed like a grand throne room, lit by bright, burning golden torches affixed to each pillar. The floor was made of polished white tiles, the ceiling adorned with chandeliers, and at the center of it all, upon a raised platform reached by a flight of stairs, sat a colossal throne.
This place was beautiful — mesmerizing even — until...
CLACK!
The large double doors slammed shut behind them with a violent snap that echoed through the hall.
"Hmmm?"
The voice was low but menacing, immediately drawing all eyes toward the throne.
There, seated upon it — a majestic structure of gold and red velvet — was a humanoid monster. A beast clad in armor, with large bull-like horns jutting from each side of its head. Its face resembled that of an ox, and in its grasp, it twirled a golden chalice between its clawed fingers, glaring down at the Cohort with malicious intent.
This was the Crater King.
"I almost thought none of you had survived the monsters. This isn’t all that disappointing," it said, its deep voice rumbling through the hall.
The group froze in disbelief, eyes widening, a chill crawling up their spines.
"Did it just speak?"
"A monster... speaking?"
The Crater King tilted its head, raising the golden chalice to its mouth to drink.
Blake, though still reeling from the revelation of a speaking monster, saw this as an opening. As the Crater King drank, it had left itself exposed. Turning to the blonde man beside him, he barked, "Now, Callum!"
The moment Blake spoke, Callum — the blonde — became a blur, darting forward at a speed unimaginable for a normal awakened. He crossed the distance between the Cohort and the Crater King in an instant, ready to strike with both daggers and end the battle before it began.
Then—
In a swift, horrifying motion, Callum’s display of talent came to a tragic end as the Crater King’s chalice crashed into his face, shattering half his skull. Bone fragments and brain matter splattered into the air as his lifeless body skidded across the marble floor, coming to rest at the base of the throne, blood pooling rapidly beneath him.
"W–what?!" one of them gasped, stumbling backward.
The others stood frozen, horror-stricken. Their fastest man had been killed with a single strike — from a goblet. Their faces turned pale with dread. It was clear now — this battle was nothing short of suicide.
"Now then," the Crater King’s deep voice thundered, its crimson eyes glowing with dominance, "who is dying next?"