Professor Kal - Chapter 79

The violently shaking room slowly ebbed and the fierce winds subsided, eventually returning to its once tranquil state. Everything was still, silent, like a placid lake on a windless night. The large room grew darker as the flames from the braziers died down, releasing their last bits of light before eventually being snuffed out. Although not a living thing, the room looked to have died along with the lich that called himself king.

The overwhelming rage that Professor Kal felt within himself had also relaxed, replaced by a renewed determination to uncover the truth behind the dungeons. His foray into the deep recesses of the earth had only uncovered more questions, questions that he felt could not be answered with his current understanding. He felt he could only begin to comprehend the mechanisms behind the subterranean prisons once he understood the spell that was used. Unfortunately, the spell was only mentioned within the ancient tomes that the Academy was in possession of. There were no details whatsoever, except for the massive sacrifice that was required to activate it.

He would have to uncover the origins of the spell, who had created or uncovered it, and where it was currently located, a monumental task. But there was no doubt in his mind that it was still being kept, hidden away in some remote corner of the world. He understood human nature to a certain degree and believed that they would never allow such a powerful spell to be destroyed or fall into the hands of their enemies. He was cursing at himself for his lackadaisical attitude when the war had first broken out. Perhaps if he had been involved in the war effort, maybe things would have been different; then again, if he hadn’t escaped far away in order to conduct his research, he very well may have been in Old Kushim’s place.

“The only way is forward.” He sighed, finally releasing his black staff from his iron grip, watching it crumble to the ground.

He may have let his temper get the better of him for a moment but did commend himself for not harming the dog behind him with his tantrum. Bending down, he collected the items that clattered to the ground once Old Kushim’s body was destroyed. He wondered why they had never been looted before, since he had been a target of countless adventurers before. Given the quality and composition of the items, his only assumption was that they were soul-bound to the old lich.

Soul-bound items were exactly as one might think, tied to the very soul of the one wielding them. Meaning that as long as the soul existed, no other being would be able to use them. Some items went as far as to actively harm anyone that even attempted to pick them up. Since Old Kushim’s soul was now residing inside a gem, hidden away within his ring in a separate dimension, his soul-bound items were now ownerless.

The staff and crown, although seething with power, were not really his style. He stored them away, to be assessed another day. The embroidered robe on the other hand was showy but did catch his eye. The deep blacks and violet purples blended together beautifully, creating subtle runic patterns that seemed to move as the soft, unknown fabric shifted between his fingers. The mithril thread used to embroider the hems of the robe felt cool to the touch, Professor Kal could both see and feel the mana pathways sewn into the garment using the mystical metal.

Stripping off his plain black robe, exposing his skeletal body, he slipped the much more intricate robe over his head. Although the robe was loose, it still felt as if it clung tightly to his undead form. Pouring a little of his own mana into the robe, he bound it to his own soul, unlocking its latent abilities. The mithril thread flashed brightly, but only for a brief moment, then the robe immediately adjusted itself to perfectly fit its new master. Sure that there was more to this enchanted robe than just resizing, he began to pour more and more mana into the fabric.

Like an insatiable black hole, the robe absorbed the copious amounts of mana being poured into it. It was only common sense that after thousands of years of neglect that the mana stores within the garment would be depleted. After a long while, much longer than the Professor would have thought necessary to recharge it, the robe flashed once more before going dormant, refusing any more mana that was offered.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Professor Kal hummed, a little bewildered by the lack of… anything.

After waiting for a moment longer, still with nothing, he decided to move on and put figuring it out on the back burner for now. He was happy with the dark, yet majestic look and feel of the robe, so not having any obvious functionality did not affect his mood. Feeling that the dungeon no longer held any importance for him at the moment, he decided to raid the treasury that the adventurers had so animatedly told him about, before returning to the surface.

A small trapdoor had slid open just after Old Kushim’s soul was disconnected from the dungeon. It was located on the furthest wall from the throne made of bone, taking him and Trist a few minutes to make it to the threshold. Once inside, he was gobsmacked by what he saw.

He’d seen pantries with more treasure hidden away within them than this so called ‘treasury’. Sitting there in the much too small room, were five pedestals holding varying valuables that he assumed were the reward for toppling the ‘Undead Lich King’. One was a pendant of unknown make, silently floating above its pedestal like it was suspended in an invisible liquid. A great axe rested on another; its wide head sharpened to an edge that could fell a tree with a single blow.

Professor Kal’s eyes dimmed, disappointed beyond measure. “Junk, it’s all worthless trash.” He walked over to a pedestal sporting a comically large hairpin that went out of date centuries ago, picking it up and off its resting place. “This thing is hideous; I wonder what Old Kushim was doing with this crap?”

It wasn’t as if he was lacking in priceless wonders, he was just anticipating something with a little more substance than what was presented to him. Old Kushim was the oldest lich in recent history, there were others more ancient than he, but they were hunted down and killed centuries before even Old Kushim’s time. Naturally with age, one would assume that a great many treasures would be hoarded, squirreled away from the outside world. So where was it? Where were all of the lich’s most coveted possessions? They certainly were not here in front of him.

As soon as he picked up the ugly decorative item, the remaining four pedestals quickly sank into the ground, taking the remaining items with them. In a panic, he attempted to wrest a few of them off the rapidly retreating plinths. Like the sword in the stone in tales of old, the other treasures refused to budge, content with remaining on their beds.

Giving up, Professor Kal threw his hands up in defeat. It would seem that the dungeon restricted the rewards to one per person. “Damnit, now I’m stuck with this thing!”

…..

Ryan wanted to die. He had never felt as stressed as he did right now in the entirety of his fourteen years of existence. He cursed under his breath as yet another key he used had failed to open the basement door. Priest Unilith and Paladin Hargrove were both standing behind him, their imposing presence making him weak and dizzy, he could practically feel their hot breath on the back of his sweat slicked neck.

His worries began as soon as he awoke from his restless sleep. Laura had informed him that Professor Treffle never made it back to the inn from the night before. They all knew that she had ventured out into the city in search of any information concerning the cursing of King Alexander, and the fact that she hadn’t returned sent all of their imaginations wheeling for the worse. To add to that, the two envoys from the Church of the Dawn, informed him that morning that it was within their rights to search the inn from top to bottom.

He was supposed to go into the city in search of workers to help them with the inn, but due to the demand by the two envoys, was forced to delegate that important task to his friend Ben. With the disappearance of Professor Treffle, they were now shorthanded, leaving Laura and Richard alone to deal with the many guests within the inn. So now not only was Ryan left with escorting the holy church around the inn, barging into the guests’ rooms, and rummaging through their possessions, but he was also responsible for dealing with the aftermath of said searches.

Now, after finally searching the entirety of the inn, they have found themselves in front of the only area that Professor Kal had claimed as his own. Ryan could only imagine the amount of incriminating evidence that was waiting for them behind this door. Although they had never disclosed what it was they were looking for, Ryan had an educated guess on what it was. Just thinking about what was to come was pushing him toward a mental breakdown. He was doing his best to try and calm his trembling hands, but couldn’t keep from fumbling the large brass keys, nearly dropping them on more than one occasion.

After trying the last key on his key chain one final time, Ryan was forced to turn to the two standing behind him and admit his defeat. “I…. I don’t seem to have… have the key.”

Priest Unilith looked down his shapely nose at the youth before him, his expression not giving any of his thoughts away but his eyes undoubtedly conveying his irritation. “Paladin Hargrove, it would appear that the boy is in need of your assistance with opening the door.”

“Of course.” Paladin Hargrove responded with a baritone voice that reverberated within the small stairwell.

Priest Unilith stepped out of the way, allowing the massive Paladin to take a step toward the door. Ryan was callously pushed out of the way, his physical wellbeing obviously not on the man’s mind. With a solid ‘thwomp’, Paladin Hargrove’s fist struck the door near the knob. The dry rotted wood shuddered with the strike, then again with the concurrent blow. Ryan coughed as the musty dust broke free from the crevices within the ceiling, drifting down and coating the three of them.

In the middle of the Paladin’s blows, Ryan noticed a purple light pulse from behind the door accompanied by a soft tearing sound. Priest Unilith and Paladin Hargrove either had not noticed the phenomenon or chose to ignore it, as the Paladin continued to attempt to break down the door. He only stopped when a furious voice roared from behind the locked entrance.

“Boy! I swear to the gods themselves, if that’s you making that racket, I will skin you alive!”

The wooden door banged open, revealing an extremely cross Professor Kal, wearing the ornate purple robe he had liberated from Old Kushim. His furrowed brows only furrowed further, if that’s possible, as he gazed at the three stunned people taking up the majority of the space within the stairwell.

The first to speak was Professor Kal as he screamed, his spittle spraying out indiscriminately. “Who the fuck are you two?!”