Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Kindling

Chapter 1: Kindling

 

Parth watched from the balcony as the rising sun bathed the slumbering city with its warmth. It was uncanny how even worlds apart, the sight seemed so familiar.

It was one of the very few mundane sights that he had seen since he had arrived here. It had been a couple of days, and he had come to terms with it. But it was still a bit hard to get used to. Especially when everything else was so different in this strange world.

Earth and Viz might be dimensional counterparts according to what he was told, but it was plain to see that Viz had taken a drastic turn somewhere down the line.

What he had seen so far could only be classified as a massive melting pot of… not humanity per se. At best, he could just call it a melting pot. He had seen four species loitering about the streets so far. There were the outsiders; humans, fairies, and synthires. Then there were the D’Raacs- the natives. Funnily enough, all of these were humanoids. Sure, there were some additional appendages in some cases, but the general build was quite similar.

Experiencing such fantastical things was not something he was expecting out of his life.

He sighed as he took a sip out of the mug he had procured from the cafeteria. It was a major solace, knowing that they had coffee in this world. He did miss the filter coffee of his homeland, but with the way things were going, he’d take any kind of coffee he got.

“I didn’t expect you to be up and about at this time,” said a voice from behind, breaking him out of his reverie.

He glanced to the side as the source of the voice stepped right next to him. In these past two days, he had seen a lot more of the natives of this world. Yet, the sight of them still surprised him. It felt surreal and was a constant reminder that he was no longer on earth. Well, at least he was done with his meltdown, unlike some of the others.

“Good morning to you too Roul,” said Parth. Roul was a D’Raac and was one of the first people he met in Viz. Like the rest of his species, he had red skin, white hair, and three pairs of arms. Parth often wondered whether the D’Raacs used to live on Earth long back in the past. Mainly because they fit the description of what the Asuras of old were said to look like. They just didn’t have the extra heads.

In comparison, Parth looked mighty mundane with his brown skin, brown eyes, and short black hair. Although, he had Roul beat when it came to the musculature. Parth had been boxing since he was a kid, and it showed in his physique. Meanwhile, Roul was lanky. His only saving grace was that the six arms made his torso look bigger than it actually was.

“Couldn’t sleep?” asked Roul.

“Nope. I’ve always had trouble sleeping before big fights. Maybe I would have won my matches if I had slept more,” he said bitterly, remembering his failure of a nascent boxing career.

"Hey, you're young. Maybe this is your big break.”

“Maybe. I have nothing left to lose after all,” Parth responded, only to see Roul grinning ear from ear. It was not a kind smile either. “What is it?” he asked after a brief moment of hesitation.

“I wasn’t speaking in any language you were familiar with,” said Roul, still sporting that unsettling grin.

“Bullshit, I would have-”

“Pay close attention. Is my mouth in sync with my words? Go on,” interrupted Roul.

Once prompted, Parth could clearly see that Roul’s lips were not in sync with what he had been saying.

“How?” he asked in astonishment.

“Yeah... Yesterday's dosage of your medicine had an extra helping of our patented translation potion,” answered Roul unrepentantly.

Parth did feel that the medicine he ingested the previous night had tasted a bit different, but he hadn't made much of a fuss since it had worked as advertised and had alleviated his pain. The cost of being dimensionally displaced was apparently steep, and his body had not been happy about it. He had been wracked with severe pain and had to be given a regular dosage of a potion to get rid of it momentarily.

It still didn’t make it right for Roul to slip in other potions alongside his medicine, no matter how cool the potion sounded.

“That’s not right. You should have let me know before you dosed me with random shit,” he groused.

“The other advisors warn their charges. I just wanted to see your expression. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you know. The next dimensional anomaly won't be for another century after all,” said Roul with an air of nonchalance.

Parth glared at him for a few moments and turned back towards the sunrise, knowing that nothing he said would change Roul. He had known him only for two days, but he had already gotten a good grasp of his character. Roul was an impenitent troll. There were no two ways about it.

“How does it work anyway? Am I permanently omnilingual?” he asked instead.

“I’m not an expert on magic, but I’ve been told that it works based on intent. It translates the intent behind my words to a language that you can understand, and vice versa.”

“If that were the case, can I understand animals as well?” asked Parth, thinking about all the possibilities.

“I think so. But we don’t have the time. The potion only lasts for a day after it has been digested. It has a passive effect though. The more you converse with someone who is speaking a different language, the faster you learn it.”

He was disappointed that the effect was not permanent, but he could also figure out that these things would not be cheap to make. He was grateful enough that they were willing to help him integrate with the local populace.

“So all we need to do is talk?” he asked.

“Not really. I am going to write things as well. Prewritten words won't work, but as I write, it'll once again work based on the intent projected by me. Let the potion do its work. Within a couple of hours, you’ll be fluent in D’Raakan. Then you won’t need me to babysit you anymore,” said Roul.

“As long as you are not picked as my team’s advisor, I will be content. Don’t take me wrong, I appreciate the help. But you do take inordinate pleasure in seeing my worldview break,” Parth said as he took another sip of the coffee. 

“Eh, you'll be praying for me when you get saddled with some other advisors. They're all an uppity bunch. You'd be hard-pressed to find a fun one like me. It’s out of our hands anyway,” he shrugged.

“Yeah,” mumbled Parth, thinking about what he would have to do later that day.

“Most of the others aren’t even ready yet. It speaks a lot about how quickly you have managed to adapt to the situation. You’ll do well, don’t worry,” said Roul with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“It's just that I can't really do anything other than going along with it. Throwing a tantrum won't do anything. I don’t have anything to lose anyway. The others would have other attachments holding them back,” said Parth morosely, thinking about his life.

They stood in silence for a minute before Roul started walking back inside.

“It’ll be fine, the dungeon chose you for a reason. Anyway, I have two more people to teach after I’m done with you. Finish up your breakfast quickly, we have work to do,” he said as he left.

Parth nodded wordlessly as he gazed at the horizon once more.

 

---

 

Two hours later, Parth stumbled into the cafeteria, his mind abuzz with newfound knowledge. He looked at the buffet and grimaced. He was in no state of mind to go around the whole place, picking what he wanted to eat.

“Hey, where’s the table with the dishes from Earth?” he asked the nearest cafeteria staff. Fluent D’Raakan flowed out his mouth consciously.

The D’Raac was astonished for a second before he grinned and replied in D’Raakan.

“Over there, those two tables,” he pointed out with two of his right arms. Having multiple pairs of arms sure seemed convenient. 

“Thanks,” Parth replied as he walked towards the tables with a smile on his face. It felt nice to interact with the natives on his own and not depend on Roul for translation.

He could see a good mix of humans and fairies lined up for the food from Earth, and vice versa. The food from Funar was almost entirely plant-based and tasted pretty good. Likewise, the fairies had tried some of the cuisines from Earth and got hooked on spices. He didn’t eat meat, so D’Raac cuisine was not something he had tried much except for some of their excellent egg varieties. The creatures that walked this world sure were weird.

The less said about synthire cuisine the better. He was in no mood to even think about what the artificial vampires ate. At least they didn't pounce on people for blood apparently, so he would count his blessings where he can.

The scale of the cultural integration had taken him off guard at first, but he was slowly getting used to it.

He piled some rice and gravy on his plate and grabbed a tall glass of orange juice. He had a fight in the evening and he didn’t want to eat too much.

There was a part of him that was miffed at being forced to fight for his survival in a few days, but he mostly didn’t think too much about it. The way he was living life back on Earth was nothing to write home about.

He picked a seat on the far end, away from everyone else, and dug into his meal. As he ate, his mind wandered back to the events that lead to him ending up here.

The past year had been hard on him. He had lost his parents a year ago and life had taken a downward spiral ever since. It was a mistake to go through with his boxing debut in such a mental state. He had lost the two matches he had been in, which had worsened his headspace something fierce. He had been distant with his few remaining friends as well. An increased practice schedule had also done no good for him. He just wasn’t in the mood to do anything productive. So he went on a cruise to try and relax. It didn’t work. Maybe the cruise would have helped if he had opted for it before he failed miserably at the one thing he thought he was good at.

To him, embarking on that cruise had been both a major mistake and a blessing in disguise. It was a waste of his time and money. He just wasn’t in the mood to do anything. It had been evident during the voyage when he just spent most of his time brooding and eating.

It had been such a shame too. The weather was beautiful, and he always loved the ocean. The amenities aboard the ship were excellent. The food was tasty, the accommodation was comfortable, and the people were amicable. Despite all that, he was just stuck in his head, unable to enjoy all of that. He figured that it was high time to seek professional help. Nothing he was doing was working, and he couldn't bear to live like he did the past year. Something had to go right, and he had to take the first step.

To his astonishment, something else had taken the reins from him and plunged him into a dimensional event. And here he was, in a new world. Even then, nothing much had changed when he compared it to the cruise.

The people were friendly, the food was good, and he was being taken care of. Although, the one glaring difference was that the damn thing that had brought him here had forced him into a death match. 

If it was a fight the dungeon wanted, it was a fight it would get. Parth might have lost his professional bouts, but he hadn’t given up. There was no way he would give up here and now, especially against a sentient cave.

 

You are reading story Pygilist: Fire + Fist [Dungeon Isekai] at novel35.com

---

 

A good while after lunch, Parth was in his room, throwing jabs at the punching bag in front of him. 

The punching bag swayed a bit just before he unleashed a powerful hook on it. He hadn’t gone at it with full vigor, as he didn’t want to tire himself out before the big event. There was no way that he was going into any sort of a fight without properly warming up.

The D’Raacs were very understanding and gave him practically anything he asked for. He knew that part of it was guilt and part of it was driven by pity. They couldn't do anything but make the voyagers' life better before they had to inevitably step into the dungeon.

“Oh, practicing already? You do know that it’s not the start of the tourney yet right?” asked Roul as he waltzed into the room.

“Yeah, but since I’d still be fighting something, I’d rather be ready for it,” replied Parth.

“Eh, it’s not like you’ll be using your fists. Stop being so dramatic,” said Roul as his face scrunched up with distaste.

“Yeah I heard you the first time when you talked about the artifacts," he said as he jabbed at the punching bag a couple more times.

“I should have explained things better…” mumbled Roul in response.

“Knock it off man. This is how I destress. Now, do we start or not?” asked Parth impatiently.

“Yup. I finished teaching the other two voyagers assigned to me. Since you are ready, it’s time for you to undergo the selection,” he said.

Parth wordless removed his sweaty tank top and threw it into the laundry basket. He then wiped his body with a towel before throwing it into the basket as well. Quickly donning a T-shirt, he punched the sandbag one last time before turning towards Roul.

“Let’s get going then,” he said.

“Alright, come on,” said Roul as he walked out of the room.

As they walked through the winding corridors in silence, Parth looked around the building curiously. He hadn’t seen much of the place yet since he had been cooped in his room. The only places he had properly visited were the infirmary, the cafeteria, and the conference rooms. He had been too busy coming to terms with the new world and dealing with the physical pain the dungeon had saddled him with.

At least he wouldn't have to deal with it once he had bonded with his artifact. The sudden exposure to the dungeon's caustic mana had done his body no favors. The dungeon had bound every single voyager and kept punishing them the longer they were outside. An artifact was their key to survival.

Whichever artifact he got, it'd regulate his internal mana quite well and quell the pain as a bonus. He won't be able to stave it off indefinitely. So, he would still need to undertake the dungeon's trials and weaken it. Or so he was told.

The further they walked, the more he was astonished how magic and tech went hand in hand on Viz. Of course, from his regular perch on the balcony, he saw the citizens moving around. He had seen machines resembling cars, but the resemblance was flimsy. They looked sleek and were more advanced. Some of them didn't even have wheels and were airborne. But those were rare. A part of him was itching to get his hands on one and go on a joyride. It would all come in due time, he supposed.

This building itself was a good example of a place where magic and technology went hand in hand. He saw rooms where shelves of glowing potions were stored. He also saw rooms where some advanced doodad was humming as various lights flashed from it. He didn’t understand what each of these things did, but he recognized technology when he saw it.

Even some of the D’Raac guards had implants like the synthires. Their weapons too were a mixture of both sides of the coin.

They wielded a spear in one hand, a shield in another, while two arms cradled a rifle. A pistol was strapped to their side and he could see a dagger strapped to their thighs. The rifle and the dagger looked mundane, but the pistol, the shield, and the spear housed a glowing crystal that most definitely gave them some magical boost. The juxtaposition was truly extraordinary.

He felt a tinge of guilt as he realized that all he had brought with him was a sunbed and his phone. They had scanned his phone and had told him that they would use the technology to further their civilization, but he knew that they were just trying to spare his feelings. He had seen them use devices that surpassed modern phones.

At least the synthires got pulled along with useful, futuristic tech that the D’Raacs would put to good use. The fairies almost always got pulled alongside exotic flora and fauna that the D’Raacs had then preserved and inculcated into their own culture. These things had been happening for ages after all. The least they all could do for the D’Raacs to repay them for their hospitality and care would be to help them advance their civilization.

Soon enough, they reached a massive metal door that was guarded by several D’Raac soldiers armed to the teeth. They saluted in unison the moment they spotted Roul.    

“Good evening, Advisor and Voyager,” said the largest of them all before he guided Roul towards a console next to the door.

“Good evening everyone,” Roul said cheerily as he began typing something into the console and stepped on a glowing tile on the floor.

Parth jumped back in surprise when Roul got engulfed by a beam of light that erupted from the tile and touched a similar tile on the ceiling.

The pillar of light disappeared within a second. Roul seemed unperturbed by it, and a tad bit amused at Parth’s reaction. A chime emanated from the console as the screen lit with a green light.

“Biometrics and passphrase confirmed. Welcome, Advisor Roul Z’Chi,” a robotic voice said from the console.

“Come here and stand on top of this,” said Roul as he beckoned Parth.

He then got dragged by Roul as the D’Raac placed him atop the glowing tile.

This time, Parth was prepared for the swift light show and did not flinch as the beam of light consumed him. It was not so bright as to blind him, and he could see through it. It felt more like a holographic construct than anything else. Before he could scrutinize it anymore, the light disappeared and the console chimed once again.

“Biometrics confirmed. Voyager Parthasarathy Uzhundhurpettai Parandhaman approved for armory visit,” said the mechanical voice, completely butchering the pronunciation in the process.

Parth immediately scowled at Roul, who was sniggering at Parth’s full name. He really wanted to be rid of the sarcastic Advisor and hoped that the temporary assignment was just that.

“Come on in Parthasa-” Roul started drawling in an exaggerated manner, only to get a rough shove from Parth, cutting him off mid-sentence.

 “Just keep walking,” he said in irritation. He liked his name, but it peeved him when people knowingly mispronounced it. It was a mouthful for sure, but he’d rather have people call him Parth instead if they can’t say the whole thing. He knew that Roul was just pulling his leg to get a reaction, but some habits die hard. 

He followed Roul through another maze of corridors. These hallways were chock-full of armed guards and secured doors.

Soon enough, there were no more doors in the hallway and just an abundance of guards. At the very end of the corridor, was an elevator that they embarked on only after another biometric scan. Once inside, Parth looked around the spacious elevator and wondered whether it had some other security measures as well. It would be easy to drop it down an abyss or flood it with knockout gas. The chances of it having hidden weapons was highly probable as well, considering they were moving deeper and deeper into Tava’s heart. They descended for a while and the only sound inside the whole elevator was Roul humming a merry tune.

After the elevator stopped, they stepped into another guarded hallway. There had been no buttons and no indicator of floors so Parth didn’t even know how far underground they were.

He followed Roul through several more security checkpoints and god knows how many hidden traps and security measures. Finally, after several minutes, they were standing outside a majestic door. The door seemed to be made out of silvery metal. It seemed more exotic than mundane silver, as the entire thing had a mystical sheen to it. Apart from that, there were intricate carvings on the door that were glowing with a dim blue light.

“Welcome to the masterpiece of the king of kings. This is the armory of our ancestor, Emperor Byrone K’Wul. Nine thousand five hundred years ago, he created these magical artifacts in the hope of saving the voyagers from the dungeon’s bloodthirsty nature. These creations enabled us to turn around the dungeon’s brutal and senseless killings into the Centurial Challenge. Should you prevail, you will be crowned the ninety-fifth Centurion," he said in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

Parth was taken aback by it for a moment and stared at Roul incredulously.

"Phew, I hated doing that. But apparently, some traditions have to be upheld," said the so-called advisor.

“Nine thousand years, you never told me that this thing had been going on for such a long time,” said Parth, annoyed with how flippant Roul was regarding these things.

“Meh, whatever team you get on, the advisor will have to debrief you regarding everything. I’d have to do it to the team I end up advising. And I don’t like repeating myself. So bug your advisor when you are slotted into a team,” Roul said without much care.

“How did you even land this job?” asked a baffled Parth.

“Because I am good at what I do. I just don’t see the point in putting too much effort when someone most likely won’t end up in my team,” said Roul as he placed all his six palms on the massive door.

The dim glow immediately turned up in intensity and almost blinded Parth for a second. It then began to blink in intervals. A low clicking and other mechanical noises began coming from the door as the blinking began picking up pace.

“Just give it a minute. The vault and the mechanism guarding it are quite old, as I told you. We can’t even change it because of the way everything is set up.”

“Is it really that old? I find it hard to believe that such a thing was constructed at that time, and is still functional in this day and age," said Parth skeptically.

“Most records say that Emperor Byrone was an unparalleled precog and a master enchanter. We D’Raacs can’t wield magic on our own. Our bodies are just not built for it. Throughout our vast history, only a handful have been able to do it. And he was said to be the most powerful of them all,” shrugged Roul.

As the mechanical noises came to an end and the door began moving upwards, Parth resolved to read more about the history of Viz and the continent of Tava. Especially about the era of Byrone.

“Welcome, Voyager,” said Roul as he ushered Parth inside.

The moment he stepped inside, he inhaled a sharp breath in astonishment. The sight in front of him was absolutely magnificent. He vaguely heard the door slamming down behind him, but all his attention was focused on what was in front of him.

The armory was studded with beautifully crafted weapons and artifacts that were beautiful beyond compare. The air was charged with energy and he could practically feel the sheer mana emanating from the wonderful constructs in front of him.

“Step up, Voyager, and find your partner that would stay with you for the rest of your life. Answer the call of the magical marvel that would be your bulwark against the dungeon’s savagery,” said Roul in that rehearsed tone once more.

Parth only half listened to him as he took another step, drinking in a sight that he was sure that he wouldn’t experience ever again.

This was it. There was no turning back from this, and he was sure that he didn’t want to turn back.    

 

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