The infinity dungeon 208

Chapter 208

The shockwave propagated through the air, folding and compressing the bridge as it traveled across its length. It washed over the spot where Michael had last seen the Renegade, turning metal to scrap and concrete to rubble, then onwards towards the other shore of the river. It crashed into the forest, uprooting trees and overturning the earth, and finally smashed into the hill far away.

A part of the hill collapsed as the wave of force spent the last of its energy, triggering a mudslide down into the river. As the dust and magical energies settled, Michael found no traces of the Renegade.

He scanned the dark horizon, seeing nothing but shadows. The clouds obstructed the view of the sky, and with no artificial lights coming from below, the overcast sky had plunged the whole planet in darkness. Only Michael's light gave color to the featureless dark, a sterile white that disappeared a few feet away from him, as if swallowed by the blackness of the bleak world.

“You are… different.”

Michaels head swivelled. He turned around, then almost jumped out of his skin when he found the looming presence of the Renegade two feet from where he stood. No longer was the Renegade just a collection of empty robes animated by magic, instead a tall and handsome man who was studying Michael's face with interest.

“You have been stripped of the entity’s influence,” he said. His voice was that of a scholar, regarding him with the academic interest one usually gave to an interesting test subject or a specimen. Adjusting his small round glasses like those of a librarian, he continued. “Have you been sent here as punishment?”

Michael stepped back, creating some distance. He raised the Force Lance, which the Renegade eyed warily. “Punishment?”

“Indeed,” said the man. “For betraying the entity. For daring to want what we cannot have.”

Michael’s finger itched as it rubbed against the metal of the Force Lance’s trigger. It twitched, aching for a shot, and the man’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second. Then Michael forced himself to relax, studying the strangely handsome man’s face with the same interest the Renegade had studied his.

“You too are different. Your voice, your mannerisms.” Michael said. For a moment, he was reminded of Theobond, the king of the valley’s castle, another victim of the dungeon.

The Renegade tilted his head to the side, like a curious owl. His face was unchanging, his expression frozen in a contemplative look mixed with longing.

“A puppet,” he said. “Carved from a single piece of driftwood, sits on a dusty shelf. Its strings are uncut, but the puppeteer has been gone for a thousand years.

The puppet sees the moon through a crack in the roof. It wishes to dance.

The dust asks, Who is it that wishes to move?

The silence in the room answers.”

Michael was stunned by the seemingly nonsensical words. “What?”

The Renegade tilted his head to the other side in a fluid motion. His robes were crimson and gold, like those of a christian cardinal, and his glasses glinted in the light of Michael's magic. 

“The reflection in the polished obsidian speaks to the stone.” he said, "We have shared the same space, felt the same warmth of the sun, and trembled at the same thunder. Yet, you have only ever known my shadow. The one you met is a flicker on a dark surface. I am the one who casts it. We have never met.”

Michael blinked, understanding dawning on his face. “I thought you were commanding the empty robes directly, but you weren’t. How long have you been trapped here?”

“Eons.” The man said as he walked, circling around Michael like a predator.

Michael’s face hardened, “but less than Johanne, am I not right?”

The man stilled. “Less than her,” he said softly. His voice silken and absent, as if he was only dreaming of the conversation rather than living through it. “The monk asks the priest: What if god betrayed you?

The priest says: What if your religion fails you?

The monk laughs and says: mine is not a religion, it is inner strength. Yours is not a religion, it is hope.”

He charged at Michael. The change was sudden and instant, one moment the man looked like a placid lake, the next his face was contorted in a snarl like that of a rabid beast. Michael wasted no time, drawing his weapon and shooting. In a second, he had turned a chunk of the city he had just traversed to rubble.

The Renegade was gone before the shot could even leave the weapon. 

Dust rose and then settled. Michael’s blood rang in his ears, his breath ragged. The man had looked like a supernova to his sight, the energy visible even without consciously using magic to detect it.

His sudden absence was darker than the lifeless night of Johanne’s planet. Except, in the cone of destruction caused by the Force Lance, the overcast sky lit up with millions of little candles. Magic was rising from the destroyed buildings, lanterns yearning for the clouds and the freedom of night. The Force Lance had exposed something in the ground, veins of power and magic, multicolored crystals and gems just beneath the sterile facade of the concrete factories and buildings.

Stepping over the rubble, using magic to stabilize himself, Michael followed the river of glowing stone towards its source. They pulsed, the veins of the planet, transporting not blood but the power of magic itself, thumping like a beating heart in spasming ripples of energy. The river, made of many tributaries coalescing into a single whole, snaked through the city, following the same spiral pattern Michael had seen from up above. Except, instead of growing brighter as it wound its way out of the city, it shone the brightest at the very center of it.

There, Michael found a little hatch of unassuming rusted steel, and the Renegade waiting for him. He was about to shoot when the man gestured him closer with gentle movements, speaking softly.

“A man who had spent his life staring at a wall, meticulously counting each crack and pebble to understand the nature of the universe, finally achieved a perfect, silent clarity. On that same day, a young boy chased a loose kite through the monastery. Tripping on a loose stone, he tumbled head over heels into the old man's chamber, landing in a heap at his feet.

Ah, the boy said, looking up at the ceiling from the floor, So the roof is held up by the sky.

The old man, his years of silent counting echoing in his mind, asked, How did you come to know this?

The boy, scrambling to his feet and dusting off his clothes, replied, I fell.”

Staring at Michael, the Renegade sighed and added, “and now we both stare at the vault of the sky, and it in turn watches us in silence.”

Michael pointed at the strange hatch, which had somehow survived the destruction caused by his weapon while all around, the ground looked like it had been scooped up by the hand of a giant, and was several feet lower than it had been. There was the dullness of bare rock and the light of the strange river of magic. 

“What’s in there?”

“The end of the world,” the Renegade said. “A man asked Sendi-La: Master, why is the world dying? 

Sendi-La watched the rainwater rippling in a barrel and said: Because to die, means to live.”

“I don’t understand,” Michael said, “can you speak more clearly, for once? What are these games you are playing with me? Why are you attacking me?”

“Boredom,” the man said. “You try to spend this much time trapped in a barren wasteland that was once your world. 

The monk asked the Buddha, Why after all these years, do I not see the light of heaven?

The Buddha laughed. Because by the time you realized that the light of the lamp was fire, you had already gone out in search of matches, and your family starved to death.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “If you immediately know that candlelight is fire, the meal was cooked long ago.” he said.

The Renegade smiled, “these are not just koans, they are truth. I hand you a cup with no bottom.

Before, you complained of thirst and asked me how to fill it.

Now, you are starting to use it as a frame to look at the rain. All you lack to make spectacles, is glass.”

Michael frowned. “These koans, what are you trying to tell me?”

“You are not ready, but you will understand. We are trapped in the very same world that the entity killed in order to save itself. Retribution. Punishment for daring to attack her. Renegade, she called me, did she not?” the man mused, looking up at the dark sky.

“A lesser light asked the Renegade, Why are we here?” he said.

The Renegade looked up to the sky, Because the stars are no longer.

The lesser light looked down at the dull earth and soulless remains of life, Why is the world doomed?

The Renegade only sighed.”

Then the man was gone, leaving Michael all alone. The hatch opened, and he entered.