…

Away from the wonders of days long past, Ishmael kept pushing through the tight corridor. It felt as if it was expanding on forever, the light always standing at its edge, but never in reach. Despite all, the young man pushed forward, until his hand eventually wrapped around the rock’s corner, propelling himself with all remaining strength, falling into the area that stood on the other side. Ishmael got up after a few moments of respite, gazing at the hollow location.

The light he had seen, was being transmitted thought an odd mechanism that shined brightly without pause, sitting above a large metallic gate, surrounded by lush. Coming closer, he began inspecting. Nothing much of notice. The young man started sweating, exhaling in desperation. He had made all this effort, just to be met with a dead end?

He couldn’t accept that. No. He wouldn’t accept that.

His eyes scanned the entire surface for any clues, for even the faintest hint would be enough for him. As he examined around, his attention was caught by a rusty tube that led inside the premises residing beyond the fortified door. Having been damaged by its long lifespan, surely a kick or two would be more than sufficient to crack it in half. Alas, this proved to be more challenging than he had imagined. Despite its years, the pipe held up pretty damn well. Considering that his power was also halved by injury, brute force would not be adequate to force it open. Angered, he fell back in agitation, accidentally tripping onto something. As he turned to look at the ground, he saw a very small object that was buried inside the greenery, next to a thorny crimson flower.

A sense of intrigue took over, as he felt compelled to pull it out. Dragging it out the soil, it gradually revealed its true form. The item he had seen, was merely a minor piece, placed upon a much heavier object. Weirdly, it felt as if the strange thing was somehow tethered to a force from below, and as he shoved it out, a scary image appeared before him. Ishmael took a step back in shock, seeing that the object’s grip was being held from something that frightfully resembled a human hand. It was coated in a layer of iron, its joints stiff and static. Whatever possessed this contraption, was clearly no longer part of this world. Nevertheless, Ishmael returned to the matter at hand, staring at the odd relic he had just unearthed. It didn’t seem like anything he had seen before, thought its design was highly extravagant.

During the inspection procedure, he spilled his finger through the grip’s narrow opening, as he gently scrutinized the inside part. Tilting it sideways, he saw a miniature button, next to a dimly lit screen that had ‘safety on’ inscribed on it. Curiously he pressed it, making the screen flash with bright red letters ‘safety off’, activating the item’s internal mechanisms, a powerful force surging from within. Ishmael didn’t know whether to fell excited or worried. This creation gave him a sense of unease.

Gazing on it a little longer, he slowly began to (sort of) comprehend its function, realizing that many off its components distantly mirrored those of a crossbow. At the same time, the crazy amount of differences was ample to admit that it wasn’t one. There was no string nor arrow, its scope was unusually large and detailed, the trigger was bulky, and its overall design was just… otherworldly. Even if it didn’t take him long to understand that it was (obviously) a weapon, he still had not a single idea of how on earth was this thing meant to be operated. It didn’t take long however, for his question was answered short after.

Thinking that it could be used just like a normal bow, he squeezed the triggered. Much to his surprise, the weapon unleashed a bright flash of light, sending it flying towards the nearest wall, creating a minor blast upon impact. His hands trembled, dropping the deadly device in an instant. Ishmael analyzed the damage done. If he could use it one the pipe, it would certainly wreck it apart, thus he steeled his resolve, picked the gun up again and fired at the crooked piece of metal. One after another, each shot delivered devastating blows, before tearing the cylinder to bits. An overwhelming feeling of satisfaction coursed through his body, as he raised the gun high, shouting in jubilation. With his newfound passage laying right before him, he carefully crawled through, hoping for the best.

Ishmael: “(determined) I’ll find you, no matter what.”