Chương 18: Statistics Window

"Well. I wasn't counting on anything better." Before Lloyd hung a familiar violet window — semi-transparent, with white letters on a dark background. The greenish light of the tunnel shone through it, making the text slightly blurred at the edges. Lloyd read it. Then read it again — just in case he had misunderstood something the first time. No, he had understood correctly.

—————————————————— True Name: — Level: 0 Race: Human Class: — Skills: — Relics: — Guide: Mippo —————————————————— The window hung in the air — calm, indifferent, completely uninterested in how Lloyd felt about it. The sludge underfoot gurgled. Somewhere in the darkness water dripped — infrequently, methodically, like a clock no one had wound but which kept running anyway. The greenish light pulsed on the walls in uneven patches.

The air stood motionless — warm, damp, carrying that heavy smell of rot that was already beginning to seem almost normal. Almost.

"Well. A good start. Right? I at least have some kind of level. Even if it equals zero..." Lloyd smiled nervously — into the void, into the darkness of the tunnel, toward a place where there was no one and could be no one. As though someone might answer the question he was asking inside his own head. He scratched his chin — automatically, without noticing that he was smearing the remains of green sludge across it. Then he noticed. Grimaced.

Wiped it with his sleeve — which was about as useful as wiping dirty hands on a dirty rag. No true name. No class. No skills. No relics. Level zero. The only line with any real content — "Guide: Mippo" — and that one had already dived into a puddle and vanished, leaving behind nothing but the quiet ring of a bell and a handful of green mass on his face.

"And what useful thing am I supposed to find here?" He read it again — slowly, line by line. Then once more. As though on the third reading something new might appear. Nothing appeared. The window looked back at him with the same white letters on a violet background — patiently, silently, without the slightest hint of sympathy. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Lloyd reached out and poked the window with his finger.

His finger passed straight through — no resistance, no sensation. It simply passed through, like through air, because the window was air, just glowing air.

"Who would have doubted it." He focused on closing the window — just thought about it, briefly and clearly. And it disappeared. Quietly, without effects — it simply ceased to be. Lloyd stared for a few seconds at the spot where it had just been. The tunnel behind that spot was just as dark and damp as everywhere else.

"That actually worked..." He gave himself one last shake — tried to knock the remaining green sludge off his sleeves. It didn't go well. The sludge was not the kind that shakes off. It had attached itself thoroughly, permanently, as though it intended to stay forever and had already begun settling in. Lloyd slipped off his backpack, unzipped the side pocket and pulled out the knife. He held it in his hand for a second — familiar weight, familiar dark wood handle.

In the dim greenish light the blade caught a glint and flashed for a moment. Then he swung the backpack onto his shoulders again, adjusted the straps and took the knife in his right hand. In his left — the flashlight, clicked the switch. The white beam struck the darkness ahead — sharply, in stark contrast, pulling a few metres of tunnel out of the gloom. Slimy walls. Dark sludge. Low ceiling. Threads of something wet hanging down from above.

All the same as before — only now in white light rather than greenish half-darkness.

"This looks more like a sewer than a dungeon..." The tunnel stretched ahead — straight, low, uniform, without turns, without any sign that it would ever end. The smell hadn't gone anywhere — the same rotten, damp, heavy smell, thick and motionless. The air here was so dense it seemed you could cut it with a knife — the very knife Lloyd held in his hand.

The silence was broken only by dripping water, the occasional gurgle of sludge underfoot and his own breathing, which the tunnel caught and sent back slightly altered. He took a step. The sludge squelched — loudly, unpleasantly. Then another step. His sneakers had soaked through several minutes ago, and now each step came with a disgusting squelching sound from inside the shoe. Lloyd tried not to think about it. After a few metres something changed.

Above, directly overhead — set into the tunnel ceiling — a green crystal lit up. Small, embedded in the concrete as though it had always been there. The light from it was soft and even — greenish, matching everything else, but a little brighter. It illuminated a few metres of the path ahead — enough to see where you were putting your foot. Lloyd stopped and looked at it — then moved his gaze further along the tunnel. Another crystal. And another.

They stretched ahead in a chain, at equal intervals, disappearing into the greenish haze. Lloyd looked at the flashlight in his hand.

"Well. Looks like I won't be needing this." He put the flashlight in his backpack. Stood for a second in the silence — only the sludge gurgling underfoot, only the water dripping somewhere in the darkness, only the green crystals overhead glowing with their steady cold light, stretching ahead along the tunnel like runway lights leading nowhere. The tunnel waited. Dark, damp, endless to look at. Somewhere ahead — in that greenish haze, beyond the limits of visibility — there was something. Lloyd didn't know what.

No information. No level. No skills. There was a knife, a backpack with food and a first aid kit, thoroughly soaked sneakers, green sludge on his clothes, and a complete absence of any understanding of what was waiting for him around the next corner. If there even was a next corner. He gripped the knife handle a little tighter. Felt the familiar weight in his palm — solid, real, unlike everything else around him. And moved forward along the grim corridor.