Chapter 312 - The Nevermore Journey 1

"So, what do we do now?" Rynold asked, worried of what would come next at this leg of his journey. As there was no longer a clear path ahead, Rynold had no idea how to proceed.

"You are longing to head outside, yes?" the old man asked, knowing full well the answer, "Thanks to the opening of one of the gates, the Nevermore is currently at a state of disarray. To escape at this time would be chaotic… but, doable."

"Okay," Rynold nodded, "Even if there is a chance, I don't think we'll be getting very far."

The assessment was, at the very least, accurate. Rynold and the old man lost a significant advantage. Without Rynold's Mana, forcing their way out wouldn't be the greatest of plans. To some, it would even be considered suicide.

"Son, there is more than one way to leave this place. One of which does not require any physical struggle whatsoever. Even so, it will still be precarious. It will suit us best to have us prepared for whatever might happen."

Rynold raised a brow, sure of what the old man had meant. Even if he hadn't obviously said it, there was something to this 'other method' he had so suggested.

"You talk like you've done it before," Rynold rebutted, "Tell me, old man. What are you still here? Even after all this time, knowing you have a way out?"

"Because it is not for the fainthearted."

The light in the old man's eyes dimmed for a second, making Rynold think that something bad must've happened. Well, not that something like that would've discouraged him. Rynold had work to do. So, one way or another, he had to get out of Hell.

"So," Rynold awkwardly stirred the conversation in the right direction, "What's the plan, then?" The old man didn't answer Rynold. Instead, he shifted around, looking for something. While Rynold didn't mind being ignored, part of him was curious as to what the old man was looking for.

But, as the minutes go by, Rynold's attention soon drifted away to the device he had made. It was small, somewhat glistening in the torchlight. The last few words the old man had said regarding this seemed to have lingered in his mind. And, in standard fashion, Rynold soon started to tinker with something entirely new.

With the sound of the forge igniting to life, Rynold got to work. Starting off with throwing some rather pitiful-looking weapons into a cast-iron bucket, Rynold melted down some of the enemy loot that he had gathered before. Not long after that, he soon got to a point where he was just about done.

"Here," the old man suddenly walked up to Rynold and handed him a piece of paper. While working in a hot and dangerous environment, one would think twice before startling someone who was working. Let alone someone who was at an integral point in the process.

"What the?!"

Rynold dropped his hammer on the ground and nearly did the same for the piece of metal he had just cast. At the very least, the damage was minimal.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Rynold asked, clearly struggling to hide his anger, "Can't you see I'm working here?"

"That is irrelevant," the old man reached his hand out, urging Rynold to take the paper from his hand. "You want to know how to leave this place, correct? It's best for us to focus on the task at hand. This, to begin with."

With a swipe, Rynold took the paper from the old man's hand and immediately read its contents. However, he soon came to realize that what was written there were nothing more than chicken scratches and etches. While it had some sensibility to it that Rynold couldn't explain, there was still nothing that he could understand.

"What is this?" Rynold asked, studying the paper intently.

"A seal used primarily in the early stages of magic," the old man explained as rifled through his things, "Before we smiths started implementing magic onto our creations, these were used to imbue magic into tools and the like. Like the things we create, written seals come in its own variety. Some were created using the highest of grades of leather, writing the runes with the rarest of materials. Others were carefully calibrated to fit the abilities of the strongest of Magic Users."

Rynold raised a brow, curious as to what time is like before the present. But, he knew just as well that now was not the time for this and instead asked, "So, where does this one fall under?"

"Neither," the old man answered without skipping a beat, "The seal in your hand isn't anything worth mentioning in any normal dimension. In the Nevermore, though, this is of a different use entirely. Hmm. Perhaps the best way to describe it is as a warding seal."

At that moment, Rynold intently studied the piece of paper in his hand. Yet, Rynold couldn't sense anything special coming off of it. It might've been because his senses were dulled from the lack of Mana in his body; but, there really wasn't anything there.

"We leave in a few hours," the old man suddenly called out as he continued rifling through his things, "Best be ready."

"Right," Rynold nodded and put the seal on the side for now. He returned his focus on the project he had on hand, unknowingly getting more impatient and desperate to finish it.

Reaching over to his hammer, Rynold didn't think to double check what the old man was doing. For all he knew, the old man was setting up some sort of contraption to help them outside of the cave. Prep time was important for any craftsman, especially those that fought.

To his surprise, though, the old man didn't do any of that. Instead, he called over to Rynold, breaking the latter's focus on the project that had a lot more at stake than he had let on.

"Don't," the old man sternly warned, "Save that for later. You will have your chance in finishing your creation. For now, save your strength. Rest."

"Okay," Rynold sounded displeased, "This is rest. For me, at least. Me doing this is about as close as I can get to feeling rested. For all we know, finishing this would actually give us a chance to survive."

"It will not," he rebutted, "The sole result to your project is for it to end in pieces. If that is your wish, by all means, continue. However, if you truly long to see your home, I suggest you rest."

He didn't want to admit it, but the old man was right.

While it was all the same to him, Rynold knew it was best to listen. There was still a lot of things that Rynold didn't know about the Nevermore. Not only that, but Rynold didn't really have much of a choice to finish the project he had in mind. His success rate plummeted without access to Mana. The best he could do now was just to bend metal pieces together.

Accepting the old man's advice, Rynold looked around the cave and found a place to take a breather. That was all he could do at that point as he couldn't really sleep. Well, especially after the whole wraith thing, Rynold didn't feel comfortable letting his guard down.

Rynold kept his wits about him. Or, as best he could. It was hard to block against a mental attack, even more so when it came from something he couldn't see.

At the very least, though, Rynold was resting. He closed his eyes, keeping calm while vigilant. He did what he could to get close to actual rest. Even if he couldn't sleep, Rynold could at least meditate.

Across the room, the old man scurried along as he gathered the scraps of metal Rynold had brought over. Taking one pile at a time, the old man didn't stop until the room was empty. It took a few hours, but, eventually, there really wasn't anything left.

Putting aside the pouch the size of a coin purse to the side, the old man took the last few steps to prepare for their journey. He practically hauled over the entire cave to get things ready.

Soon enough, though, the old man was just about done with what he needed to do. And, with impeccable timing, Rynold suddenly opened his eyes just when the old man was about to call him.

"There's trouble," Rynold suddenly called out, "We need to go."

"Before that," the old man raised two fingers as Rynold got up, "I need to tell you something."

"Can it wait?" Rynold answered as he got to the door, "We don't have much time. That thing, whatever it is, is coming here. My senses may not be that strong anymore, but you have to be unconscious to not feel that."

"You're right," the old man agreed, firmly confirming Rynold's suspicions, "I'm afraid that we will not get very far even if we run."

Just like that, a side of the cave wall exploded into bits. Rynold's eyes quickly reached to where the explosion had originated, the color draining from his face.