The lost city

Harold held his breath. Despite his endless struggle, it seemed futile. The mermaid swam around him swiftly, using her cold, strong hands to prevent his movement. Bubbles of air escaped his mouth, bringing him closer to the brink of suffocation.

Desperately, Harold gathered his remaining strength and slammed his head toward the mermaid, but the agile creature dodged with a swift motion. The pain and pressure in his chest intensified, and his mind, amidst the endless struggle, could no longer analyze the situation.

Instinctively, his hand reached toward the surface of the water, and in that very moment, something clicked in his mind.

[The chains?]

[How could I have forgotten?!]

With disbelief, he noticed the silver chains around his hands. But there was no time for amazement. The mermaid, noticing his hesitation, swiftly bit into his shoulder. A sharp pain coursed through his entire body, and Harold let out a muffled groan, writhing in agony.

Nevertheless, he infused the chains with mana. The chains gleamed under his hands like steel—strong and unyielding. In one swift motion, he struck the mermaid's head with the chains. The blow landed directly, leaving the mermaid motionless.

Harold barely made it to the surface of the water. His rapid, gasping breaths broke the silence of the underground lake. Blood was flowing from his shoulder, but he had survived.

He collapsed onto the cold stones beside the lake. Placing his hand over his face, he laughed out loud. Perhaps it wasn't laughter born of joy but a bitter laugh at another brush with death he had narrowly escaped.

Moments later, his eyes fell on the calm surface of the lake. He spotted vague shadows, their eyes peering above the water like crocodiles. If he had moved even a little slower, he would now be a lifeless body in the depths of the lake.

The mermaids, with furious gazes, dragged the body of their kin underwater and disappeared into the darkness. Harold glanced at the wound on his shoulder. The pain was gradually subsiding, but the marks of the mermaid's sharp teeth would remain forever.

"Another scar to add to my collection of honors."

He put on his clothes and, for a moment, touched the chains around his wrists.

"I never thought I'd be glad to have these…"

His gaze lingered on the lake. Though he felt invisible eyes watching him, he smirked and slowly walked away. He told himself he wouldn't have to deal with those strange creatures again, but the future was far less predictable than such optimism.

After hours of walking, the damp, dark corridor finally came to an end. The massive chasm he had seen earlier reappeared before him. The light of his torch, seemingly impervious to the laws of nature, illuminated the polished walls of the crevice.

"Is this the same chasm I saw in the dungeon?"

His voice echoed through the heavy silence of the corridor. Then he paused, muttering to himself,

"So, I'm heading southeast…"

Harold carefully examined the path ahead. If his assumptions were correct, this underground route would lead to the Broken Peak Mountains.

"So maybe that legend about the forgotten passage between the two lands is true. But why is there no sign of a road or structure here?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Of course, elves rarely alter nature. Their hidden paths could be concealed within these rocks. But if I reach the dwarven kingdom, I might find clues. Murals always reveal the truth…"

Harold followed a path alongside the chasm, wide enough for a cart. The trail stretched into the darkness, its end unseen. In this shadowy expanse, Harold resembled a lone candle, attracting not moths but dormant bats.

After encountering several flocks of bats, a faint light from an unknown source pierced the crevice, brightening the area to a tolerable degree. Harold remained cautious, keeping his torch lit.

"I must be in the heart of the mountain now…"

The road grew uneven, and the crevice's walls began to bulge forward intermittently. Consequently, the path twisted and turned to accommodate the jagged terrain.

After traversing this section, Harold suddenly faced a breathtaking sight.

Along the edge of the deep precipice, a vast and magnificent city appeared. Its towering walls were built on the steep incline of the chasm. A high, arched bridge connected the city to the path before him.

For a moment, Harold froze in place.

"So this is the lost city of Asryndor…"

The city was terraced, divided into four large sections, each separated by sturdy walls. The buildings, adorned with stunning elegance, stood proudly in the darkness. Tall towers atop the walls surveyed the entire chasm.

Harold stood on the bridge, but the city's grand gates were closed. Thick mithril bars blocked entry to all. Searching for another way in, he glanced below the bridge.

Securing his chains tightly, Harold slowly climbed down the side of the bridge. The gentle airflow and the oppressive silence around him amplified every small sound in his ears. When he finally reached the bottom, he found the city's sewer entrance right there. The grate, opening into the chasm, was the only possible way into the city.

With a precise leap, Harold reached the entrance. The stench was the first thing that made him recoil. Holding his nose, he muttered under his breath,

"Curse this smell... No other choice now."

The sewer path was a maze of twists and darkness. The sound of dripping water from the ceiling and the cold draft filled the air. Occasionally, he stumbled upon the decaying remains of large rats but pressed on.

Midway, an odd rustling sound reached his ears from behind. He stopped, scanning his surroundings carefully.

"Rats? Or something worse?"

He held his torch behind him and caught glimpses of small shadows darting into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and continued forward.

After an exhaustive search, he found a way upward—a rusted, ancient ladder leading to the stone ceiling.

"Finally, a way out."

Climbing carefully, he reached a metal hatch. When he pushed it open, a rush of fresh air hit his face. But along with it came a horde of hungry rats, lunging at him from their hiding places.

In a swift motion, he slammed the hatch shut, locking them below. He brushed off the dirt and looked around. He now stood in a deserted street. The broken, ancient cobblestones, the massive stone buildings, and the extinguished lamps lining the path gave him an eerie feeling.

"So, this is the first district of the city..."

He murmured as his eyes scanned the area. The oppressive silence filled the air, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching him from the shadows.

Cautiously, Harold moved toward the second district. Unlike the main gate, the entrance to the second district was still open. He passed through and found himself at a higher elevation. From here, he had a full view of the city's defensive walls and towers.

When he reached the third district, a faint sound from the depths of the chasm caught his attention. He stopped and listened carefully. It resembled the wind's howl, but something about it was off—unnatural. A sense of danger stirred within him.

"That sound... Could it be the reason this city fell?"

He stared into the impenetrable darkness below, his heart pounding faster. Something down there felt far from trustworthy.

As he prepared to move, a cold hand landed on his shoulder.

His eyes widened in terror. Instinctively, he lunged forward, drawing his sword and conjuring a fireball in his other hand.

Breathing heavily, his eyes filled with fear, he turned to face what was behind him...