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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2313817
Into the depths of the tunnels to stop the ritual.

The Tunnels were the blackest of the black, darker than night, my torch being the only thing bleeding light.
The walls were made of a mixture of granite and basalt, despite not seeing it, I could feel the transcribed words on it in the carvings on the walls, what they said what they meant but they didn't make sense, they spoke of bringing a god back to reign anarchy among the world, to bring war and famine among the countries, a god that was not written.

That wasn't my main concern however, I already had bigger problems on my mind that weren't of what the walls spoke, mainly intervening with the ritual to prevent the god of which the walls spoke of to be revived.

I've lost track of how many steps I've ran down, I know I just ran down another flight of stairs and another and another as fast as I could, my shoes were begging to be cleaned, my feet writhed in pain as the steps were covered in sludge, dirty oil and mud flowed down the steps like a river. My pants were drenched, the sludge just couldn't stop, but I had to keep on running, and I ran and ran until I could feel my shoes start to wear out.

"You've got to be kidding me.." I said, exhausted as I exited the sludgy stairs, only to find yet another hallway, cramped and who knows how long, what stood out from this hallway compared to the tunnels was it was more primitive, consisting of a few wood beams in an attempt for the hall to not collapse in on itself, whether or not they got lazy, exhausted, or ran out of time to dig it I would not know. It was not my concern.

I was exhausted, I was dehydrated and my throat was drier than the gravel in the roads of the desert that I rode on to get here. At one point in time I swore I could hear the chanting of the cultists, but it was to early for the ritual to start.

Soon the air got thin, my head got lighter, my lungs felt empty, and then I made it.

"Fucking Finally.." I said exiting the tiny wall, there the air became more relevant, I soon laid for a few minutes, taking in the not so fresh air, and then I continued, I couldn't stop now, not after all this crawling, walking, running, I had to continue.

And then I heard it, chanting, for real this time, what felt like a few minutes was really another hour, another hour was enough time for the ritual to begin, confused and in a state of despair, I started running again, crashing through the door, lighter in one hand and Margeret, my revolver, in the other.

In a, what I now realize, dumb attempt to prevent them from continuing, I set the nearby offerings of wine ablaze with my lighter, and as it turns out, this was a part of the ritual.

Abashed I had stood, staring as the ritual was about to be completed, only then I had a moment of clarity, I did all I could, I smashed the candles, I ate the herbs they used, they didn't taste good, I broke the organ, still did nothing in the end.

But in a cruel state of irony, the cultists themselves ruined the ritual before it even began, they transferred the consciousness into the body of the wrong candidate, instead of the war bringing goddess they expected, they got a average person.

Enraged, the leader of the group, threw the failed attempt of a goddess out the room and set fire to the cave.

Adrenaline, adrenaline was all that was in my body, I ran as fast as I could, I crawled as fast as I could through the primitive wall, I ran up the sludge covered steps, all of them, halfway through I could feel my shoes completely tear off.

"Run, Run, Run..come on keep running..can't stop now" I thought, I couldn't stop now, even as the fire came closer and my hands became hotter, I couldn't stop running.

After all that I managed to exit the cave and got shrouded in the sunlight, after reuniting with the rest of the three man team, the three of us rode back to town silently agreeing not to tell any of the townspeople as to not spread panic.
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