Hacking the Game Didn’t Go as Intended

“No way!” Daisuke exclaimed in a hushed tone, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “It’s a secret entrance. But how did I even activate it? Does... Percival know about this?” he mused, stealing another furtive glance toward the library door. “If it’s a hidden chamber, then something ancient and evil may be sealed away down there, or it could be some sort of treasure.”

Optimistically clinging to the latter possibility, which could prove to be a crucial asset for his escape, Daisuke swallowed hard, willing his racing pulse to slow as he prepared to explore the mysterious depths below.

As he descended the creaking stairs of the trap door, Daisuke found himself in a dimly lit chamber that exuded an aura of age. The air held a heavy humidity, which made breathing difficult and uncomfortable.

Mustiness lingered in every corner, a testament to the passage of time and the secrets that had accumulated in this subterranean sanctum.

Cobwebs decorated the nooks and crannies of the dungeon-like room. Vats of strange and curious specimens were arranged on shelves in tandem, their contents hidden behind cloudy glass.

Accompanying them were a collection of weathered books. Their leather-bound spines bore the weight of time, their pages yellowed and fragile, each a repository of wisdom.

In the center of the room, a work table stood, its surface marred by the imprints of countless experiments. Jars of various sizes and shapes were scattered about, some half-open with contents long since dried or evaporated.

The unwavering glow of a magic crystal dimly illuminated the tarnished metal instruments that lay strewn across the table—tweezers, flasks, and other mysterious tools with purposes known only to the previous owner.

Daisuke’s fingers ran across the dusty workspace before coming to a halt atop a large grimoire wrapped in eerie leather. With bated breath, he slowly opened the thick cover and coughed as the accumulated dust particles assaulted his lungs.

“Yeah, it’s definitely been a while since someone last came down here,” remarked Daisuke as he opened the large book to its first page. Let’s see…”

“My name is Cedric Oswald Percival—first of my name. If you are reading this text, it means you have followed the correct sequence to unlocking this place and have been judged worthy of my legacy. Otherwise, the path would not have opened, whether by fire, flood, or decay.

Since I was but a child, I have pondered the origins of man. This led me to the discovery of alchemy. Despite the foul gazes of my family and brethren, I moved away from the capital and to the countryside. Here, I could focus on my work away from prying eyes.

It took an entire lifetime, but I managed to perfect my craft, and in doing so, touched the very face of God. It was only then that I realized the potential dangers of my achievement, and the cataclysmic threat it posed to the world.

Human greed surpasses even that of the Gods’—to that end, I refused to trust even my very seed with the power I have fostered. You, however, have been deemed worthy.

I spent my life discovering this gift, and you will spend yours sharing its many blessings with the rest of the world. Though we may not be related by blood, you will henceforth become my successor. Never diverge from the righteous path you have chosen.

Godspeed.”

On the next page was an intricately drawn circle. Before Daisuke could decipher the letters that elegantly interwove with the diagram, he felt his mouth moving of its own accord, reciting them with an effortless and eloquent grace.

“Per scriptum et signa, obligatus sum; in regno alchemiae, potentiam inveniam.”

The transmutation circle ignited with a stunning blue luminescence as the incantation was evoked. In an instant, a searing pain surged through Daisuke, coursing from the crown of his head to his eyes, which welled up with blood.

In his confusion, he abruptly wiped away what he believed were tears, only to confront his moistened fingertips with a growing panic. For a moment, he felt nauseous and unsteady on his feet.

Clinging to the table’s edge for stability, he observed the grimoire’s timeworn pages now devoid of any content. Before he could grapple with this enigma, a familiar rumble reverberated, and the chamber trembled akin to before.

It was an unmistakable signal; a prompt to depart, and Daisuke quickly climbed the stairs as he wiped the last of the blood from his face.

No sooner had the ancient sanctum vanished from sight did the doors of the library burst open and in rushed a startled guard. He looked around cautiously before focusing his suspicious gaze on Daisuke.

“I heard a loud commotion from down the corridor,” said the man. “Is everything all right?”

Daisuke schooled his face into a perfect mask and replied. “Yes, I’m fine—just a little accident is all,” he pointed to a nearby ladder leaning against a shelf. “I fell while trying to reach a book.”

He was prepared to use the bloodstains on his fingers to fortify his claim, though the prospect of consulting a medical practitioner or healer was an unwelcome inconvenience.

Fortunately, the guard departed with merely a cautionary remark, leaving Daisuke to breathe a sigh of relief once he was alone again.

He attempted to replicate the actions he had taken with his hands in the empty slot of the bookshelf, but to no avail. Given that the trap door had swiftly closed upon anyone’s approach to the library, Daisuke surmised there must be a sophisticated mechanism in place to detect and respond to unwelcome visitors.

Though he couldn’t fully comprehend what had transpired during his time in the secret study, a gut feeling told him there was likely nothing of interest left to discover, even if he managed to reopen the path.

***

Daisuke was just finishing up brunch with April inside his room when an unexpected visitor arrived. Standing in the doorway, freshly scrubbed and clad in an almost transparent nightgown, was another tribute, her expression one of devastation.

As she revealed who had been sent to Reginald’s room simultaneously, Daisuke’s features contorted into a dark reflection of her own anguish. In a frenzied whirlwind of thoughts, he grasped his head, his eyes trembling with intensity. His hands clenched into fists, crumpling his shirt as his heart threatened to rupture from his chest.

Desperately, he searched for a solution, but every avenue he considered led to the same grim conclusion—death.

Why? Why did he suddenly decide to change his routine? Why did I even believe he had a routine to begin with? Sheba. Sheba. How can I save her? What can I do?

Daisuke was beyond frustrated. He knew nothing could be done, but still he probed every facet of his mind, desperately trying to wring out a miracle that would never manifest.

Crushed beneath the weight of these relentless misfortunes, Daisuke clenched his fists and sank to the floor. Their hearts breaking in unison with his own, both girls cradled him in their arms, his soft cries resonating through them both.

***

April shifted her gaze from the Beastkin to Daisuke, both of whom were sound asleep on the bed. Seated in the bedside chair, she tenderly trailed her tiny fingers through the strands of hair on his forehead. Dark circles marred the skin beneath his eyes, and his tear-stained face retained a flushed hue, evidence of his sorrow.

April pouted.

She had never witnessed her typically composed and self-assured brother in such a state of helplessness and distress before, and it vexed her immensely.

From the moment she got kidnapped until now—no, even long before that, she had felt the nagging sensation of being a burden to him.

As these turbulent thoughts brewed within her mind, April glanced toward the bedside table, her gaze falling upon the hairpin Daisuke had entrusted to her for defense if necessary. Then, like rain clouds creeping to the forefront of her consciousness, a target slithered into her thoughts.

The Beastkin stirred from her sleep in time to witness as April vanished beyond the door. Then, with a gentle nudge, she roused Daisuke from his slumber.

“Huh? April? Where is she?”

Before the girl could shed light on the situation, he noted that the hairpin was missing from the bedside table and was easily able to connect the dots.

Fear of monsters & the unknown: 28.6%