Sleeping Player (Project Chrysalis Book 3) by John Gold (novel24 TXT) 📕

road. The Evil Water, at the epicenter of the damage being done, evaporates in a second. The powerful stream of fire, which reaches to the stone arch above us, finishes off the ghosts too.

I don’t even get any loot from the local boss. Also, claws start scraping toward me from the end of the street, so I know the demon is nearby.

The only place there is to hide is the well the Evil Water came from. And my hair is sticking straight up—the scratching claws and quiet squeaks are almost on top of me.

The well is ten meters in front of me; the squeaking rats a couple meters behind me. My senses tingle, my amplification kicks in, I leap forward, and I suddenly find myself lying on the bottom. I breathe in. I breathe out. My consciousness is starting to even out, and my thinking becomes clearer. As my hands and feet reach for the walls, I feel nothing but dust and a few pebbles that fall off. A shadow falls on me—one of the rats is blocking the exit.

Don’t breathe, don’t look, don’t think.

It hangs motionless over the edge of the well.

Don’t breathe, don’t look, don’t think.

My heart practically stops, I’m frozen with fear, and my palms are slick with sweat. The rat is fifteen hundred levels beyond me, and there are just two of them for now…

The part of the well sticking up above the ground is swept away right along with the rat. That sledgehammer is going to haunt my dreams for a year. Just one soundless blow, and the rat dies without a single sound or squeak. There’s no cracking or crunching of bones—just some stone dust filtering down onto my face. Neither the demon nor the rat is to be seen, just the silence, which I’m starting to fear more than anything else.

Three long minutes tick by, each feeling like an hour. It feels like I’ve been here forever.

The dirt eats its way into my body; sweat pours off me.

Damage received: 88110 (ignored: 12500000)

6400/6400

I’m being attacked from below—the Evil Water respawned and is already climbing toward me in an attempt to knock me down. My hand slips, a rock lurches, and the remains of the well are about to collapse.

I can’t take this anymore! I need to sit and relax.

Like a wild animal, I move as noiselessly as I can into an alley. My bare feet slip noiselessly along the road, and I head toward the border of the dead region as my ears pick up every sound and every little vibration in the air. There aren’t as many buildings with crosses on the door, and the buildings themselves look richer. I’m in the business district. It was buried underground by the earthquake, so the houses, shops, and rest areas are completely lifeless. Nobody’s attacked me since I left the residential part of town. Still, I see more living undead and possessed demon corpses running around after rats.

In one of the little courtyards on the outskirts of the residential district, there’s a pair of skeletons sitting next to each other. It’s a gazebo with a ruined roof where a couple is drinking transparent tea. The silvery liquid pours into their mouths from their cups, and the skeletons chat about something with arms gesturing actively. Even their heads are thrown back, probably laughing… Still, it’s completely quiet. I see their empty eye sockets filled with green light, the ashen hair still on the woman’s skull, and the remains of decayed clothing. It’s absurd surrealism. After the demon with the sledgehammer, I didn’t think anything could surprise me, but this… What if I die here?

My perception works much better in the business district, saving my life at least twice. I sneak up to a tall fence, noticing that there isn’t any trash around the corner column. My perception highlights the base of the brickwork. From there, my curiosity takes over—if there’s a way up the wall, I can get to the roof of the neighboring building and keep going from up there. The brickwork is in good shape - too good, in fact. It’s like somebody has been taking care of it all these years.

With just a meter left until I reach the corner, the bricks fly apart, and I’m greeted by the skeleton of a mummified human. He opens his mouth and shrieks noiselessly.

My reflexes take over. A dragon flame ends the skeleton, melting him into the wall, though I’ve been trying to use that spell as little as possible. The fire burns too loudly.

I dash off around the corner of the next building in stealth mode. Somewhere nearby, I hear the footsteps of a pair of zombies—the undead are hurrying over to where the skirmish just took place. Breathing slowly to calm my heartbeat, I dive behind some kind of stone bench. Then, I take out the flask of water I brought with me and take a few mouthfuls. There’s no food or water to be found, so I need to conserve what I have. Some dried fish are next. I don’t even chew, afraid that might bring the zombies following the scent.

The zombies don’t find me, rats run by a couple of times, and they’re always followed by possessed demons. The ghost of a stray dog who finds me dies to a spear of darkness. I can’t stay in one place, so I get up and head on in search of the demonologist guild. If it’s anywhere, it has to be here in the business district.

I move quietly, as if ghosts and demons are hiding behind each wall. My bare feet slide along the cold stone road, the weak, spectral light illuminating the empty street. There are no zombies, no rats, no demons, no ghosts—it’s like they’re afraid to show up around here. Crouching and activating stealth, I study the street more