Paragon of Destruction Chapter 282 The Caves Of Amydon

The first few hours he spent in the tunnel, Arran encountered nothing even the least bit interesting.
The tunnel wound slowly downward, ever deeper into the mountains, with other tunnels occasionally joining it. Whenever this happened Arran left small signs to guide his way back, marking the stone walls with his sword and setting Shadow wards that only he could see.
Yet although the tunnel was clearly man-made, he had still found no sign of either its creators or any others who had passed through.
The rough stone walls were bare, with no marks other than the ones Arran left behind. And while the air was musty, its staleness was a lifeless one, featuring none of the scents and stenches that would suggest people had passed here.
Arran pressed on, however, descending further into the depths beneath the mountain with every step. The strange environment only further encouraged his curiosity. As far as he could tell, no others had passed here in centuries, and he was eager to see what secrets lay buried here.
But so far, there was no sign of secrets. Or anything else, for that matter.
Arran illumined the way with a marble-sized ball of Fire Essence. While his Shadowsight and Sense were enough to guide him, they only showed him shapes, and roughly at that. To make out markings, engravings, or other such things, he would still need to rely on his eyes.
Toward evening — or so Arran guessed, since there was no sky to tell him the time — a small glint in the rock wall caught Arran's eye. He hurried over, and when he examined it, he saw that it appeared to be a rough diamond, embedded in the rock.
Perhaps the tunnel's creators had overlooked it, or perhaps they simply had not cared about the gem. But either way, Arran would not follow their example — a treasure like this, he would not leave behind.
He cut the diamond free using his sword, then looked at the fist-sized gem with some satisfaction.
Even among mages, a treasure like this was rare — rare enough to be worth at least a few Essence Crystals. And although Arran had no shortage of those, gemstones would certainly be easier to trade with commoners, should he need to trade.
As Arran traveled deeper into the tunnel, he soon discovered that finding the diamond had been no lucky coincidence. During the next few days, he encountered dozens of gems — diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and others — that were embedded in the rough rock walls, along with large nuggets of gold and silver.
The discoveries filled Arran with excitement. Not because of their value — although he carefully collected all of them — but because if the tunnel's creators had ignored such treasures, they must have had their eyes set on even bigger prizes.
But eager though he was to find whatever treasures lay at the end of the tunnel, he did not advance carelessly. If, as he suspected, this was the site of Amydon's starmetal deposit, then many had died trying to find it.
Wary of traps and seals, Arran advanced at a slow pace, his Sense alert for any sign of danger. And for several days, he continued onward like this, looting treasure where he found it while constantly watching out for traps.
Yet when danger came, he still found himself unprepared.
It happened in a straight stretch of the tunnel that was little different from all the parts before it. But here, Arran suddenly Sensed a hint of Essence, almost too small to notice.
He stopped in his tracks, but in an instant, he realized that it wasn't the trap he had Sensed, but its triggering.
There wasn't any time to give it further thought or brace himself for the attack. Even as he realized what happened, a sickeningly powerful wave of Essence rushed through the tunnel, its full force smashing into Arran before he could even curse.
The wave of Essence hit him like an avalanche, giving him no chance to resist its force. He was flung a hundred paces backward through the tunnel, then crashed into its wall and collapsed to the ground like a rag doll cast aside by an angry child.
It took him several minutes to recover from the attack, and when he finally sat up again, he could feel that his body was bruised all over, as if he had just fallen off a mountain.
His clothes were gone, burned away by the Essence. And if he hadn't already shaved off his beard and hair, he had little doubt that he would have lost those, as well.
Only his starmetal sword and his void ring remained, and he felt more than a little relief that he had stored the Matriarch's protective treasure within his void ring. Faced with a raw force like this, he feared it might not have survived.
Because that was what the trap had triggered — a wave of raw force, unfocused but overwhelmingly powerful. That Arran had survived it at all was because most of the force had simply surged past him, further up into the tunnels behind him.
Even with his resistance to magic, he would have been ground to dust if the attack had actually been focused on him. And if anyone without such a resistance was hit by a power like this, he doubted even dust would remain of them.
But Arran had survived, and for the next hour, he sat on the cold ground, eating dragon meat while giving his body time to recover.
He briefly considered turning around and leaving the tunnels. Although his injuries weren't too serious, the presence of a trap like this meant there could be even stronger ones ahead. And tough though he might be, he wasn't invincible.
Yet while turning back might be the sensible choice, he could not bring himself to do so. Not this easily. If the danger became too great, he would accept failure, but not before he was certain there was no way forward.
When his injuries had healed, he slowly made his way back toward the trap, inching forward as he focused his Sense to detect a sign of it.
It was no use. Again, he only Sensed the trap when he triggered it, and an instant later he was flung a hundred paces back again, his freshly healed body once more covered in bruises.
He tried several more times, but each time, the result was the same. He sighed deeply when he realized his Sense was simply too weak to detect the trap — or perhaps it was merely hidden too well.
But either way, he could not advance without setting off the trap. And so far, the source of the Essence showed no sign of weakening, either.
The attacks would have been a good way to train his resistance to Essence if he had more time, but reaching the point where he could force his way through the avalanche of power would take years or even decades.
Yet he wasn't willing to give up yet, either.
After giving the matter some thought, he tried using various shields to withstand the attacks that came when he ventured too far into the tunnel. This, however, proved wholly unsuccessful — maybe a mage with stronger Force or Wind Realms could produce sufficiently powerful shields, but Arran clearly wasn't up to such a task.
Next, he tried laying down wards to retreat behind when the wave of Essence came. This proved slightly more effective than using shields, but after several failed tries, Arran realized his skill in wards was insufficient, as well.
Still, he didn't accept defeat. By now, defeating the obstacle had become a point of personal pride to Arran. The defense was effective but crude, and he could not stand the idea of so simple a barrier holding him back.
In his frustration, he decided that if defense wouldn't work, then he would try attacking.
Once more he stepped forward, but this time, when the wave of Essence came, he launched a Shadowflame, the sharp power of his spell breaking the wave before him. And although that wasn't enough to stop him from getting hit, the force that crashed into him was decidedly less — barely enough to throw him back fifty paces.
He let his injuries heal, then tried again, now imbuing his Shadowflame with the full power of his true insight into severing.
This time, the result was even better. With the wave broken right before him, most of the force of Essence passed by his sides. And although the remainder still caused him to stagger back half a dozen paces, it wasn't enough to injure him.
He hurried forward, anxious to advance as far as he could before another wave came. And although one arrived a few moments later, by then he had already moved fifty paces forward.
He withstood several more waves of Essence, but around three hundred paces from where he had encountered the obstacle, the attacks came to a sudden halt. Apparently, he had gone far enough past the seal that triggered the trap.
A grin on his face, he ventured forth, pleased with the victory. Although it had cost him a set of clothes, he had defeated the trap.
He traveled onward for another week, moving ever deeper into the tunnels. There were more traps, but all of them were similar to the first. And although he could not avoid or remove them, his strength was enough to force his way past.
Not everyone who had gone here had been as lucky, however.
Along the way, Arran found over a dozen void bags, filled with Essence Crystals, scrolls, weapons, and various memory amulets. And although there were no treasures worth noting among them, he pocketed their contents happily.
Yet he found more valuable items, too. Twice, he came across starmetal swords, which he collected with great excitement. To his surprise, he found thin starmetal strips, too — over a dozen of them, each barely a finger wide but all of them razor-sharp.
The thin strips of metal caused him some confusion at first, but eventually, he realized that these must once have been part of weapons, used as edges on swords by those who could not afford complete starmetal weapons.
But the deeper Arran ventured into the tunnels, the rarer these discoveries became. And near the end of the week, they had ceased altogether. Evidently, the people who had gone here before Arran had not made it this far.
Then, after another few days, the traps ceased as well. It seemed that those who had warded the tunnels thought none would make it here. And, from what Arran had seen, they appeared to be right.
He traveled through the empty tunnels for several more days, wondering just how far he had gone. He knew that he was no longer anywhere near the mountain where he had started his journey — by now, he was deep underneath the mountain range, hundreds of miles away from his starting point.
Arran knew he must be getting closer to his destination, however. If he traveled on for much longer, he suspected he would no longer be underneath the mountain range at all.
These suspicions were confirmed a few days later, when the tunnel suddenly emerged into a cavern.
Arran made his way into the cavern carefully, wary of any new traps. But there were none, and as he entered the cavern, he instantly realized that it was vast.
It stretched far beyond the reach of both his Shadowsight and his Sense, and the light from the ball of flame in front of him merely disappeared into the darkness. Whatever this place was, it must be miles across.
Briefly, Arran hesitated. But then, his curiosity took over, and he launched a bright ball of flame into the air, as strong as he could make it.
The sight that followed caused his mouth to fall open in shock.
This was no mere cavern. The space was easily two hundred feet tall, and numerous holes were carved into the stone walls at its sides — houses, Arran realized.
Shocked, he realized that before him lay a vast underground city. And although there was no sign of life now, he knew this city had once been home to thousands.