novelraw Chapter 233: The Riddle - Part 1
Chapter 233: The Riddle - Part 1
"Hmm... not bad," Thoren said with a wide grin.
He stared at his undead elite vanguard and nodded with a pleased expression. Their numbers totaled thirteen in all.
The undead Storm Tyrant, the undead Royalty Stonewall, and the undead Elite Jackal were the strongest among them. Each of these three was equipped with Peak Bronze Grade equipment.
Thoren did not hold back at all. From their chest breastplate armor to their weapons, everything was of the highest Peak Bronze Grade quality.
Apart from the weapons and armor, he also spent some silver coins to buy them new black hooded robes. These new robes were much better than the ones they had worn before.
These robes could faintly hide their undead aura, making it difficult for anyone to detect that they were actually undead servants.
As for the other ten elite undead, they were also equipped with High Grade weapons and armor. They too were draped in the same black hooded robes.
Merely looking at this assembled force would scare any ordinary awakener silly.
They no longer looked like mere undead servants. They looked like death itself given physical form. Pleased with his spending, Thoren averted his gaze and looked at the corpse of the Purple Arachne Broodmother.
"Let me test the effect of a Peak Bronze Grade weapon," he mused and commanded the undead Royalty Stonewall to attack.
Thud! Thud!
The undead warrior arrived before one of the hardened legs of the broodmother and swung its sword with deadly precision.
Whoosh!
The sword strike was swift and silent, but the result left Thoren completely stupified. Like a hot knife cutting through butter, the sword cut through the broodmother’s thick leg with effortless ease.
"Hahahaha. Now we are talking," he grinned widely. "Let me test the effect of the High Grade weapon as well."
One of the undead elite warriors wielding a broad saber walked forward. Without any fanfare or ceremony, it raised the broad saber above its head and let it fall with tremendous force.
Bang!
The result was not surprising at all. The High Grade weapon cut through the broodmother’s other leg with similar ease.
Even though both weapons cut through their target cleanly, Thoren noticed a distinct difference between them.
The High Grade weapon still met some resistance as it sliced through the hardened chitin.
But for the Peak Grade weapon, there was no resistance whatsoever. The blade moved as if cutting through empty air.
"Good. Good," he nodded with satisfaction. "Now I cannot wait to leave this place."
However, before he left, he did not forget to take all the broodmother’s valuable silk. He did not believe that the broodmother’s silk would be worth nothing in the Abyssal Market.
After spending another hour of intensive work, his undead had wiped the entire place completely clean.
Looking at the now empty cavern, Thoren nodded with pleasure and turned his head toward the ancient door.
He had returned all his undead servants to his undead space as he walked confidently toward the ancient door.
Arriving before the ancient door, he stretched out his hand to touch its rough surface. Just like before, nothing happened at first. But then, the ancient voice returned.
"Are you worthy?" the voice boomed through the cavern.
"Only a worthy soul can pass through this door. Answer three riddles, and you shall be allowed to enter."
"Failure means you shall never leave this place."
This time, Thoren did not retract his hand. His eyes blazed with fierce determination.
This was the only path to leave this damn place, though perhaps it was not so damn after all. Still, he needed to leave in order to complete his trial.
"The riddle shall begin now," the ancient voice echoed once again, this time with a hint of solemness that had not been present before.
The temperature inside the cavern dropped sharply, and Thoren could see the small markings on the ancient doors beginning to move.
’This...’ His heart jumped, skipping a beat in sudden fear.
Fear gripped his heart like a cold vice. He tried to retract his hand from the door but found it completely impossible.
’Shit. I cannot remove my hand,’ he cried out inside his own mind.
He tried desperately to pull away, only to realize that the more he struggled, the more his hand became glued to the ancient door’s surface.
Left with no other choice, he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm his racing mind.
’It is only a mere riddle. It cannot be that difficult,’ he thought, and confidence slowly returned to his face.
Though deep in his heart, a small flicker of uneasiness crawled up into his mind like a dark shadow.
"For the first riddle," the ancient voice began slowly. "I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?"
Silence filled the cavern completely.
For a moment, Thoren did not react as he slowly processed the riddle in his mind. ’You have cities but no houses, mountains with no trees, and water with no fish,’ he repeated to himself.
He knitted his brow and began to think deeply about the answer.
’What could it possibly be?’
’Could it be the sky?’
’But the sky has all these things in a way. No. No. It cannot be the sky,’ he shook his head firmly.
Just as Thoren was lost in his deep thoughts, he failed to see the hourglass that had appeared on the ancient wall.
With each passing second, the sand inside the hourglass was reducing at a visible and alarming speed.
Although passing through the ancient door seemed easy at first glance, many would fail to see the obvious trap hidden in plain sight.
The ancient voice had never specified the time limit for each riddle to be solved.
Thus, the door itself could decide how long each riddle was allowed to take. And now, it had made its decision clear.
Half of the sand in the hourglass was already gone, and Thoren remained lost in thought. He was failing to see the deadly pitfall looming right before him.
The sand continued to fall, grain by grain, second by second. Thoren paced back and forth as much as his trapped hand would allow. His brow was furrowed deeply in concentration.
’Cities but no houses,’ he muttered under his breath. ’Mountains but no trees. Water but no fish.’
’This is driving me crazy...’
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