Ever since the fiery battle between Melvin and the Sea Slug King ended, the underground hall of the Bastion had remained still, save for the shifts in movement of the sole survivor.
Sitting on the half part of the pillar, with the abomination crushed beneath it, Melvin let out a crackling breath through his lips. Now that his mind was clear and his senses had returned to a normal state, he now inhaled the lingering scent of salt and ruptured flesh.
Although his body throbbed from a hundred small injuries, something else began to gnaw at him now.
'I'm hungry.'
Not only was facing the other monster servants going to be a sort of problem for him, judging by his current appearance, but fighting them on an empty stomach was going to make his situation even worse.
As if reacting to his thoughts, his stomach growled sharply, almost embarrassing after everything he had survived.
"What do I eat now?"
Just then, his eyes darted to the cart of rock salt. Then he returned his gaze to the corpse pinned beneath the fallen stone. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if the sea slug was even consumable.
He was never a biologist and never had the chance to become one. His decisions right at the moment were solely dependent on survival.
"Besides, they say that what you do not know won't kill you, right?" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.
Then, he jumped off the pillar and wobbled a bit before standing firm. Afterward, he approached the carcass carefully and summoned Aftertick. The whip soon formed in his hand, its golden handle warm against his torn palm.
He crouched and used the tip of the whip to slice into a thicker fold of the creature's flesh.
The outer layer split easily. Clear fluid spilled out across the marble. Melvin grimaced in disgust and leaned back, waiting, hoping to see if anything was going to happen after that spill.
But nothing happened. It seemed as though every effect the slick mucus could have had when its bearer was alive was rendered void now. There was no sizzling, nor was there poisonous smoke.
Hence, he leaned forward and cut deeper.
Beneath the translucent slime, the texture changed. The inner flesh was pale and fibrous, less gelatinous than the surface. It still looked wrong—but not impossibly so.
His stomach growled again.
"I'm not dying after all that," he whispered and began to work on the carcass.
Melvin carved out a chunk roughly four times the size of his palm, and dismissing the Aftertick, he was able to carry it on both palms back to the cart. Without hesitation, he shoved it deep into the coarse salt and buried it.
Minutes passed. The salt around the meat began to clump, dampened by the moisture it drew out. He uncovered the piece and turned it over. It was firmer now and less slick.
Satisfied, he returned to the fallen pillar and dragged a broken stone fragment beneath one of the green lanterns lining the wall.
He stared as the flame inside the lanterns flickered steadily, giving off faint warmth. Using a loose length of the chain he had collected, he fashioned a crude hook and suspended the salted flesh near the heat.
Slowly, it tightened.
At intervals, drops of mixture fell and hissed faintly against the stone. Not long after, the smell had changed from being less metallic to less raw.
Melvin swallowed.
When he finally pulled it down, it had shrunk and hardened at the edges. He stared at it for a long moment and shrugged.
"Congratulations," he muttered hoarsely. "You have officially lost your standards."
Not letting it bother him, he took a bite.
The meat chunk was tough, overwhelmingly salty, and slightly bitter. It wasn't the pleasant taste one expected, and it didn't make him gag either. But the fact remained that it cured his momentary craving for food.
He chewed slowly and forced it down. Soon, he finished a part of the roasted meat that just satisfied him well enough, leaning back against the pillar afterward.
He reserved the rest of the meat chunks, with the claim he didn't know what kind of creatures he was going to face next and possibly feast on. The sea slug had been very much disgusting, and he would rather not test his patience to know what other creatures looked like.
Besides, the devil he knew was better than the angel he didn't know.
Looking around, Melvin suddenly felt extinguished. He needed rest.
Strangely, time didn't seem to be moving in this magical world of the Silver Spire; hence, he didn't know what session of the day it was. Regardless, he must rest for the adventures ahead.
With an embarrassing yawn, Melvin retired to a secluded area across the hall and settled on the marble floor behind the supporting pillar.
"Oh! God, keep me safe," he prayed, then pulled his knees forward, hugged his hands over them, and rested his head on the resting surface it formed.
It didn't take long before Melvin fell into a deep sleep.
***
Four days had passed ever since Melvin defeated the Sea Slug King.
Four long, echoing days. Although immeasurable in the Silver Spire.
During these days, he survived on salted strips of slug flesh, condensed moisture gathered from the lantern heat as water, and stubbornness. Although the taste never improved, it became unnoticeable to him after consistent consumption.
Also, during these days, he found no monster servants.
It wasn't that he craved battle. His body still ached when he moved too quickly.
It was he who had assumed that his exit from this cursed place depended on defeating other monster servants and collecting the keys from them. After days of searching, he decided to let fate decide for him.
After all, he expected that his mark [Luck] was going to do wonders like it had before. Only this time, he prayed that it should be a favorable one.
During Melvin's exploration in the Bastion, its structure slowly revealed itself. The underground hall—where he had fought the Sea Slug King—was but a basement.
Above it stretched the true hall. The first hall he had met upon entrance.
The slope passage that had swallowed him now connected both levels, making the hall feel like a towering chamber split in two by an extended gallery—broad and shadowed, running like a spine through the middle.
He only realized the full scale when he stepped into the darkness that had been obscured in the underground hall. On the other hand, the cloudy wall he remembered from his first entrance was also gone.
Both of them have been replaced by light.
This change seemed to have become imminent after he defeated the abomination dwelling in the Bastion. A vast, shimmering whirl of green cosmos churned where the darkness had been. It spiraled slowly, casting shifting reflections across marble and pillar alike.
And within that whirl, in the middle of the green cosmos, a gigantic door.
It rose from beneath the underground floor all the way to the shadowed ceiling above. Seamless. Monolithic. Ancient beyond comprehension.
It looked like it was placed by ancient hands.
Melvin had found it on the second day of his exploration around the Bastion.
He had imagined it was another dimension of the first step and so hadn't approached then because he thought he hadn't been ready.
But now, he stood before it. He was ready to embrace any danger that was beyond that door.
He let out a soft exhale and summoned the Slime Armor. The purple layer slid over his body like a second skin, plated metal forming protectives at parts like his elbows, shoulders, and abdominal and torso area. It looked cool and flexible still.
Aftertick followed, forming in his right hand, its golden handle firm and familiar.
With his left, he shoved the last piece of salted meat into his mouth and chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving the towering door.
When he swallowed, he exhaled again, letting the chunks digest.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see if I can find more monster servants."
Then, without ceremony, Melvin stepped forward.
And passed through the door.