Chapter 319: Ruinous Budget

Balthazar’s eyes widened.

[Through your experimentation and clever use of unusual imbuing materials, you have reached new grounds with this skill. Absorbing a material now allows you to learn it permanently and activate its effect on demand without needing to consume more of it.]

[Imbuing]

[Skill - B tier]

[Requirements: 15 CHA, 20 INT]

[Cost: 30 mana]

[Absorb a compatible held material to learn its infusing properties, or activate the effects of an already known material to temporarily infuse them on yourself or a channeled entity.]

For several seconds, Balthazar said nothing. Then he let out a long sigh of relief.

“Well, thank goodness!”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Sir Bartholomew. “This is a magnificent advancement of thy already remarkable imbuing abilities! This is a tremendous achievement! Thy skill has evolved beyond its former limitations! No longer shall the great merchant crab merely dabble in temporary effects. More tactical options! Thou hast unlocked the very secrets of permanent—”

“I don’t have to keep using perfectly good merchandise anymore.”

Bartholomew fell silent for a moment before speaking again.

“Oh. That too. I suppose…”

Balthazar looked at his claws with a satisfied smile.

“That’s what matters. I can learn an effect once, then use it later without having to burn through the material every single time. Do you know how much money I’ve wasted on things like that?”

“I was referring more to the wondrous magical implications.”

“Coin is a wondrous thing too.”

“I… suppose it is, from thy perspective.”

Balthazar looked over the new skill again.

“So I can just absorb materials now, learn their effects, and use them on command later? Neat.”

“Precisely! Thou shouldst begin experimenting at once! Stone! Wood! Metal! Mushrooms! Perhaps even purchasing rare and exotic materials from fellow mercators to experiment with! Who knows what incredible powers await discovery?”

“That sounds expensive,” the crab said flatly.

“Thou hast just been informed that thou needest not consume the materials again after the first time.”

“I still need to spend mana to activate the skill.”

“Ah,” said the barnacle. “A fair and well-observed point.”

“30 mana each time,” Balthazar added. “That means I can’t use it more than once at a time right now, since I have a maximum of 50. So I should be careful with how, when, and where I activate it, in case I need the mana.”

Balthazar turned his attention toward the chamber ahead.

“Besides, I’ve got more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. Like that ominous sound coming from down there.”

A faint humming sound had been coming from somewhere deeper in the ruins.

It was low and steady, almost like a distant machine running beneath the stone. The sound had been there before, but Balthazar had been too busy dealing with the wall to pay it much attention.

Now that he had stopped moving, it was impossible to ignore.

“Hear that?”

“Indeed! A most ominous hum.”

“Well, there’s no other path now, so straight toward the creepy noise it is.”

“Like a true adventurer!” the barnacle excitedly declared.

Balthazar rolled his eyestalks before skittering forward.

The corridor ahead was darker than the one behind him. The lantern he got from the Trader cast a warm glow over the damp stone, but the light seemed to weaken the farther it traveled. At the end of the passage, however, a faint orange light shone through the darkness.

The humming came from there.

Balthazar slowed.

The walls became increasingly covered in strange carvings as he approached. Some were simple lines and circles. Others resembled letters or numbers, though none of them meant anything to him.

The humming grew louder.

Eventually, the corridor opened into a large chamber, and Balthazar stopped at the entrance.

A gigantic stone gate stood at the far end of the room, reaching nearly to the ceiling. Three thick chains hung from above it, each ending in a large circular handle that rested at different heights. The warm orange light seemed to shine from cracks around the gate.

Balthazar stared at the chains.

“Let me guess…”

His eyes scanned the area around the gate, until he spotted a skeleton resting against a nearby pillar.

Sure enough, a piece of old paper rested neatly on its lap.

“Of course,” the annoyed crustacean said. “It’s like there isn’t a single living or unliving thing in these ruins except for me.”

“But imagine how much budget the makers of these ruins must have saved!”

Balthazar shook his shell as he walked over to the skeleton and picked up the letter.

The paper was old and brittle, but the writing remained readable.

I have lost my last partner.

Ferguson is dead.

He tried to open the gate by pulling the chains. There are three of them, and we could not determine which order they were meant to be pulled in.

He tried them at random.

The walls came alive with darts.

By the time I reached him, he had been peppered with poisoned needles. There was nothing I could do.

There must be a correct order. The symbols carved around the chamber seem to be some sort of puzzle, but I cannot make sense of them.

I can only hope I solve it and do it correctly.

I would rather not suffer the same fate as Ferguson.

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Balthazar lowered the paper and looked around the chamber more carefully.

The walls were covered in markings.

There were rows and rows of symbols carved into large stone panels surrounding the gate. Some looked like numbers. Others resembled strange animals, geometric shapes, arrows, circles, and symbols Balthazar had never seen before.

He stepped closer.

“Hmm…”

Sir Bartholomew’s voice rose with excitement.

“Behold! Ancient markings, forgotten symbols, and a puzzle devised by the architects of this mysterious ruin! What secrets might they conceal? What lost civilization carved these riddles into stone? Perhaps they were a forgotten order of scholars, sworn to guard some ancient treasure beyond this gate! And now, only the incomparable intellect of the great Sir Bartholomew’s host stands between—”

“I have no idea where to even start,” the merchant plainly.

Bartholomew stopped. The silence lasted several seconds.

“Perhaps…” he began quietly.

Balthazar glanced back toward where the barnacle resided on his shell.

“What?”

“Perhaps thou couldst begin with that other piece of paper sitting conveniently upon that stone column over there?” the chronicler said sheepishly.

Balthazar turned.

Sure enough, another piece of paper rested on top of a stone column near the gate.

He let out a long, tired sight.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He marched over and grabbed the paper. There was only one line written on it.

I made it through the gate. The correct order is first chain, then the second, then the third.

Balthazar stared at the note, his gaze as if devoid of any will to live.

Sir Bartholomew spoke after a moment.

“So the solution was one, two, three. How clever!”

“No, it’s not!” the crab exclaimed, waving the paper angrily. “It’s extremely dumb! And worse, if you make it through the gate, why would you waste the time to go back and leave the solution on a piece of paper?! You just go!”

“Perhaps he wished to aid future explorers?”

“Future explorers can figure it out themselves!”

Balthazar marched toward the chains.

“Besides, this is ridiculous.”

“Wait, noble host! It could yet be a trick! The note may have been deliberately placed to lure the unwary into using an incorrect sequence only to—”

Balthazar pulled the first chain. Nothing happened.

He pulled the second and a deep rumble echoed through the chamber.

Then he pulled the third and the stone gate began to rise.

Balthazar folded his arms.

“Of course it worked,” he said, tapping one of his legs impatiently while waiting for the gate to rise.

“Oh… never you mind then,” the barnacle muttered.

The gate continued rising until there was enough room for Balthazar to pass beneath it.

Beyond lay another vast, circular chamber.

A single column of sunlight poured through a hole high above, illuminating a huge ornate chest resting on a stone pedestal at the very center.

Balthazar’s eyestalks shot upward and his entire mood changed.

“Finally! Some reward!”

He hurried across the chamber.

The light from above glittered across the polished metal fittings of the chest. Intricate patterns covered its lid, and several gemstones had been set into the corners.

“This looks promising.”

“At last, a treasure worthy of thy legendary journey!”

Balthazar reached the pedestal and placed both pincers beneath the lid of the chest and lifted.

The lid clicked and opened.

Balthazar peeked inside with both eyestalks and found… nothing.

No gold.

No gemstones.

No magical artifacts.

No ancient relics.

Nothing.

Except for yet again, another piece of old paper.

Balthazar’s expression slowly flattened.

“You cannot be serious…”

He picked up the paper slowly, pincers trembling as he unfolded it.

It was all for naught.

We came here seeking glory after discovering an old journal in another dungeon on the continent. It spoke of Battershoal and hinted at secrets hidden somewhere within these ruins.

We found nothing.

No treasure.

No knowledge.

Nothing.

Only our own doom.

I shall leave this place now and make for the temple deep within the island’s jungle. Surely there I will find the answers to Battershoal’s secret.

Balthazar finished reading. He stared at the empty chest. Then at the letter. Then back at the chest.

“This entire place was a waste of time,” he said in a quiet voice that lacked any emotion to it save for a small hint of defeat.

He tossed the letter back inside and slammed the lid shut. The echo of the impact rolled through the chamber.

“I’ve had enough of this ruin.”

Balthazar turned and headed toward the opposite side of the room.

He was nearly there when something caught his eye.

Another skeleton.

“Huh?”

He looked closer. A piece of paper was clutched in its hand.

“No. No, no, no.”

He walked over and pulled it free.

“Please just be a shopping list.”the merchant said as he unfolded it.

I found an exit.

There was an opening above the chamber that leads outside.

Even with our climbing gear, the wall was too steep and wet. The stone offered little grip, and the wet surface caused the climbing hooks to slide rather than catch properly.

I slipped halfway up.

I broke my leg.

A jagged rock also pierced my stomach. I am bleeding heavily.

I am becoming lightheaded very quickly.

I do not think I have much time left.

If anyone finds this letter, I hope they will remember that I made it this far.

I hope they will remember my deeds, my feats, my lifetime love for the written word, or if nothing else, at least my name.

Yours truly…

Balthazar stopped reading and threw the letter aside

“Nope! I really don’t care anymore!” he said in unbridled exasperation. “Who the hell is dying and takes the time to write a letter?! And with neat handwriting too!”

He threw his pincers into the air.

“You’re bleeding to death! Your leg is broken! You’re getting lightheaded! Stop writing and do something!”

Sir Bartholomew remained unusually quiet.

“Or, I don’t know, try to stop the bleeding!”

Balthazar pointed angrily at the abandoned letter.

“Eat one last biscuit before passing out! Anything!”

He took a deep breath.

Then he looked up.

The opening above was visible from this side of the chamber. Beyond it was the sky.

Freedom from that place.

Balthazar’s irritation faded slightly.

“Alright. Enough of this.”

He searched the corners of the chamber.

In one of them he spotted more cobwebs.

He hurried over and gathered the strands together, rolling them into a sticky ball between his pincers.

Sir Bartholomew finally spoke.

“I presume thou hast learned something from thy previous encounter with these webs?”

“I did.”

Balthazar looked up at the opening and held the bundle out.

[Imbuing activated: Silk Web absorbed]

[Silk Web imbuing learned!]

A familiar warmth spread through his claws.

The tips of his appendages became coated in a thin, shimmering layer of sticky substance.

Balthazar walked over to the wall and pressed one claw against the wet stone.

It worked. The sticky chitin stuck immediately.

He placed another claw higher.

Then a leg.

Then another.

Soon Balthazar was climbing.

The stone was just as wet and steep as the explorer had described, but the sticky substance held him firmly against it. Where climbing hooks had slipped across the slick surface, Balthazar’s imbued appendages clung to the stone without difficulty.

“Behold! The miraculous ascent of the merchant crab!”

“Not now, Bartholomew.”

“Very well,” the chronicler replied.

Balthazar climbed higher and the sunlight grew brighter.

His legs ached from the effort of hauling himself and his backpack all the way up, doing his best to never look down.

His hat nearly fell twice, but he managed to catch it with his sticky claw, but he kept going until his pincers finally reached the edge of the opening.

With one final pull, he hauled himself over the ledge.

Fresh jungle air washed over him.

He was outside. On the other side of the ruins, far from the entrance, judging by the tip of the stone archway he could see in the distance between the trees.

The jungle stretched around him, thick and green, with sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead.

He looked back at the dark opening.

“Good riddance.”

Then he turned.

Someone was standing farther ahead in a clearing between the dense vegetation of the jungle, waiting for him.

Balthazar’s eyestalks rose.

“You!”