Sins of the Forefathers: A LitRPG Fantasy Isekai

The next few floors were very similar to the second one. Each of them was constructed in a similar manner, with eight cells in total. On the third floor, we found that there were actually two adults mixed in with the children instead of just one like the second. However, one of them was in a bad shape.

Coaxing the child to the bars, we got a stuttered explanation out of them that the shivering form of an older man was one Mr. Craight. Apparently, he had got some kind of illness some time ago, and the Guards were unsympathetic to it. Grey immediately melted the lock on that particular cell and ushered Aurum inside. It was time for the healer that we had brought along to do his job.

Before we left, I made sure to carefully hand the Sculpted several of the potions that Grey and I had brewed for this possibility. Aurum took them from me warily, unable to meet my eyes anymore. Unphased by our byplay, Grey ordered Aurum to check in with each of the prisoners once he had stabilized Craight, and then do the same with the other floors. We left Venix on that floor in order to guard Aurum and start breaking people out. I’m pretty sure the massive Antium was more than up to the task.

On the third floor, we discovered that this level was draftier than the others. There were actually a few sets of thin, slit-like windows set into the walls of a few of the cells.

This wasn’t a good thing. Those windows were letting in too much cold sea air and letting it collect in the small confines of this floor. I don’t know what was keeping the cold from reaching the lower floors, but this one was uniquely chilly.

Everyone on it was sick to some degree.

Grey, Sylvia, Bella and I immediately got to work breaking cell locks so we could start administering potions. Some of them were so ill, however, that there wasn’t much that could be done with just potions. These kids needed actual medical attention, and the four of us just weren’t up to it. We gathered up who we could and started moving them off of this level to the one below us. At the very least were able to get them out of the cold. We told Aurum to prioritize them, for now.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t all. We found our first dead prisoner on that level, when we were moving the children.

In one of the cells was a small, curled-up body lying still underneath a threadbare blanket. I…

I had a hard time looking at them.

Just the thought of what these bastards had allowed to be done to a child filled my heart with an impotent rage. I wanted to scream and thrash and break something. How could these people do this? How can you even call yourself human, if you inflicted such suffering on a child? And for what? Because some fucking slaver noble told you that they were the children of rebels?

Nothing could ever justify this.

I wasn’t the only one to be affected, either. While I couldn’t see Sylvia’s face through her still-raised hood, I could see Bella’s.

The pirate Captain had the darkest look I’d ever seen on her sharp features. Whenever one of the children couldn’t see her, a profoundly murderous look would emerge, pointed through the thin windows at the ships we could see faintly.

Grey though, was just tired. All his fire from earlier seemed to drain from his slight form at the sight of the dead child. With an almost careless gesture, he melted away the lock on that particular cell and stepped inside with heavy steps.

Gingerly, Grey knelt down to pick up the tragic figure and held it in his arms. Nudging the blanket out of the way slightly so he could see their face, he sighed heavily at what he found. “I recognize this one,” He said to me mournfully. I was the only one up here with him right now, as both Sylvia and Bella were downstairs with Aurum assisting with the rest of the sick children.

I was silent for a moment, taking in the tragic scene. Eventually, I stirred. “Who is it?”

“Lady Turnold’s niece,” Grey said tiredly. Carefully, he covered the poor girl's face once again with the blanket. “Samantha, I believe her name is. Was.”

Lady Turnold…

I recognized that name. She had been at the war council, all those weeks ago. The stern woman who had questioned Grey about Azarus and me. She…didn’t deserve this.

Nobody did.

Silently, the two of us exited the cell and walked down the steps to the third floor, where Aurum, Sylvia, and Bella were working. When we stepped onto the landing, Bella was the first to notice us. At the sight of the still form cradled in Grey’s arms, she visibly snarled before forcing it down. I don’t think she wanted to scare the children more than they already were.

Grey approached her. “Please, take her down to the first floor Isabella,” Grey asked her wearily. “We still have two more prisoners to free.”

Gingerly, Bella accepted the tiny form from Grey. Looking down at it, I could see the woman choke something down, and then nod tightly at Grey. She hunched over the form in order to better hide it from view, and then wordlessly started walking away toward the lower stairs.

Meanwhile, Grey turned to nod at me and gestured back to the upper stairs. He didn’t wait for a response before climbing back up them. He didn’t need to, anyway.

I was right behind him.

……………………………………..

As Richard Everfield had told us, there were only two cells on the fifth and last floor of the tower. The floor itself was much smaller than the others had been, with only a small walkway in between the two cell doors. These cells were much more like the ones that had been in the rest of the building, with large wooden doors on them.

They were much more elaborate, however.

These doors were covered in runic inscriptions, and I could feel the Mana wafting off of them. Whatever kind of warding scheme had been built into these cells was pretty damn powerful. I would have thought that Grey would know about them, but…

Grey was staring at the obviously enchanted doors with an irritated look on his face.

I sighed. “I’m guessing these aren’t part of your design?”

Grey snorted, not turning to face me. “A brilliant deduction. No, I’m not familiar with this particular enchantment but I recognize elements of it. I believe these are suppression wards. Essentially a broader form of enchantment similar to a slave brand, they suppress a person’s Status within a certain area. These are likely the only reason the occupants have yet to break themselves free.”

“I’m guessing they’re pretty strong, then,” I said tiredly, drained from the entire situation. Normally I enjoyed these little micro-lessons with Grey, but not now. Not after the quiet horrors that I’d seen in this tower.

Grey seemed like he wasn’t in the mood either. “Strong enough,” He said shortly, before placing a hand on his sword. “However, they won’t be an issue. I’m capable enough myself.” Drawing his blue and white longsword, Grey marched up to the cell on the left. Gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands, Grey violent stabbed his sword into the wood of the door. Despite being made of wood, and with Grey’s considerable strength, it only penetrated an inch with the sound of a tortured shriek of metal for some reason. It was as if the door was solid steel instead. However, I don’t think Grey cared. “Drink, Stellarum,” He said coldly.

The almost stone-like material of Grey’s sword began to glow with a harsh black light. The tendrils of black light crawled down the length of the azure blade and infiltrated the surface of the door. Just underneath the wood surface of it, I could see those tendrils spread out, occasionally peaking through it as if they were curious worms. Slowly, the entirety of the wooden door started to glow the blue color of concentrated Mana, before dimming. Somehow, I could see the black light that ‘Stellarum’ was emitting ‘eat’ the Mana somehow. When the last dregs of blue light had dissipated, the tendrils of hungry black power retreated back into the blade, before Grey withdrew it from the door.

The entire process took only seconds.

When it was done, the door seemed more fragile somehow. Where before it had resonated with a strength born from its enchantments, now it seemed like it was even less than a normal slab of wood. I tentatively reached out and laid a finger on it, only for the entire door to collapse into ash the moment I did so. I jerked my finger back in surprise.

I was caught off guard by a voice echoing out of the cell.

“So,” I heard an oddly hollow voice ring out of the oddly large cell, before the rhythmic thumping of wood on stone approached the light outside of it. “They finally sent someone to the rescue, I see.” Stepping into view was perhaps the oddest Sculpted I had ever seen.

This must be Woodrick.

As I’d come to expect he’d be, his body was shaped from solid wood. Oak, if I had to take a guess. His form was that of a muscular human man, with intricate muscles sculpted from smooth bark visible across his exposed torso. The only thing he was wearing was a set of prison rags tied around his waist. He was tall too, even more so than I was. I might clock him at around six and a half feet tall, so not quite Venix height if I had to guess. But it was his face that drew my eye.

Incongruously, it looked like he had a beard.

The beard itself was entirely formed from rich green lichen and moss that molded itself to the shape of his handsome features. It was long, too, reaching down to the base of his neck. On a human man, I’d call his features chiseled. But since he was wooden, I guess I could say it was whittled instead. Like Sylvia, he had the same kind of articulating plates that formed and simulated the human face, only made of wood. Like her, there were dozens of them, each fitted together seamlessly. From his head fell long locks of lichen and moss, twisted together into what looked like dreadlocks. His eyes were the only things about his body that weren’t made of organic materials.

They were stone.

Carved to look like human eyes, they looked oddly fluid set into his sockets. They were also intricately constructed, out of what seemed to be three different kinds of stone. The sclera looked to be made from white and black flecked granite, while the pupil seemed to be made from solid chunks of obsidian. However, the actual iris of his eyes seemed to be carved from a rich red ruby. They glowed out of the darkness of the cell, fixed on me. I watched as somehow, the pupils in his stone eyes contracted just like a human’s would, from the light outside the cell.

“However,” The Sculpted man said idly. “I don’t recognize you.”

I blinked at him. “Ah. I’m with him,” I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder.

Who I could only assume was Woodrick looked over my shoulder. He made a noise of realization, seeing who else was here. “Is that you, Grey?” He called out, relaxing slightly. I turned to look, and saw that Grey was already marching up to the second cell door. He lifted his left hand not holding Stellarum and waved over his shoulder, saying nothing.

I was startled when Woodrick appeared at my shoulder. “I suppose he’s focused on freeing whoever’s in the other cell,” He said casually.

My eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know who’s in there?”

Woodrick turned to look at me. “Mmm, no. I was captured after that cell was locked up. Whoever’s in there has been here longer than I was. They sure do make a ruckus sometimes, though.”

“I see,” I said quietly, watching as Grey stabbed his blade into the second cell door. “Well, I’ve never met her, but I’m told it’s supposed to be someone named ‘Lady Honoka’.”

“What?” Woodrick said, startled. “That can’t be right. Honoka was free when I was ambushed. Whoever’s in that cell has been there at least before I was captured.”

I turned to look at Woodrick sharply at that. “Wait. If it’s not Honoka in that cell, who is?”

Woodrick and I stared at each other for a moment, before realization stole across our faces simultaneously.

I spun around, outstretching a hand towards my mentor fruitlessly. “GREY, STOP!” I shouted desperately. “IT’S A TR-”

I was too late. I could tell that Stellarum had already eaten the enchantment on the door when Grey turned to look at us in confusion.

Something massive exploded through the doorway, in a thunderous hail of stone and ash.