SSS Unknown: Dark Knight's Legacy

"Damn it, the crack still won't open. What the hell's going on?" Boar's voice echoed through the cave, frustration tinged with desperation.

"Are we going to be stuck here forever? This can't be happening!" Meat's voice cracked, the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

They had been trapped for what felt like an eternity. Days turned into weeks, and still, the crack—a supposed gateway—remained sealed. Supplies were dwindling fast, and despite their best efforts to hunt and scavenge, their ventures outside had yielded minimal success.

Meat still bore the raw wounds of a failed expedition, his body aching, his resolve faltering.

The old Lizardman, Steel, stood apart from the heated argument, his tired eyes scanning the horizon of their small camp.

He had seen much in his time, but this endless wait, this crushing isolation, was starting to eat away at him. What had been a simple mission—intended to last no more than a week—had dragged on for over a month, with no sign of rescue, no indication that anyone was coming for them.

Morale was at rock bottom. The air was thick with the stench of fear, frustration, and hopelessness. They were all beginning to crack under the pressure. If this isolation stretched on any longer, madness would take root.

"Could it be… we're just test subjects?" Meat's voice barely rose above a whisper, the question hanging in the stale air, but neither Boar nor Steel dared respond.

"No, no way. I can't—I can't be stuck here forever!" Boar shouted, his fists clenched tightly in anger. The young Ogre's temper flared as he struggled with the reality of their situation.

Thud! Steel's tail slammed into the ground with a force that reverberated through the air, a clear warning.

"Calm down!"

"How can I calm down?" Boar snapped, his voice full of raw emotion. "You don't have anyone outside to worry about! No family, no life waiting for you!" His words were sharp, a jab at Steel's stoic nature.

"Boar! Don't talk like that!" Meat immediately interjected, his voice pleading.

"What's wrong with what I said?!" Boar continued, his frustration bubbling over. "If we'd gone deeper, we might've found a way out!"

Steel's gaze turned cold, a warning in his eyes. "Are you stupid? There's no evidence that pushing deeper would help us escape. Or do you want to be torn apart by the Shadow Wolves?"

The cave fell silent as the words sank in. The young Ogre clenched his fists, but the fierce anger in his eyes slowly ebbed, replaced by the heavy weight of Steel's reasoning. Still, he didn't say anything.

"I know you're frustrated, but stay calm," Steel said, his voice steady and low, though the tension was thick in the air.

With a deep breath, Steel pulled a map from his pack—the crude sketch drawn by Meat detailing their explorations so far. The markings were scattered across the paper, covering areas they had ventured into, the creatures they had encountered, the plants they had studied.

But there was one detail that stood out—a noticeable scarcity of monsters. There were more signs of death than life: mutilated bodies, scorched and disfigured beyond recognition, indicating something far more sinister at play.

"We should keep waiting," Steel said, his voice unwavering despite the tension. "Eventually, that crack will open. Surviving in the meantime isn't too hard."

"Yeah, just wait," Meat added, his tone strained as he winced from the pain in his side. "At least until my injuries heal."

"Is that really the plan? Or is someone eavesdropping from afar? Have you heard enough?" Meat suddenly shouted, spinning around, the irritation boiling over.

A figure stepped from the shadows, its presence sudden and undeniable. Unlike the previous encounter, this time the figure didn't seem as imposing, but its presence was unmistakable.

Boar, however, wasn't so calm. The moment he saw the boy's face, fear overtook him. He screamed and scrambled behind Steel, his eyes wide with panic.

"I don't intend to attack," the boy said, his voice surprisingly calm, almost dismissive, as he stood before them. There was no sign of hostility in his posture, no immediate threat in his movements.

If he had wanted them dead, he could have done so long ago. Yet, for reasons unknown, he had chosen not to. Now, both parties stood in an uneasy standoff, trapped in the same oppressive situation but with completely different goals.

For the boy with the black hair, survival was paramount. For Steel and his group, their mission to find the [sword of Desire] was everything.

"…So, what now?" Steel asked, his voice low, his eyes narrowing as he studied the boy carefully.

The boy shrugged, his indifference clear. "I'm here for information. I want to know your story."

Steel was cautious, his wariness palpable. "And what do we get in return?"

"That depends on the request…"

There was a long pause as both sides weighed the situation. Steel's mind raced. Was this man trustworthy? Was he just another player in the deadly game they were caught in, or could he be a valuable ally?

After a moment, Steel sighed and extended his hand, his sharp eyes never leaving the man's face. "Alright, then. I want you to help us explore this dungeon."

The man grasped Steel's scaled hand without hesitation, the deal struck without further words. 

Both sides knew it was a gamble. There was no trust between them yet, but for now, they had a mutual goal—to survive, to escape, to uncover whatever secrets lay hidden in the depths of the dungeon.

But no one could shake the feeling that they were all being drawn into something far bigger than any of them could have imagined. And whether this uneasy alliance would prove beneficial or disastrous was yet to be seen.

***

"Alright, I've gotten a decent grasp of their situation," Unknown muttered to himself, leaning against the rough cave wall.

Through their uneasy alliance, he had managed to piece together fragments of information about the trio's origins and circumstances. 

Yet, even with their insights, the larger mysteries eluded him.

"How to get out of here, and who created this place—I still don't know," he mused quietly. His mind lingered on the possibility of a space-time rift, the key to escaping.

But the conditions for its appearance remained frustratingly vague, an enigma wrapped in layers of danger.

One hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, while the other held a skewer of roasted rat meat. The savory, albeit crude, meal did little to distract him from his thoughts.

His eyes stayed on the group as they huddled around a small fire, discussing plans and sharing stories, oblivious to the boy's scrutinizing gaze.

"First, let's continue the exploration," he thought, taking a small bite of the meat. "I should limit the information I share with them. There's no benefit in letting them know about my situation."

It was a calculated move. 

Despite their shared predicament, he had revealed nothing personal—not even his name. Not that he knew his name to begin with.

Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when his survival depended on staying one step ahead of both his companions and the dungeon itself. For now, he would play along, offering just enough assistance to keep their alliance intact while keeping his true intentions hidden.

"Hey," Meat called out, breaking the quiet. "Don't you want to sit with us? We've got room."

"No need," Unknown replied curtly, raising a hand in refusal as he stepped further into the shadows.

The trio exchanged uneasy glances, but they didn't press further. He was an enigma to them, an ally perhaps, but one they didn't fully understand or trust.

Steel, ever the pragmatic leader, redirected the focus. "After resting, we'll head to the area near the southern edge of the dungeon. Prepare yourselves. We've mapped some of the terrain, but we'll need to be cautious."

Meat looked toward the boy. "And what about you? Are you coming with us?"

"I'm tired," Unknown said, his tone clipped. "I'll go on ahead."

Before anyone could argue, he turned and vanished into the darkness, his footsteps silent against the stone floor. 

Pulling the hood of his cloak tighter over his head, Unknown left the group's makeshift resting station, his figure blending into the shadows like a ghost. 

Every step was deliberate, his movements soundless against the jagged terrain. The suffocating silence of the dungeon pressed in on him, broken only by the distant dripping of water and the occasional skitter of unseen creatures.

He searched for a defensible spot to rest, somewhere hidden from view but offering a vantage point to spot potential threats. After a short trek, he found what he was looking for—a narrow alcove carved into the dungeon wall, its entrance partially concealed by a curtain of hanging roots.

Carefully, he began clearing the area. Stones were rolled aside, suspicious plants crushed underfoot, and webs torn away. Every inch was scrutinized with the precision of someone who had learned the hard way.

"If I don't do this, I'll end up bitten by centipedes again," he muttered, his tone bitter as his gloved hand swept the ground.

The memory still irked him: a centipede, its shiny carapace gleaming like polished steel, had crawled onto him while he slept during his first week here. 

Its venomous bite had been a searing nightmare, paralyzing half his body and leaving him writhing in agony. In a desperate, adrenaline-fueled act, he had crushed the oversized insect with his dagger, but the venom had lingered, sapping his strength for hours.

That experience had hardened him. Never again would he be caught off guard. He now slept fully dressed, gloves on and dagger within reach.

The centipedes became a personal nemesis, and his hatred for their venom drove him to extreme measures. Over time, he began microdosing the venom on himself, enduring the pain and sickness to build resistance. 

The process was grueling, but it paid off. His body adapted, and he had since earned a rudimentary resistance to poisons. It wasn't foolproof, but it gave him a slight edge in this merciless dungeon.

Once satisfied the alcove was secure, Unknown leaned back against the cool stone, his fingers lightly drumming against the hilt of his sword. 

His gaze drifted upward to the glowing cracks that marbled the dungeon ceiling. The light was faint, like the dying embers of a distant fire, but it offered a strange sense of perspective amidst the oppressive gloom.

"They seem like decent people," he murmured, thinking of Steel and his group. "But trusting them blindly isn't an option—especially not with that Steel guy."

Steel was sharp, disciplined, and methodical. A natural leader, but also someone who was clearly wary of him. The feeling was mutual. While their goals temporarily aligned, Unknown knew better than to fully trust anyone in this hellish place. 

Motives could shift, and alliances could crumble under pressure.

Their mission revolved around the [Sword of Desire], a legendary relic rumored to hold immense power. To Steel and his group, the sword represented hope—perhaps a way to complete their mission even salvation.

But to Unknown, it was nothing more than a means to an end. He cared little for the sword's power or history. If it offered a way out of this accursed dungeon, he would seize it without hesitation.

Wrapping his cloak tightly around himself, Unknown settled in to rest. Yet even in his exhaustion, his instincts kept him on edge. 

His breathing slowed, but his ears remained attuned to every sound—the distant skitter of creatures, the drip of water, the faint, hollow echoes of the dungeon.

Here, complacency was death. Sleep was a risk, but one he had to take.