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Chapter 8: Stereotypical (1)
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 03:16:49 +0000 UTC“Hey, is it just me or is it too quiet in here?”
Irina glanced over her shoulder, glaring at Jain.
Jain made a zipping motion over his mouth, following close behind her. She gave a satisfied grunt.
Understandably, it wasn’t the first time the two went over this routine.
Unfortunately, the museum didn’t keep the lights on after dark. After all, most of the guests would have left by now and monster attacks, while not completely outside of the realm of possibility, didn’t exactly make for a good case of keeping the lights on. For the same reason that Kaiju Attacks weren’t part of an insurance policy, the museum cut costs where they could. That meant that Jain and Irina walked almost completely in the dark.
Almost being the keyword.
Although the museum had opted to keep the lights off in most hallways, the exceptions were the exhibits. Not the hallways next to the exhibits but the light within the glass walls. As a result, the fluorescent light bulbs gave Jain and Irina a good view into the contained displays. One would think that having a little bit of light would make things better, after all, humans are creatures that rely mostly on sight. So when they walked into the World War II exhibit, Jain felt a cheerful thrust in the back of his mind.
Visibility, something that instantly gave people’s prey-like minds a sense of safety. A false bolstering confidence.
It crumbled to dust within seconds.
Once Jain got used to the light, he realized that it actually served the opposite effect. Rather than brighten the displays, the light actually seemed to make it darker. Shadows existed where there weren’t before, moving in unison with Jain and Irina’s steps. They shivered menacingly and had the added effect of warping whatever display lay behind the glass. Jain almost screamed at seeing one of the life-sized models of a soldier, poised to charge with his bayonet straight at him.
He opted to grab onto Irina’s arm instead. “Shit!”
“Eek!”
“...Was that you?”
Irina didn’t turn around.
“Did you just squeal?”
She didn’t answer.
“You have a six-foot long sword.”
“Zamolchi.”
“I saw you step on bugs. Like… really big man-eating killer bugs.”
“That meant shut up in Russian.” She hissed.
“I mean, you really did a number on them. You did a warcry and everything.”
Irina took a step backwards, crashing into Jain. Jain chortled, continuing the barrage of teasing.
“Cause I thought for sure you were some tough russian. But that squeal sounded like a little-”
Irina’s arm whipped around and before Jain could blink, she was behind him. Her slender arm snaked around his chest with one arm while the other closed around his mouth.
“Mmph!” He struggled but her arms were locked iron tight.
“Do. Not. Make. A. Sound.” She whispered.
Jain finally understood why.
Someone –no, something– was walking near them.
Jain’s eyes widened and his legs went wobbly at the same moment that the creature came into one of the dimly lit hallways.
It was a hulking seven-foot tall creature covered in what looked like long strands of hair. Its gargantuan torso heaved with every step, as if it pained the creature just to make that much movement. Its voice was guttural and strangely reminded Jain of tree branches straining under weight. Even though its features were hidden with hair, its thick arms and legs were no doubt enough to crush Jain to a pulp without much effort.
Feeling Irina’s body tense, Jain held his breath.
And in that moment, Jain subconsciously used his ability.
The feeling came much easier to him this time. If Jain had to describe it, it was like learning how to walk for the first time and then never forgetting. You didn’t think about doing it, you just did.
It also beat yelling out the skill name before using it every time.
A tiny system window popped above the creature’s head, slightly overlapping its stooped figure.
—
Name: Karajà Spirit
Grade: ?
Description
???
—
The same window when he tried to [Identify] Irina’s sword popped up, overlapping the first.
[LEVEL REQ NOT MET]
Jain bit back a curse. He wasn’t a gamer by any means but he knew the basics. Kill things, get EXP, level up, get stuff and kill more things. He also didn’t need the system to remind him constantly that level two was pathetically low.
Suddenly the monster stopped. Then it began to stretch.
Eight, nine, ten, twelve.
Fifteen feet tall when it wasn’t hunched over. Which was, from Jain’s point of view, physically impossible.
‘Don’t focus on what’s possible, focus on what could be.’ Jain reminded himself, grinding his teeth in frustration.
A constant reminder that he had to throw out everything he knew out the window. That nothing made sense nor will it begin to make sense.
Then the monster did something that simultaneously drew the full weight of Jain’s attention –as well as made his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.
“I see you.” It muttered.
Jain had thought that Irina had been tense before. It had been nothing.
Her entire body became like a stone statue. The russian girl’s arm became like steel rods, locking Jain’s chest, arm and unfortunate neck into a killer vice grip. It’s voice sent dull needles pinching into every exposed skin, sending Jain’s hairs standing on end and endless shivers down his spine.
Still, the former psychic didn’t make a sound.
A single bead of sweat rolled off his forehead.
Still nothing.
Jain’s bloodshot eyes continued to stare at the thing, unable to tear his gaze away from it. He realized that the thing wasn’t covered in hair, rather, it was covered in these great leafy plants.
The spirit finally stopped, magically stooping to its humble height of seven feet.
Then it lumbered away.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Jain and Irina stayed in that small shadowed corner, unable to move.
Finally, pins and needles began to creep up Jain’s legs and he tapped gently on her arm to let go. There was a great sigh and the scent of blood and mint (‘pleasant’, thought Jain) before Jain could breathe again.
“That was…” Jain rubbed his neck. Even without looking he knew it was bruised.
Irina’s eyes were still glued to the exhibit entrance. “Baba Yaga. Evil.”
Jain looked at her demonic sword. “Your sword literally has Hades in its name. Don’t cast the first stone. Besides, it wasn’t the boogeyman. It’s called a Karajà Spirit.”
The girl scowled at him, but the expression turned into curiosity. “A what?”
Jain’s ribs were starting to ache as well. “A Karajà Spirit. It’s a forest spirit from Brazil.”
She looked at him with a blank expression.
“It is a bogeyman of sorts. But it’s less of a malevolent… er, mean, spirit and more of a neutral one.” He shrugged. “It’s named after the Brazilian tribe that worship it.”
Irina’s gaze still lingered in the direction that the spirit walked off to. “...Your skill tell you this?”
“Part of it, yeah.” Jain looked in the same direction, shuddered once and tried to look anywhere but in that direction. “The skill told me what it is. All that other stuff was me.”
“Hmm.”
Jain studied her expression. She looked like she had something left to say.
“What?” He asked.
“Skill tell you how to kill it?” She hoisted her sword. “Will it bleed?”
He tried to see if she was joking.
“Jesus, you’re being serious.” Jain gasped. “No, my skill did not tell me how to kill it.” He spoke hurriedly, instinct telling him to speak fast. “It’s a spirit. It doesn’t bleed, and no, don’t ask me how I know that. I just do. In the stories, they don’t kill the spirit. They co-exist. When it’s angry, they just offer it some fruit and it just goes its way.”
Irina gave him another one of those looks.
“Look, I get you. I really do. You have a big sword. You have super strength and all that. If I had a big sword and super strength, I’d want to go around smashing things too. But that thing was at least fifteen feet tall.”
“How you know?”
“I grew up measuring blades, rope and circus tents.” Jain shook his head. “Don’t ask. My point is that I know what you’re thinking and it’s a bad idea. Besides,” He gently reminded her, “I thought we were here to look for your siblings.”
Irina opened her mouth as if to argue then closed it. Her lower jaw did this funny thing, sawing back and forth. Finally she nodded. “Da. Natalia and Lev first.”
The two quickly gathered themselves. After making sure they didn’t hear any more ominous wet footprints, they resumed their search. This time, Jain led the way. It wasn’t something that the two agreed on explicitly nor was it something that needed to be said. But somehow, it felt right to Jain that he stand in front. Especially after the encounter with the Karajà
They quickly escaped the Southern American Exhibits, making their way through Central America without a problem. Jain took painstakingly long in the Central and Northern American Exhibits, walking at a snail’s pace. It took them nearly an hour to get through all of it.
“Why so slow?” Irina asked at one point.
Jain peered around the corner. “You don’t want to know.”
In his extensive travels, some of the Navajo didn’t dare share their stories after sundown. And that was before everything went to shit.
Irina just nodded at him. Jain felt a twinge somewhere in his chest when she did that. A small pain, a prick in his conscience. He wasn’t used to being trusted so readily.
“There.” Irina pointed with her finger at last. “Natalia and Lev will likely be there.”
Jain looked to where Irina was pointing. A fancy looking placard hung from the ceiling. It took a moment for his eyes to make out what the letters were saying.
“Central European Exhibit… of course, your siblings would be in there.”
He practically felt Irina glaring at the back of his head. “Meaning?”
“You know, being russian and all.”
“...”
“...Sorry. Last russian joke. I promise.”
Irina rolled her eyes. “My brother, Lev. He likes guns.” She pointed at one of the sub-labels: WWII - Firearms. “A… what do you call it, an aficionado. Collector.”
It took all of Jain’s remaining self-control not to make a joke about WWII and Russians.
“He also likes History. Wars. Men stuff.”
He squeezed out the last ounce of what remained in his mental capacity not to speak. Geesh, she was practically rolling out a red carpet. Speaking of which, the Soviet Union Flag was also red. There was a joke in there somewhere.
“Come on then.” Jain grunted out and the two began their careful exploration of the museum again.
Jane felt like a videogame character delving into the dungeon. Which wasn’t too far from the mark. If the world was truly going through a video game theme apocalypse, he could imagine places like the museum being a dungeon.
‘Or Subways. Landmarks. Parks. Stone Henge. Pyramids.’ Even while thinking, Jain’s eyes were still searching. He stopped frequently, hiding behind a pillar, a display case or even a convenient corner. He continually listened for footsteps, scuttling sounds or anything that set his nerves on edge.
And he was constantly using [Identify].
Subconsciously, just as Irina’s talents for being a warrior, his own was budding and very rapidly at that. Forced into this situation without a guide, only those with the combination of luck, skill and talent would survive.
He looked at anything and everything. Finding the safest path and at the same time, using every ability in his arsenal to find items.
Jain didn’t know it yet. But a few months later, a moniker would emerge for people like this.
Pathfinders. Those who made the way for their parties.
And Jain had just taken his first step on that path. The first path among the many that he would transverse and master.
Focused, Jain’s sensitivity reached a crescendo as he determined that the route was safe. He turned the corner, entering the last section of the exhibit.
Ding!
Three things happened.
First, he heard a muffled cry. Belonging to a man followed by the yell of a woman. Irina screamed out right behind him. She heard it too.
Second, Jain’s constant use of [identify] created two translucent boxes.
One pointed to a display case on the other side of the room.
—
Name: P38
Grade: S-
Description
A cursed firearm with the emotions of its last wielder who took his own life. Be careful, lest you find yourself consumed with its hate.
Soul-Bound: N/A
Effects
-Mind Factor
-Spirit Factor
[UNABLE TO IDENTIFY]
[UNABLE TO IDENTIFY]
…
[UNABLE TO IDENTIFY]
—
And something much, much closer.
Jain had forgotten that Europeans had their own folklores. Cliche, yes. Cartoonized in modern pop culture, yes. But once traced back far enough, children’s tales had their own way of taking on sinister vibes. Because at the root of all bedtime tales were lessons, lessons taught to humanity since before the invention of fire.
—
Name: Goblin
Grade: D-
Description
Monstrous humanoid creatures with conflicting descriptions based on origin.
But common themes can be found. They are surprisingly cunning and mischievous to the point of being sinister. More often than not, they are hostile.
—
A small creature flashed in the edge of Jain’s vision, only inches from where he was. Close enough for the warmth of its rancid meat breath to reach Jain’s face. It leered at him, an almost toothless smile. Its yellowed eyes pinched almost too tight across its reddish-purple face and curved into a cruel smile.
It had been hiding. Waiting.
Planning.
Because as fast as Jain was developing, he was still lacking one thing that mattered the most.
Experience.
The goblin stabbed Jain in the thigh without hesitation, the tip of its cruel dagger hitting bone. Jain screamed even as his vision was filled with dozens and dozens of [Identify] boxes, almost blinding him in the process.
It all read [Goblin].
