Dark Wasteland #2
“You called for me, Professor Beltum?”
After Professor Beltum cast the communication spell with my consent.
Following a brief wait, Professor Georgia entered the room with a weary look on his face.
I was lying on the magic circle he'd deployed, guided by Professor Beltum. Of course, that circle had been formed with cards as well⋯⋯.
Five cards positioned at my head and limbs, emitting mana to sustain the circle—it looked ridiculous, at least to me.
Like I was about to be split into five pieces and sealed inside them any second.
The cards would probably be named Sealed Ricardo.
“Good day, Professors.”
“That was the most memorable greeting I've gotten in my teaching career, Bardi.”
“I was told not to sit up in this position.”
“I know. It was a joke.”
You can make jokes too? As I stared at him with that unspoken question, Professor Georgia flicked his bloodshot eyes around, as if wondering what I was gawking at.
“I'm Isabella, young master's attendant. It's a pleasure to work with you today, Professor Georgia.”
“Likewise.”
Isabella stepped in at just the right moment, bowing politely. It drew his gaze away from me. I quietly gave her a thumbs-up.
“Now then—let's review. Today, I—Professor Georgia, and Isabella will explore Ricardo Bardi's inner psyche. The goal is—to diagnose his psyche's condition and find ways to treat it later. Everyone—understood?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“We're ready to begin whenever you are.”
Professor Beltum's massive turtle eyes blinked slowly.
“Good. Let's start—. Professor Georgia and Isabella, sit cross-legged on the cards by Bardi's feet.”
“Cross-legged, you say?”
“Like this.”
Professor Georgia folded into a lotus position on the card by my right foot.
No wonder he told us to wear pants instead of skirts.
Isabella, surprisingly agile despite it being her first time, mimicked him smoothly.
Thud.
Professor Beltum nodded slowly at the sight, then rose to his feet. His enormous bulk made the room shake with each step—thud, thud.
He settled above my head and struck the magic circle with a staff that seemed to appear from nowhere.
Thud—.
“While we're exploring—, your mind will fall asleep, Bardi.”
“Understood.”
Thud—. The staff tapped the circle again. First at my head. Now at my right arm.
“In exchange—we'll meet your unconscious avatar. It'll guide us.”
“Avatar⋯⋯.”
Thud—. Now my left arm. Was the circle activating? My eyelids grew heavy.
“You'll open your heart to us. As Isabella said, we're the healers, you're the patient. We're just peering into your mind to help you. Everything that happens inside—will stay strictly confidential. No one but us will know.”
“Yes⋯⋯.”
Professor Beltum spoke in a gentle tone, as if to reassure me.
Thud—. The staff, floating on its own, struck near my right foot.
“Whatever we see inside—, we won't judge you. If you're not ready to share some stories yet, you don't have to show them. This isn't a test—we're not measuring you.”
“⋯⋯.”
Easier said than done, a faint whisper of doubt murmured in my mind.
My blurring vision left me with just one parting phrase.
“Please... take care of me.”
“Of course—.”
Thud. The staff finally tapped the last point, by my left foot.
And my vision went black.
§
“This is⋯⋯.”
After a sensation like her mind sinking into the depths, Isabella slowly opened her eyes, her voice heavy and subdued. It felt as if she'd been in a deep sleep.
“Ah⋯⋯.”
The first thing she did upon regaining her sight was let out a deep sigh.
Ricardo's inner psyche stretched out vast before her.
It was a wasteland. An endless dark wasteland whose borders couldn't be fathomed.
The sky was choked with storm clouds, blackened to an unnatural degree, raining black droplets everywhere.
“This—won't end well.”
Professor Beltum judged quickly and slammed his staff down. A mana barrier patterned like a turtle shell bloomed overhead, shielding the group.
Plip, plip, plip. The black rain scratched relentlessly at the barrier, like a starving demon pounding on a door.
It clung like oil, sliding greasily across the surface before dripping off in globs.
Isabella and Professor Georgia wrinkled their noses involuntarily at the acrid stench of tar and metal seeping into their nostrils.
Yet their eyes remained fixed on the landscape.
The ground was no better than the sky—in fact, it was worse, more grotesque.
A gray expanse. Not just in color—the earth crackled underfoot like actual ash.
The sparse plants sprouting here and there looked like they'd crawled out of hell. Leaves necrotic and black, yet bloated and twisted into spirals.
“⋯⋯.”
Isabella tentatively brushed a nearby tree with trembling fingers.
Barely holding its shape, long drained of life, the bark crumbled easily at her touch, revealing yellowish pus oozing from within.
Look up a little, and you'd see swollen, pus-ridden tissue clinging to the branches like festering skin.
That pathetic sight was the wasteland's only trace of lingering life.
This... this is the young master's inner world.
Isabella gasped softly, her breath catching. She'd thought she'd grasped it from cards like Lost World, but that was arrogance.
The young master's—Ricardo's—inner self was this shattered.
“That damn kid, carrying something like this⋯⋯.”
Professor Georgia ran a hand over his face, then ruffled his unkempt hair vigorously.
“Professor Beltum, what now?”
“Look—over there.”
Professor Beltum pointed his staff toward the distant horizon. Hard to make out in the gloom, but a city's silhouette loomed like a demon realm.
“That's⋯⋯.”
“⋯⋯Lost World.”
“That's the deepest core of his psyche. Our destination.”
Professor Beltum added gravely.
“Be careful. Dangers lurk unknown. Prepare for anything. This is the realm of psyche—easy to summon creatures or deploy circles without a battle table.”
“Yes.”
“⋯⋯Understood.”
“Isabella, keep your mind steady. To truly save Bardi, don't lose yourself first.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Now—find Bardi's avatar. Should be easy to spo—hm?”
Professor Beltum's eyes gleamed as he slowly turned his head.
Beyond where his massive eyes pointed, something staggered toward them.
Creeeak⋯⋯ creeeak⋯⋯.
Emerging with creaking sounds was a crudely made wooden doll, its body scrawled with black magic runes, wrapped countless times in rusted chains.
Dangling from those chains: coffins. Countless coffins dragged along by the doll's hands.
As if hung upon the doll itself.
“Cursed wooden doll⋯⋯?”
Professor Georgia muttered softly, then asked in disbelief.
“Professor Beltum, that can't be it, right? Bardi's avatar?”
“Why do you think—not?”
“Because the cursed wooden doll is a support card.”
“True—unconscious avatars often manifest as origin cards, but that's not absolute.”
The turtle's eyes narrowed slightly.
“If the unconscious owner feels 'similar' to it, a support card can become an avatar just fine.”
“Similar? Then that means⋯⋯.”
Professor Georgia clamped his mouth shut as a thought flashed through his mind.
Cursed Wooden Doll. Rank ★1, stats 0—the lowest creature. Its ability: a single return from the grave.
Creeeak⋯⋯ creeeak⋯⋯.
The doll, shrouded in death, wandered aimlessly. Bearing the coffins of the dead.
Toward some distant, unknowable end.