(Book 1 Complete!) Side Quest [Isekai / LitRPG]

The door had closed and the music had returned once Logan started solving the dual puzzle for the orange sigils instead of the green. With each orange sigil Logan rotated back into view, the music grew louder until it swelled into a chaotic swirl of sound, all plucked strings and warbling notes, somehow remained just shy of an actual melody. While the discordant hum had been unsettling before, it now filled the chamber in full force, resonating through Logan's bones as he shifted the last puzzle stone into place.

With the final orange sigil exposed and the last green one buried beneath the surface, the entire rotating sigil mechanism clicked into alignment. Dust trembled at the door's frame, despite the green half having been opened in the same place so recently.

With a deep, grinding rumble, the stone door slid beneath the floor once more… But the space beyond had changed. Either the door led somewhere entirely new through magical means, or it had simply rotated to reveal a room that hugged the underside of the original chamber. Whatever the case, this room was distinctly different from the one behind the green sigils.

Now the symphonic onslaught hit full volume, raising the hairs on his neck. Yet underneath the off-kilter medley, did he hear scampering? And was that a shrill voice?

He cocked an ear and listened. "Probably just loose pebbles dislodged by the shifting weight of the door," Logan said to break the uneasy, albeit noisy, air. Any sounds were likely just a trick of the music filtering through the newly opened hallways.

He walked across the completed puzzle, glancing into the doorway to the sunbeam room just to confirm the light was still shining, and stepped through the archway laced with orange sigils.

The new chamber was barren, its floor and walls littered with faded scribbles of graffiti, much like the previous ones.

Suckersss
Got it first!
Who left the dead rat?

Logan's attention flicked past the self-congratulatory scrawlings of past adventurers, drawn to a breeze far stronger than before.

More importantly, his eyes landed on another archway.

This one was different. The graffiti covering the mantle wasn't just boastful. It was territorial.

Ahh I can almost taste it!
Private property of me, all-powerful sorcerer of the Ruined Wilds. None shall pass my boundary!
Mine

The markings clustered around the stone threshold, as if the people who had left them were staking their claim on the space beyond.

But they hadn't claimed it.

Aetherlens!

Vibrant flows of mana only extended to a certain point. After that, they became dull, gray, wispy vapors. Logan smirked at how empty the graffiti artists' claims of ownership were.

No one could step past the invisible force of the Boundary that separated the next room from here.

No one except Logan.

He winked at the graffiti as he passed through the Boundary effortlessly with Aetherlens still active. As if some omnipotent presence had flipped a light switch, the grayed out mana in the new room inverted into something vibrant, while the other side he just left grew dull. He rounded the corner to enter a jaw-dropping room.

Treasure.

Logan had never seen so much of it in his life. Coins, chalices, gilded statues… heaps of gold piled high in neat stacks, untouched by the hands of those who had been barred from this place for generations. He knew at least that much based on the lack of vandalism on the carved goble statues.

But he didn't reach for any of it yet.

The particular placement of each necklace, the orientation of each faceted jewel setting on ornate pillars made it clear this was more than a hoard. This was a shrine.

At its center stood an imposing statue of a dragon, easily 40 feet tall, and carved from a single, seamless slab of obsidian-hued stone. Time had not dulled its majesty. The creature's sinuous body coiled around the base, its massive talons gripping the rocky pedestal as if it stood ready to pass judgment. Its wings, partially unfurled, arched high above, their ridged membranes frozen mid-motion, casting jagged shadows across the cavern walls.

The head was the most striking feature. Both regal and menacing, twin rows of curved horns crowned its skull, sweeping back like a crown, while finely etched scales traced the contours of its snout and jaw, each one painstakingly chiseled and lifelike. Deep-set eyes gleamed with an unnatural luster, inlaid with gemstones of dark amethyst, capturing even the faintest light and refracting it in eerie, shifting hues.

The mouth was slightly open, revealing serrated fangs, and the artist had even captured the suggestion of a forked tongue resting behind them. Spirals of carved mist and wisps of ethereal energy curled from its nostrils, as if the statue itself might exhale at any moment. Around its neck hung an elaborate stone torque, sculpted to resemble interwoven strands of metal and bone, embedded with smaller gemstones that pulsed dimly in Logan's Aetherlens.

The tail coiled protectively around an uncharacteristically barren offering basin at its feet, considering the opulence elsewhere. Though it was only stone, the weight of its gaze felt tangible, a silent challenge from a guardian long past its time yet unwilling to relinquish its watch.

Name: Shrine to Nyxharil
Type: Statue
Lore: Nyxharil, Sovereign of the Void, was one of the Five Great Sages who forged the first Systems and sealed the foundation of the Fold. Where the others shaped breath, time, depth, and force, it was Nyxharil who gave the world its shape by carving space from chaos. The Boundaries that protect the realms and the hollows between planes bear his mark. Of all the Sage-paths, his was the hardest to walk. His priests swore eternal vigilance, for to hear the murmurs of the void too long is to risk unraveling.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Logan squinted. As commanding the statue's presence was, something… deeper tugged at him. Not just at his attention, but actually calling on the mana pulsing inside his core.

The density of ambient mana radiating from the jeweled eyes condensed, and for a moment Logan feared that meant a monster might appear, but nothing came. Logan squinted harder, all the while pushing with his will back at the statue as he analyzed, trying to figure out what it hid.

Analyze is level 25!

Synergy detected with Exalted Kin bloodline.
Analyze is level 25, with Perception at [50] points or higher.
Unlocking threshold perk…

Threshold perk unlocked!
Hidden Gleams
Ooh, who put that there? You can now dissect individualized components within greater parts to better understand how they work together. Happy hunting, don't let it kill you.

An additional label opened up, only on the statue's eyes, which held such sway over Logan.

Name: Void Affinity Touchstone
Type: Touchstone
Lore: Items of power laid in special sites of power by the ancient Exalted Kin for quick conversion between affinities.

Affinity Touchstone (Void) engaged! Rotating affinities…
Error.
You have already rotated to this affinity.
[21] hours remaining until next rotation.

"Huh." It was good to know he could find the touchstone if he ever needed it, but the remaining time until the next rotation caught his eye.

Time worked similarly here to the way it did back home, which he had learned from the others when they had asked questions about Earth. There were differences, of course, like months having exactly thirty days and solstices taking place on the 15th of the middle and end months. While the amount of days differed, though, the number of hours in a day stayed the same. And that made him nervous.

If three hours had passed since he had assumed the Life Affinity, he was probably in the last hour of daylight before the light-refraction chamber shut off and sealed him inside for the night. He could see the flared arm of a standing harp peeking from the entryway into the next room. And so, as tempting as the treasure looked, he tore himself from the shimmering display of wealth and ventured on.

The next room was clearly the source of the music. Much like other rooms, great statues were carved into the walls with intricate patterns swirling among them. Unlike the other rooms, these statues all held various instruments.

High above, a massive, open-air funnel allowed the breeze to cascade down in twisting currents, weaving between the countless instruments mounted along the walls. Strings thrummed, hollow bodies resonated, and chimes clattered in a ceaseless, unpredictable arrangement.

Logan traced his fingers along the smoothly grooved stone walls, feeling the wind shift beneath his touch. The moment his hand disturbed the air current, bits of the composition wavered, notes bending and dispersing before reforming into an entirely new pattern. It wasn't magic. Aetherlens revealed no guiding spellwork, only the raw, deliberate precision of ancient design.

It reminded him of something he had learned about Mexican history and how the Mayans had constructed temples where the echo of a single clap could ripple like the call of a bird. This was like that, but on crack.

Here, the very shape of the room dictated the flow of sound, fracturing and redirecting the music with the smallest interference. It was an orchestra played by the wind itself, centuries in the making, its tune forever changing with the whims of the air.

But why would anybody go to the effort of setting up a room like this if the instruments couldn't carry a tune?

When he noticed one of the lower-tiered wall busts with empty arms and a recorder-like instrument on the ground, rocking back and forth in the slight breeze, Logan figured it out. The room wasn't at fault; the instruments were out of place.

"I definitely don't have time to solve another puzzle," Logan said. But he was curious to test his hypothesis. He lifted the recorder and, stepping on his tiptoes, placed it into the statue's empty grip. Suddenly the recorder played one note, then another, in perfectly rhythmic succession.

"That is so cool." He didn't have a gift for instruments, and had always been jealous of those who did. He definitely wanted to come back here at some point.

Under the successive trills of the wind instrument, though, Logan paused. He thought he heard the soft pattering of feet. Trying to keep his movements casual, he scanned more of the room. There was a drum in the back, where a hollow reed tapped it in uneven beats. Perhaps that was it?

Still, now that he had the eerie notion that something else was here, his neck prickled as if someone was watching him. I just need a lute, a drum, and a fiddle bow.

The lute and fiddle bow were right next to each other, and within easy reach. The nearest drum small enough to carry, though, was on a second tier, by a stone gnome with a polished obsidian crown. And if Logan wanted the bards to hand over the other half of the mysterious amulet, he needed that.

Without the Void Affinity, he wouldn't be able to Null Pulse to the proper height. Thinking fast, he grabbed a long-necked instrument that, if memory served him right from music history class, was called a hurdy-gurdy. He wedged it between the first and second tiers, and used it like a makeshift lever. With a well-timed hop, he pressed down, sending himself upward just enough to catch the edge of the second tier with his fingertips. After a brief struggle, he hauled himself up.

Climbing is level 27!

As he struggled to loosen the drum from the statue's grip, he noticed movement in the reflection of the obsidian adornment topping the gnome's head.

A flicker. Then another.

Logan stilled, shifting his focus to the warped reflection. His heart skipped a beat.

Five gobles scurried into place, their hunched forms darting behind stone columns that lined the chamber's rear. Their movements were practiced and coordinated. Predatory.

One of them, perched atop a toppled lyre stand, leveled a crude crossbow in his direction.

Logan's heart pounded, but his hands moved faster than his thoughts. He reached for the nearest object within arm's length: a metallic flute mounted on a wall display. His fingers closed around the instrument's cool surface just as the goble's finger twitched on the crossbow's trigger.

With a sharp yank, Logan tore the flute free. As the weapon discharged, he twisted midair, hopping from the gnome statue to the second-tier ledge. The arrow whistled through the air, but miraculously collided mid-flight with the flute.

Aerial Combat is level 5!
Aerial Combat is level 6!

Congratulations! You have learned a new skill!
Parry—

Later, System!

The goble hissed at the deflected shot, the bolt clattering harmlessly against the stone floor, but Logan didn't stop to celebrate. Already, another goble was creeping along the chamber's outer rim, hiding in the shadows to get beneath him.

Logan scanned his surroundings, eyes locking onto an old psaltery with snapped strings resting atop a display stand.

Perfect.

With a burst of movement, he kicked the instrument off its perch, sending it tumbling into a loose pile of precariously stacked percussion blocks. The whole arrangement crashed down in a cacophony of rattles and clangs, right where the sneaking goble had been creeping.

A startled yelp confirmed its effectiveness.

Sharpshooter is level 5!

"I will feast on your flesh, human!"

Logan wheeled around at the sharp proclamation, just in time to see a goble on the same tier lunging at him, a crude hooked sword arcing toward his side.

He raised the flute in defense, and metal clashed against metal with a sharp ping. The impact sent one of the instrument's keys flying straight into the goble's eye.

The opponent let out a pained yelp, recoiling as its grip faltered. The sword clattered to the floor, forgotten, as the goble staggered back, clutching his face.

Parry is level 2!
Parry is level 3!

Logan was holding back triumphant laughter at his sheer luck when the second crossbow bolt sank into his thigh.