Chapter 92 – Underground Cult.

“⎾⏧☊⎎⎾☊🜅 ⏧⍲☊ ℚ⍴⌾ℇ⏎⎎⍲ ℚ⏙⍴⌾ ”

Strange chants echoed from a distant corridor, their rhythm interrupted by the clank of metal footsteps. Rusty was on the move, his metallic frame tensing as he shoved a few corpses out of his path and arrived in the middle of a dead-end corridor. Before him lay a row of closed cells, each apparently requiring a key to open. Inside, he could make out battered people – some chained to the walls, others curled up on the cold floor.

“We don’t have much time, Rusty, If you’re going to decide, it has to be now, but in my lordly opinion, we should leave.”

Rusty hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Aburdon had always prioritized their survival above all else – a view Rusty largely agreed with. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if giving these people a chance might be the better option. He had no clear escape plan from this place, nor any idea how many cultists lay in wait below. Releasing the prisoners would certainly create a diversion, but it would be impossible without the keys. The bars, though rusty, were forged from an unfamiliar metal that resisted his attempts to store or manipulate it.

He was a monster forged from metal, with the peculiar ability to store it. However, there were limits; one was that he couldn’t store alloys or metals above his own grade. Since arriving in the city, he’d explored various smithies and shops selling all kinds of equipment. He had seen weapons made from strange materials, and after some research, he realized that metals, like monsters and adventurers, also had their own rankings.

The bronze that formed his initial body was on the lower end, around F-rank. Iron and even steel were a step above, at E-rank. But there were metals with far superior properties, much like his own Twilight Iron, which was edging into D-rank classification. As an E-rank monster, he was unable to store any metals ranked above his own level, meaning that this rusty metal had to be at least D-rank. Breaking it with his own strength or weapons would be challenging. To open those cells, he would need the keys – and he already knew where to find them.

“One of those cultists had a keychain on them. I could probably snatch it while they’re chanting, but sneaking up on them would be best…”

“ („• ֊ •„)੭ “

“Oh, you can help me sneak up on them?”

“ (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭ “

“You’ve learned a silencing spell that will help me? Why that’s great Gleam!”

“ (,,>﹏<,,) “

“But you don’t have enough mana to cast it right now? Oh, that’s fine, I still have some potions left!”

Rusty’s satchel had been taken, along with all his belongings, during the scuffle with the mage. Fortunately, he still had access to his personal stash tab and storage system, where a few items remained. His supply of metal and items was running low as he had converted much of what he could into coins. This meant he would need to be cautious in the upcoming confrontation, as he could only heal himself a few more times.

“◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜”

From his stash, he retrieved a small vial containing a vibrant blue liquid and carefully poured it over Gleam, aiming at her head. She chirped happily as her silvery body absorbed the restorative energies from the potion. Instantly, her MP began to rise, and she readied herself to cast her silencing spell.

With a gentle wiggle of her antennae, Gleam cast a pale white light around him, extinguishing all sound in his immediate area. Ordinarily, his every movement was accompanied by metallic echoes, even after he’d gotten rid of all the rust. But with the spell active, there was nothing but silence.

The spell reminded him of the mage he’d faced before arriving here. During that fight, he had realized just how vulnerable his otherwise sturdy body was to magical energies. When a fireball had struck his shield, he’d been stunned for several seconds, even though the shield had absorbed most of the impact. Something within the spell had disrupted the mana flowing through his body and his monster core. It seemed that living armors like him had a particular weakness to magical attacks – a fact he would need to remember in the future.

“If you’re set on helping these lesser beings, perhaps it would be better to use your previous form,”

Aburdon suggested while making his way into Rusty’s armor.

“Hm?”

Rusty replied, momentarily distracted. The dim light in the corridor kept him hidden from the prisoners, who hadn’t yet noticed his presence. Aburdon halted him from venturing further, explaining his reasoning.

“While I don’t support this plan of yours, if you’re going to go through with it, there’s a more effective way.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, didn’t you buy a few health potions?”

“Yes, I did, I have a few in my storage.”

“Excellent. Then we’ll use them – but for that, it would be best to switch to your adventurer form.”

“… Ah, you’re right! That would work much better.”

Rusty agreed, quickly catching on to Aburdon’s plan. After stepping back, he switched to the loadout featuring the Twilight Iron version of his Albert armor. The human body was not within this one and he could still use all of his elemental skills. Aburdon clearly wanted him to heal some of the stronger prisoners before unleashing them on the cultists. If they were outnumbered, Rusty could make up for that by empowering these fighters, and maybe even one of the prisoners knew a way out of this place. It was, indeed, a far better strategy than the haphazard plan he’d been considering.

“Let’s go then!”

“ ( ง ‘̀ – ‘́ )ง “

Gleam clung to his shoulder as the two finally emerged from the shade. With the silencing spell active, they slipped through undetected. From the corner of his visor, Rusty spotted Layla, who still seemed dazed. For now, she’d have to wait as he needed to get the keys first.

Quickly, he moved down the corridor toward the source of the strange chanting. The two cultists who had carried his body earlier were still there, engrossed in their ritual. They knelt before a grotesque patchwork of flesh, emitting an eerie screeching noise. The air in the room crackled with dark, vile energy that Rusty couldn’t fully comprehend. But one thing was clear: the cultists were far too absorbed in their ritual to notice him standing there, bow drawn and arrow ready.

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He aimed at the first cultist and activated his skill, ‘Power Shot’. It enhanced the speed of the arrow, turning it slightly red as it flew towards the target. The silence spell cast by Gleam meant that even the release of his bowstring wouldn’t alert the cultists, who were fully entranced by their ritual.

The arrow pierced through the air, finding its mark in the back of one cultist’s head with deadly accuracy. The force of the impact drove the cultist forward, impaling him against the twisted statue they were worshiping. A dark spray of blood erupted, coating the statue in a fresh crimson streak. The remaining cultist gasped, his chant cut short as he stumbled backward, eyes widening in horror as he saw his companion’s lifeless body slumped against the altar. Before he could react, Rusty had already knocked a second arrow, ready to silence him too.

“( •̀ ᗜ •́ )…!!”

Gleam’s tiny antennae twitched in excitement as she watched Rusty let the second arrow fly. Regretfully it was a bit short of the intended target and embedded itself into the man’s shoulder with a sickening thud. The man cried out, clutching at the wound. The element of surprise was gone now, and he scrambled to reach the dagger at his belt.

“ ( •̀ – •́ ) “