The Inventorium (1)

There’s nothing here. No hidden mechanism, switch or lever—just nothing with a side of emptiness. Is there really no way to re-open the floor inside this room? But then, just how exactly did it open to begin with?

According to Aysel, the Bastion was separated into five Layers, or six if you included the center tower’s spire—the empty room alongside the balcony. The tower itself was considered the Observatory, but it was far from anything that could eye or divine the skies and stars. And upon further inspection, it really did seem like nothing more than an over-designed observation post that simply lacked furnishing. It was essentially free real estate.

“Luim, quit standing around and come here already,” Aysel motioned in the direction of the second exit inside the empty room, “The elevator is located down these stairs. It will lead us into the rear entrance of the fifth Layer, the Inventorium. We should be able to find the rail replacement and tools you’ll need inside there. But the halls are a bit…chaotic, so don’t forget about what I said earlier,” her silent but deadly scowl spoke volumes, and her stance wasn’t looking kindly upon even the air around us, let alone the foolish me.

Mhm. That’s definitely the look of someone that’s still angry. Scary.

We decided to set aside our prior discussion so we could attend to a separate matter first. Our destination was the storage, junkyard and warehouse areas that were connected to the rear side of the Observatory. An awkward journey toward restoration that began all because of a slight blunder, a simple yet regretful comment I made under my breath. It was an innocent conjecture that was said with no ill-intentions, and nothing more.

“But if that railing fell as a result of a bit of force, then does that mean this entire place is falling apart…?”

And Aysel’s genuine smile vanished, right then and there, seemingly to never return again. It wasn’t as if the cheap railing was broken by me, but it was clear that my only choice was to be burdened with the repairs either way.

It couldn’t even withstand the elements or the test of time. What a flawed “greatest achievement” you have here, Artificer. Honestly, whoever assisted in creating the Bastion should have humbled them a bit more.

The remains of the railing on the balcony was covered in rust, and damaged due to excessive deterioration over time. But that was the only tip of the iceberg here, since it was a clear sign that the Bastion was being poorly maintained overall, too. And that was a correct assumption since, despite Aysel being the literal spirit of the Bastion, her technical expertise was apparently nonexistent. Absolutely zero. She truly did command the Bastion with only her will.

If I’m not the one setting the standard for the lowest bar here, then… Oh, Aysel. A glorified Keeper, you. But of course, I’d never say that out loud—

“Luim, you’re awfully quiet for someone that has yet to answer. Go on, speak freely as you did before. Worry not, I’m all ears and open for you to share what you’re thinking without reproach,” her stance could practically withstand a meteor at this point, as a fortified titan of intimidation and coercion.

No, worrying is about all I can do when you're like this, Aysel.

And that still ire was the main reason why I accepted the chore in the first place. That aside, the balcony itself was now a hazard to anyone that couldn’t become a floating apparition like Aysel. So, basically just the non-magical homunculus that lacked that convenient genetic license to fly.

“Ha. Fate sure is a curious bystander. Who would have thought that the same person that was beyond the doorway of light, would be the one to guide me into the stairway to hell. What a turnabout. What an illusion of choice.”

“Stairway to hell? What are you even rambling about? Listen…” in a miffed sigh, she continued after finally lowering her gaze, “just be certain to follow closely behind and watch your footing, okay? It’s been centuries since anyone has last paid a visit to the Inventorium…including myself.”

The potentially dreadful state of the Bastion’s repository was concerning to say the least, but that only posed an additional threat that I wasn’t aware of until that very moment. And we now stood in front of that problematic, derelict shaft, of an antique brown frame with two metal-folding doors that seem to slide and collapse at the sides.

“One moment. If no one has visited in a very long time, including you, then when was the last time anyone actually used this elevator in particular…? A few hours? Several days?”

“Hm? About around the same time as my previous visit, I’d wager,” she voiced indifferently as she breached the screeching metal doors that fought with everything they had to remain closed. It was a blaring sign that she was purposely ignoring, and yet I certainly couldn’t.

“What’s wrong, Luim? Do you have a fear of elevators? Don’t be such a coward. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” her welcoming yet devious smirk beamed with shut eyes. Aysel stood at the back of the death shaft as she nonchalantly gestured for me to hurry and board. But the waving of her hand could only be seen as an unintentional declaration of war for me.

“I wouldn’t say I do, but this death tra—I mean, the elevator seems a bit unsafe… Are there any stairs I could just take instead that also leads me to the Inventorium…?”
“No, this is the only way,” she exited and promptly grabbed my wrist, dragging me inside against my will, “Sheesh. How troublesome. What are you, a child?”
“Well, regarding my age, technically…”

I was taller than Aysel, while also seemingly in an adult male body, sure, but I originally came from inside of a strange tank. One could argue that, as an apparent tank-bred homunculus, I was only a few hours old. But even while I lacked memories, deep down, that didn’t feel like the truth. It could only mean that my soul possibly remembered my true age, while I didn’t.

“It’s not going to eat you or swallow you whole. But if you insist, you may close your eyes if you’re so frightened. I promise I won’t let go of your hand,” she seemingly teased me with a hint of pity in her voice, and I could feel my face burning in embarrassment.

“You’re misunderstanding me, Aysel. It’s better to be cautious and appear as a coward than to not question anything and make a severe mistake! You see, periodic inspections are required for these—”

“You say that, but we won’t know until we try either way,” Aysel interrupted, placing her finger on a faintly glowing button on a wall panel near her. The shaft juddered in response, as did my nerves, and suddenly, without any build up whatsoever, the shaft violently descended.

❖

“Y-yes, I believe we’ll be fine… Maybe… I mean, it wasn't like this before...” she mumbled, shrinking her shoulders into her neck while stepping back slowly. She evidently didn’t believe her own words either, and I couldn’t blame her for trying. Since, amidst the dark tunneling hallway that was the entrance into the Inventorium, there were sounds of crawling and faint scratching all scattered about—and it was growing louder by the second.