What stood in front of Osborn’s eyes was a mirror. Its glass was reddish, almost as if it was soaked in blood. The mirror showed more elements that the room contained, though. A gaping hole floated in the middle of the reflection.
Osborn took a step forward. The rest of the contents of the room were abnormally few for the main storage room, with a metallic altar holding the mirror taking most of his line of sight. The metallic altar was definitely not crafted by a local, looking more like a mayan monument than anything modern. The altar also has many cryptic carvings, further reinforcing the idea of an ancient artifact.
Osborn carefully walked closer to the mirror until he could see his brown hair and some of his face on it. The hole that was a moment ago well apparent in the center of the reflection disappeared behind him after an additional step forward.
He tried to touch the mirror, but was immediately stopped by a strong, odd feeling. Like a sixth sense tingling, he reflexually took a step back. He quickly looked left and right for what he came for, and turned back towards the entrance of the room as fast as he could when there was no sight of it.
As soon as he took his first step out, chills filled his back, followed by an impending sense of doom.
A piercing scream echoed from behind a shocked Osborn, who took a hastened step towards the exit. Osborn wanted to turn his head towards to mirror again to exactly pinpoint the source of the scream, but felt as if he was sucked by the ground and was approaching it at maximum velocity.
It then went totally black.
Osborn came back to his senses. His shadow was elongated on the same paintless wall in front of him, signifying that he was still in front of the storage room. He tried to move his body and was pleased to see that he was all right. No broken rib, no missing limb, everything was all right. However, his left leg felt a tad too heavy. He scrunched up and forced himself to stand up.
When his leg finally touched the ground, it touched something slimy. Osborn also started smelling a familiar smell, mixed with a faint, unknown stench.
He looked down. The mutilated remains of what seemed to be a tiny face were stuck on his leg. Battling the sensation to throw up, he lowered his eyes towards the body of whatever baby he mistakenly stomped,but was surprised at what he mistakenly took the life of.
A green creature, only wearing enough to hide belly and waist from the cold with a barbaric tunic made of leather and fur. It also had short legs but very elongated hands which were held together by a round belly that contrasted heavily with the girth of the rest of the limbs. A goblin.
Osborn finally let go of his lunch, emptying the contents of his stomach on the dead body of the creature he was stepping on.
After an additional moment of silence and contemplation. The adrenaline suddenly rushed to Osborn’s head when he understood what has basically happened.
“Holy Guacamole! Did I just… One-shot it?”
With the rush of dopamine going through Osborn’s head, he couldn’t do much but jump in excitement because of what he has done. He not only met with a mythical creature, but also killed it without any kind of specialized weapon!
His happiness faded away quickly when he started to think about the consequences of his encounter with such a beast. Goblins are social, they never travel alone. That meant that if he met a goblin, many others were sure to follow.
He turned his head to another horrifying thought. What if this bizarre, bloodied mirror was the reason such a creature was even there? Obviously intoxicated by too much video games and novels, Osborn decided to take his shot at breaking the mirror anyway. He picked up the rock that made him trip, and threw it right at the center of the oval glass.
The mirror exploded, letting an impressive amount of mysterious black mist seep through the remains of its support. Damned screams emanated from the same hole the explosion produced. Osborn, not expecting such a reaction from hitting a pebble on the surface of a mirror, put his left arm in front of his eyes to protect them from the mist. The whole artifact then imploded, sucking into itself all that it had let out, disappearing in the process.
When Osborn dropped his arm, nothing was left of the Bloodshot Mirror.
“What the hell was that…”
The goblin however, did not disappear, and was still at the same place it was left on, missing only the parts of his head that got obliterated by the lucky kick Osborn threw in by mistake.
Probably sucked in with the mirror, huh…
Osborn then felt the same chills descend on his back again, only way stronger. His gut feeling was not whispering for him to act, it was screaming at him to move as fast as he could.
And he did.
Rushing through the dim-lighted hallways, only a single thought was on his mind. And as he was panting as loudly as his lungs could let him, he focused on the idea that he just got.
The world is changing. And Osborn knew that he held a rare chance to become what he truly wanted to be. Not a supreme leader, not a master of an art. He just wanted to be remembered as a great person to many.
A wandering hero… That would be cool…
The stairs out of the basement showed at the end of the hallway, brimming with natural light. Osborn dashed towards it as fast as he could, yearning for deliverance from the dark dungeon as much as his excitement for what was to come. He quickly thought of the first step of his plan.
I need something to defend myself in case those creatures become common. And fast.