Before leaving the upper chamber, Arthur wanted to experiment further with his newfound power. His eyes fixed on the large wooden box that had contained the water jars, a curious thought forming in his mind.
'If I can store small items, what about something bigger?'
He concentrated, channeling the strange energy from his realm core toward the box. The familiar darkness spread across the wooden surface, creeping along the aged planks—but unlike with the jars, it stopped about halfway, refusing to progress further no matter how much he focused.
Arthur released his breath, unaware he'd been holding it. "Seems like there's a limit to the size of what I can consume with this ability... at least for now," he muttered, running his fingers along the partial shadow that still clung to the box before it dissipated like morning mist.
With a slight shrug of disappointment, Arthur descended the crumbling staircase to the main room of the temple. As he reached the bottom, the three skeletal figures positioned before the stone altar caught his eye once again—or more specifically, their clothes did.
'No, I can't. There's no way.'
The thought barely had time to form before Arthur found himself already kneeling beside the closest skeleton, gently lifting the edge of its short black robe. The fabric was surprisingly well-preserved despite its obvious age, protected from the elements within the temple walls.
"Agh, this isn't right," he whispered, hesitating as his fingers brushed against the garment.
Arthur wasn't exactly proud of what he was contemplating. It felt wrong to disrespect the dead like this, especially monks who had likely dedicated their lives to whatever deity or force this temple once honored. A pang of guilt stabbed through his chest as he carefully began removing the robes and loose pants from the long-dead worshipper.
But feeling bad wouldn't keep him alive. His own clothes were in tatters from his previous fight with the tainted beast, barely holding together and offering little protection against whatever else might lurk in this hostile realm.
"It's not like they need them, I guess," Arthur tried to rationalize as he slipped on his new outfit, grimacing at the musty odor that clung to the fabric. "Ew, it smells like dead people."
The robes were slightly loose around his shoulders but otherwise fit reasonably well. The material was coarse but sturdy, woven from some unfamiliar fiber that seemed designed for durability rather than comfort. The pants were secured with a simple drawstring, and deep pockets lined both garments—a practical design that Arthur immediately appreciated.
After dressing, Arthur turned to face the three skeletons, now partially disrobed. He dropped into a deep, respectful bow, holding the position longer than necessary as if to apologize for his transgression.
"Thank you," he murmured, though he wasn't sure if any spirits remained to hear his gratitude. "I'll try to honor your gift by surviving."
With the water safely stored in his realm storage and his new clothes providing at least some psychological comfort, Arthur took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the outside world again.
'Can't just sit around here waiting to die, I at least gotta try to make it out of this accursed rose field.'
Arthur steeled himself as he approached the temple's entrance. Sunlight streamed through the archway, deceptively warm and inviting. The last time he'd ventured outside, the influence of the roses had nearly broken his mind. This time, he had a plan.
He made his way down the long staircase that led from the temple entrance, each step bringing him closer to the ground—closer to the roses. When only a couple of stairs remained between him and the field, Arthur paused, gathering his resolve.
'I don't really get it, but for some reason this temple is safe from the roses' temptation' testing his theory by looking out at the crimson field below. 'I don't feel anything looking at them right now, but as soon as I set one foot on the ground my brain wants to split.'
The memory of that searing pain and overwhelming desire made him hesitate. The roses had called to him, and at the time there was nothing more he wanted then to answer that call. Whatever power these plants possessed, it was insidious and dangerous.
Arthur took another deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes before opening them again. This time, he stared straight ahead, focusing on the horizon past the sea of greyed roses. He concentrated on keeping his mind clear, emptying it of fear and doubt, and strengthening his will like a barrier around his consciousness.
'Don't look at them. Don't acknowledge them. They can't tempt what doesn't perceive them.'
With deliberate care, Arthur stepped off the final stair and onto the ground, his body tense as he waited for the encroaching doom to overtake him once again.
But it never came.
A triumphant smirk spread across his face as he stood amidst the roses, his mind clear and his own. "Looks like I was right," he whispered, careful not to break his concentration.
His theory had proven correct. Thinking back to his first encounter with the roses, Arthur realized it wasn't until he had actually looked at them—given them his attention—that the temptation and headache had overwhelmed him. By paying them zero attention, keeping a completely clear mind, and maintaining an iron will, he could avoid their insidious effect.
Now came the true test. Arthur needed to traverse this vast expanse of dead flowers that stretched farther than the eye could see. With only the constant pull in his realm core drawing him toward the world's core as a guide, he would have to trust his instincts and his newfound resistance to the roses' influence.
As he took his first tentative steps through the field, Arthur moved with deliberate care. Each footfall crushed grey petals beneath his newly acquired boots, releasing a sickeningly sweet scent that he did his best to ignore. The key was to treat the roses as nothing more than an obstacle, like walking through tall grass or shallow water—present but unworthy of attention.
The pull from his realm core grew slightly stronger as he moved, confirming he was heading in the right direction. It tugged at something deep inside him, an internal compass pointing toward salvation. Or at least, toward whatever passed for salvation in this realm of death and temptation.
"One step at a time," Arthur murmured to himself, eyes fixed firmly ahead. "Just keep moving forward."