Creature Farm: Beginnings (A Cozy Monster Evolution LitRPG) Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Read chapter 6 of Creature Farm: Beginnings (A Cozy Monster Evolution LitRPG) by TristanRye on NovelPedia.

“Calm down, boy! Stop yer yappin’!” Gaius waves a hand and glares at Enrik. “Or maybe it’s a new set of heatin’ crystals! Or maybe an enchanted hammer!” Enrik clenches his fists, eyes wide with anticipation. His aura brightens the otherwise dreary space—the town hall’s cellar. Our party crowds around a long wooden table cutting down the center. The chamber is encased in gray brick, crates of potatoes and onions lining the walls. There are bookshelves too. Packed tight with tomes and documents, they stand as silent witnesses to history being made. After retrieving the final keystone, we trekked back into town. We stopped by the tavern to pick up Viktor, then headed straight for Gaius’ living quarters in the town hall. The old mayor was shocked to see us with Lady Varian, but he didn’t ask questions. He led us into the basement, rolling his eyes while Enrik rattled off treasure guesses. “Or maybe the goddess has enemies! The heads of her foes!” Enrik slams his fist on the table. “Or maybe jewels! Diamond lanterns from the first garden! They’re real, you know. I heard about ‘em at the chapel.” “Ah, but her lanterns were lost before humans settled the valley.” A man’s deep voice radiates from the corner. Clad in a pristine white robe embroidered with gold flowers, he’s a tall fellow with kind eyes. Little Rala stands at his side, dressed in her own tiny white cloak. Marcus and Rala, the town priest and his daughter. They were already here with Gaius when we arrived—planning for the Lantern Festival next season. It seems our party grows even larger. Might as well invite the entire village at this point… “Now let’s see.” Gaius squints and approaches a bookshelf. “All sorts of rubbish down here. Mayors of Verda aren’t known for organization…” He crouches, sifting through boxes and bottles on the floor. “Nope.” He tosses a pair of old boots. “Nope.” He tosses a bottle filled with faintly glowing, bright pink slime. “Nope.” He tosses a box filled with collectible goblin trading cards. Enrik and Rala eye the cards, discreetly moving in. “Ah! What about this?” Gaius turns, lifting a wooden box. Worn and stained by water damage, the wood exterior splinters around iron hinges. The front bears no latches or keyholes. Instead, three spherical grooves sit carved like empty eye sockets. They stare into the darkness…staring into our souls. “By the gods.” Ivan shakes his head. “It was really here the whole time—waiting for this moment.” “Will there be gold inside, Father? I hope there’s gold inside.” Viktor perks up. “Or perhaps the smith boy is right. Maybe the heads of gods are inside…could those be sold too?” Ivan flashes him a concerned glance. “Now then. Who has the keystones?” Gaius places the chest on the table. Clara approaches. She nearly trips over Crag. The ball of fur lies curled on the stone floor, napping. Ivy lounges on his back, her single eye droopy and sleepy. They’ve earned a nap. “Right here.” Clara reaches into her pocket. One by one, she sets the keys on the table. Everyone crowds in, Viktor and Rala on their tiptoes. “Petrified seeds of the pine.” Gaius takes the stone pinecone. “From the valley’s first tree, touched by the goddess herself.” He carefully presses the stone into a groove. It’s a perfect fit. A faint click radiates inside the box. The air grows heavy. Tension hangs. “Her favored pets. Her finest creations.” Gaius lifts the bear cub. Its beady eyes peer with eerie intensity. “Sentinels of the forest.” He inserts the artifact. Another click. My blood pressure rises. My heart pounds so hard I can hear it. Sweaty palms…weak knees… “Crystal from her grandest spring—waters that fed her garden.” Gaius takes the bubble crystal. It glimmers with a rainbow sheen. “The source of our valley’s life.” It slips into the final keyhole. For a moment, every breath stops. Every body freezes. We watch and wait. click. The box vibrates, rattling and wobbling while the grinding of gears permeates the air. The old table shakes whil