The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse-Chapter 105 - 104: The Price of a Hero

Mallory awoke to something wet smacking her face.

Her eyes snapped open, and she came face-to-face with Blinky, her first pet—a gelatinous, googly-eyed blob. It jiggled excitedly, then slapped her cheek with another slimy tendril.

"Gah!" Mallory scrambled back. "Blinky, personal space!"

Greg, lying on a nearby cot, cracked an eye open. "That thing still alive? I thought it evaporated or ascended to a higher plane or something."

Blinky made a rude gurgling noise and splatted onto Greg’s chest.

"ACK! NO, SLIME RESPECTS NO BOUNDARIES!"

The commotion woke the others. Alex groggily sat up, rubbing his temples. "Why is Greg screaming?"

Elara sipped from her mug. "Because it’s morning."

Greg flailed, trying to remove Blinky while the creature happily suctioned itself to his face. "Mallory! Get your eldritch pudding off me!"

Mallory sighed, peeled Blinky off, and plopped it onto the ground. The little creature made a bubbly noise of protest before slinking off to investigate Quinn’s boots.

Quinn yawned. "You know, for a group of apocalypse survivors, we’re not very intimidating first thing in the morning."

Greg sat up, grumbling. "Speak for yourself. I’m terrifying at all hours."

Elara smirked. "Terribly useless, maybe."

Greg gasped. "Betrayal."

Mallory rolled her eyes. "Alright, let’s focus. We have a magic key, a dangerous mission, and no idea where to go next."

Alex leaned against a crate. "We could check with the Black Market. Someone there might know about the Forgotten Gate."

Greg crossed his arms. "Or we could just not do that. Ever."

Mallory raised an eyebrow. "Scared?"

Greg scoffed. "No! It’s just that everyone there is a liar, a backstabber, or both."

Quinn grinned. "Sounds like my kind of people."

Elara stood, stretching. "Then it’s settled. We head to the Black Market."

Greg groaned. "I hate democracy."

---

The Black Market Hustle

The Black Market wasn’t a place—it was an event, constantly moving from one hidden location to another. They found it that night, nestled in the ruins of an old cathedral.

Candles flickered, casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. Merchants peddled stolen artifacts, enchanted weapons, and questionable potions. The air buzzed with whispered deals and unspoken threats.

Greg tugged his hood lower. "If anyone asks, my name is Steve."

Mallory raised an eyebrow. "Steve?"

"Do I look like a Greg?"

Alex smirked. "You look like a Greg who’s bad at fake names."

Greg huffed. "Well, excuse me for not being a professional criminal."

Quinn clapped a hand on Greg’s shoulder. "Relax, Steve. We’ll protect you."

Greg mumbled, "That’s not comforting."

They wandered through the market, scanning for useful information. Eventually, they found themselves at a peculiar booth, run by a hooded figure with gleaming silver eyes.

The merchant grinned. "Looking for something rare?"

Mallory placed the key on the counter. "Tell me what you know about this."

The merchant’s smile vanished. He looked at the key, then at Mallory. "You shouldn’t have that."

Greg sighed. "Why does everyone say that?"

The merchant hesitated, then leaned forward. "That key opens the Forgotten Gate. And behind that gate... lies the Price of a Hero."

Mallory frowned. "What does that mean?"

The merchant shook his head. "I can’t say. But if you truly seek the gate, you need to visit the Oracle of Rust."

Quinn nodded. "Sounds easy enough."

The merchant laughed. "Oh, it’s not. The Oracle lives in the Ruined City, past the Screaming Wastes."

Greg groaned. "WHY IS EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD TERRIBLE?"

Mallory grabbed the key and stood. "Then that’s where we’re going."

Greg buried his face in his hands. "Of course we are."

Elara smirked. "Don’t worry, Steve. We’ll get you a souvenir."

---

The Journey Ahead

As they left the Black Market, the sky rumbled ominously. A storm was brewing, both in the heavens and in their future.

Mallory clutched the key, her mind racing.

The Price of a Hero.

She had no idea what it meant. But something told her it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Greg sighed dramatically. "At least let me have one good meal before we all die horribly."

Blinky gurgled in agreement.

Mallory just smiled. "No promises."

The journey to the Ruined City was anything but smooth.

The so-called Screaming Wastes turned out to be a barren desert filled with swirling sandstorms, shifting terrain, and, most annoyingly, screaming monsters that sounded suspiciously like an army of tortured opera singers.

Greg had a rough time.

"MAKE IT STOP!" he howled, covering his ears as yet another grotesque vulture-like creature flapped overhead, emitting a piercing, melodramatic wail.

Mallory, leading the group, barely flinched. "It’s just noise, Greg."

Greg spun toward her, eyes wild. "Mallory. That was not just noise. That was an emotional breakdown in sound form."

Quinn smirked. "Kind of like you every morning?"

Greg huffed. "At least my screaming has depth."

Elara, ever the problem-solver, pulled out a handful of wax plugs. "Here. Found these in the last scavenged supply cache. Might help with the noise."

Greg seized them like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. "Elara, I take back every mean thing I ever said about you."

Elara chuckled. "You never said anything mean."

Greg shoved the wax in his ears. "Exactly."

Alex, ever the quiet observer, chuckled. "You know, I think I like the screaming. It adds ambiance."

Mallory rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

With the earplugs in place, they trudged forward. The sun blazed overhead, the landscape an endless expanse of nothingness. Occasionally, a skeletal tree or a crumbling ruin would dot the horizon, but otherwise, it was just sand, sand, and more sand.

Quinn wiped sweat from his brow. "So... what exactly is the Ruined City like?"

Mallory pulled out a tattered map. "From what I remember, it was once a bustling metropolis, before some magical disaster reduced it to rubble. Now, it’s a hotspot for scavengers and lunatics."

Greg muttered, "Great. More lunatics."

Mallory smirked. "You’ll fit right in."

Greg shot her a glare but was too exhausted to argue.

The real trouble began when they encountered The Sinkhole.

It started as a harmless crack in the ground. Then, suddenly, the earth beneath them collapsed.

Mallory barely had time to shout before she and the others were swallowed by the shifting sands.

---

Welcome to the Underground

Mallory groaned as she pulled herself out of the sand, coughing up dust. "Is everyone alive?"

Greg, sprawled out nearby, let out a dramatic wheeze. "Physically? Yes. Emotionally? I have died three times in the last minute."

Elara helped Alex to his feet, while Quinn dusted himself off. "Where are we?"

They looked around. Instead of the blinding sun and endless dunes, they were now in a vast underground cavern. Jagged rocks lined the walls, glowing mushrooms sprouted from cracks, and a distant drip-drip-drip echoed in the silence.

Blinky, their ever-faithful gelatinous pet, wriggled out of Mallory’s backpack and let out a curious gurgle.

Greg groaned. "I swear, if we just fell into an underground death dungeon, I’m going to—"

His words were cut off as a voice echoed from the shadows.

"Welcome, travelers."

They all turned. A tall figure emerged from the darkness, draped in ragged robes, a skeletal mask covering their face. Behind them stood several other figures, all watching intently.

Greg tensed. "Mallory. Why are there cultists?"

Mallory sighed. "Because we have that kind of luck."

The masked figure chuckled. "You have entered the Domain of the Forgotten. The city above is lost to time, but we, the Keepers, preserve its legacy."

Alex muttered, "That’s a fancy way of saying ’We live underground like mole people.’"

The cultists didn’t seem to mind the comment. Instead, their leader stepped forward. "You seek the Oracle, do you not?"

Mallory crossed her arms. "And how do you know that?"

The leader gestured toward the glowing mushrooms. "The city speaks. We listen."

Greg whispered, "I think they’ve been down here way too long."

Mallory ignored him. "Can you take us to the Oracle?"

The leader hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. But first, you must prove yourselves."

Greg groaned. "Of course we do."

Quinn smirked. "What kind of test? An epic battle? A test of wits? A dangerous mission?"

The leader’s voice lowered dramatically. "A feast."

The group blinked.

Greg looked around. "I’m sorry. What?"

The leader gestured, and the cultists stepped aside, revealing a massive banquet table covered in food. Roasted meats, steaming soups, glowing fruits—more food than they’d seen in months.

Elara blinked. "This... is the test?"

The leader nodded solemnly. "You must eat. And survive."

Greg’s eyes widened. "Wait. Hold on. Survive?"

The leader gave a cryptic smile. "Not all the dishes are safe."

Mallory exhaled. "Wonderful."

---

The Most Dangerous Dinner

The group sat down, eyeing the food warily. Some of it looked delicious. Some of it moved.

Greg nudged a plate. The meat wobbled. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Mallory picked up a glowing berry. "Guess we better start testing."

Quinn shrugged and took a bite of something that looked like bread. A moment later, he shuddered. "Tastes like regret."

Greg, ever the survivalist, sniffed his food carefully. "I refuse to be poisoned by underground mushroom cultists."

Elara calmly sampled a dish. "This one’s fine."

Greg eyed her suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

She swallowed. "Pretty sure."

Greg shook his head. "’Pretty sure’ is how people die."

Mallory decided to take a more aggressive approach. She picked up a piece of roasted meat, took a small bite... and immediately spat it out.

Greg panicked. "SEE?! POISON!"

Mallory wiped her tongue. "No. It’s just spicy."

Alex popped one into his mouth. "Huh. Not bad."

Greg gave him a look of pure betrayal. "How. Are you. EATING THAT?"

Alex smirked. "Tolerance."

Greg groaned. "I have the weakest stomach here, don’t I?"

Mallory grinned. "Yes, Steve. Yes, you do."

Greg sighed dramatically. "This is my nightmare."

Blinky, the ever-fearless slime, jumped onto the table and began slurping up everything in sight. The cultists watched in horror as the gelatinous blob happily absorbed their sacred dishes.

The leader gasped. "The Devourer has awakened!"

Greg blinked. "Wait. What?"

The cultists immediately bowed before Blinky.

"The Devourer has chosen! You are truly blessed!"

Mallory’s eyes widened. "Wait. Are you saying Blinky just passed the test for us?"

The leader nodded fervently. "The Devourer has deemed you worthy!"

Greg gaped at the little slime, who jiggled happily. "I can’t believe it. The fridge pet is a god now."

Mallory smirked. "I told you he was special."

Greg groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I hate everything."

The leader gestured dramatically. "Come, Chosen Ones. The Oracle awaits."

Mallory stood, shaking her head with amusement. "Well. That was unexpected."

Quinn chuckled. "Honestly? Best cult initiation ever."

Greg sighed. "We live in a stupid world."

Blinky burbled proudly.

And so, with their divine slime god leading the way, the group followed the cultists deeper into the ruins, toward whatever fate awaited them next.

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