The third floor was very dark - most of the windows were shut, and it was getting late, the sun outside the windows disappearing below the horizon. Milo picked up the candle he found in the bedroom, and spent the few remaining drops of mana to light it.
The dim candlelight illuminated what looked like a combination of a tinkerer's garage and a laboratory - the remnants of a magic workshop! Shattered glass vials littered the floor, shelves designed to hold tools and instruments were emptied out. On top of a wooden workbench, Milo saw a bulky device made of metal gears, tubes, and steam chambers, with an axe lodged deep in its center. Apparently, the heroes who defeated Alatar have done a thorough job of destroying anything of value here.
Milo found several torches set into the sconces attached to the walls, and lit them with the flame of his candle. The torch fires gave everything a sinister reddish hue, and Milo kept getting startled by the dancing shadows, on the lookout for the next terrible thing he might discover nesting on this floor.
In the middle of the room, stood an enormous cauldron, suspended over the coals. The cauldron was taller than Milo, so he had to use a small step-ladder lying nearby to climb up and peer inside. There, he saw remnants of some dried out and curdled sludge. He attempted to clean it out with a broom handle, but as soon as he touched the sludge, it began emitting heavy black smoke, so he left it alone for now.
Another table was designed for something like alchemy or potion making. Milo managed to salvage a few unbroken cups and vials, measuring spoons, a mortar and pestle, a ladle, a pair of pliers, and a heavy glass bottle. Inside the supplies cupboard, he found a few dried plants, small animal bones, a jar with a pickled lizard, and some powders he wasn't able to identify. I will need to look through my magic tome to see if I can recognize any of these, he noted. If there was a way for him to figure out how to brew a real, actual potion - he was gonna do that as soon as possible.
He spent some time cleaning up and organizing the lab, and recovered a few more tools and instruments from the closets and cabinets standing along the walls. Some were simple but useful, like a hammer, a few spare torches, and a coil of rope. Others were strange and mysterious, like an hourglass filled with black sand, a tiny cloud that drizzled small drops of rain collecting into a puddle on the floor, and a cracked amulet in a shape of a screaming fanged face. I don't need to know the answer to this mystery, he decided, looking at the amulet. He considered throwing it away, but that was exactly the sort of thing that would set off a chain of events that ends with him accidentally awakening some ancient evil he'd rather not have to deal with. Milo left the amulet to continue collecting dust on its shelf, resolving never to meddle with it.
A stack of barrels of various sizes stood off to the side, some of them were labeled - "water", "coal", "earth - purified", "earth - old grave", "fur", "grease", "worms", "bonedust", and so on. Milo cleaned the insides of the empty water barrel, and shooed the tiny cloud to rain over it. He studiously avoided the other barrels for now - he had no desire to see what a barrel full of worms looked like, especially since they were probably dead by now.
Soon, the workshop was tidy and clean, with all the shattered glass and debris swept into a pile in the middle of the floor. Milo searched for a way to dispose of the garbage, and found a large metal trash can standing next to the ingredient barrels.
When he opened the lid, a gust of foul-smelling wind blew into his face. He looked inside the trash can, and stared at its contents in shock. The can did not have a bottom, or the inner walls he expected. The upper rim of the can was like a window, opening into a vast, dark, mist-covered junkyard. Milo tilted his neck to look at the insides from every angle, and all he saw was piles of trash rising over the clouds of mist. Now and then, strange noises echoed through the junkyard, and Milo thought he saw a dark shape move between the piles, disturbing the mist.
Was that all of Alatar's trash? Milo wondered. It seemed like too much, even assuming Alatar was disposing things into the can for decades. Milo's mind reeled with possibilities. What could I find in there? Broken tools? Discarded experiments? Cursed items? What sort of disturbing horrors could a dark wizard's workshop have produced over the years, and what awesome stuff could I learn about magic if I got my hands on some of them?
The top of the closest pile was not that far from the rim of the can, maybe two or three meters away. Covered by the darkness and mist, the contents of the pile blended into a single jagged shape, details impossible to discern.
Unable to restrain his curiosity, Milo ran to grab a torch from the wall, tied it to a piece of rope, and started slowly lowering it through the can. Long shadows stretched around it in every direction, the torchlight interrupted by the shapes protruding from the mountain of garbage.
Before the torch reached the top of the pile, Milo heard a blood-curdling screech, and saw a large bird that sat on a long metal bar sticking out from the trash. The bird's eyes reflected the torchlight, two bright discs staring straight at Milo.
He almost let go of the rope to immediately close the trash can, but stopped himself at the last moment - the last thing he wanted was to drop the torch into the pile and set everything in it on fire. So he rushed to pull on the rope to retrieve the torch, and, as if on cue, the bird took off from its perch and flew straight at Milo.
He grabbed the torch just a second too late. With a shriek, the bird dove through the can, aiming right at his face. He jumped aside, falling on his back, torch still in hand.
The bird immediately plunged towards him, long sharp claws going for his neck. Milo held up his arm to protect himself, so the claws sliced into it, sending the shock of piercing pain through his body.
He swiped at the bird with his torch, the flaming end smashing right at its beak. The bird screeched, flew up, circled around the room, and perched on top of the large cauldron. It settled there, looking menacingly at Milo.
He tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his arm, even as he sensed his sleeve getting heavy and wet with blood. He stared at the bird in fear. It looked like a large vulture, and, what's worse - it was clearly a dead one. Well, an un-dead one, Milo corrected himself.
The vulture had a visible ribcage, with ribs hovering over an empty space that clearly was missing a few internal organs. The entire left half of its skull was exposed, its eye swiveling inside of a bony eye socket. It stretched its wings, striking an intimidating pose. If it wanted to look impressive, it was wildly successful - the entire wingspan was easily two meters across, and it cast a terrible shadow onto the larger part of the room. The sharp claws were bone-white, except for the tips, which were covered in Milo's blood.
Milo screamed at the bird, throwing a torch in its direction. The torch hit it in the outstretched wing, emitting a burst of sparks, and lighting some of the bird's remaining feathers on fire. The vulture took off and started chaotically flailing around the room, fire and smoke trailing behind it.
Milo grabbed the lid of the trash can to use as an improvised shield, picked up his broom, and chased the bird around the workshop, trying to direct it to the open window. The vulture swiped back with its beak and razor-sharp claws, but the lid blocked the attacks, giving Milo opportunities to smack the bird with the broom. Finally, he managed to usher it towards the window. With one last awful screech, the zombie vulture flew through the open window and disappeared into the night.
Milo rushed to put the lid back on top of the can, before anything else could escape through it. He found a barrel he could lift, and winced in pain as he dragged it on top of the lid, ensuring that it was as secure as can be.
He placed the torch he threw back into its sconce, so it would not set anything on fire, then finally breathed a sigh of relief, slid down against the wall, and rested on the floor for a few minutes. He lifted the sleeve of his robes, which was drenched in blood, and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to look at the deep cuts in his forearm. Great, he thought. I sure hope it's not one of those zombies that can turn you undead just by scratching you.
He ripped off the sleeve of his shirt, which was already torn by the claws, made it into a makeshift bandage, then wrapped it around the cuts to stop the bleeding.
He stared at the pile of broken glass and debris in the center of the room, still not thrown away, and began to laugh. Quest failed, he thought to himself, discarding a small pile of trash was beyond your abilities at the moment. Perhaps try practicing on simpler tasks, like crumpling a paper towel or deleting an email?
"Never mind that," he mumbled threateningly at the trash can, "you see, you just watch! I will come back for a rematch. I'll be disposing barrels of oil and nuclear waste before you know it! Growth mindset."
I'm talking to a trash can. I'm either high on adrenaline or I lost way too much blood, he thought. He stood up, leaning on his staff, swayed slightly, and exited the workshop.
He looked up the spiral staircase, leading to the next floor.
Dare I? he thought to himself.
Don't be an idiot, just go to sleep, rest, explore the next floor tomorrow, his more reasonable side replied.
What are the odds that the next floor will be more dangerous than this one? his curiosity objected.
Um, pretty high? replied his cowardly side in a trembling voice.
How will we become the greatest wizard this world has ever seen if we let a few scratches stand in the way of scientific inquiry? his curiosity replied.
The first step to any inquiry is not dying, noted the reasonable side.
He sighed, and went down to the bedroom. Soft snoring sounds came from the closet. He covered himself with his cloak, and started drifting off to sleep, slightly shivering from the cold. What a day, he thought. Despite all the ups and downs, it was by far the most exciting day of his life. I just wish I had a warm blanket and a hot cup of tea, and everything would be perfect.
He startled awake, as he sensed a presence in the room. A clawed tentacle slowly rose from under his bed, wrapped around a folded piece of cloth. Milo jumped out of bed, and watched in horror as the tentacle replaced the old bed sheets, covered the bed with a fresh blanket, adjusted the pillows, and placed a cup of hot tea onto the night stand next to the bed.
After the tentacle disappeared, he looked under the bed, but didn't find anything out of the ordinary there. Huh. Sure, that might as well happen, Milo shrugged. He sat on the bed, smelled the tea, then tried a sip. Chamomile with honey? Nice taste! he complimented his new butler, and went back to sleep.
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