209. The Manhunt
The night before, during the manhunt.
Warm air whirled the dried leaves, scraping them against the flat cement floor. A tall figure crouched, hidden in the shade of a tree. The Prime Guardian, Friederich Eir Regis, cloaked in black, surveyed his vigilant watch over the enclosure of despair.
Quagmire Prison had high walls, its backside integrated into the mountain. It was one of the ancient buildings that existed long before the Temple of Tabit decommissioned it.
Some said it was still haunted by phantoms.
The split moon hung low, shining a white glow, with the electrical grids crippled, the old prison was shrouded in utter silence.
Not a single sign of life.
Friederich bit his lip, his fingers tapping softly on the throat of his Arc sheath.
Each minute that passed caused his mind to wander further.
His party leader, Celestius Jovian, had asked him to guard the front door while he infiltrated the premises.
“The prison is too quiet; this could be a trap of sorts. Alright, I’ll go check. Wait here,” Jovian’s words still resonated in his ears.
“But… let me go with you,” Friederich had argued.
“Your power just isn’t suited for a stealth mission, unless you can unglow your Lampos-spatha?”
Friederich hated to agree, especially against the hard fact. I’m a Stellius Warmonger arcanist. I’d rather confront my enemies where they can see my blade. Justice must be delivered in light. That part he kept to himself. It wouldn’t be proper to disrespect the way of the Shadowbringers.
The way of House Eir Regis was the path of righteousness, the path of light.
What a disgrace, he thought to himself, wasting valuable time that he could have otherwise spent honing his arcane skills.
His initial thought that this would be a quick trip was far off, and he’d left Aurelia’s side for longer than he had intended.
“Aurelia…” The thought of her still made him flutter. He had already lost that battle a long time ago. He had known that full well since a young age.
The way she looked at Zetius, the glimmer in her eyes, was night and day compared to how she looked at him.
Focus, Guardian!
With a concentrated breathing technique, his nerves began to ease.
A shadow shifted in his peripheral vision.
Not a sound, how?! He spun sharply.
The hilt of the katana formed in his grip, whirring in power.
A hand slammed down on his, preventing him from unsheathing the blade.
“Playing rough, I see,” a female voice uttered.
“Ziyue!?” Friederich exclaimed, blinking. How did she get here? And when?
The bob-haired assassin pulled back, her lips curled into an eerie smile.
“Jeez… Don’t just appear out of nowhere!” he grumbled, his expression shifting back to his usual calm demeanour.
“Sorry, not sorry,” Ziyue quipped, resting one hand on her hip. The girl brought trademark sass with her everywhere.
“Why are you here?” Friederich questioned, a minor raise of his brow.
The smile faded, her face turning sour. “Eh? I’ve been providing your rear support. Besides, don’t you think the two of you are enough?”
“The two of~You barely have faith in your Celestius, Ziyue!?”
Shielding her crimson lips, Ziyue giggled mischievously. “I know his strength well enough. Moreover, he lost against Ignius even with the Primordial sacrifice.”
That diss would have hurt his pride if he were a Celestius himself.
“It’ll just be three corpses instead of two,” Friederich quipped.
“Unlikely, if at least two of them know how to dark teleport mid-combat,” Ziyue shrugged.
Friederich shook his head, flabbergasted. “Why are we discussing this right now? Your uncle is in there by himself.”
“Relax. He just sent me a message.” Ziyue grinned. “It’s all clear. But he did find something interesting, though.”
“Let’s go then,” Friederich urged, spinning toward the compound.
“Wait a minute there,” she spoke, her voice cold.
He paused, the rustling leaves filling the void.
“Something didn’t sit right with me. Why did the Prime Guardian offer himself for this covert operation? Surely, you don’t just want to bring your master to justice. I reckon it can’t be that simple. For you to leave your princess out of your sight, right?”
Friederich’s jaw tightened. “It’s none of your business.”
Then, he began to walk. Ziyue caught up to him, leaning close. She cupped her open mouth with mock surprise.
“Don’t tell me! It’s something petty…” Ziyue paused dramatically. “A love triangle?”
“Nonsense,” he clipped, closing his eyes, too ashamed to admit it.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” She let out a soft chuckle as she toyed with her prey.
“Only if I’m the one here who keeps running,” Friederich countered, his eyes locked onto hers.
“Huh?” Her lips parted in surprise, then she smirked. Oh! He did hit the nail on the head.
“That makes two of us, then,” she admitted, lacing her hands behind her nape as she watched the cities below, her eyes growing distant.
Soon, they strode past the abandoned guard post and slipped past the broken metal fence.
Friederich and Ziyue arrived at the inner wall of the prison. Even with his elven vision, he could barely see anything. The stench of rotten flesh hit his nostrils, and he pushed down saliva to resist a gag. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother Ziyue in the slightest.
As they emerged from the front building into an open area, rows of cages, like those for holding circus animals, were placed in rows upon rows.
A purple flame emitted brightly from a slithered dagger. The tall figure stood with square shoulders, his shadow cloak fluttering erratically without wind, imposing and frightening.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“D’Arcane, do you smell it?” Jovian rasped, wiggling his nose as he dismissed his blade.
“It’s an unbearable scent,” Friederich muttered, then he stepped into view.
Piles of clothes were stacked against one another inside the rusty cells.
Friederich shone the light from his blade. As he expected, those were the same withered bodies he had found littering the streets of Germund.
“Hades’s Tartarus! It’s happening again…” he muttered under his breath. His face lost its colour.
“Not a single one survived. Men, women, and children. D’Arcane consumed all the same,” Jovian said, exchanging a look with Ziyue, a hint of regret in his eyes.
The strategic action to not meddle with the prisoners back then had backfired on them in the worst way possible.
“Uncle…” Ziyue called, her brow furrowed.
After a silent beat, Jovian turned toward the inner wall of the mountain. “Come, there’s more,” he instructed calmly.
Jovian led the party through a section of abandoned supply crates and transport crafts. The untidy nature appeared as though they had left in a hurry.
“Just up the cavern ahead,” Jovian whispered.
“Friederich, come on!” Ziyue urged the lagging man who was investigating the passenger crafts.
“They never left…” Friederich said, shining light through the windshield with his glowing blade. The hollow eyes of the pilots stared back, their skin grey and wrinkled.
“What is going on? How could it siphon the mana from people?” Ziyue wondered aloud.
“Without consent… or a binding vow, too,” Jovian added, a thumb scratching his head.
After they reached the inner section, the massive metal doors were partially open. “Ziyue, um, any lead from the captured Platinum Knight?” Jovian questioned, while carefully looking around, ensuring there were no traps.
Ziyue shook her head. “I’ve tried. Two fingers later, she’s not budging.”
“You did what?” Friederich choked, poking his head into the conversation.
“Relax,” she smirked. “Deep breath.” She gestured with her hands, lifting them up to her chest and pushing them out in an exhalation.
“Don’t try to gaslight me, I’m not a fool!” he argued. “You just broke into the prison cell and tortured the prisoner!”
“Ugh! I knew he was going to whine about it,” Ziyue groaned, eying her uncle for support.
But the only support she got was a weak shrug.
“Took you lots of days and not a single word out of her,” she mocked, hugging herself.
He narrowed his eyes. “And you did?”
“No,” she said firmly. “But it took me five minutes to know that she isn’t the type who would drop the ball.”
“Hades~you cruel woman!” he muttered through gritted teeth.
To his surprise, she didn’t retort. Instead, she locked her eyes on his, a faint smile hinting at something far deeper.
A sign of admittance? He wondered what kind of past had forged such a woman. If only she were more forthcoming.
Their boots echoed through the dark tunnels until they reached the first section. It resembled a standard living room, filled with books and scrolls — a sight typical of the grand scholars archmages tended to be.
“It seems this has been his hideout since,” Ziyue assumed, flipping through the untitled records. “He's old school.”
Besides her, Jovian rampaged through piles of fabric. “So what he claimed… is not totally baseless.”
Jovian flattened out a piece of tapestry and showed it to the elven mage.
The painting depicted the goddess Gaia, a golden wreath on her head, bestowing a baby upon four Olympic gods.
First was Ares, the god of war, clad in obsidian armour and holding a spear and shield. Beside him stood Apollo, the god of the sun, strikingly handsome with long, curly hair and a longbow in hand. The third was Limos, the goddess of famine, a gaunt figure with hollow eyes and stark white hair. Lastly, a hooded figure with massive black wings held a familiar sword: Thanatos, the god of death.
“That sword…” Friederich narrowed his eyes. The hilt wasn’t exactly the same, but the shape of the blade was unmistakable.
“Thanatos-spatha,” Jovian answered calmly. “The Empress’s weapon.” They exchanged an understanding nod.
“Still, Apollo is the only odd one out,” Ziyue chimed in, pointing.
Friederich shot her a sideways glance. “What makes you say that?”
“These are the gods of the Apocalypse, are they not?” Ziyue pointed out.
“True. Death, war, famine…” Jovian murmured to himself, his eyes closed in deep contemplation.
Snatching the tapestry, Ziyue inspected the artwork, her eyes nearly touching the fabric. “Ugh… what is Ignius up to? What does this all mean?!” she whined, her voice laced with exasperation.
“He wasn't a delusional old man,” Friederich commented. “Not before he lost Zetius, at least.”
The mention of his friend's name earned a glance from Ziyue.
“Hang on, you missed something in the background.“ Friederich pointed at the man bowed down further away in the illustration, clearly depicting him with ornate white and gold attire and golden dragon eyes.
“The prophet of Gaia,” Ziyue said, turning to her uncle. “Isn't that what he proclaimed?”
“Yes, he is serving the will of heaven, apparently,” he grumbled in a mocking tone.
“Hm… self-proclaimed prick,” she cursed under her breath, clearly unconvinced.
A few minutes passed of relentless room search, “Wait…” Friederich spoke up, raising his finger. He stood before a copper case, engraved with the full body of a lady with demonic features like horns and hooves.
“What did you find?” Jovian probed, the party tuning in with curiosity.
“Should I open it?” Friederich asked, glancing at Jovian on his left and Ziyue on his right.
“Do it!” Ziyue urged, her eyes gleaming at the strange compartment.
With a simple click, the lid gave way effortlessly. “It’s empty…” Friederich gasped, somewhat relieved.
Simultaneously, Ziyue scrolled through the library with her finger. “Must be a goddess of sorts… one armoured leg… donkey-like hooves… copper…” She pondered, her eyes almost unblinking.
“Empusa, the Demigoddess!” she exclaimed, her lips forming a surprised O.
“Great work, Ziyue. But, what does it mean?” Jovian scratched his brow, confusion in his expression.
“Hmm… Empusa, you say?” Friederich spoke up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I’ve heard that folktale before.”
Jovian and Ziyue both turned to him, surprised. He flushed slightly. “My mother used to read them to me when I was very young.”
“A happy family…” Ziyue muttered, her tone laced with a familiar cynicism.
“What? Are you allergic to happiness?” Friederich countered, annoyed.
Ziyue just shrugged, a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Carry on, nerd.”
Ignoring her, Friederich continued, “Anyway, if memory serves, the lore says her power lies with the siphoning of vigour.”
“That’s it!” Ziyue nodded in agreement. “That explains how he’s able to use D’Arcane by siphoning mana from the unwilling through the essence of Empusa!”
“That explained Master’s lunatic tendency. Something beyond our mortal comprehension is at play here, just like how the Astral Empress speculated,” Friederich interjected, catching a glance from Jovian.
“Impossible… Mana-draining arcane is not something you’d learn on the fly. Even with the artefact. This is not how arcane has ever worked,” Jovian shook his head, clearly in denial.
“Not if you have experience draining seventy million souls prior! That’s more than the prerequisite for this artefact!” Ziyue argued.
Jovian’s face turned pale, his body visibly frozen.
“Uncle!” Ziyue repeated, her brow furrowing.
“Celestius… are you okay?” Friederich gently waved his hands.
“Let the scribes investigate them afterwards. Let’s dive deeper,” Jovian cut off, gesturing with his head.
The stark tension in the air made it difficult to breathe. Without another choice, the party adventured deeper into the tunnels.
After a ten-minute walk, the fairly straight path led to an open space. The moonlight shone through, casting the grey stones in a soft glow.
The chamber was filled with massive columns, their aesthetic screaming of a lost civilisation. In the centre, a circular platform was raised above the ground.
“Apparently, these aren't carved in the conventional way,” Jovian studied the runes and glyphs on the pillars.
“Could Ignius really have crafted this with arcane? D'Arcane, I mean?” Friederich spoke through his hands.
The rotten flesh filled this chamber, made worse by the stagnant air.
“Strange… The trench was cut precisely,” Ziyue said, crouching in front of the channel encircling the platform.
Boots clapping on the stone, Friederich stood in the middle. There were wear marks, the emblazonment of boots dug into the floor as though someone had been standing on the spot for a long time.
“Why did he go above and beyond to create such a structure? Last I checked, he wasn’t Renaissance arcmage,” Friederich muttered, sweeping his eyes around. “None of this makes sense.”
“Rarely can one create a destructive spell without a ritual… We’re missing a bigger picture…” Jovian mulled over, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Over here!” Ziyue shouted, waving from the far wall.
Her expression visibly darkened as they followed her pointing finger.
Like a graveyard of flesh and bones. Hundreds, if not thousands, were piled up in the dark pits.
The stench was overwhelming, causing bile to rise in his throat.
Friederich vomited onto the ground.
“There, there,” Jovian said, patting him on the back.
Another round came, water in his eyes.
“What?” he barked after Ziyue grimaced in utter disgust. She shrugged at her uncle as if to question why he was here again.
“You lost your aura there, buddy,” Ziyue teased.
Raising his finger, his eyes dead serious, he warned, “Not a single word, ya heard?”
“Ugh… Fine,” she lilted, flicking her wrist and hugging herself.
Hurriedly, Jovian snapped his fingers, attracting everyone's attention. “Nothing else to see here. Let’s call it a day, guys.”