Agatha walked with deliberate grace down the long expanse of the fifth floor, her heels clicking softly against the freshly polished stone. The distance to the far end measured precisely forty-three meters from the grand archway that led toward the sixth floor's access. The chamber's vastness amplified every sound, turning her measured footsteps into a subtle rhythm that echoed off the towering pillars and high vaulted ceiling. She had overseen the reconstruction herself, and the results pleased her, every enchantment freshly woven and humming with latent power.
At the end of the hall stood a high-backed cushion stool, ornate yet functional, positioned like a throne for observation. With a small sigh of satisfaction, she reached into her dimensional storage, her fingers slipping through a ripple in space. Out came a sacred mirror, its frame wrought from silvered mithril and obsidian, the surface perfectly unblemished. She settled onto the stool, the plush velvet yielding comfortably beneath her. Leaning forward slightly, she extended her right forefinger and touched the mirror's surface.
A faint ripple spread across the glass like a droplet of water kissing still water. The effect shimmered, then faded as the mirror brightened with inner light. Catoptromancy awakened, ancient scrying magic that bent reflection into vision, allowing her to peer through the dungeon's layers as though they were transparent veils.
At first, she focused on the first floor. The image resolved sharply: devastation on a scale that made her breath catch. Nearly the entire level lay demolished, walls reduced to rubble, the grand entrance to the second floor already beginning to sag and collapse under its own compromised weight. Chunks of masonry continued to tumble in slow, dusty cascades even now.
"Ohh Mother Goddess," the words escaped her lips in a hushed exhale, laced with genuine shock.
She shifted her focus, willing the mirror to show the second floor. The vision clarified: a scene of utter ruin. The ceiling had caved in across vast stretches, massive piles of debris choking what had once been a corridor. Twisted iron veins and shattered petrified wood jutted from the wreckage like the broken bones of some colossal beast. Dust hung thick in the air, and residual mana signatures flickered like dying embers. The suppression field she had so carefully layered there was shattered, its remnants dissipating uselessly into the bedrock.
"Oh dear," she murmured, a note of real concern threading through her voice. "Seth will definitely explode if he comes to know of what happened."
Who could be capable of this destruction? The thought cut through her mind, sharp and urgent.
"Aid," she said aloud, her tone commanding, "are you certain this was one person doing?"
"Affirmative!" Aid reply, calm yet edged with urgency. "Intruder profile confirmed. Single entity. Mana output exceeds projected thresholds for this depth."
Agatha's refined features tightened. She adjusted her grip on the mirror, her left hand supporting its weight while the back of her right fingers rested thoughtfully beneath her jaw. The image in the glass shifted once more, tracking forward. She watched as the intruder, Beaumont, dashed across the remnants of the second floor with startling agility for his powerful build. He vaulted over jagged boulders, navigated clouds of choking dust, and wove through falling debris with the confidence of someone who had already bent the dungeon to his will. Moments later, he crossed the threshold into the third floor's entrance.
"Hmmm." The sound slipped from her lips, equal parts intrigue and appraisal.
Beaumont stepped into the third floor, and the transition felt immediately different. The oppressive weight of the upper levels' collapsing chaos faded behind him, replaced by a vast, open darkness that stretched endlessly ahead. His twin hovering light orbs drifted faithfully beside him, casting their warm golden-amber glow across a chamber far more expansive than the previous floors. The air here was still, almost expectant, with high ceilings lost in shadow and walls that receded into obscurity. It felt less like a corridor and more like stepping into the nave of some forgotten and pregnant with unseen threat.
He planted his hands on his waist, broad shoulders rolling as he flexed his powerful neck from side to side, the motion accompanied by a satisfying pop. "What do you have for me this time?" he muttered toward the enveloping shadows, his deep voice carrying easily in the stillness.
The darkness offered no reply. He scanned slowly, hazel eyes narrowed. The space was open and vast, much like the second floor had been before his Ferro-Sylvan Paroxysm had torn it apart. Yet something felt… off. He looked down at his left hand, rubbing his calloused fingers together experimentally. No detectable flow of magic. No suppression field pressing against his senses. Not even the faintest whisper of arcane pressure.
"This is odd," he said quietly. "Very odd."
He closed his eyes and concentrated deeper, channeling a thread of earth mana through the stone beneath his boots. Tremorsense expanded outward in a widening sphere, probing through the floor, up the walls, and into the high, unseen ceiling. Vibrations returned to him subtle, deliberate patterns hidden beneath layers of stone. Traps, many of them. But their signatures were unlike anything he had encountered before. Not the crushing magical matrices of the upper floors, but something colder, more…precise.
"Very sketchy, I'll say…" He rubbed his chin with his left hand, the stubble there rasping lightly against his palm. "This must be something new. And I don't like it." A thoughtful pause stretched, then his expression shifted into a predatory grin. "Which is interesting."
He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms backward, powerful muscles and joints cracking audibly. "Alright. Let's see what you've got hidden."
Beaumont stamped his right foot firmly onto the stone floor. A pulse of amber earth mana surged downward, triggering a full-spectrum earth sense that rippled outward over a thousand meters in every direction. The vibrations painted a ghostly map in his mind: intricate networks of channels, pressure plates, and mounted mechanisms high along the walls. He kept his eyes closed for several heartbeats, absorbing the data, then opened them with a serious, focused expression.
*There's something mounted high above the walls.*
"What could it be?" he murmured.
The intensity in his face softened into wry amusement. "If only I could see clearly in the darkest of night, this wouldn't be a problem." He sighed, gripping his waist with both hands and tilting his head for a moment, easing the tension in his neck. Then, with casual confidence, he began walking forward again. Six measured steps.
Suddenly, he stopped dead.
Wait a minute. This doesn't seem right. Something is telling me to cast a defense spell.
He stood perfectly still, one thick arm crossed over his broad chest while the other hand returned to rubbing his chin, staring intently into the blackness ahead. His mind raced through possibilities.
What if that's what it wants me to think? Could it be expecting me to walk straight in without my defenses up and catch me by surprise?
His right eyebrow rose. "Hmmm." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He loosened his stance and took two more deliberate steps forward. Then he stretched his right arm out, pointing into the darkness with an accusing finger. "Nice try, but you cannot fool me. I won't fall for your petty tricks."
Within the fifth floor, Agatha watched every moment through the glowing surface of the sacred mirror. Her violet eyes narrowed with a mixture of disbelief and dark amusement.
"Is he some kind of an idiot?" she whispered, half to herself.
Why does he keep talking to himself?
She leaned back slightly, the mirror steady in her hands, continuing to observe as the intruder moved deeper into her carefully prepared third floor.
Back on the third floor, Beaumont settled into a wide, stable stance. His palms opened wide, fingers splayed as he began channeling. Concentric amber sigils spun into existence around his wrists.
"Ternere Aegis!"
Four floating shards of razor-sharp slate materialized around him, each one etched with glowing runes. They orbited his powerful frame at varying distances and speeds, automatically shifting positions to intercept potential threats from any angle. The defensive spell hummed with dense earth mana, ready to absorb or deflect incoming force.
"Well now," he declared, voice booming with renewed vigor, "shall we?… We shall."
He dashed forward, powerful legs propelling him across the stone with surprising speed for his size. Footsteps echoed through the vast chamber like war drums.
Agatha's lips curved into a slow, intrigued smile as she watched. "An idiot that knows what he's doing," she murmured. "This should be fun to watch…" She paused, violet eyes flicking across the mirror's surface. "I probably should intervene. There's no telling what this idiot can do."
She began to rise from the cushioned stool. But something made her hesitate. She glanced back into the mirror, settling once more. With a casual wave of her left hand, a violet sigil conjured in the air behind her, rotating and deforming before solidifying into a luxurious, magically formed backrest that extended from the stool. Agatha leaned back comfortably, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on the arm of the newly created support.
"If I go in now, I might escalate things and do more damage," she reasoned aloud, voice smooth and calculating. "I'm sure the third floor can hold him down. It should. It's something he has never encountered in his life."
She smiled, eyes gleaming with anticipation as she settled in to spectate.
Beaumont surged past the initial safe zone, his light orbs keeping pace, casting dancing shadows across the stone. His footsteps echoed louder now, filling the emptiness. For several heartbeats, nothing happened. The chamber remained deceptively quiet.
Then his magical senses screamed.
A split-second warning, barely enough time for him to react to.
K-RACK-BOOM! K-RACK-BOOM!
The turrets activated with deafening fury.
Twin barrels, mounted high on opposite walls in recessed alcoves that had remained invisible until this moment, roared to life. Thunder and superheated lead erupted in a blistering hail. Compressed powder ignited in brilliant muzzle flashes that strobed the entire chamber in strobing orange hellfire, turning darkness into a nightmarish dance of light and shadow. Sensors mechanical and ruthlessly precise, locked onto his streaking figure. Barrels whined as they tracked at blurring speeds, unleashing a storm of heavy projectiles.
The Terrene Aegis shards spun frantically, intercepting the first barrage. Slate met lead with resounding cracks, sparks flying as rounds slammed into the magical barriers. Two of the shards were driven backward violently by the sheer kinetic force, slamming into Beaumont's side ribs with bruising power despite their protective enchantments.
He gasped, a sharp fraction of pain escaping as the impact drove the air from his lungs. His mouth opened in a grimace of shock and exertion.
What the hell are those!