The old scholar's scream still echoed in the chamber.
"You fool! You've freed him!"
Con stood motionless beside the shattered rune circle.
His chest felt hollow.
The broken carvings lay scattered across the stone floor like pieces of a shattered seal.
"…then remake it."
His voice was calm.
The scholar blinked wildly.
"What?"
"Recreate the rune."
Con stepped toward him.
"You made it once."
"Do it again."
The old man stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
"…you don't understand."
"Try."
The scholar shook his head violently.
"It's impossible!"
His voice cracked.
"As long as the rune had power, Veyrath could not touch it!"
"But now?"
He laughed bitterly.
"Now if we even try carving the symbols again—"
"He will destroy it!"
"And everything around it!"
Con's jaw tightened.
"…there must be a way."
"There isn't!"
The old man's eyes were wide with terror now.
"You don't fight something like him!"
"You run!"
He suddenly began muttering something strange.
A language Con had never heard before.
Then—
The scholar looked upward and shouted a name.
"Zorath-Khael! Witness me!"
Before Con could react—
The man's head exploded.
A violent burst of blood and bone filled the chamber.
Warm liquid splashed across Con's face.
For a moment—
Everything stopped.
Con didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The scholar's body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
Silence swallowed the chamber again.
Blood slowly dripped from Con's chin.
His mind struggled to process what had just happened.
The man had simply…
Killed himself.
Just like that.
Con wiped his face slowly.
His hands trembled slightly.
For the first time since entering the ruined district—
He felt truly shaken.
Then he remembered.
Mikel.
Con turned toward the tunnel entrance and walked out slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The staircase appeared ahead.
And at the top—
Someone was waiting.
Mikel.
He stood exactly where Con had left him.
The moment he heard Con's footsteps, he turned.
"Con!"
Relief flooded his voice.
"You're back!"
He limped forward slightly.
"Did you do it?"
"Did you destroy the rune?"
Con stopped a few steps away.
His face was calm again.
"Yes."
Mikel exhaled heavily.
"Good… good…"
He ran a hand through his hair nervously.
"That means this nightmare might finally—"
"Mikel."
Con's voice cut through the moment.
Mikel paused.
"…what?"
Con tilted his head slightly.
His expression remained unreadable.
"When I told you about the mirror…"
Mikel blinked.
"…yeah?"
"…did you keep your promise?"
The question hung in the air.
Of course—
It was a false question.
Con had never told him.
Not once.
Not a single word.
For a moment—
Mikel didn't answer.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Something strange happened.
A laugh escaped.
Not from Mikel's mouth.
But from somewhere deeper.
Something… inside him.
The sound crawled through the air like insects under skin.
Slow.
Crooked.
Unsettling.
Mikel's body trembled slightly.
Then a voice spoke.
"You found out… didn't you?"
The tone was wrong.
Not Mikel's.
Not human.
Con's body froze.
The voice continued.
Light.
Almost amused.
"I was wondering how long it would take."
Mikel's head slowly tilted sideways.
His eyes remained unfocused.
The smile spreading across his face wasn't his.
Then the voice spoke again.
Cheerful.
Pleased.
"Oh, don't look so shocked."
"I should introduce myself properly."
The body standing in front of Con stretched slightly.
Bones cracked softly beneath the skin.
"My name…"
The voice paused dramatically.
"Veyrath."
"…Prince of the Netherworld."
Mikel's lips widened into an unnatural grin.
"And this?"
The body looked down at its own hands curiously.
"…is the corpse I borrowed."
Con didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
His heart pounded violently in his chest.
Because the person standing in front of him—
Was no longer his friend.