Chapter 13 – The architects (2)
The world was still.
Aayu opened his eyes to dim, flickering light—yellow torches caged in enchanted glass. The air was thick with a scent he couldn't place—part blood, part perfume, part something... ancient. He tried to move, but his limbs responded sluggishly, bound by enchanted cuffs latched into the obsidian floor.
His back rested against a pillar carved with twisting runes, each pulsing faintly as if drinking his energy. The room around him was vast and circular, built not by mortal hands but by forces that understood both architecture and ritual magic.
> [Status: Weakened – Energy Suppression (Tier 2)]
[SP: 463]
[System Locked – Environmental Seal Active]
[Echo Sense: Disabled]
He exhaled slowly. Panic never helped. His mind remained sharp despite the situation. First, gather intel.
Across from him, another prisoner stirred.
A girl in a blood-stained noble dress—torn, but finely made. Her long golden hair was tangled and singed at the edges, her face streaked with dried tears. Her wrists were bruised from shackles, but her back remained straight. Proud.
"You're awake," she said, her voice brittle, but composed. "You were brought in yesterday."
Aayu blinked, sitting up straighter. "Princess?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Duke's daughter. Ellara Valemont."
He nodded. "Aayu. Adventurer. Technically."
She studied him. "You're the one they called the 'Heir' when they dragged you in."
Aayu gave a faint smile. "Apparently. I think they confuse me for someone more important."
"You're calm for someone in a cell beneath the earth surrounded by cultists who like to chant in dead languages," she said dryly.
"I find panic loud and useless."
That made her pause. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
---
POV: Veyra Kal'tesh
Veilborn Circle – Inner Operative
Veyra stood in the adjacent hall, behind a one-way barrier of obsidian glass, watching the two prisoners speak.
They think this is a dungeon.
In truth, it was a forge.
Every word they shared, every suppressed emotion, was siphoned into the arcane matrix beneath their feet. This chamber was not built to contain—it was built to reshape.
And the boy—Aayu—was more than just a system user. He was the key to the Chamber of Scales.
She turned as her superior entered. A man robed in crimson silk, his face veiled with layered shadow spells.
"They speak already," she reported.
The man's voice was soft, oily. "Let them. In hardship, bonds are forged. One day, he will beg to stand at our side."
"And if he doesn't?"
The man smiled behind the veil. "Then we bleed him for every secret he holds."
---
POV: Aayu (Main)
They were alone again.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Three days. My brother was taken too," she replied, looking down. "They separated us after the first night."
He frowned. "Any idea who they are?"
She shook her head. "But they hate the nobility. All their questions were about my father. His alliances. His trade routes. His support for the capital."
"And mine were about the System."
Ellara's brows drew together. "Then they're planning something bigger than kidnapping."
Aayu nodded. "They're building something. Tearing down the current structure, maybe."
"Why you?"
"Good question."
He didn't say it out loud, but he had a theory.
The System wasn't just rare—it was unique in its design. Most Chosen had linear traits or divine blessings. But Aayu's had a shop. A growing, intelligent interface. It learned with him, evolved with him. And it scared the people in power.
Including whoever ran this place.
---
POV: Mara Tyne
Rogue Adventurer, Combat Specialist
Mara crouched low atop a jagged cliffside, looking down at the encampment hidden within the cliffs of the Dustfang Valley. Her hands clenched the twin blades strapped to her thighs, her expression cold.
She had followed the trail of broken sigils, scattered footprints, and half-burned carriages for two days. And now she saw the truth.
It wasn't just a cult.
It was an army in disguise.
Tents with sigils, armored sentries in blackened gear, and strange magical towers that pulsed with energy.
Her gaze narrowed as she spotted a symbol stitched across the largest tent.
A broken crown.
"Veilborn Circle," she whispered. She had heard the name once—in a tavern, drunk off bloodwine, from a dying bounty hunter.
A group dedicated to ending the noble bloodlines. To erasing royalty. And rebuilding the world under a different rule.
"Damn it, Aayu," she muttered. "You just had to poke the wasp nest."
She didn't know how she'd get in yet. But she'd find a way.
She always did.
---
POV: Aayu (Main)
The third day brought change.
Their shackles were loosened. A man in robes entered, flanked by masked guards. His voice was smooth, but every word made Aayu's stomach twist.
"You're free to move within the chamber now. As long as you do not attempt to escape."
"Why?" Aayu asked, eyeing the man carefully.
"We believe that when you understand, you'll join us."
He gestured toward the far wall. It shimmered—and became transparent.
Beyond it: a city.
Underground. Alive.
Buildings carved from crystal, lit by mana-torches, guarded by uniformed sentinels. And in the center—an obelisk with veins of crimson light.
"That's the heart of the Circle," the robed man said. "This is not a prison, boy. This is the future."
And Aayu knew—
He needed to escape. Not just for himself. But because this place, this group—they weren't just radicals.
They were building something meant to last.
And if they succeeded…
The world above would burn.