The caverns beneath the Wastes were older than time itself. A network of winding tunnels, layered in forgotten sigils and etched with glyphs too ancient for modern scholars to decipher. The air was dense with rot and magic—the kind that soaked into bone, whispering of secrets no mortal was ever meant to know.
Aayu sat in silence, chained by wrists and ankles, his back resting against the cool stone. Beside him, Celene stirred in her sleep, her brow furrowed in pain or fear, perhaps both. A dim red glow lit the cell—a sigil etched into the far wall pulsing with each beat of some distant, monstrous heart.
They had been moved deeper underground after the escape attempt.
He remembered the moment the dart had hit his neck, the world spinning, strength draining. Mara's scream echoing somewhere far behind, just as darkness swallowed him whole.
Now, he had no system interface.
No SP counter.
No Shop access.
Whatever these people had done, it had severed his connection. Temporarily, he hoped.
And yet, his mind remained sharp.
---
POV: Duke Thalorin
The great city of Velaria lay in tense silence. The Duke's estate, once bustling with nobles, knights, and scholars, had transformed into a war camp.
Maps were spread across tables, with black pins marking last known locations. Messengers moved like shadows, and the rhythmic clang of smiths forging weapons echoed across the inner court.
Duke Thalorin stood at the center of it all.
His face, once soft with paternal warmth, was now chiseled into steel. His daughter was gone. Kidnapped by cowards who dared touch noble blood.
He had sent riders to the Holy Church.
He had summoned the Adventurer Association's top hunters.
He had even contacted the Magic Tower, offering them rare grimoires in exchange for their Seers.
But it wasn't enough.
Not fast enough.
So he did what nobles of old once did.
He prayed.
And when the gods didn't answer, he forged a sword himself.
"We march south," he told his council. "I'll burn the world if I must. But I will find her."
---
POV: Celene
Her dreams were filled with screams.
But when she woke, it was worse.
No screams. No voices. Just the silent agony of a cell carved with runes that fed on despair.
Her body ached. Her magic felt like it was buried beneath stone.
But she wasn't broken.
Because beside her sat Aayu. Quiet. Watchful. Planning.
He didn't rant. Didn't tremble.
And that terrified her more than any monster.
Because if he still had hope, then they weren't finished.
---
POV: Aayu
He tested the chains every few hours. Not out of desperation, but measurement. The way they flexed. The way the enchantments thrummed. The way the guards walked by with predictable footsteps, always three, never four.
Whoever had orchestrated this was meticulous.
He had heard whispers.
"...Another candidate taken." "...Seat Seven is pleased." "...The Architects move again."
The Architects.
He had read of them in forbidden texts. A group so old, their name was spoken like myth. An organization with seven Thrones, each representing a different dominion:
1. The Grand Architect - unseen, unheard, but always obeyed.
2. The Throne of Empire - controlled entire kingdoms from the shadows.
3. The Throne of Blood - handled warfare and weaponry.
4. The Throne of Chains - experts of captivity, slavery, and psychological breaking.
5. The Throne of Ashes - manipulated information, history, and lies.
6. The Throne of Flesh - twisted science and biology beyond nature's laws.
7. The Throne of Whispers - masters of espionage, blackmail, and prophecy.
And someone here served Seat Four.
The one who broke people.
He smirked.
"They should've sent someone better."
---
POV: Seat Four - Lady Vaerra, Throne of Chains
She watched the prisoners from behind a pane of invisible glass.
Celene was strong-willed, but predictable. Noble pride. A father's shadow. Easily molded.
But Aayu...
He was dangerous.
Not because he fought back, but because he watched everything.
Because when her agents spoke, he listened.
Because he smiled, even in chains.
He was the kind of boy who escaped prisons and burned down the systems that built them.
And yet, she was curious.
Was it courage?
Or just madness?
"Test them again," she said.
---
POV: Aayu
Another test. Another illusion.
They fed him fake memories, fake choices. Let him believe he could flee, fight, win. Then dragged him back into reality.
They were trying to find something.
A trigger.
A hidden command in his system?
A forgotten trauma?
It didn't matter.
He gave them nothing.
He whispered to Celene when the magic dampened.
Planned. Mapped. Remembered.
The guards changed every 12 hours.
Food was laced with a mild sedative, easily filtered by tightening breath control.
The enchantments had a delay when the sigils flared.
He was collecting puzzle pieces.
And soon, he'd finish the picture.
---
POV: Celene
She saw it.
The way he moved now.
Subtle shifts. Calculated tension. Aayu was preparing.
It gave her strength.
She remembered her father's teachings. Sword forms. Etiquette. But also what he never said.
How he had once been a general.
How he knew the cost of silence.
So she waited. Learned. Matched Aayu's rhythm.
Because she knew—when the time came, she would be ready.
---
POV: Lady Vaerra
"He's syncing with her," her aide said.
Vaerra chuckled.
"Of course he is. Systems are designed to connect. Pair. Anchor."
"Should we separate them?"
"No. Let them believe in each other. It makes the shattering more effective."
She turned to the glyph console.
And pressed the sigil that activated Phase Two.
---
POV: Aayu
Pain.
Not physical.
Systemic.
He felt a wrenching inside him, like code being rewritten.
[System Interference Detected]
A flicker.
Then silence again.
But it was something.
He focused on that.
Grinned, despite the blood in his mouth.
"You can't corrupt what's already broken," he muttered.
---
Later that night, when the guards rotated and the wards weakened, he whispered to Celene:
"Tomorrow."
She nodded.
Not with fear.
But with fire.
The kind only kindled in cages.
The kind that burned empires when unleashed.
And far above, in the royal city, storm clouds gathered.
As the Duke of Velaria marched to war.