"You — you killed him?"
Lucian had seen plenty of corpses. The intelligent creatures he had killed with his own hands numbered more than one or two. He felt no panic, no nausea, no great shock — merely the inability to keep looking. He raised his head toward the vaulted ceiling of the underground palace. Had the strange shift in the Magic Circle just now cancelled the effect that was supposed to teleport the dying?
Was this an instinctive response of the underground palace to some stimulus, or had someone done it deliberately? If it was an intentional alteration, what was the mastermind's goal? And after this change, could the Duke of Golden Sparrow, Count Nuremberg, and the others outside still observe everything happening inside the underground palace?
If that was the case, it might actually be good news for him — he could display his full strength without reservation and sweep away every scheme those "youngsters" had cooked up.
Under the crushing pressure of absolute power, it would take him only a short time to reach the secret chamber, open the hidden passage, enter the inner sanctum of King Tarnos's tower, and perform the arcane ritual.
But there was still the matter of the Gold Knight inside the underground palace — the "Crown of Glory," Midaren. That was the most critical reason Lucian had chosen to travel with Sophia rather than storming the secret chamber by force!
Douda braced both hands against the ground, scrambling backward through the blood and filth in a panic: "I — I didn't — I didn't mean to kill him! I — I only meant to defeat him, to wound him badly! But he — he actually just — just stood there like an idiot, refusing to teleport out! He refused to teleport out! It's not my fault — it's all his own doing! It's not my fault!"
His words came in broken, stammering screams, his eyes vacant, his head shaking ceaselessly — he looked half-mad.
Post-traumatic stress — for some reason, the psychology term surfaced unbidden in Lucian's mind. Douda had apparently never killed anyone before, and to do so without any psychological preparation against a noble youth he knew — the shock must have been immense. It was only natural that his mind had frayed.
"Calm down, Douda, calm down. It's not your fault — the Magic Circle inside the underground palace malfunctioned." Lucian had recently been studying "illusion magic" in depth, and after frequently using the
His voice, warm as a gentle breeze, seemed to ease some of the tension and panic from Sophia standing nearby. She glanced at "Borak" with a mixture of confusion and surprise — she had not expected that, faced with death and the cataclysmic changes sweeping through the underground palace, he could remain so composed, effortlessly drawing the people around him into calm.
A flurry of emotions flickered across her face in an instant before Sophia spoke softly, joining in to guide Douda: "That's right — it had nothing to do with you. The Magic Circle malfunctioned."
"Yes! It's not my fault! It's the Magic Circle!" Clinging to Lucian's explanation like a drowning man seizing the last lifeline, Douda was wild with desperate relief.
After a few more calming words and seeing that Douda had steadied somewhat, Lucian pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it: "Could you tell us exactly what happened just now?"
Eager to shed his guilt, Douda recounted what had happened in halting, fragmented sentences, as though reliving a nightmare.
After he entered the underground palace, he appeared in a nearby bedchamber. Following the layout changes indicated on his map, he made his way deeper into the palace, attempting to rendezvous with Alten and the others — but instead he ran headlong into a noble youth with whom he had a minor grudge and who belonged to a rival faction. The two of them immediately clashed in a heated fight.
For the first time, battling without flashy tricks, without a mentor, without any help, Douda grew more exhilarated as the fight went on, unleashing the beastial instinct and natural combat talent coiled within him. After a thoroughly satisfying exchange, he knocked his opponent's longsword flying, stepped forward without hesitation, and swung at the man's neck — after all, once he was gravely wounded, the Magic Circle would teleport him out, and several Sky Knights were waiting outside along with no shortage of healing potions.
But the sensation beneath his blade did not vanish. Blood sprayed across Douda's face and hair, and that bastard he had always despised stared at him with eyes full of disbelief, terror, and despair — a hollow, uncomprehending gaze that bored into him before the man crumpled limply to the ground.
Those lifeless, ashen-grey eyes of absolute despair were seared into Douda's mind, and every time he recalled them he was seized by fear.
After hearing Douda's account and verifying the timeline, Lucian confirmed it coincided precisely with the moment he had sensed the Magic Circle shift.
"Judging by the timing, it was around when you felt someone was following us." Sophia also recalled "Borak's" earlier unusual behaviour and pulled him aside, speaking in a low voice so Douda would not overhear.