Breathing in the faintly red mist that permeated the surroundings, Lucian's limbs went limp, his head throbbing and swelling with each pulse. Before his eyes, the scene of Correa and Hausen fighting flickered — one moment they were Correa and a giant rat, the next they were back to two men trying to kill each other, as though hallucination and reality had been superimposed on top of one another.
"Wait — hallucination?!" The moment the thought struck Lucian, a rough hypothesis formed in his mind. He concentrated, allowing that sensation of consciousness spreading outward like a tide to resurface. The shifting stopped. The red mist ceased to twist and warp. Everything stabilized. It really was Correa and Hausen locked in a life-or-death struggle. Both were covered in bleeding wounds, their movements agonizingly slow and laborious, as though each had been pushed to the absolute limit.
"Is it the blood of the red-eyed rats themselves that causes hallucinations, or is it only after that strange plant absorbs and transforms the blood that the visions begin?" Lucian murmured. "What an ingenious magical trap."
He finally understood — Hausen's disappearance,
The Sacred Light Strike that the Emblem of Truth had fired moments ago had not only vaporized Gary's right hand and part of his shoulder, but had continued upward, punching straight through the stone ceiling of the hidden chamber. A deep hole had been blasted open, and rubble rained down as if the entire room might collapse at any second.
Dust and debris filled the air, scattering the pale red mist and restoring some of the feeling to Lucian's numbed limbs.
Lucian didn't know whether further traps lay ahead, so even though he was temporarily safe, he dared not relax. He forced his mind to race through possible courses of action.
The Emblem of Truth could no longer activate anything beyond its two Light Arts — he had lost his greatest advantage. Even his own physical strength had been sapped by the paralytic agent suspended in the red mist, leaving him pathetically weak.
Suddenly, Lucian spotted the strange plant swaying back and forth, buffeted by the falling debris.
"It has no ability to protect itself beyond creating hallucinations?" The realization struck him immediately. Summoning every scrap of strength in his limp limbs, he staggered to his feet and began making his way toward the plant.
His legs had no strength left. He stumbled forward, weaving drunkenly, falling several times among the rubble. The jagged stones tore at his skin, leaving him covered in cuts that burned with searing pain. In several places, blood began to seep out in sluggish rivulets.
Lucian hissed through his teeth, enduring the agony. He clung to the brief clarity and flicker of strength that the pain provided and dragged himself, step by agonizing step, to the base of the strange plant.
After everything he had been through, Lucian's naivety and panic had diminished considerably. Without hesitation, he held his breath, reached out with a trembling but resolute right hand, and gripped the main stem of the plant.
Beneath his palm, he could feel veins pulsing and blood rushing like a stream. It was as though he were not holding a plant at all, but a living creature. He wrenched it sideways with all his might.
"Aagh!"
Every leaf and branch of the strange plant contracted at once, and a shrill, wretched scream tore through the air — the sound of something dying.
The first tug hadn't broken it. Lucian pulled harder. The plant let out another agonized shriek while simultaneously extending its tendrils again, reaching toward Lucian's body. A wet, slick, nauseating sensation spread across his skin as countless tiny barbs burrowed into his flesh. Lucian forced himself to suppress his terror and yanked once more.
"Mmmpf..."
The crying cut off abruptly. A spray of pale red liquid from inside the plant spattered across Lucian's chest. The stench of blood hit him full in the face, draining even more strength from his limbs. He could only lean against the nearby stone wall to keep from crumpling to the ground.
Once the plant had been torn in two, the pale red mist in the surrounding air grew denser and denser, nearly condensing into liquid.
On the desk nearby, the three softly glowing books sensed the thickened mist and began to corrode at alarming speed. From the first page to the last, in a matter of two or three seconds, they had completely dissolved — so fast that even Lucian, standing right there, couldn't make out a single word written on them.
Of course, in his current state of paralysis, he had no chance of reaching them in time. He could barely take a single step.
The desk stood bare and empty. Yet strangely, apart from where the three books had been, nothing else showed any sign of corrosion. After a brief moment of confusion, Lucian grasped the key point: "Another magical trap. Once the concentration of the red mist reaches a certain threshold, the trap embedded in those Magic Notes activates automatically, destroying the books themselves so the enemy can't get their hands on them."
"What a waste — those Magic Notes..." Lucian sighed inwardly with genuine regret. Those were books that could teach a person supernatural power!
Then, abruptly, he froze. He had noticed the library within his soul beginning to emit a strange, faint glow.
Curious, he extended his consciousness into it — and his eyes went wide. A brand-new bookshelf had appeared inside the library, labeled "Arcane Magic." And on that shelf sat three books: the very same three Magic Notes he had just watched dissolve before his eyes.
"Could this library have the ability to collect books? But where does the content come from?" Lucian was stunned. "Or maybe I have to see the content with my own eyes for it to work. Hmm — although those three books corroded extremely quickly, if you slowed the whole process down, they would still have been destroyed page by page. Could this strange library have recorded the contents from start to finish, creating these three projections? Otherwise, there's no way the content could have appeared from nothing."
For now, Lucian could only guess. He would need to run a few experiments with other books before he could be sure.
Staring at the three Magic Notes, the same person who had been lamenting their loss moments ago now hesitated: "If I study Arcane Magic... in a world where Divine Arts are powerful and mages can be burned alive in public... wouldn't that be far too dangerous?"
Unable to reach a decision, he set the question aside for the time being. After all, he and the others were still inside the hidden chamber — danger had not yet fully passed. Lucian began gathering his strength.
With the strange plant destroyed, the pale red mist was fading steadily. Correa and Hausen were gradually emerging from their hallucinations, staring at each other in shock. But their clarity had come far too late. Both were on the verge of death.
......
Above ground, Benjamin let out a muffled grunt at the exact moment Lucian's spiritual energy had triggered the Emblem of Truth and activated the Sacred Light Strike. He lowered his right hand and stared down the secret passage, his expression flickering with unease.
"Lord Benjamin?" The guard
Under the glow of the Silver Moon, Benjamin's complexion had turned very ugly. He said in a low voice, "Something's gone wrong down there. My spiritual imprint on the Emblem has been triggered. Damn it — just a Magic Apprentice, and he's managed to cause all this. Useless! Paul, wait here. If I haven't come back in five minutes, send word to the Bishop for assistance."
It was precisely because of the spiritual imprint embedded in the Emblem that Benjamin had felt safe handing the Emblem of Truth to Lucian in the first place. Even if the Emblem — a standardized Divine Arts artifact distributed from above — was far weaker than Benjamin's own capabilities and the other Divine Arts artifacts in his possession, he still wouldn't have given it to just anyone so casually. The fact that his spiritual imprint had been triggered, that he had failed to prevent an unauthorized activation of Divine Arts at the critical moment — it was infuriating.
Carelessness and negligence are always the companions of arrogance and prejudice.
In Benjamin's heart, he had always harbored a deep contempt for knights who relied on bloodline and physical strength. He considered them crude and lowly, utterly beneath the noble spellcasters who pursued the mysteries of the world — even if those spellcasters happened to be evil mages. Knights simply did not deserve to wield Divine Arts artifacts. That was why he had unconsciously handed the Emblem of Truth to Lucian, whose spiritual power exceeded that of an ordinary person.
This attitude was rooted in Benjamin's upbringing, shaped by every experience he had ever had.