Chapter 98: How Long Do You Plan to Keep Playing the Fool?

The ground of the Artucus forest suddenly began to rumble. The trees swayed violently and cracks started zigzagging across the earth near the East entrance.

“Looks like everything down there is collapsing…” Siegfried murmured, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the gaping maw of the underground passage, from which thick gray dust was escaping. A sudden resolve hardened his usually clumsy features. “I have to go back… I can’t leave Daemon down there.”

Victoria tightened her grip on the prince’s tunic. “Your Majesty, you can’t be serious! This is suicide! Daemon made his choice by staying behind. Why risk your life?”

She tried to put on a tearful expression, tilting her head to let a lock of hair brush against the prince’s shoulder. “Stay here…”

Siegfried looked at her for a moment, a small smirk curling his lips. He pulled free of her grip with polite but absolute firmness. “Lady Drigan, I can’t let someone die like that without at least checking if there’s a chance to get him out.” Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the entrance and stepped inside.

“Does Victoria really think I fell for her mediocre acting?” he sighed to himself, shaking his head, exasperated by the situation.

“That was even kind of embarrassing to watch… Honestly, what do I care if he hit her or not. I don’t give a damn.”

The prince stopped for a moment in the middle of the shaking corridor, debris from the ceiling crashing down all around him in a deafening roar. “So, where’s that idiot Dagon?” he wondered.

Siegfried took a step. Instantly, the Chi of his body surged.

His energy, pure silver, split into multiple afterimages of himself that shot off in every direction of the labyrinth at a speed beyond human perception. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, his consciousness traveling through his energy clones.

“Third level…” he murmured, opening his eyelids again.

A golden and blue glow shone intensely in his gaze. “I see you, lil Shaytan~”

Meanwhile, outside, Victoria Drigan was fuming. “That idiot… that cheap excuse of a prince is just going to die stupidly with the other one,” she spat.

She got up with difficulty, dusting off her ruined dress. “Should I go help him to keep my hold on him? No, waste of time. If they’re stupid enough to stay under that rubble, they can both die. I’ll find another pawn easily enough.”

Yet, just as she was about to leave the site, the steady sound of galloping horses reached her from the forest path. A dozen riders wearing the dark blue capes and silver armor characteristic of the Winter House.

These knights of the Sword Clan seemed to have made the rounds of every known entrance to the Catacombs and were now converging on the East, alerted by the tremors.

The captain of the troop, a middle-aged man, pulled on his steed’s reins as he recognized Lord Drigan’s daughter. “Lady Drigan!” he exclaimed, jumping off his mount. “We’re looking for Lord Daemon. Have you seen him?”

Victoria instantly slipped back into her mask of distress. “Daemon is still inside…” she said in a trembling voice, pointing at the entrance spewing clouds of dust. “Imperial Prince Siegfried Dragonslay went back in to find him, risking his life, just before the tremors got worse.”

The knight looked utterly stunned, exchanging a look of disbelief with his men. “Prince Siegfried? What connection does Daemon have to the imperial family? Why would he do something like that?”

They had no time to dwell on political questions, though. The captain signaled his men to dismount. “We’re going in!” he ordered. But they had barely crossed the first steps when a silhouette emerged from the cloud of debris. Siegfried Dragonslay was walking with difficulty, supporting a limp form on his shoulder.

It was Daemon Shaytan Dagon, half conscious, his head resting limply against the prince’s shoulder.

“I found him by chance near the access to the first level, just before a section of the vault sealed off the passage,” Siegfried explained, breathing heavily.

The Winter knights immediately took hold of their young master’s body to check him over. To their great surprise, Daemon seemed perfectly fine physically, aside from a few light bruises on his arms and chest.

Daemon no longer wore any bandages. Both his arms were visible, perfectly human, free of dark scales or claws. Only on his left arm, a complex tattoo of interlocking black thorns ran down to the back of his hand.

“His condition is stable, but his Chi is drastically low, as if it had been drained down to the last drop,” one of them reported.

The knights then bowed deeply before Siegfried.

“We thank the second imperial prince for saving the head of House Winter.”

Siegfried, for his part, slumped down heavily, his back against an oak tree. “Ah… ah… Shitty Shit…” he grimaced, closing his eyes. “I can’t move a single muscle anymore.”

***

*One day later… Temporary camp of the Sword Clan*

The dim light of dawn filtered through the tent canvas, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air. Daemon slowly opened his eyes, his first reflex being to bring his hand to his forehead. “Damn it… my head hurts like hell.”

Lowering his hand in front of his face, he noticed his right hand was perfectly normal.

“That’s strange…” he murmured, disbelieving. He then checked his left arm and saw the tattoo of black thorns.

“So it wasn’t a dream… Hope…” He sank into his thoughts, recalling the ethereal silhouette of Luci’El. He was, however, abruptly pulled from his trance by shrill screams coming from the neighboring tent.

Daemon got up with difficulty, putting on a simple tunic, and headed toward the source of the noise. Pulling back the flap of the medical tent, he saw Siegfried Dragonslay sitting on a stool, screaming at the top of his lungs while a healer tried to apply ointment to his scrapes.

“AAAAAHHH! Gently! You trying to kill me?! Is that acid?!” the prince screamed, thrashing about.

Daemon leaned against the tent’s center pole, a sarcastic smile on his face. “He’s overreacting… it’s not that painful, prince.”

Siegfried stopped screaming for a moment to shoot him a dark look. “Easy for you to say, you slept for twenty four hours straight! Shitty Shit, my noble skin is delicate, be careful!”

The healer finished wrapping Siegfried’s arms before bowing deeply and leaving the room. A knight then entered the tent to give his report. Seeing Daemon standing, the soldier snapped to attention.

“Lord Daemon, I’m relieved to see you’ve regained consciousness,” the knight declared.

“It was Prince Siegfried who carried you back from the first level of the Catacombs while everything was collapsing. We were able to set up this temporary base while waiting for you to wake.”

Daemon nodded in thanks toward Siegfried, who had resumed his serious expression while flipping through his notebook. “Where is Lady Drigan?” Daemon asked.

“Lady Victoria Drigan has already left for Magic Clan territory under a reinforced escort from her father,” the knight explained.

“Before leaving, she informed us of the catastrophic situation on her lands. The Spear Clan and the elemental Wind family have formed an alliance and are putting unbearable pressure on House Water.”

Daemon’s face darkened.

‘The Wind House’s betrayal doesn’t bode well for the balance of Hundun…’

“There’s another piece of news, even more troubling…” the soldier continued, lowering his voice.

“Lord Wade BlackFire, head of House Fire, was assassinated in his private quarters.”

Daemon’s heart skipped a beat.

“Wade BlackFire is dead? How?”

“An elusive assassin managed to infiltrate his heavily guarded manor,” the knight reported.

“No trace was left behind, no witness survived to describe the attacker.”

Hearing these words, a shiver ran down Daemon’s spine. He knew immediately it had to be Luna.

‘Why would she do that?’ he wondered.

The knight bowed once more and left the tent, leaving the two young men alone in the heavy silence that followed these revelations.

‘I need to get to the Magic Clan quickly… maybe she’s still there… or I can stop her from making another irreversible mistake,’ he thought.

Daemon sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Looks like you saved my life…” Daemon began, his tone turning more serious. “I owe you one, Siegfried.”

“Actually, you owe me two. I already saved your sorry ass from the Spear Clan’s lancers, remember?”

Daemon smiled. “That’s true.”

A silence settled as Siegfried took a sip of fresh water.

“I take it you heard about the situation at the Magic Clan. What are you planning to do?”

“Lord Drigan is the Sword Clan’s ally. Of course I’m going to lend a hand to his house to stabilize his territory, I’m sure my uncle won’t lift a finger. But you, Siegfried… what are you planning to do?”

“What do you mean?”

Daemon crossed his arms over his chest. “How long do you plan to keep playing the fool?”

Siegfried smiled slowly. “Since when did you notice?”