370. Deadly Negotiation

With renewed determination, John reached the high ceiling and hauled himself onto the narrow stone ledge right beside the portal. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stared into the swirling darkness of the door and muttered softly, “If I die, I die... but I will save these people.”

Without a second of hesitation, he jumped inside.

Sundar Valley, Hidden Path of the Chain-Heart, Somewhere in the Kingdom of Sundravan, Western Continent.

John slowly walked out of the portal into a vast, terrifying cavern. The air within the inner sanctum was suffocatingly heavy, thick with the sharp stench of ozone and the acrid smell of scorched mana. Every single one of his footsteps echoed loudly against the cold, damp stone.

He could feel hundreds of invisible, predatory stares piercing through him from the surrounding shadows. As he marched into the center, the massive stone-like structure sculpted into the grotesque, horrifying form of a pulsing, organic heart towered before him, just as he painfully remembered. It was easily the size of a grand cathedral.

Colossal iron chains, each link larger than a fully grown man, were forged from a dark metal that hummed with a low-frequency vibration. They were nailed directly into the surrounding bedrock, binding the Great Heart tightly from every side as if to keep the monstrosity from leaping out of the cavern earth entirely. Nothing about the grim altar had changed, but the sheer dread suffocating John's chest was infinitely worse than his first encounter.

The heart throbbed. Slow. Steady. Horrifyingly alive.

“Witch of the West!” John roared, swallowing hard as he fought to maintain a firm posture. His heart battered against his ribs, every muscle in his body feeling as though it were being crushed beneath a mountain under the sheer weight of her aura.

At the base of the Great Heart, a high throne carved from blackened stone sat atop a towering stairwell. Arranged in a silent, perfect circle around its base were twelve robed figures, motionless as stone gargoyles attending a dark divinity, clearly the Generals of the Witch's Cult.

Sitting high atop the throne was the woman herself: The Witch.

“You dared to step into my sanctuary? on your own free will?” The Witch spoke, her voice carrying a haunting, layered harmony that seemed to resonate directly out of the golden chains themselves. She slowly rose to her feet, her ornate gown of void-black lace trailing behind her.

Her striking purple eyes glowed with an eerie violet light as she looked down at him. “Tell me, do you not fear death?”

A violent wave of ice shot straight down John’s spine. He pushed every bone and fiber of willpower in his body to keep his knees from buckling, refusing to pass out as he had during their previous confrontation.

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“My fear does not matter!” John replied, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the agonizing pressure burning through his lungs. “What matters is that I am here to make a bargain with you!”

“A bargain?” She chuckled softly, her light amusement echoing in unison with the low, mocking murmurs rising from the twelve generals below.

Even the Great Heart itself seemed to pulse in time with her laugh as she leaned over the stone railing. “This is remarkably amusing. Very well, pest... let us hear it. What could someone like you possibly offer to bargain with me?”

Blacksmith Workshop, Advanced Education Academy, Kim City, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

“So you want it to be a massive metal capsule fitted with a heavy-duty rotary crank mechanism to seal the hatch completely watertight?” Nillie pondered, examining the technical schematics co-drafted by Archmage and Ryan.

The underlying layout was surprisingly straightforward, yet the structural parameters revealed an immense amount of engineering foresight.

“Yes. It essentially needs to function like an airtight vault, but with a hydrodynamic exterior shell so it can be lowered smoothly into the ocean depths without tumbling,” Ryan explained, pointing to the structural cross sections.

The Archmage gestured to the outer lining. “And the reinforced plating needs to be exceptionally thick… capable of surviving a full round-trip under immense deep-ocean pressure without fracturing.”

“Hmm... I understand the design, but exactly how much volume do you require inside? What on earth are we actually lowering down there?” Nillie asked, his eyes straying toward the mountain of unfinished blueprints and half-assembled prototypes cluttering his side workbench. “I have dozens of high-priority projects currently in progress... I only agreed to review this on short notice because Her Highness sent an explicit order stating it was an emergency. If you want this finished rapidly, I need exact details.”

Ryan and the Archmage exchanged a hesitant glance, quietly debating whether Nillie possessed the necessary security clearance to be briefed on this classified rescue operation.

“Just brief him on the entire situation. Mister Nillie is already an indispensable pillar of our military infrastructure and oversees all our advanced machinery anyway,” Alice’s cold, crisp voice rang out from the doorway as she stepped into the workshop.

“Miss Alice...!” Both Ryan and the Archmage offered respectful nods as she approached the workbench.

“She is correct, we don’t have a single minute to waste on hesitation,” Ryan muttered, turning back to Nillie. Taking a deep breath, he laid it out flatly. “We are going to lower a living person down to the ocean floor... sealed inside a specialized pressure capsule modeled with Princess Serena's magic tool wine press barrels!”

“What?!” Nillie’s jaw nearly dropped in utter disbelief.

Alice let out a weary sigh, pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. As the Archmage and Ryan immediately launched into a detailed breakdown of the deep-sea dungeon collapse and the pressure dilemma, Alice quietly observed the intellects discussing.

“He must have also had an Apostle's mark manifest on his body when Ravenna assigned him an administrative role inside the Origin Domain…” she thought, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her arm as she watched the three brilliant minds intensely debate.

“Ravenna asked me to check up on him because he hasn't uttered a single word about receiving an apostle mark... Why on earth has he kept quiet about it? Has he even noticed it yet?”