Chapter 61 Zora’s Tower (3)
Chapter 61 Zora’s Tower (3)
Iryoku dashed between the bookshelves, trying to lure out whatever had just attacked them—but nothing happened.
“Shit,” he muttered, eyes darting through the shadows. “Come out, coward.”
Only silence answered him.
Frustrated, he returned to where he had left Yumi and Halim. They were still standing there, seemingly untouched.
“Did anything happen here while I was gone?” he asked.
“No,” they both replied at the same time.
he nodded.
“Damn it,” Iryoku growled. “I don’t like this. They can’t just disappear like that.”
“We should keep going,” Yumi said in a flat, voice.
Iryoku glanced at her, holding her gaze for a moment. Something about her tone seemed… off. But he turned away and looked at Halim instead.
“What do you think, Halim-boy?”
Halim looked at Iryoku, and nodded. “Yeah… let’s keep going.”
They climbed to the next floor. The space opened into a wide chamber that clearly served as a training ground. Scorch marks marred the walls, and arcane residue shimmered faintly on the floor—evidence of repeated magical duels.
“This is interesting,” Iryoku muttered, scanning the room. “Looks like a practical magic area. For sparring, maybe?” He glanced at Halim, expecting an answer.
But Halim said nothing. He and Yumi had already moved ahead, walking in perfect sync.
“We should keep going,” Halim echoed, without looking back.
Iryoku’s eyes flickered, unsettled. “Guys… what’s going on with you?” he asked softly. But they didn’t respond.
He followed them in silence.
The next floor opened into a vast dining hall, lined with long wooden tables. Plates still sat neatly in place—each holding a modest serving of vegetables—but there wasn’t a single person in sight.
“I’m starving,” Iryoku said aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the empty hall. He tried to lighten the mood. “Care to join me for a bite Yumi?”
Yumi stopped and looked at him, her expression unreadable.
Grinning, Iryoku picked up one of the plates and held it up. “Look at this—just vegetables. What, are all mages vegetarian? Get it, Yumi? They must be just a bunch of weaklings, huh?”
He chuckled—but there was no warmth in it. His eyes were sharp, fixed on Yumi and Halim, watching… waiting.
They barely reacted. No smile. No groan. Nothing.
The laughter faded from his lips.
The silence felt colder now.
“Let’s keep going, guys,” Iryoku said flatly this time, motioning for them to move forward.
As Yumi and Halim continued walking without a word, something inside Iryoku snapped. In a flash, the white cord shot out from his left hand, wrapping tightly around both of them. The glowing rope lifted them into the air, holding them suspended in front of him.
His eyes burned with fury.
“All right, you bastards,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “What did you do to them?”
The two hung there silently, their expressions blank.
“Oh, you don’t want to talk?”
The cord suddenly constricted—tightening around Halim with brutal force. There was a sickening CRACK as bones began to snap, the grotesque sound of muscle tearing under pressure. Halim’s head twitched—then his jaw dropped open unnaturally wide. Spikes of bone erupted through his skin, shredding his human form.
With a guttural, inhuman screech, the creature lunged toward Iryoku.
But he was ready.
Both daggers drawn, he slashed upward as it came mid-air, cutting deep into its exposed, fleshy core. The beast writhed, crashing to the ground. Frost crept across its wounds, spreading slowly. It twitched, then stood again on its pointed appendages and began stalking toward him with eerie calm.
“So it really does do some frost damage,” Iryoku muttered, glancing at his daggers.
But the ice vanished in an instant—and the creature lunged again.
This time, Iryoku met it with a flurry of slashes. Steel flashed, blood sprayed, and the beast finally collapsed into a pile of mangled meat.
Then, the rest of Halim’s twisted body convulsed—and transformed. What remained burst into another monstrous form, jagged and red, hurling itself at him.
At the same time, Yumi’s suspended body let out a bone-chilling shriek as her form warped—spines ripping through her back and face. She thrashed violently, breaking free of the cord, and launched herself at Iryoku with inhuman speed.
Iryoku stood with a wild, furious glare as his harpoon, still connected to the white cord, whipped through the air. With a swift, fluid motion, the bladed end slashed forward—piercing through all three remaining aberrations in multiple vicious strikes.
Their mangled bodies crashed to the ground.
Breathing heavily, his eyes wide with fury, Iryoku screamed from the depths of his lungs:
“Bastard! Show yourself! If you’ve done anything to Yumi or Reika—I swear, I’ll tear you apart! I’ll make you beg for death!”
Silence answered.
He stood there trembling, his heart pounding, blood boiling with rage. His teeth clenched tightly as the silence pressed in around him like a noose.
Then—sounds.
From all directions.
Wet, crawling, squelching sounds.
Iryoku raised his daggers, his grip tight. From the shadows, they emerged—aberrations. Crawling on the floors. Skittering along the walls. Climbing down from the top floors. Slithering up from below.
Dozens of them.
He was surrounded.
And they were closing in.
A swarm of creatures lunged at Iryoku all at once.
Without hesitation, he dashed forward, twin daggers flashing. The wolf fang at the end of his white rope lashed out with uncanny speed, slicing through flesh with brutal precision.
He dropped low to the ground—flattening himself just as another wave of monsters leapt overhead. In one smooth motion, he surged back up into a whirlwind of slashes, his movements wild and relentless. His face twisted into a feral expression—mad, hungry for blood.
Whip—CRACK!
The harpoon moved on its own, like a beast unleashed. It carved through the air, severing limbs and meat, cutting the creatures apart with mechanical efficiency.
Within seconds—it was over.
The floor was littered with twitching remains.
Chest heaving, eyes burning with rage, Iryoku turned and ran. He retraced his steps through the tower, sprinting past the dining hall, the training grounds, scanning every room as he passed.
Nothing.
He reached the library again and rushed to the spot where Yumi and Halim had last stood.
“It has to be here,” he muttered, frantically searching. He tore through shelves, scanned every wall, every shadow—nothing.
“Fuck me…” he growled. “There has to be a way.”
His hands shook. His eyes were bloodshot.
“I know Yumi’s alive. She has to be.”
Trembling, he made for the second floor—the corridor with all the private rooms. One by one, he tore through them. Empty. Undisturbed. Just like before.
Nothing.
No signs of life. No clues.
Desperate now, he bolted down to the first floor—where he’d left Rhogan.
But the moment he stepped into the chamber, he froze.
he was gone.
“…Rhogan buddy?” he whispered.
His eyes darted across the empty room. Panic twisted in his gut.
“where are you?!”
He rushed to the front entrance—where the massive sealed door had once stood.
Gone.
Just a bare wall.
“What is happening—no… no no no—AHHH!”
He slammed his fist into the stone wall, teeth clenched in fury.
“Motherfucking place! Are you messing with me?!”
His scream echoed through the empty halls.
His face fuming with frustration, Iryoku dashed upward once more, tearing through the floors like a storm. He searched room after room, eyes wild, breath sharp.
Eventually, he arrived at the library again—the place where Reika had left the note.
Dropping to his knees, he began sweeping aside books with frantic energy, scanning spines and covers, opening volumes at random. He reached the shelf where Reika had been reading and dug deeper, yanking books down one by one.
Then—flutter—a small piece of paper fell out from between two thick tomes.
He snatched it up immediately.
It was handwritten—in Japanese.
His heart pounded as he read:
The headmaster is suspicious.
“What…?” Iryoku muttered. His mind raced. “Does she mean the old elf from the entrance portrait?”
Without wasting another second, he dashed back down to the first floor. Skidding to a halt in front of the grand painting of the elven mage, he tore it from the wall, flipping it over, searching for hidden compartments.
Nothing.
He slammed his fist against the wall behind it. Still nothing. No false panel, no magical mechanism, no clue.
“Damn it!” he hissed. “That’s not it…”
His eyes burned with fury and desperation. “Then there’s only one thing left to do…”
He turned back toward the staircase.
Keep going up.
With renewed determination, he launched himself upward again—blazing past the dining hall, past the training grounds, past the slaughtered monster remains. Floor after floor blurred past him as he surged toward the tower’s peak, teeth clenched, blades ready.
After some time, Iryoku passed through several floors that looked similar to the ones he had seen before—though each had subtle differences, as if reality itself were shifting around him. Eventually, he came upon a floor that mirrored the second one, with familiar-looking rooms. He checked each one carefully until he found a strangely large door. It stood out—not only for its size, but for its reinforced frame, clearly meant to protect something important.
He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.
Then he remembered the token they had used to enter the tower. Pulling it from his pocket, he pressed it against the door.
A click.
"Yes," he breathed, quickly pushing the door open.
Inside was a vast study—dimly lit, lined with tall bookshelves, arcane instruments, and a large desk at the center. A massive board stood at the far end of the room, filled with complex formulas and magical sigils. Iryoku walked up to it, scanning for anything useful—though he couldn’t read any of it.
Then, at the bottom of the board, he noticed a small handwritten note in Japanese.
“It’s my fault. I abandoned him… I’m not the hero… I never was… I’m not the protagonist. He was… I des—”
Iryoku’s breath caught in his throat.
His eyes widened as, slowly, the final words etched themselves onto the board in front of him—letter by letter, like a ghost whispering from the other side:
"—I deserve to die."
“No…” Iryoku muttered, his chest tightening. Without thinking, he grabbed the nearby magical marker and scrawled beneath the message:
"That’s not true."
For a moment, the board remained still.
Then, new words appeared, as if an unseen hand were writing back:
"Who are you?"
Iryoku stared for a heartbeat… then finally smiled.
He wrote, firm and swift:
"Your husband. Wait for me. I’m coming to get you—right now, baby."
He pressed his ear against the board and tried to listen. “It’s pulsing,” he muttered. Then he knocked—and someone knocked back.
His eyes widened in shock.
He stepped back slightly and studied the surface. From a certain distance, he could just make out a faint reflection.
A thought sparked in his mind.
He glanced down at his daggers—then quickly sheathed them and switched to the Wolf Fang.
His grip tightened around the weapon. He took a steady breath, focused, and with all his strength, struck the board.
A pulse of magic exploded from the surface, blasting him backward. He skidded across the floor, groaning as he pushed himself up, the Wolf Fang still clutched in his fist.
“Damn it... it’s protected,” he growled. “But I’m not stopping now.”
This time, he backed up several steps to build momentum. Power gathered within him like a rising storm. He lunged forward again and struck.
The backlash was even stronger.
He was thrown violently to the ground. His arm trembled from the impact, nerves screaming. Gritting his teeth, he slowly stood, flexing his fingers open and closed.
“Shit…” he hissed. “If only I could use Leben…”
He closed his eyes and focused.
He pulled on every last reserve of energy he had. The white cord coiled around his arm—the one bound to the Wolf Fang—began to glow. But the blade itself remained unchanged.
“Come on… Leben… I know I can do it. Please—work!”
His body shook. Magic surged through him, wild and volatile.
He focused everything—mind and soul—into a single, microscopic point at the tip of the blade.
He looked down at the Wolf Fang.
A tiny light appeared at the blade’s edge—diminutive, but unmistakably there.
“Yes!” he exclaimed, hopeful. “Now maintain it…” he urged himself aloud.
The light intensified, glowing stronger, yet still held its microscopic form as he condensed all his energy into it.
Then… it turned black.
He stared.
The tiny black point at the tip of the Wolf Fang pulsed—dense, sharp, and impossibly small. Like the edge of a singularity. Impossibly powerful.
With a roar, Iryoku thrust the blade into the board, twisting his entire body with unmatched speed and force.
A deafening crack rang out—like the sound of glass shattering at the center of the world. The board split open, light and shadow bleeding from the fracture. Reality rippled around him like a disturbed pond, warping and folding as if another dimension had been peeled back.
And then—he turned.
There she was.
A girl in a purple shirt and black pants, her black hair tied in a high bun, sat on the floor in stunned silence. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, locked onto his.
Iryoku gave a small grin, soft but sure.
“I found you,” he said, voice filled with quiet conviction. “I told you, you’d be mine… eventually.”
Reika stared in disbelief. “You’re alive… You’re really here… You’re not just a hallucination?”
Her hand reached out, trembling—but stopped halfway.
“No… This is just my mind playing tricks. My guilt. My desire,” she said, eyes filling again. “I don’t deserve your words. I left you back on the mountain. It was me who activated the stone. I abandoned you to that dragon… I’m so sorry.”
Tears spilled freely now.