Chapter 38: Marcus Elias Ravenfield (1)
Silas reappeared with a sharp inhale, as though he'd been holding his breath the entire time the teleportation spell whisked him through space. He landed softly, already within the wrought iron gates of the mansion—its towering silhouette looming ahead under the indigo sky.
"I can't get used to that..."
He chuckled to himself, voice low, almost breathless, eyes scanning the stately estate before him. Warm light spilled from tall windows like golden syrup, stretching long across the manicured courtyard as dusk bled into night. The mansion stood regal and untouched, like something off the cover of a fantasy artbook—complete with glistening spires and ivy-wrapped columns.
Though Silas knew he was technically a background character in the game's original story, the wealth of his mysterious new family was anything but subtle. It was ostentatious. Ludicrous, even. Especially considering one of the game's actual supporting characters—the famously jacked butler—worked under them. The butler's own role had more narrative weight than the entire Ravenfield bloodline.
"Time for the moment I've been avoiding this whole time."
He muttered under his breath, sighing. Steeling himself, he stepped forward, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel path. The towering double doors loomed closer. He placed his hands on the twin silver doorknobs, which shimmered faintly with arcane light. A gentle pulse traveled through the metal—identification magic. It scanned him with a subtle hum, casting brief blue glows across his palms.
For a setting based on medieval fantasy Europe...
The technology sure is advanced in this world...
He thought wryly, half-impressed and half-bewildered. Magic-infused smart locks. Go figure.
As the doors creaked open, he was greeted by a vast, echoing foyer. It welcomed him with the same quiet grandeur of an unspoken legacy. Twin staircases curled upward in a perfect split, converging like a pair of serpents rising toward the second floor. The floor beneath his feet gleamed with a sheen of immaculate marble, carved in intricate diamond patterns. Ornate candlesticks, suits of armor, and delicate figurines lined the room with decorative precision—like a gallery curated by someone with both unlimited funds and no real guests to impress.
"Now for the annoying part of finding my room..."