264. Inside A Dungeon
Northern City, Northern Coastline, Kim Island, Kim City, Ancorna Empire
“Your Holiness James,” Ravenna said, her voice calm but authoritative, resonating slightly in the confined space of the observation room. “You will act as my translator. Let us see what the Western Continent has to say for itself.”
James bowed deeply, the gold embroidery of his robes catching the harsh light of the mana lamps. “It would be my honor, Your Highness.”
With a thought, Ravenna navigated the translucent blue interface of the Reputation System.
[ Spend Reputation Points ]
Lie Detector: 2,000 Points per Use
She selected it without hesitation. A faint chime, audible only to her, signaled the activation. She felt the subtle shift in her perception, a tingling awareness that would lay bare the truth behind every spoken word.
She signaled the guards with a sharp nod. The heavy iron door groaned open, the hinges protesting against the salt air. Ravenna strode into the interrogation room, her posture regal, her expression unreadable. High Priest James followed a step behind, his demeanor serene but alert.
Behind the one-way glass, Marie and Alice watched intently, their breath fogging the surface as they strained to catch every detail.
Inside, the three Archbishops rose from their seats. They were imposing figures, draped in heavy crimson vestments that smelled of foreign incense and old parchment. The central figure, an older man with a severe face and a sacred scar dissecting his left eyebrow, stepped forward.
“Welcome to Kim Dukedom, Archbishops,” Ravenna said, her voice smooth. “It is an honor to have you here.”
High Priest James translated her words into the language of the Western Continent, his voice respectful and measured.
The Archbishops bowed in unison, a practiced, synchronized motion that felt more like a military drill than a greeting.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” the scarred Archbishop replied, his voice raspy. James translated quickly.
Ravenna took her seat opposite them, interlacing her fingers on the table. There was an odd feeling gnawing at the back of her mind: a prickling sensation on her skin that she couldn’t quite place. The air in the room felt too still, too heavy.
She tapped her finger against the wood, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “I would like to ask, just as a matter of protocol,” she began, her gaze locking onto the central Archbishop. “Do any of you harbor ill intentions toward the Saintess?”
James translated the question, his tone unwavering.
Silence stretched in the room, thick and suffocating. The Archbishops exchanged no glances, their expressions frozen in polite masks. Even James shifted slightly, sensing the unnatural pause.
Finally, the Archbishop with the scarred eyebrow spoke. “No, we do not harbor such intentions, Your Highness. We are here only to serve the will of the Goddess.”
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Ravenna didn’t need the translation. The system flared to life before her eyes, the text bold and damning.
[ Statement is False ]
Ravenna raised an eyebrow, a cold smirk touching her lips. “It seems they do harbor a hidden agenda,” she thought, her mind racing through the possibilities. ‘Perhaps they intend to pressure her into moving to the West? Or maybe they plan to leverage her status for political gain?”
She opened her mouth to press him further, to dismantle his lie piece by piece. But before she could speak, the Archbishop began to twitch.
It started with his hands, a violent tremor that rattled the heavy rings on his fingers. Then his neck jerked to the side with a sickening crack.
“Your Highness...” James whispered, taking a step back, his face draining of color.
The Archbishop’s eyes rolled back into his head, revealing whites that were rapidly filling with inky black veins. His mouth opened, but instead of words, a low, guttural chanting spilled out, distorted and multi-tonal.
“SHE IS THE VESSEL OF THE VOID!” he screamed, his voice no longer his own. “THE DISEASE OF SELF MUST BE PURGED!”
Ravenna stood up so fast her chair fell backward with a crash. The Cult? Here?
The other two Archbishops began to convulse in unison, their bodies swelling, their vestments tearing as their flesh expanded grotesquely.
“THE WITCH WAITS!” the scarred Archbishop howled, his jaw unhinging. “ABSOLUTION IS THE TRUTH!”
Ravenna didn’t think. She moved. She grabbed James by the collar and threw him toward the door. “GET OUT!”
CRACK-SQUELCH.
The sound of tearing meat filled the room. From the mouth of the central Archbishop, a massive black rose erupted, its thorns dripping with chaotic mana.
“A DUNGEON!” Ravenna shouted, diving for cover as the Archbishop’s body detonated.
A shockwave of pure, chaotic energy blasted through the room, shattering the one-way mirror and sending shards of glass flying like shrapnel. The reality of the room tore open, a swirling vortex of violet and black consuming the space where the envoys of the Church had stood.
From behind the shattered observation window, Marie screamed.
A few minutes later, the chaotic energy subsided, leaving behind a silence more chilling than the screams.
Ravenna woke slowly, a searing ache throbbing behind her eyes. Her limbs felt heavy and disjointed, and a general exhaustion weighed down her entire body. She was acutely aware of the damp, cool air clinging to her skin as she pushed herself up from the ground, the rough texture of cold stone scraping against the delicate fabric of her gown.
She was disoriented, her vision swimming as she surveyed her surroundings. The familiar cement walls of the Northern City observation room were gone. She was in a vast, sprawling cavern. Damp, rough-hewn stone walls stretched high into a gloom lit only by scattered, eerie bio-luminescent moss and the faint glow of strategically placed light-stones. The air smelled of ozone, mineral dampness, and something metallic: the faint, lingering scent of mana.
Lying scattered around her were the still-twitching bodies of several low-tier goblins, their grotesque forms sprawled amidst shattered rock and pools of dark ichor.
"I..." her head ached sharply, and she pressed her fingers against her temple as her vision slowly cleared. "What happened?"
"Master!"
The voice was Marie's, sharp with relief and raw with residual terror. Marie whirled around instantly upon hearing Ravenna stir. She rushed forward, abandoning her post as a guard, her crossbow clutched tightly in her trembling hand.
"You are awake!" Marie cried, immediately collapsing into a fierce, desperate embrace. The hug was tight, unreserved, and tinged with the emotion of someone who had faced absolute loss. "I thought... I thought I lost you!"
"Yes, yes, I am awake," Ravenna murmured, patting her disciple's chestnut hair soothingly. She held Marie close for a moment, letting the warmth of the living girl anchor her to reality.
It was only then, over Marie’s shoulder, that Ravenna saw him.
Just a few feet away, lying still on the damp cavern floor, was a figure in the blood-soaked robes of a high-ranking priest. He lay face-down, his silver hair spread like a halo around his head. An unnatural, void-black rose protruded from the back of his neck, the source of the dark blood that pooled beneath him.
The sight, even in this chamber of death, pierced through Ravenna's lingering confusion. The robes, the hair, the stillness: it was horrifyingly familiar.
"Your Holiness James...?" Ravenna whispered, the sound catching in her throat, the shock finally tearing through her exhaustion.