The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Come on, come on…

The guardian screeched again, a terrible, voiceless roar. Mist exploded outward, nearly engulfing Vyrelda. She stumbled back with a ragged breath, her sword arm trembling. Mikhailis's heart pounded. Another few seconds and she'd be overwhelmed.

I have to do this now.

His palm settled on the largest central rune, an oblong shape etched with subtle grooves. It felt right. The second his skin made contact, the rune flashed with an almost blinding brightness. The air crackled with arcane energy, and the entire chamber's temperature dropped, as though a sudden winter wind had swept through.@@novelbin@@

The guardian froze mid-attack, its swirling form flickering like a candle flame in the wind. For a moment, Mikhailis thought it might vanish completely, but then it convulsed, struggling against invisible chains that bound it to the system. The console's glow intensified, a rhythmic pulse that matched Mikhailis's racing heartbeat.

Rodion's voice pulsed with excitement.

<Override sequence accepted. The guardian's activity is halting.>

He pressed the final input—a symbol that resembled two interlocked circles. The lines on the console flared one last time, and the guardian emitted a keening wail that resonated like a physical force, pushing everyone back a step. Then, abruptly, it went still. Its vaporous limbs collapsed inward, form dissolving into harmless fog.

Silence.

Even the rumbling tremors subsided, leaving only the echo of Mikhailis's ragged breathing in the dark.

He swallowed, noticing the Crownless operative sagging against the wall, face etched with something akin to awe—or was it relief? Vyrelda, panting, lowered her sword. She cast him a glare that mixed both chastisement and grudging respect.

"You nearly got us killed," she said, her voice rough.

Mikhailis forced a lopsided grin. "But I didn't, did I?"

Though it was damn close.

Vyrelda sniffed. "You're reckless."

He chuckled, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. "Would you like me if I wasn't?"

She only rolled her eyes, too exhausted for retorts. The Crownless operative pulled themselves upright, giving Mikhailis a long, unreadable look. "I won't ask how you did that."

Mikhailis shrugged, still feeling the lingering tingle where the console's energy had coursed through him. "I'm not sure either. But it worked."

Rodion's calm, formal voice interrupted his thoughts:

<The chamber's response is stabilizing. The immediate threat is neutralized.>

He felt relief wash over him, though a hint of curiosity still crackled in his mind. The entity they'd fought was a defense system, sure, but it had also seemed aware—like it was capable of reacting beyond mere programming. A living extension of the ruin's ancient magic, perhaps. Stay tuned to My Virtual Library Empire

The operative cleared their throat. "You… might have saved us all, or you might've just triggered something worse. I can't tell yet."

Mikhailis let out a breathless laugh. "Sounds like my average Tuesday."

But, next time, a little more warning would be nice.

Vyrelda slid her sword back into its sheath, her posture still guarded. "We should leave. The entire city probably felt that disturbance. If the Technomancers or your Crownless friends didn't know we were here, they do now."

A faint scraping noise echoed in the distance. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The chamber's ancient walls, though currently stable, might not hold if another tremor struck. The operative nodded, as if the reality of the collapsing ruin was reason enough for caution.

Mikhailis spared one last glance at the console, faintly pulsing with a subdued glow. "I need to come back," he muttered, half to himself. "This place is more than just an old ruin. It's a key to the entire city's system."

The operative stiffened. "So do we. If you think we're letting an outsider claim these secrets—"

Vyrelda interrupted with a cold glare. "We don't belong to any side but our own."

Mikhailis lifted his hands in a gesture of truce. "Relax. I just want to ensure Serewyn's not strangled by mist or turned into someone else's puppet." His eyes flicked to the glyphs. "Besides, I have enough trouble in my life without adding 'run a city's hidden relic' to the list."

An uneasy silence stretched, but the tense hostility faded, replaced by a fragile understanding. The Crownless operative said nothing more, merely turning to the chamber's exit, gesturing for them to follow.

As they filed out, Mikhailis felt the exhausted weight of spent adrenaline. Every muscle in his body ached with the aftermath of near-disaster. He glanced at Vyrelda, who walked with her usual stoic pride, though he could see the faint tremor in her hands. She'd pushed herself to her limits defending him from that creature.

A pang of gratitude tugged at him.

I owe her big time, but I'll say that later.

They emerged into a network of half-collapsed tunnels, guided by the operative's cautious steps. The walls were etched with more archaic symbols, hints of the same script that had glowed in the main chamber. The presence here was less oppressive, the atmosphere gradually returning to the mundane gloom of a forgotten undercity.

At the end of the corridor, a broken archway revealed a narrow route leading upward, like a winding staircase carved from ancient stone. The operative paused there, turning back to Mikhailis and Vyrelda.

"I'll hold no grudges," they said quietly, voice still tinged with uncertainty. "But remember: we sought these ruins to free Serewyn. We are its rightful rulers, not the Technomancers, not outsiders."

Mikhailis didn't rise to the bait, merely offered a half-smile. "If you say so."

Vyrelda's expression hardened again. "We're not enemies. But if you come after us, we will fight."

The operative nodded, the tension between them unresolved but understood. They disappeared into the darkness, leaving Mikhailis and Vyrelda alone. For a moment, the only sound was the distant trickle of water dripping from the rocks.

Mikhailis let out a weary sigh. "We survived, at least."

Vyrelda inclined her head. "Barely."

He smirked, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "I prefer to call it style."

"Idiot." But there was no real anger in her voice, just a deep exhaustion.

They trudged up the old steps, each one unevenly worn by time. The promise of fresh air tugged at them, the sense that they were finally leaving the ancient illusions behind. Yet Mikhailis's mind buzzed with a hundred questions. The ruin's defense system, the mist entity—the voice that had spoken to him in fragments of a lost past.

And the Crownless House, with their claim of rightful rulership, their misguided belief that controlling the old regulator would restore them to power. He didn't fully trust them, but they were a piece of a puzzle that stretched far beyond a single faction's ambition.

In the distance, he heard a faint commotion—a sign that the city above was still alive, still locked in its quiet war of secrets. They emerged into a narrow alleyway, the walls damp with condensation from the choking mist that blanketed Luthadel. The sun, if it was even midday, barely pierced the gloom, leaving everything cast in half-light.

Vyrelda leaned against the alley wall, catching her breath. Her sword arm trembled slightly, the adrenaline wearing off. Mikhailis offered a half-smile, leaning beside her, the cold stone pressing against his back.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

She nodded, though her jaw remained tense. "I'll manage."

Mikhailis looked out into the fog-shrouded street. "I guess we both need a stiff drink after that."

She didn't respond, but a hint of a smirk pulled at her lips. "You think a drink will solve all your problems?"

He laughed, a genuine warmth cutting through the lingering fear in his chest. "Worth a try. Though I doubt anything is strong enough to numb the headache of dealing with ancient ruins and living mist."

Vyrelda's gaze slid sideways, regarding him with an odd mix of frustration and amusement. "You're lucky I don't follow strict orders from Elowen. Otherwise, I'd knock you unconscious and drag you back home."

Mikhailis gave a theatrical bow, despite the cramped alley. "Your devotion flatters me."

She snorted. "Don't mistake my devotion. I'm just trying to make sure you don't die under my watch."

He patted her shoulder, still grinning. "I appreciate that."

A moment of silence passed between them, and then he took a step forward, peering out of the alleyway. The city's mist seemed thicker than ever, swirling around corners, pooling in gutters. Even from here, he could sense how wrong it was, artificially guided by forces hidden beneath the streets.

But it's not unstoppable.

He felt that truth in the ruins. Serewyn once controlled its own fate.

Rodion's voice broke into his thoughts, calm but carrying an edge of sarcasm.

<Recommendation: Rejoin allies and formulate next steps. Aimless wandering has a 52% chance of leading you into another deadly scenario.>

He rolled his eyes but nodded inwardly. "Alright, let's find the rest before we do anything else reckless."

Vyrelda steadied her breathing, pushing off from the wall. "I'm with you. But next time you stick your hand on a strange console, I might just let you get shocked."

Mikhailis shot her a playful grin. "You'd never. You secretly enjoy my escapades."

"Keep telling yourself that," she muttered. But there was a faint softness in her gaze, a subtle acceptance that yes, she might not entirely regret keeping him alive.

Brushing the last flecks of dust from his coat, Mikhailis led the way into the next street, the swirling mist enveloping them once more. Above, the faint outline of Luthadel's towering spires loomed like silent watchers, their presence oppressive under the thick fog. Somewhere in those spires, the Technomancers plotted, and somewhere beneath them, a centuries-old machine had just awakened, only to be silenced again.

For now.

He felt the device in his pocket—the stolen badge that had proven worthless to the ancient system. But worthless only in the ruins. In the city's modern infrastructure, it was still a key that might open the Technomancers' secrets. And the knowledge he'd gained here? It might be the wedge needed to break their stranglehold.

He inhaled the damp, cold air, a note of determination flickering in his eyes.

"All right," he murmured. "Back to the surface game."

Vyrelda nodded in agreement, following him into the fog-laden streets.

Everything else could wait—until the next crisis found them, anyway.

And in Luthadel, crises had a way of tracking him down with uncanny speed.

But let them come. I'm ready… or at least, I'll pretend to be.

The thought tugged a wry smile to his lips as they vanished into the swirling mist.

Everything went dark.