The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis groaned, spitting out a mouthful of dust as he pushed himself up from the rubble. The impact of the fall had knocked the wind out of him, and every muscle seemed to ache in protest. He felt the gritty texture of debris beneath his palms, bits of rock pressing into his skin. For a moment, the world was just a swirl of haze and swirling dirt, stinging his eyes and clinging to his lashes. He coughed several times, trying to clear his throat of the thick, earthy taste.

He blinked, vision gradually sharpening. The chamber around him was dimly lit by the faint glow of runes etched into the walls, which flickered weakly, like an ancient lantern about to go out. The air smelled of damp stone and something sharp, almost like old metal—maybe the remains of rusted tools or battered weapons long forgotten beneath the ground. He grimaced at the scent, realizing it was a lot less pleasant than the crisp air he was used to aboveground.

He rolled his shoulders, each movement sending a dull throb through his back. "Well," he muttered to no one in particular, "that was a solid zero out of ten for smooth landings." His voice echoed slightly in the cavernous space, reminding him of just how large this hidden area might be.

Lira was already on her feet. She stood to the side, patting the dust from her black coat. Even in these conditions, she somehow managed to keep her elegance intact. A few stray hairs had slipped from her ponytail, but she brushed them back with the kind of poise that would fit a grand ballroom, not a collapsed underground ruin. Her eyes, dark and focused, shone with a mix of sarcasm and concern when she glanced at him.

"You have a remarkable talent for getting into dangerous situations, Your Highness," she remarked in a tone so even that he almost missed the teasing beneath it. "Perhaps I should start keeping a tally." Her lips pressed into a faint smile, but there was a hint of relief in her gaze—like she was glad he was still capable of standing and cracking jokes.

Rhea, on the other hand, was less amused. She staggered upright with a low groan, running her fingers through her hair to dislodge the white dust that clung to it. Several pieces of rubble fell around her feet. She swore under her breath, her eyes scanning the chamber as if expecting another collapse at any second. It was obvious she didn't trust these walls not to cave in again.

"You could warn a girl before dragging her into a death pit," she said, her voice edged with annoyance. Her posture was tense, shoulders squared as though she might have to fight a sudden onslaught of enemies any moment. The faint torchlight from the runes highlighted the angle of her jaw, making her look more severe than usual.

Mikhailis couldn't hold back a small grin, though the pain in his side made it more of a grimace. "Where's the fun in that?" he quipped, half-joking, trying to lighten the mood. Deep down, he felt a twist of worry—he really hadn't intended for them to fall through the floor. But if he paused to brood on it now, he'd lose the humor that kept him moving forward.

He took a cautious step forward, boots crunching on shards of stone. The walls rose around them, looming and ancient, carved with runes that pulsed faintly. Though the lines were cracked and chipped by time, there was still power flickering through them—like a dying ember refusing to be snuffed out. Dust had settled in thick layers on the floor, undisturbed for who knew how many decades or centuries. It was impossible to guess how long these catacombs had remained hidden from the world above.

"Well, at least we're not short on atmosphere," he murmured. Each breath felt heavy, the air thick with moisture. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Rhea cast him a sideways look. "You think this is funny? We're stuck in some underground maze with no easy way back." She jerked her chin toward the collapsed tunnel above, where giant rocks had tumbled into a jagged barrier. There was no sign of movement from behind it—no calls from Cerys or Vyrelda, no footsteps. A sense of isolation pressed in on them.

Lira's gaze roamed around the chamber, her composure returning to its usual calm. "Not stuck," she corrected gently. "Trapped, perhaps. But there's always a way forward. These ruins likely have multiple passages."

Mikhailis nodded, appreciating Lira's optimism. Despite the dust smeared on her cheeks, she still held an air of refined assurance that made him feel oddly comforted. "We'll find a route," he said with a faint smile, then paused. There was a tug at his chest, something subtle but strangely insistent. It wasn't pain—more like a whisper he couldn't quite catch, urging him to look farther into the chamber.

He lowered his gaze to the ground, where thin wisps of mist coiled around his ankles. Is the mist… moving on its own? He blinked, pushing away the brief surge of alarm. I've seen weird things before, but I don't recall the mist acting like it has a mind. Yet here it was, drifting purposefully toward the far wall, as if drawn by something unseen.

"Great," Rhea muttered again, crossing her arms over her chest. "We're cut off from the others, and now the mist is acting funny. What next?" She let out a heavy sigh, frustration plain on her face.

Mikhailis swallowed, trying to appear more confident than he felt. "We deal with it, obviously. What else can we do?"

Lira gave a small nod, her ponytail swaying as she turned her head. Her eyes sharpened on a spot at the far end of the chamber, where the runes glowed a little brighter. "Mikhailis," she said softly, "look there."

He followed her line of sight to a large mural carved directly into the stone. Even from a few paces away, he could make out the general shapes: a hooded figure towering in front of a much larger, shadowy form, with swirling lines that might have been stylized mist or some kind of power. His heart thumped harder as he stepped closer, drawn to it in a way he couldn't explain.

The hooded figure in the carving looked ancient, the edges of the engraving worn down by time, but the posture was unmistakable—an arm raised, palm open, like commanding or channeling something immense. The silhouette behind it loomed, almost more like a mountain than a person, carved with broad strokes. Mikhailis felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, an uneasy sense that the mural itself was watching them.

"Feels like it's watching us," he whispered, echoing the unspoken tension that filled the air. He lifted a hand, almost touching the dusty surface. The stone felt cold, and a slight tremor ran through his fingers. Should I actually touch it?

Rhea planted her hands on her hips, eyes darting around. "You're just imagining things," she said, though her tone didn't sound entirely certain. Beneath her bravado, she looked wary, like someone half expecting a ghost to jump out at any second.

Mikhailis inhaled, wanting to reassure her but not sure what to say. The mural's presence felt significant, like a puzzle piece that promised answers—answers about the strange voice he kept hearing, the swirling visions, the warnings about a "Sovereign Catalyst." None of this was in my job description when I accepted a random summons from another world. He let out a small huff of amusement at that thought. But I guess I stopped following any normal path a long time ago.

Before he could decide whether or not to test the mural's surface, Lira made a soft sound behind him. She knelt near a half-buried pedestal, brushing clumps of rubble aside with graceful, precise movements. "There's something here," she said, voice low but tinged with curiosity.

He turned to see her uncovering a metallic object. It was shaped like a large, ornate key, the handle full of carefully etched runes that flickered in the same faint glow as the symbols on the walls. Thin lines traced its length, forming patterns that looked both beautiful and slightly menacing. Experience new tales on My Virtual Library Empire

Rhea edged closer, peering at the artifact with guarded caution. "Looks important," she observed, her brow creasing. "Also looks like the kind of thing that activates a death trap." She stood half a step back, as though expecting spikes to shoot up from the floor the moment Lira touched it.

Mikhailis let out a half-laugh. "Now you're thinking like an adventurer." The words came out more confidently than he felt. Deep down, his stomach fluttered at the idea that they might be waking something better left sleeping. But he pushed the fear aside. We need answers, he reminded himself. And if a dusty old key can help us unlock them… well, it's our best shot.@@novelbin@@