Time resumed its usual flow.

  Zeke did not move. He did not explode into action, nor did he order his people to attack... except for one.

  Slowly, the blond-haired figure began to sway, then fell forward. The Mind Mage, who had stood on the opposite side of the room, collapsed without even trying to brace the fall. Their body hit the floor like a sack of grain. A thin wound at the back of their head became visible.

  It was an incision no wider than a finger. The cause became clear when David lowered his hand, and the shadow stake behind the Mage’s former position slipped back into the dark corner.

  The Mage had died. The siege was over.

  Staring at the fallen figure, the two guards were clearly confused, their gazes darting between the fallen Mind Mage and Zeke’s group with growing panic. Strangely, the lone Grand Mage prisoner who had stood beside the Mind Mage looked even more disturbed than the guards.

  Meanwhile, the eight Grandmages powering the strange time prison didn't react at all. They seemed to be in a sleep-like trance.

  What the hell was going on in this place?

  "You," Zeke said, pointing at the guard who seemed to be of higher rank. "What is going on here?"

  "..."

  The man stared back at him in silence. He opened his mouth several times, but no words came out.

  "Are you elves?" Zeke asked, realizing he was getting nowhere asking broad questions.

  Both David and Raileh reacted instantly, their eyes widening as they turned to him in surprise at the strange question.

  It was no wonder. Unlike Akasha, they could not notice the oddities of these people at a glance. They had likely not yet realized the true identity of these prisoners.

  Zelkara, for her part, did not react at all. Either she did not care, which was likely, or she had her own way of knowing the truth. Given her senses, which far surpassed those of humans, neither option could be dismissed.

  "We are honorary citizens," the guard bristled. "Do not lump us in with that scum!"

  "Scum...?" Zeke repeated. He had clearly noticed that both guards had glanced toward the Grand Mage prisoner as they spoke. He felt a distinct sense of superiority radiating from them.

  Curious.

  What gave these weaklings the confidence to look down on a Grand Mage like this? Even stranger was the fact that the Grand Mage seemed to shrink under their gazes, as if their contempt was justified. As if shame was his natural state.

  Zeke had assumed that the strange play would end once the Mind Mage was dealt with. Yet nothing had changed. The people here were like actors clinging to their roles, even after the stage lights had gone dark and the audience had long since left.

  "What about you?" Zeke asked, turning to the Grand Mage. "Why are you here?"

  "I..." The man hesitated, as if reconsidering his answer, then simply shook his head.

  Zeke's gaze hardened. He was growing tired of this. Neither the guards nor the prisoner were willing to answer his questions. They were treating him like an enemy, not a saviour.

  If that was what they chose, then Zeke had no problem playing that role.

  "Zelkara," he called. "The next time anyone refuses to answer, cut their throats."

  Zelkara gave no verbal reply, but the way she angled her spear made her intent clear.

  "Let's try that again," Zeke said, turning back to the out-of-place prisoner. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

  "I'm... Khaelryn," the man said, his wide eyes fixed on the tip of Zelkara's spear pointed at his neck. "I was brought here... because of my wife."

  As he spoke, he pointed toward the massive crucible.

  Zeke's brows lifted. His wife? The Archmage imprisoned in that device was his wife? Was that the reason he had been brought here? To be interrogated? Used as leverage?

  Zeke shook his head. He could not take his words at face value. Until proven otherwise, everyone here was an enemy.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  "You. Is he telling the truth?" Zeke asked, pointing at the weaker of the guards.

  "Yes..." the man replied reluctantly. He clearly did not want to help, but the threat of death was enough to force minimal compliance. That was all Zeke needed anyway.

  He was by no means a skilled Mind Mage, nor could he read thoughts the way the Geistreich could. Still, the guard was so weak that he could not shield his mind at all. Judging the truth of his answer was as easy as reading a drunk card player.

  Zeke turned back to the Grandmage. "What did they want to use you for?"

  "...To break into her mind," the man said after a brief hesitation.

  "Did they succeed?" Zeke asked, his expression turning serious.

  "Thankfully, you arrived before it came to that, lord human."

  The guards exchanged a glance, clearly unsettled by something. Zeke caught a brief flicker of confusion in their thoughts.

  Interesting.

  "Tell me about your wife," Zeke said. "Who is she?"

  "She is called Irisen," the man replied, his voice turning reverent, as if he had been born to praise her. "She is one of the greatest Mages in all of Rukia."

  Zeke doubted that. The woman had a strong presence, but not that strong. Despite her resolve, he could tell she was still young. If anything, she was closer to the level of the newly advanced David than to ancient monsters like Maximilian or Aurelia.

  Still, he had never expected her husband to be an impartial judge.

  More importantly, Zeke was watching the two guards. Their confusion had curdled into something closer to disgust as they listened to the man praise his wife.

  Something was wrong here. He could feel it.

  If the guards had been more cooperative, this mystery would have been easy to unravel. Now, it seemed he would need a different approach.

  "Irisen... Irisen..." he repeated, stepping forward. In a scene where everyone else seemed frozen in place, caught between fear and readiness, only he moved freely.

  Zeke circled the apparatus and, for the first time, looked directly at the image of the woman trapped within the crucible.

  His first impression was that she would likely be a pain to deal with. Pale skin, delicate features, and thin lips gave her a cold, restrained beauty. But it was her eyes that sealed his judgment.

  Stubborn. Headstrong. Willful.

  No wonder they had resorted to such extreme measures to break her mind. A woman like this would bend before she ever broke.

  All these thoughts passed in an instant.

  He would deal with her when the time came. For now, it was time to handle her husband.

  "Tell me, Khaelryn," Zeke said, standing only a step away from the half-elf. "How did they plan to use you to reach your wife?"

  "They... wanted me to reveal the location of her sister."

  "Why?"

  "To use as leverage."

  "Why not use you as leverage?"

  The man shook his head. "I am a grown man, capable of facing death with open eyes. But her sister is just a child. Not even Irisen could watch her die."

  The answer confirmed Zeke's impression that Irisen was exceptionally unyielding. He filed that away for later. That was not why he had steered the conversation this way.

  "...That sister," he said, meeting the prisoner's eyes. "Where is she?"

  "That... why would you need to know that, lord human?" Khaelryn asked, a glimmer of doubt flickering in his gaze. "Do you intend to save her?"

  "No." Zeke's words were cold. "I intend to use her. I will break your wife's will and make her serve me."

  There was no emotion in his voice. Khaelryn visibly paled, his shock seemingly genuine. Still, something about the man unsettled Zeke, and he chose to press further.

  "Tell me where her sister is, or..."

  Without needing an order, Zelkara appeared behind the man like a specter, the cold metal tip of her massive spear pressing against his neck like a guillotine about to descend.

  "I am going to count, Khaelryn," Zeke said, raising three fingers. Before he could lower even the first, Khaelryn spoke.

  "Wait, wait, wait! I'll talk! I'll talk! She is in the northeast, watched over by a creature of myth. It will not be easy to reach her without an army, lord human, but I can guide you. They trust me."

  Zeke lowered his hand.

  He studied the man in front of him for a long moment.

  "I am going to kill everyone in that place. Will you still guide me?"

  Khaelryn lowered his head in shame. "What choice do I have?"

  Zeke's eyes drifted to the man's ears, and a sudden wave of disgust washed over him. Not because of the scarred flesh itself, but because of what it represented.

  "I see," he said, feeling a sense of defeat.

  If this was the quality of prisoners in this place, then his plan to recruit them was a failure. He would rather see the entire country of Rukia burned to the ground than rely on people like this. Still, a glance at the image of the woman trapped inside the prison was enough to rekindle a faint spark of hope.

  He turned to Zelkara, who regarded him with an emotionless gaze. She would not hesitate to kill the man if ordered. It was a tempting thought, but Zeke still had a use for him.

  The location of the sanctuary could prove important later. And if Khaelryn had been married to a woman like Irisen and knew of such a hidden place, then he was clearly not entirely ordinary.

  "Gather everyone in the great hall," he ordered the Pureblood. "Until further notice, treat them all as enemies."

  "As you command, Progenitor."

  Zelkara grabbed Khaelryn by the shoulder and dragged him along like a sack of grain. The remaining two guards and the eight Grandmages bound to the Time prison were hauled out in much the same way by the other Bloodguards.

  That left only Zeke, David, and Raileh in the chamber.

  "What a lovely guy," David remarked sarcastically, his gaze fixed on Khaelryn's screaming form.

  Raileh shook her head in silence, her face pale. Unconsciously, her left hand rose to her long ear, stroking it as if afraid it might vanish if she let go. The sights in this prison had clearly affected her the most.

  It was easy to forget that despite her mastery of magic and high rank, she was likely the most sheltered person in his employ. When would she ever have encountered such barbarism in her long life?

  "Raileh," he called gently. "You may return to the ship."

  "As... as you command," she replied, bowing slightly before turning to leave.

  David watched her go, then turned back to Zeke. "What are we going to do now, young lord?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" Zeke said, managing a faint smile. "We are going to negotiate."

  "Negotiate..." David frowned. "With whom?"

  At that moment, a deep, echoing clang rang through the chamber, metal striking metal. Then it came again, followed by a large dent forming in the side of the metal cauldron.

  Zeke stepped closer to David, stopping half a step behind him.

  "A very stubborn woman..."