The old witch strode confidently at the forefront, her crooked silhouette leading the trio up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor
The old witch strode confidently at the forefront, her crooked silhouette leading the trio up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor of the dilapidated building.
Each step groaned under their weight, the aged wood protesting as if whispering secrets of its own. Old Devil moved with an uncanny familiarity, her steps sure and deliberate, as though she had tread this path countless times before in her pursuit of the unknown.
At the top of the stairs, she paused before an ornate oil painting, its gilded frame tarnished by time.
"This oil painting is the entrance to the Ancient Spirit Slaying Sect's secret plane!" she declared, her voice thick with anticipation.
The painting portrayed a noblewoman, resplendent in rich, flowing garments, her delicate fan raised to obscure half her face in an enigmatic gesture.
The brushstrokes captured her elegance, but there was an unsettling quality to her gaze, as if she watched the intruders with silent judgment.
Suddenly, the woman in the painting blinked, her eyes flickering with a life that defied the canvas. The group froze, their breaths catching in their throats.
"You're finally awake?" Old Devil advanced, her cackle echoing through the dim corridor, a sound both triumphant and sinister.
"Foreign intruders, speak the password!" The noblewoman's voice was not spoken aloud but projected directly into the minds of each Magus present, a cold, intrusive whisper that burrowed into their thoughts.
"Open the secret plane!" Old Devil commanded, her eyes blazing with an eerie green light.
From her outstretched hand, a ring of verdant fireballs erupted, hurtling toward the oil painting with searing intent.
*Bam!*
The green flames licked at the canvas, and as they consumed the paint, the noblewoman's fan snapped shut, revealing the face beneath.
Lancey, observing from the sidelines, felt a jolt of disgust. Where beauty had once been, the lower half of her face was a grotesque mask of bone, as though the flesh and blood had been stripped away in an instant, leaving only a skeletal maw.
*Scree!*
A piercing wail, sharp and anguished, flooded the corridor, the sound of a woman's torment reverberating through the air. The green fireballs crumbled into fleeting sparks, extinguished by an unseen force as the air shimmered with unnatural fluctuations.
[Beep! Host is being attacked by sound waves. Resemblance to banshee wail 67%. Abnormality in muscle coordination, spiritual force circulation rate lowered by 89%…] The warning flashed in red before Lancey's eyes, its mechanical voice cutting through the chaos.
"Banshee wail?" Lancey thought.
Without hesitation, she summoned a azure membrane around his body, a protective barrier that dulled the sound's debilitating effects. Though her ears still throbbed, her mobility returned, muscles freed from the wail's paralyzing grip.
At that moment, blood-red tentacles, grotesque and writhing like intestines, burst from the painting, lashing toward Brass Ring with predatory intent.
"Damnable thing!" Brass Ring roared, his body erupting in a cascade of bone spikes that protruded from his flesh in a gruesome display. The tentacles were impaled and severed, falling limp as black ichor oozed from their wounds.
"So this is Bone Spike Arts?!" Lancey's eyes glanced at him with disdain flickering. "He's solidified this kind of innate spell onto himself? What a masochist?"
This rank 1 spell was formidable, but its activation required the Magus to grow spikes from their own skeleton, piercing their own flesh before striking an opponent. It was a brutal, self-inflicted agony—only a maniac or masochist would choose such a path.
"I'll tear you damnable thing to pieces!" Brass Ring's fury was palpable, his body now a bristling mass of bone spikes, resembling a grotesque white sea urchin. A green light spread from his neck, staunching the blood that seeped from his self-inflicted wounds and stabilizing his form.
"Stop!" Old Devil's voice cut through the chaos, her body emanating countless translucent spirit bodies that swirled around Brass Ring, slowing his movements. "There's a spell effect on this painting. If you tear it apart, the entrance to the secret plane will collapse!"
Her expression was grave, her authority absolute. "Let me handle it."
When the banshee's wail had struck, both Old Devil and Jaye had shielded themselves with black membranes, emerging unscathed.
"Your banshee wail was impressive," Old Devil said, her tone laced with pity as she gazed at the painting. "A shame the matching spell formation has half-collapsed with time. What remains can't affect official Magi like us."
Her hand grazed the painting's surface, and tiny dark purple dots bloomed from her palm, spreading like a creeping stain.
"Come forth, my baby," she crooned, her voice tender yet laced with a flirtatious menace.
The banshee's expression twisted in terror, as if confronted by her natural predator. As the purple hue enveloped the canvas, the banshee vanished, leaving only silence in her wake.
Lancey observed the scene with her characteristic indifference, her gaze fixed on the painting. In its center, a small dot of silver light flickered, growing larger until it rippled the surrounding void.
The air shimmered, and a corridor bathed in a silvery sheen materialized, exuding a palpable aura of dark spiritual power, laced with resentment and wailing.
"Even though no ancient Magi remain within the secret plane, lingering curses and traps still function," Old Devil warned. "The Ancient Spirit Slaying Sect was renowned for its spirit research. We must proceed with caution."
Lancey's eyes narrowed, locking onto Old Devil. "By now, you should reveal what you're really looking for, shouldn't you?"
"Heuheuheu… relax, you'll know when the time comes!" Old Devil's manic cackle filled the air, evasive as ever.
"Speak the truth, Old Devil," Brass Ring interjected, siding with Lancey. "If you don't, I won't keep my promises."
"You guys…" Old Devil's voice trembled with frustration, her body wracked by a sudden coughing fit. Her already hunched form seemed to bend further, as if her spine might snap.
"Sigh… alright then," she relented, her complexion growing paler. "It's an altar-like thing, the only one in the laboratory. You won't miss it."
"That's it?" Brass Ring pressed, his tone skeptical. "That's all you know?"
"What else do you expect?" Old Devil snapped, her eyes flashing green as they bore into him. "I found clues in ancient texts suggesting this altar, the Spirit Altar, is within this plane. It could alleviate my condition—perhaps even cure it." Her gaze flicked toward Lancey, a cruel glint passing through her eyes before she masked it.
'No matter how well you hide it, Old Bat, your motives are transparent to me.' Lancey thought, maintaining her indifferent facade. 'But I guarantee you won't like what I have in store.'
"If you help me reach it," Old Devil continued, "Virago's materials, Brass Ring's thunder fire stone, and Jaye's gasping lakewater will be yours—not one gram less."
"You and I are old friends," Jaye spoke first, their voice an eerie blend of neither masculine nor feminine tones. "If I won't help you, who will?"
"Alright, I was just asking," Brass Ring conceded, his tone grudging.
"And you, Virago?" Old Devil turned to Lancey.
Lancey offered no words, only a casual nod to proceed. The gesture irked Old Devil, but she gritted her teeth and regained her composure.
"That's good!" she said, her eyes gleaming with fervent hunger as she stepped into the silvery corridor. As an elder of a dark Magi organization, she would not tolerate disrespect lightly, but she knew how to bide her time.
The silvery light swelled, engulfing the four in a blinding flash. A low *buzz buzz* filled the air, followed by the appearance of a large grey cloud. As it drew closer, Lancey realized it was no cloud but a swarm of densely packed, moth-like creatures, their fur-covered bodies adorned with eerie eye-like patterns on their wings.
"Careful! Those are Spirit Devouring Moths!" Old Devil's voice rang out. "Don't touch their dust—it'll corrode your spirit and mentality!"
She opened her mouth, unleashing a shrill scream that exploded like an artillery shell.
*Boom!* Half the swarm disintegrated, and a cascade of dust fell like snow.
Lancey snapped her fingers, summoning a water wall that encased her body in a layer of icy protection.
"Freeze Breath," she intoned, pointing forward in an offensive stance. The water morphed into thorny ice dragons that surged through the void, flanking the moths and crushing them into frozen statues that shattered into flakes.
"This might…" Old Devil's voice transmitted to Lancey. "Is your elemental essence conversion over 50%?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Lancey replied coolly. "What does the 'all-mighty' Elder Old Devil think?"
"Hehe… the stronger you are, the better for me," Old Devil said, her words dripping with false sincerity. "Compared to Brass Ring, I'd rather trust you, who signed a contract with me. Help me, and I'll not only share the concealment spell but give you a million magic crystals and my elder position!"
Lancey ignored the offer, her thoughts sharp. 'I already know your concealment spell—stacking spiritual force as a front. You're not the only one with such knowledge.' Inwardly, she scoffed. 'Your love for your dying daughter is your weakness, Old Bat. It's dragging you down in this godforsaken world.'
Old Devil resumed her role as leader, guiding them deeper. Minutes later, they reached a fork in the path, the entrances devoid of signs, stirring unease among the group.
"Since it's a laboratory, shouldn't there be signs?" Brass Ring asked.
"They might have been destroyed, or the Magi here used another communication method," Old Devil replied.
After deliberation, they split into teams, choosing the far-right path.
*Step step!* The sound of Lancey's black leather shoes against the metal floor echoed sharply, a piercing friction in the silence.
*Sweesh!*
In an instant, Lancey found herself alone, the others vanished. A faint smile curved her lips.
*Ding!* A mechanism triggered, and the metallic walls began to converge, intent on trapping her.
"Freeze Breath!" Ice erupted from her body, manifesting snarling dragons that clawed at the walls. *Sssii!* A sizzling sound filled the air as the ice met the metal, freezing it blue and eliciting creaking protests. The dragons tore through, carving a path.
*Bang!* The passageway shuddered, corrosion hissing as Lancey calmly stepped through a human-shaped gap, leaving the sealed passage behind with an indifferent expression.
Surveying her surroundings, she found herself in what seemed to be an ancient garden or cultivation site.
Man-made sunlight streamed from Sunbeam Moss, casting a warm glow over wilted plants, a testament to the plane's decay.