"Teehee! Who's here to play with Alice?" A mechanical giggle echoed through the room, shrill and eerie, cutting through the silence like a blade.
The voice was a girl's, but warped, as if spoken through a broken music box, its tone dripping with a devilish malice.
Leylin head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the source—a Western doll, lurking in the shadows of a corridor's corner, its silhouette grotesque against the flickering light.
"Well, that's new." Leylin's voice was laced with a curiosity as he studied the figure, his mind racing through possibilities.
The doll was the size of an adult, its blue gemstone eyes sewn into a porcelain face, glinting with an unnatural light, its blonde hair cascading in perfect curls beneath a pink frock, a red bowknot tied neatly at its chest. It moved with a jerky grace, its limbs twitching as if pulled by invisible strings, its presence a mockery of life.
"A mutated vengeful spirit." Leylin's voice was a soft, incredulous whisper, his tone thick with realization as he stepped closer, his heart steady with the clarity of his analysis.
"Locked in a puppet's body, bound by some ancient spell. That's original."
"Are you mocking cute Alice?" The doll's face split open, revealing razor-sharp teeth that gleamed like daggers, its voice a shrill, enraged screech, its tone dripping with a petulant fury that echoed off the walls. it cried, its gemstone eyes flashing with malice, its pink frock swaying as it lunged forward, its movements unnaturally fast.
"I'm going to eat you!" A translucent beast's mouth materialized before Leylin, its jaws gaping, its spectral fangs nipping down with a force that warped the air, the room humming with its malevolent energy, the lamp's flame flickering wildly.
"Pathetic." Leylin's voice was a sharp, his tone alive with a savage thrill as he waved his right hand, his backhand slamming into the spectral jaws with a crack of arcane force, sending the doll flying across the room, its body crashing into the wall with a splintering thud, the stone trembling under the impact.
The doll crumpled against the wall, its porcelain face cracked, its gemstone eyes dimming, its voice a pitiful wail, thick with a childish fear that clashed with its monstrous form, its tone trembling with desperation as it reached out a trembling hand. "Aahh, you hurt me!" it cried, its words quick and breathless, its blonde hair tangled and wild, its pink frock torn.
"No! Don't come over! Alice is scared!" The figurine's expression was one of terror, as if a little girl had stumbled into a nightmare, its voice breaking with a pleading edge. "Save Alice, Alice is actually very obedient…"
Leylin's eyes narrowed, raised his hand, his voice a sharp, commanding chant, his tone alive with a fierce determination, the air humming with his power. "Wyrm Fangs!"
His Shadow Wyrm innate spell surged, a crescent slash of devastating force ripping through the floor, its dark energy tearing toward the doll with a thunderous roar, the room shaking under its wrath.
The figurine collapsed, cleaved into two halves, its porcelain body shattered, its gemstone eyes rolling across the stone, its voice a faint, pleading whisper, thick with despair as it reached out a broken hand toward Leylin, its tone trembling with a final, futile hope. "Save… Alice…" The words faded, the doll's halves lying still, its pink frock a tattered ruin, the room falling silent save for the lamp's flickering flame, the air thick with the scent of dust and magic.
Leylin turned his attention away from the doll but before he could search further, the walls trembled, a deep rumble echoing through the villa, the stone cracking to reveal a straight tunnel, its darkness beckoning like a promise.
On the wooden boards beside the crack, words glowed in the ancient Byron language, their cursive script sharp and commanding: Seekers who are able to come here will have a chance to obtain my inheritance—Norco Curadu Sfar.
"Norco Curadu Sfar? Great Magus Serholm!"
Leylin's breath caught, his voice a sharp, incredulous gasp, his tone raw with awe as he read the name, his heart pounding with a surge of greed and desire.
"A Rank 4 Morning Star Magus, the legend of the South Coast—scholar, warrior, savior. He led the Magi against the Subterranean hordes and marine beasts, a role model for every acolyte who ever dreamed of greatness." His tone was fervent, his ambition a fire that burned hotter with the revelation.
'This whole place—Dylan Gardens, the Black Horrall Snake, the Void White-Eyed Snake, this doll—it's all Serholm's design, built for his inheritance.' he thought, his eyes narrowing as he studied the tunnel's darkness.
"He was benevolent, in his way. The mechanisms is a challenge for Acolyte at most. A true Rank 4 Magus could've easily made this a death trap, wiped us out with a flick of his wrist instead he intentionally made it easier."
Leylin stepped through the tunnel, his boots echoing on the stone, the air growing colder, heavier, as if the villa itself were watching.
He emerged into a study-like chamber, its four walls lined with empty bookshelves, their barren surfaces a stark contrast to the room's grandeur, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and arcane energy.
A large desk stood at the center, its surface polished to a mirror sheen, a black box placed neatly upon it, its surface etched with patterns of writhing snakes, their forms pulsing faintly with latent power.
Behind the desk, a chair sat empty, and above it hung an oil painting, its image a mysterious emblem—a serpent formed of countless mystical runes, its tail in its mouth, an ouroboros that seemed to pulse with a life of its own, its presence a silent challenge.
"An ouroboros, the eternal cycle." Leylin's eyes were tracing the runes, his mind racing with their meaning. "This is Serholm's mark, his legacy woven into every rune. This is the heart of the inheritance."
"Finally here." Leylin approached the desk, his breath a slow, controlled exhale, his voice a soft, cautious mutter, his movement laced with a quiet tension as he reached for the black box, his rune-seared skin blazing faintly, as he braced for the trap he knew was coming.
He opened the lid with a gentle Pa!, the sound sharp in the silent room, his heart lurching as he waited for the inevitable backlash—but nothing happened, the room still, the air unchanged.
"Too simple." His voice was a low, incredulous grunt, his tone thick with suspicion as he peered inside, his eyes narrowing, his mind racing with doubt.
Inside the box lay a thick, black book, its cover unadorned but heavy with power, nestled in a bed of red silk that gleamed like fresh blood, the contrast extravagant against the box's dark interior.
"The Book of Giant Serpent," Leylin muttered as lifted the book and opened its cover, he felt its weight while reading the name.
Suddenly a mechanical Ka-Cha! reverberated through the room, the sound sharp and ominous, the air humming with the activation of a hidden mechanism, the walls trembling faintly, as if the villa itself were stirring.
"The self-destruction mechanism." Leylin's voice was laced with acceptance as he glanced around.
His eyes flicking to the box's interior, where a sentence in the ancient Byron language glowed in cursive, blood-red script: Inheritor! When you take away this 'Book of Giant Serpent', the whole secret plane will self-destruct within 3 hourglasses worth of time.
"Three hourglasses—enough to get out but.." Leylin studied the words, his tone thick with suspicion as he traced the blood-red script, his mind grappling with the inheritor's intent.
"But why make it so easy? Serholm was a Rank 4 Magus, a legend. There's a catch, something I'm missing." His tone was grim, his heart steady with the clarity of his doubt.
Leylin flipped open the Book of Giant Serpent, with a restless irritation as he scanned the pages, his heart thudding with the weight of his search.
The book was thick, its tiny, coded script a labyrinth of secrets, each page a wall he couldn't breach, the words blurring as he flipped faster, his voice a soft, bitter mutter, his tone thick with frustration as he reached the end, finding nothing. "Damn it."
"I'd need days to crack this code, and I've got hours at best. There's got to be a key, something in this room."His gaze locked on the oil painting, the ouroboros serpent staring back, its runic form a mocking enigma, its tail in its mouth a symbol of eternity, its presence a silent challenge.
"The Great Magus Serholm is obsessed with snakes. It's this painting, something must be hidden inside it." Leylin's voice was a low, fervent whisper, his tone thick with determination as he approached the painting.
His hands pressed against the painting, trying to pry it open, but it didn't budge, its surface unyielding, the runes pulsing faintly, as if alive.
"Fine, let's do this the hard way," His voice hardened, a spark of frustration igniting in his chest, his tone alive with a fierce resolve as he activated his runes, his rune-seared skin blazing red, his heart pounding with the need to break through.
Boom!
Leylin's fist slammed into the painting with full force, the impact a thunderous crash that echoed off the walls, the air humming with his power.
But the painting stood unscathed, not a dent, not a scratch, its runes glowing brighter, as if mocking his effort.
"Farley design, hundreds of runes woven together," Leylin voice was a sharp, frustrated snarl, his tone thick with irritation as he stepped back, his heart thudding with the setback, his rune-seared skin dimming slightly, as he studied the simmering runes on the serpent, his mind grappling with the puzzle.
"I'd need hours to decipher a single unit, and I don't have that. This can only be opened with a key! Where's the damn key?"He tore through the room, his voice a low, frantic growl, his tone laced with a restless urgency as he toppled the desk, its wood splintering, ripped bookshelves from the walls, their frames crashing to the floor, and tore at the stone, his runed dagger carving futilely, his heart pounding with the weight of time slipping away, his rune-seared skin blazing red with power, his greed a constant pulse in his soul.
"Come on, Serholm, where'd you hide it?" he muttered, his words quick and fervent, his eyes darting for any clue, his ambition a fire that refused to dim.
But the room yielded nothing, its secrets locked tight, the ouroboros serpent staring down, its runic form a silent taunt, its presence a weight that crushed his hopes.
Time bled away, the three hourglasses ticking in his mind, his voice a low, resigned sigh, his tone laced with a grim acceptance as he stared at the painting, his heart heavy with the reality of his failure. "You win this round, Serholm."
From his sleeve, the Void White-Eyed Snake emerged, its black scales glinting, its silver void runes pulsing, its white eyes hollow and unblinking, its presence a quiet reminder of what he'd gained.
"Ouh not as dumb as you appear, are you?"
"Guess this is it, time to get out."Leylin didn't hesitate, as he turned from the study, with the need to escape the self destruction of the realm.
He sprinted through the tunnel, the air growing colder, heavier, the walls humming with the secret plane's impending collapse, his boots echoing on the stone.
He emerged into Dylan Gardens, now a barren wasteland, its vibrant herbs gone, the earth cracked and lifeless, the false sky dim and fading, the air thick with the scent of dust and ruin.
He pressed on, the metal passage cold and unyielding, its walls etched with fading runes, the air humming with the secret plane's death throes.
Finally he reached the cave where the Black Horrall Snake's corpse had lain, its massive form a grim testament to his victory, Bosain's unconscious body slumped nearby, his silver robes torn, his golden hair matted with blood, his chest rising faintly.
"Store it." Leylin's voice was a sharp, commanding order, as he pointed at the snake's corpse, his eyes locked on the Void White-Eyed Snake as it emerged from his sleeve, its black scales glinting, its silver void runes pulsing, its white eyes hollow and obedient.
'Fortunately Serholm has programmed the snake to consider its liberator as its master.'
A suction force erupted from the snake, its void ability warping the air, the Black Horrall Snake's massive body vanishing into its stomach, the cave trembling under the spatial shift, the air thick with the scent of dust and magic.
"Good." Leylin grabbed Bosain's unconscious form, dragging him through thr ground, his voice a sharp, commanding chant, his tone alive with a fierce resolve as he activated the exit spell. "Starier Guderian!" he roared, his words quick and fervent, the password from the Book of Giant Serpent surging through the air, the cave humming with arcane energy, the walls trembling as red lightning crackled around them, shrouding Leylin and Bosain in a storm of power.
The world spun, a dizzying blur of light and shadow, the air warping as they were torn from the secret plane, the cave vanishing, the secret plane's collapse a distant rumble in Leylin's mind.
They materialized on a cliff's edge, the Zither Moon Mountain Plains stretching below, their jagged peaks clawing at a bruised twilight sky, the air thick with the cloying sweetness of Beta Daisies and the faint tang of blood, the void's energy waves pulsing faintly, a fading echo of the secret plane's destruction.
Leylin threw Bosain down, his mind thudding with the weight of what he'd gained and lost.
"The Book of Giant Serpent, the Void White-Eyed Snake, the Black Horrall Snake's blood, it's more than most Magi see in a lifetime." Leylin's voice was a low, complex whisper, his tone thick with a mix of triumph and regret as he stared into the void. "But that painting, that ouroboros, it was the key to Serholm's meditation technique, I know it. I was so close."
"No matter." Leylin looked down at the fading energy waves, his voice a soft, resigned mutter, his tone laced with a quiet acceptance as he turned from the void."It's not like I don't have any gains."
Leylin touched the sturdy black book in his robes, Book of Giant Serpent.
From a quick glace he could deduce that it had travel notes of the great Magus Serholm with the drawings of a few precious items, which could enhance Leylin's knowledge.
Moreover, many experiments were also explicitly stated in detail, which would allow Leylin to benefit from it.
However, the most precious in the Book of Giant Serpent was spells! Leylin couldn't study or deduce their strength but it seemed to have plenty of Rank 1 or stronger spells.
All these were items that the various guilds and magisterium in the south coast tried to get their hands on. They were something that magic crystals could not buy.