The air in the tunnel no longer felt merely heavy; it felt compressed, as if the entire space had sunk to the bottom of an ocean made of liquid lightning.
Aiden's small lungs burned with every breath.
He stood before the shimmering blue geometry of the Void Lock, its structure folding in on itself like a divine equation etched into reality.
To a Master Mage, it would have been an impenetrable wall of sacred power. To the Veynar family, it was nothing more than a ghost story—something spoken of only in cautionary whispers.
But to Aiden, it was just data.
He did not reach for the mana in the air. He did not attempt to overpower the seal. A 10th-Class Void Lock could not be broken through brute force; doing so would be no different from headbutting a mountain—one would not damage the mountain. One would simply cease to exist.
Aiden stepped closer. His small boots crunched against the ancient, glass-like floor. He placed his palm flat against the center of the glowing construct.
"I don't need to break you," he whispered.
His eyes deepened, the color shifting into an abyssal violet.
"I just need to find your root directory."
[WARNING: Manual Interference Detected.]
[Boss, what are you doing?! This is a 10th-Class firewall! If you trigger the security alarm, the entire manor will be vaporized—and I'll be formatted into a calculator!]
Aiden closed his eyes.
In the darkness of his mind, he did not see stone or magic. He saw structure—threads of golden logic, billions of variables woven into the concept of "Locked."
He began to vibrate his mana core, not to force entry, but to match the seal's frequency.
[Initializing Deep-Layer Synchronization…]
[0.1%… 0.5%… 1.2%…]
[Initializing System Deep-Scan…]
[Accessing Primitive Logic Gates…]
[Warning: Host's brain is currently 11 years old. Processing overhead exceeds physical capacity. Risk of: cranial hemorrhage, liquefaction of gray matter, or a really bad headache.]
A bead of sweat traced down Aiden's temple, cutting through the dust on his cheek. His expression tightened as he forced his consciousness deeper into the Lock's structure.
It was overwhelming—like drinking from a firehose. The history of the seal, the intent of the Archmage who created it, surged into him. It was not merely a barrier; it was a poem written in the language of the universe. Every curve was a verse. Every intersection, a rhyme.
[Pattern Recognition: 14%…]
[Pattern Recognition: 32%…]
"Come on…" Aiden hissed.
His hand trembled against the glowing surface. Fingernails dug into stone as pressure built in his chest, his heartbeat hammering like a trapped bird.
[Alert: Mana Core Overheating!]
[Boss, the "Brain-Fry" Scenario is 88% likely.]
"I don't… care…" Aiden forced out through gritted teeth.
The Lock resisted him—not passively, but intelligently. It adapted. Every time he found a structural weakness, it shifted. It was like playing chess against a hurricane.
His palm began to feel as if it were pressed against molten metal, yet he did not withdraw.
Instead, Aiden changed approach.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
He found a loose thread in the structure and pulled.
The blue lattice did not shatter. It parted.
Reality itself seemed to exhale sharply as the Lock opened a narrow gap—just wide enough for a child to slip through.
Aiden staggered back, breath ragged, vision flickering with static.
He had done it.
He had outmaneuvered a 10th-Class Archmage's creation using the body of a child.
"See?" he wheezed. "No… headbutt… required."
[Congratulations, Boss. You're a genius. You're also currently bleeding from your left nostril.]
Aiden raised a hand and wiped lightly beneath his nose. The blood was minimal, not yet a stream—just proof of the strain.
The decoding had taken a toll on this body.
He turned toward the dark rift beyond the opened seal.
But before he could move—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed from the tunnel behind him.
Soft. Careful. Rhythmic.
Aiden froze.
He spun around, a faint blue flame flickering weakly in his palm.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
A maid.
She wore a tattered uniform, her brown hair slightly disheveled, and she carried a small lantern whose light seemed pitiful compared to the Void Lock's lingering glow.
It was Hazel.
Her eyes widened as they fell upon the broken seal, reflecting the fading runes like fractured stars.
She looked terrified—her knees trembling—but she wasn't staring at the ancient magic.
She was staring at Aiden.
At the blood on his face.
"Yo… Young Master?" Hazel's voice shook. "You… you're bleeding, Young Master."
Aiden stared back, his mind racing.
He was standing inside a forbidden ancient tunnel, having just bypassed a god-tier seal, his body still radiating unstable magic.
And yet, none of that explained the real problem.
How she had followed him here.