Fiona gaped at the creature before her. First there were the illusions, man capable of manipulating a person's body through their blood, a naraga that should've been extinct centuries ago, and now an earth spirit? What's next, a leviathan rising from the sea and blasting everything to a puddle of goo!?

The creature of earth before her gripped the man in its fists as it exited the lighthouse. Rising to its full height, around the same as the earth spirit back in the catacombs, it threw Valroth, sending the man careening into the metal door it just recently ripped free. A whip-like crack followed the impact as the tree Valroth collided with snapped in half, sending broken wood and leaves raining to the forest floor.

At that moment, the oppressive feeling Fiona felt to her very bones disappeared, and she dropped to one knee unexpectedly. She knew quickly that the sorcerers control over her had also vanished; the world came back into focus, and she could feel the familiar sensation of her own limbs beneath her.

There was no time to feel ecstatic about regaining control; Fiona clutched her staff and prepared a water-based spell while Igneal, who had just recovered all the same, looked around for his sword. He turned and noticed it had fallen near the treeline, dropping it when his body was locked. Unarmed, he took a step back and faced the creature before them, hands lit aflame.

"I can finally speak again," he grumbled. "That was the worst feeling in the world. What's the plan this time? Running doesn't seem like the best option now, does it?"

Fiona shot him a glance but said nothing. Igneal was right. Running would be a futile attempt knowing that there was a sorcerer capable of controlling their bodies. Not only that, but that very same sorcerer was currently behind them while an earth spirit stood in their way. There was also that air spirit that destroyed the beacon to think about. As of now, it disappeared, but the possibility of it returning remained.

Currently, they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, with no apparent way out. Which was the better option: fighting the sorcerer with the bone mask or a repeat battle against an earth spirit? But upon further introspection, Fiona chided herself for actually pondering the thought.

Just as she was about to release an Aqua Whip, the earth spirit stepped aside from the entrance, revealing a portion of the interior. Wisps of golden light floated all around, showcasing a spiral loop of metallic steps leading upward into the lighthouse's beacon room.

Fiona's spell fizzled at her fingertips as her eyes locked on the entrance.

"…That's not what I expected," she muttered. "Don't tell me we're supposed to go in there."

It gave a subtle tilt of its head toward the stairs, as if confirming her suspicion. Behind them, Valroth stirred again; he pushed himself halfway off the splintered forest floor. In a nonchalant manner, he dusted his coat of any fallen debris and turned back toward them, inching toward them with blazing eyes.

"Insects, the lot of you," the man rumbled. "I do not know where and who these spirits belong to, but do not think for a second they will make a difference. They are nothing more than mere annoyances."

The sorcerer took another step forward while the mana within him swelled. Fiona knew he was preparing another attack and instinctively took a step back. She glanced between the lighthouse entrance and the approaching man and made a quick decision. She clasped Igneal by the shoulder and guided him inside.

"Just where do you think you're going?" the sorcerer said from afar.

Fiona looked over her shoulder just in time to see thin threads of blood lashing across the broken ground, splitting small stones in two and carving deep gashes. The earth spirit moved with surprising agility for its massive frame. It stepped in front of the oncoming crimson blades, raising one moss-laden arm like a shield. With a thunderous stomp, it slammed its foot into the earth. A low tremor rolled outward, and in the next instant, jagged stone erupted from the ground like a wall of jagged teeth.

The blood threads met stone with a vicious hiss, slicing into the rock and leaving glowing red slashes, not even breaking through. The spirit remained still, its body unmoving as the magical assault fizzled harmlessly against its defense. Fiona didn't wait to see more. With the earth spirit buying them precious seconds, she yanked Igneal by the arm and bounded up the spiral stairs.

The metal steps groaned beneath their feet as Fiona and Igneal climbed, their footsteps echoing through the tight, spiraling corridor. The golden wisps of mana bobbed in the air around them, casting a soft, flickering light on the aged walls. It smelled faintly of rust and something fouler—stale and sour, like a cellar no one had opened in years.

"Do lighthouses usually smell like rot?" Fiona muttered, glancing warily at the nearest wall. It was cracked and grimy, and beside it sat a narrow alcove caged with iron bars.

Igneal slowed, peering into the alcove. "No. Not unless they've been converted into makeshift cells."

Inside the cell lay nothing but a crumpled gray cloth and a rusted bucket. The stone floor was streaked with old stains, and the iron bars were warped as if from age or desperate tampering. Fiona said nothing for a moment and then turned back to the stairs.

As they climbed, more of those prison-like alcoves came into view. Each one was nearly identical—iron bars sealed into the walls with crude efficiency, rusted shut or bent grotesquely as if someone had tried to wrench them open by force. The deeper they went, the more Fiona's stomach churned.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"This isn't just a repurposed lighthouse," Fiona murmured, eyeing another cell with what looked like claw marks scraped along the stone. "It's a holding chamber."

"More like a castle dungeon," Igneal added, his eyes scanning the warped bars. "The structure isn't secure enough for permanent containment. They didn't intend to keep people here forever… just long enough to do something else."

Fiona glanced uneasily at Igneal. "We can agree this is where the missing persons were imprisoned. But every alcove we've passed, I haven't seen anyone in them."

Igneal didn't answer right away. He simply continued climbing up the spiral staircase while he pondered. Fiona stared at the next cell as they passed.

This one was smaller, more suffocating. Inside was the faintest outline of a person's size scrawled in chalk on the floor, surrounded by symbols she didn't recognize. The bucket in the corner had long since rusted through, leaking a dark trail into the cracks between the stones.

They ascended another turn of the staircase, passing yet another alcove. This one had its iron bars split cleanly down the center, as if sliced by a spell or some blade. Inside lay the same rudimentary items. Rags, buckets, worn corners where someone must have curled up, but also something new. A single bracelet, made of copper wire and frayed cloth, sat abandoned in a corner.

Igneal stared. "There's your answer. Either they escaped or was released by someone. Most likely the one responsible for summoning the earth spirit aided us earlier."

"That's what I thought as well," Fiona said, her eyes scanning the ceiling above. "Someone who had the power to summon those spirits might also have helped whoever was trapped here. And... It helped us, yes. But that doesn't mean it's on our side. We should still be cautious, no matter how positive the possibility may seem. Since these spirits were recently summoned, the Conjuration Sorcerer must be nearby. Let's keep moving up, Igneal."

They continued upward. As they climbed, the cells became stranger, more grotesque. One room had jagged metal implements arranged on a table; needles, clamps, tubes stained with dried blood. Another held strange glass containers stacked on wooden racks, each one marked with odd sigils and smudges of red ink—or was it blood? There were even a few jars with a heart peeking out of a dark, viscous liquid.

This was no longer just an ordinary lighthouse. It looked more like a laboratory born from a nightmare. These surgical tools, blood, and disgusting conditions... It felt like stepping into the twisted mind of someone who had long abandoned their humanity.

The entire lighthouse rumbled as splitting earth from outside cracked the silence. Dust sifted down from the stone ceiling, and the railing of the stairwell groaned, as though warning them not to go any higher. Fiona gripped the banister and glanced down toward the bottom of the building. She imagined the earth spirit outside, locking horns with the blood sorcerer, tearing up the ground to keep him back.

Fiona thought back to the blood sorcerer's conversation with the naraga. Most worrisome was that it was sent to hunt down the rest of her friends. She didnt doubt her friends skills to handle things on their own, but it was still a naraga. They were still ignorant of what it could really do other than impersonation and shapeshifting.

Her friends had no way of knowing, if they did encounter the naraga, that that was the fake Wyford. Their guard would crumble, and that split second of trust could be fatal. The naraga didn't need to overpower them. It just needed to get close enough to deliver a fatal blow.

To make matters worse, the blood sorcerer mentioned a colleague. Aside from him and the naraga, someone else was involved. It was a terrifying thought that a sorcerer around the same level as the one with the bone mask was lurking around in the forest. If they were to return after all the commotion happening in front of the lighthouse, escaping really would be but a mere dream. Figuring out a way to escape should be their top priority.

Forgoing the contract entirely crossed Fiona's mind briefly. They have just now learned it was a trap to lure in more victims, albeit a trap with loopholes. Was rescuing Mitha even worth it at this point? The lives of Blue Dawn were surely more important than a group of strangers.

At such an insidious thought, Fiona bit her tongue. Mitha wasn't just a stranger—not to Tyrus. He was adamant in going after her, despite every risk, no questions asked. Fiona could imagine the boy's reaction if she abandoned her here. What would he think if he knew she was even considering retreat? He'd definitely be furious, and his opinion of her would plummet as fast as a rock thrown over a cliff.

She took a breath, bracing herself as they reached the top of the stairwell. The final landing opened into a large, circular floor just beneath the beacon chamber. It should have been empty, meant for maintaining the tower's light. Instead, a metal door lay half-hinged, revealing a room beyond that glowed with a sickly amber hue.

The air was warm and thick with a coppery tang that made Fiona's stomach twist. The room was a desecrated forge, twisted into a lab by someone with neither mercy nor restraint. Tables were lined with chalk runes, dissected instruments, and rows of tagged jars. Some held hunks of charred flesh, others whole organs suspended in cloudy solution. One jar held a human eye, still tethered to a sliver of optic nerve like a root curling in brine.

Chains hung from the ceiling. Some were empty. Others held shackles caked with dried blood. Along the far wall, glass tubes ran from floor to ceiling; many empty, but a few occupied with an ink-like substance emitting a hair-tingling chill. Within one flickered the faint silhouette of something vaguely human, its skin pallid and flaking, its mouth twisted in a silent scream.

Is it submerged in corrupted mana? How horrible! These Scourge guys are sick in the head to even think of this shit!

Igneal covered his nose, his other hand already at the hilt of his sword. "What a terrible sight. This is worse than I thought."

Fiona pressed a fist to her lips as bile rose. Her eyes darted over bloodstained tables and parchment-slick counters.

Crude diagrams covered the walls, human silhouettes layered with scribbled notes and magical symbols. Red lines were traced across the hearts or skulls, others had entire limbs circled and labeled as "infusion sites". A large board near the center bore the phrase: Soul resonance failure. Subject unstable. Retry at lower purity threshold.

Near the staircase to the beacon room above, a long table was strewn with half-unfurled scrolls, blueprints, and handwritten notes. A slim blade rested beside a stack of documents, its edge still wet with something that wasn't ink. Standing over them was a short figure dressed in a white and blue uniform.

Fiona immediately raised her staff. Igneal's hand dropped to his sword. They were ready to attack until the figure turned, revealing a young woman with straight eyebrows raised in shock. And a sleepy face.

"Royal Knight Nessa?" Fiona said, her voice a breathless whisper as she lowered her staff. "What are you doing here?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.