Chương 364: Chapter 359 - Scary ol' knights

They stepped through the archway together. The corridor gave way to something less like a chamber and more like a half-collapsed vault, its interior split into sharp, angular channels. There were no strange glyphs here, no lines etched into the walls like before. Instead, raised stone partitions jutted from the ground in tight, layered rows — narrow walkways twisting out of view in repeating patterns, like the teeth of some vast gear or the ribs of a fossilised beast.

From above, Leon imagined the layout would resemble a coiling spiral. From the ground, it looked more like a maze with no ceiling, its walls just high enough to block the view ahead. It was unlike any of the other chambers they had seen so far. In fact, it didn't even feel like Beld Thylelion anymore. More like a different structure had been spliced into the complex. The prickling at the back of Leon's neck only intensified.

His aura pulsed again — not enough to spark light, but enough to remind him something was ahead. He still couldn't pinpoint the source, but somehow… it felt familiar. Princess Regina narrowed her eyes as she stepped past one of the first ridges.

"This place is…different." Leon nodded, already mapping the layout. The paths curved in predictable arcs, but there were too many corners. Too many blind spots.

"Which way?" the princess asked, glancing at Dame Smythe. The Oathbound woman frowned, scanning the forked paths in silence. Leon's gaze had already fixed on the leftmost path. It curved behind a fractured pillar into shadow, but even from here, the pressure was stronger in that direction. Dame Smythe lifted a hand and pointed along the same path. They got to moving. Their boots tapped softly against stone. The tight corridor dulled echoes but carried every breath.

Leon stayed at the rear, eyes flicking between corners, the open ceiling—looking into nothing but darkness—and the uneven stone walls. No immediate threats revealed themselves, but that gave him little comfort. Whatever presence he felt, it was growing. It wasn't to the point that it was oppressive, but… It pushed and pulled at him. His aura flickered again. Or rather… it leaned. Drawn and repelled at once. His eyes went to Dame Smythe, her cerulean cape trailing behind. They were ostensibly approaching her master.

He wondered what kind of person someone like her swore herself to.

"Your liege," he said after a while, keeping his voice low.

"How strong is she? Can she fight?" He didn't expect her to be ordinary. But surviving here alone was another matter entirely. He hoped they weren't about to find her corpse.

"She can handle herself," Regina answered before Dame Smythe could, her tone calm but edged.

"Most of the time." Leon looked at her.

"She can be reckless," the princess admitted.

"But if we're lucky, she's not alone."

"You said there were two others in your group," Leon said, scanning another corner as they passed.

"Yes. Both are… unique. Difficult, sometimes. But Skye is good with people. She knows how to hold things together."

"I see." Leon said no more, focusing on the path ahead. The pressure was close now. Dame Smythe didn't appear to be affected by the pressure, but she was steering them towards it. Was it possible this 'Skye' was already engaged with whatever this presence was? Leon's grip tightened on his sword. As they rounded yet another bend, the pressure surged. What had been static on the edge of awareness was now a shriek of twisted metal scraping against his aura.

"We're close," he murmured. Regina turned to him.

"You still feel it?"

"Yes. And it's right ahead." The princess drew her sabre. Dark motes flickered faintly around the guard like drifting sparks. Dame Smythe glanced back at Leon, then turned and advanced. They rounded one final corner. The corridor opened into an irregular chamber — broad and fractured, it did have a ceiling, but parts of it and the floor had collapsed into jagged shelves and terraces that gave the feel of a half-formed cave. Cracked tiles bore claw marks. Broken rock littered the ground, some resembling limbs.

A large mound of collapsed stone loomed at the chamber's centre, stacked high like rubble from a siege. At its base stood a dark-robed figure with their back turned. Leon's instincts ignited. His aura surged, forming a golden sheen around him in a flash of radiant defence. This was it. The presence he'd felt. The source. The threat. Someone from the Tribe of Sin? The Hallowed Cabal? The Undead Council? He was already moving, passing Regina and Dame Smythe before he'd realised it, sword unsheathed and raised.

The figure flinched—shoulders tensing—as if only now registering him. They turned. Silvery strands of light shimmered around their frame. Beneath the hood, Leon glimpsed white bandages — and flashes of golden hair. The figure froze. Their eyes met. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Leon's blood surged, instincts screaming to strike. But then — the familiarity hit like a blade to the spine, and he hesitated.

The figure recoiled, and a burst of wild, argent light exploded outwards. Chaotic tendrils lashed across the floor, racing toward him like coiled whips. Leon's eyes widened.

"Ah, ah—" the person—the woman —stammered, voice cracking with panic.

"N-no—no—why—why is he here—?!" The tendrils slammed into Leon's golden barrier like snapping cords. He hadn't expected them to crack it, but they did. Hairline fractures splintered out from the points of impact.

"Wha—? Sir Leon, Mel, what are you doing!?" the princess' voice rang out in alarm. He heard the sharp steps of Dame Smythe closing in behind him. A coil of silver light snaked up the woman's arm like smoke as she backed away, wide-eyed.

"H-help… they found me… No… H-help… Sk—" Leon's sword lit with golden glow, raised again — until he caught himself and pulled back. Dame Smythe stepped past him, blade held high in a defensive stance, not angled at Mel, but not at Leon either. Her expression was grim and alert. The robed woman stared at her, stumbling back until she tripped — then didn't fall. A silver tendril rose from her shadow, catching her mid-drop like a spectral limb. Her hand lifted, trembling, and pointed at them.

"Y-you're with them... To kill me…? Why—Why?" Her voice kept fracturing. Panic bled into confusion. The silvery light pulsed erratically. The tendrils that had struck Leon withdrew, but new ones formed, coiling defensively between her and the world. Regina stepped beside Leon, sabre raised, black motes swirling around its edge.

"Wait—!" Dame Smythe's sword flared brighter." Mel." But before either could act—"Mel! Take a breath and count the stars for me, would you?" The voice came from above. A figure crouched atop the pile of broken stone at the chamber's centre, perched between two craggy protrusions of what might once have been statues. She was lean, with short, tousled dark hair and a faint scar along her jaw. A black-and-blue jacket hung open over a plain tunic and light armour worn like an afterthought.

One hand braced against the stone while the other gave a lazy wave.

"Briana, Regina — took you long enough." Her gaze shifted towards the robed woman.

"It's okay, Mel. No one's here to hurt you. And even if they were, they'd have to go through me first. Remember?" Mel blinked several times, frozen in place. The silver tendrils surrounding her stilled. Then, slowly, she closed her eyes. Her lips moved in a silent rhythm, and the pressure around the chamber began to pull inward. The tendril holding her lowered her gently to the floor and faded into the hazy shimmer around her arm. She lay still. Leon stared.

The woman on the stone mound—Skye, he assumed—gave a two-finger salute toward Briana and Regina.

"Knew you'd find me eventually." Then her attention turned to Leon.

"You're new." Leon didn't answer immediately. He studied her. The way she stood—loose-limbed, casual, entirely at ease—reminded him more of a performer than a soldier. But even so, he got the sense that she could fight. Without warning, Skye leapt down. Twisting mid-air, she landed in a smooth, low crouch, light as a cat. Next to Leon, Princess Regina exhaled.

"Still with the theatrics, I see."

"Gotta keep in form," Skye said cheerfully.

"When you're this freakily strong, it'd be a crime not to show off a little." Leon eyed her.

"That was…impressive. Are you trained somewhere?" Her movements only cemented his earlier impression. They reminded him more of the travelling dance troupes his mother had always enjoyed at festival times.

"Thanks. Pretty sure I did gymnastics," Skye replied, brushing dust off her knees. Then she frowned faintly.

"Or…maybe it was aerial silks?" Leon blinked. He…didn't know what that was. Skye stepped lightly over to Mel and knelt beside her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Hey. You're okay," she said softly.

"Keep counting. I'll handle this. We'll have this sorted in a jiffy." Then she glanced back at Leon.

"I'm sure our shining knight here isn't going to hurt you. Right?" Leon held her gaze for a few seconds, steadying himself. Then he gave a single nod as he allowed—or rather, forced —his aura to settle.

"You have my word." Mel didn't respond, but the last of the silvery haze unwound from her arm and faded into the air. Leon's eyes lingered on her. He hadn't recognised her at first. The clothes were slightly different. Her eyes clearer. The bandages covering her face were fewer now. But it was her — the same woman who had turned a room into something like a child's dreamscape and nearly shattered it on reflex. The one he'd encountered in Scarlett's manor. He had no idea what she was doing here.

Why she was travelling with the princess. Or what, exactly, she was. But her aura still clashed violently with his. And once again, he'd frightened her—badly. A familiar knot of shame tightened in his chest. Was he really so untrained, so undisciplined, that he couldn't temper his instincts in the face of the unfamiliar? What sort of knight raised his blade at all that he didn't understand? Could he not even trust himself with his own sword? Princess Regina looked at him.

"…Sir Leon, why did you act that way?" Leon hesitated. Before he could speak, Skye rose and walked over, unhurried. Dame Smythe lowered her blade as she approached, her eyes scanning Skye for injuries. After a moment, she gave a short nod, and the glowing blade dimmed, leaving only the hilt.

"Sorry about the commotion," Skye said, giving the group a quick look over.

"Let's give Mel a few minutes. She's been extra on edge ever since we got here." She glanced between Regina and Dame Smythe. The casual tone didn't vanish, but it levelled, becoming firmer and more grounded.

"…That said, neither of you exactly helped make things easier there." Neither replied at first. Then Regina inclined her head.

"I'm sorry. You're right, Skye. We should have been more careful. But we were all caught off guard by Mel's reaction." Her eyes flicked to Leon.

"And by Sir Leon's." Leon tensed slightly under her gaze.

"The fault is mine, Your Highness. I don't know what kind of technique she uses, but it clashes directly with Solar Aura. I misread it as hostile, and my instincts took over. I didn't realise she was with you until it was too late."

"So basically…she gave you a bad vibe, and you drew your weapon." Skye's voice was flat.

"Not exactly a confidence-inspiring excuse." Leon met her gaze.

"…You're right, of course." She looked to be about the princess's age, but beyond that, Leon couldn't pin her. Who was this woman? Why was this 'Mel' person with her? And did any of this trace back to Scarlett? Could he ask? Before the thought settled, Regina took a small step towards Skye.

"Are you alright?" Skye's smile returned.

"Mostly. Bit sore." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the piled rubble behind her.

"We only just finished mopping up our own welcome party. They were persistent." Regina's eyes narrowed as she looked past her.

"Are those golems?"

"I think they might have been."

"That's strange."

"Is it?"

"Yes. We've seen constructs, but no golems. The Zuver weren't known to use them."

"Huh. If you say so." Skye gave a loose shrug and scanned the room.

"By the way, I'm guessing Oveth's not with you?"

"He is not," the princess said.

"We don't know where he might be."

"Then I guess he's next on the list." Skye turned back to Leon.

"Oh, right. Still have to tear into you more, but before we get to that, introductions. So. Name's Skye." Leon considered her. Princess Regina held out an arm.

"This is Sir Leon. Vice-captain of the Imperial Solar Knights."

"Leon?" Skye repeated.

"Like the band?" Leon blinked.

"The…band?" Skye frowned.

"The band?" They stared at each other in mutual confusion. For some reason, the princess rubbed her temple.

"Skye has a tendency to say things without knowing where they come from. It happens. You do not need to concern yourself with it, Sir Leon." Now Skye offered a sheepish grin.

"It does slip out sometimes." She tilted her head, studying him more closely.

"But I see it now. You do feel a little like a lion."

"…A lion?" Leon asked, feeling even more confused about what she was talking about. She nodded.

"That's what your name means, right?" He paused.

"…I'm not sure. It's just my name."

"Sure, sure," Skye said, nodding even more.

"Names are names. But they have meaning. That's kind of the point." She gestured at herself.

"I'm pretty sure I'm Skye because that's the first thing I saw. Mel's short for melody — she hums when she's nervous or thinks no one's listening. And 'Regina' happens to mean 'Queen', which fits, even if she pretends not to like it." The princess let out a slow sigh.

"Is this truly the conversation we should be having right now?"

"Probably not," Skye admitted with another shrug. Then her voice levelled again — light, but with a trace of iron beneath. She folded her arms, gaze fixed on Leon.

"Then let's get back to it. Why is this guy here — and why did he almost attack our party member?"