Deeper in the castle, past winding corridors and silent arches, a chamber lay in perpetual twilight. Faintly glowing runic lanterns bathed the stone walls in pulsing shadows.

  Upon the throne lounged a woman clad in a black cloak embroidered with serpents that gleamed emerald in the lantern light. They seemed to ripple if one looked too long. One of her eyes glowed a deep, otherworldly purple; the other shone an unsettling yellow etched with a magic circle. She peered into a levitating crystal ball, where hazy, shifting images revealed a small band of intruders.

  Her “hair” was not hair at all, but a writhing mass of black snakes, each pair of glittering eyes mirroring the calm, lethal curiosity in her own. She was Medusa, the Black Witch. At the sight of the weary adventurers—yet unbowed despite their trials—her lips curved into a quiet, contemplative smile.

  “Guests,” she murmured, voice low and smooth. “It’s been a while since anyone dared come this far.”

  A slender finger traced the surface of the crystal ball. She noted their fatigue, their unbroken resolve—and that they had bested Azio. Fascination flickered in her mismatched eyes, though her smile chilled at the sight of a familiar figure among them.

  “Cyrus?” She leaned forward, her serpents hissing in mild alarm. Silence settled, broken only by the quiet rustle of her hair and the distant drip of water echoing along the fortress stones. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  With a resigned breath, Medusa straightened. “Clementine,” she called, her voice carrying easily in the hush. “Come in.”

  A door at the far end of the chamber creaked open. Clementine stepped inside, her presence banishing some eerie stillness. She wore a sleek maid outfit—impeccably tailored—and thick goggles over keen orange eyes. Spiraling horns, reminiscent of a markhor’s, rose through her medium-length orange hair, and on her arms were black gauntlets tipped with purple claws.

  Medusa’s regard was cool but approving. “Clementine. We have guests—uninvited ones. I want you to remain here.”

  A trace of confusion flickered behind Clementine’s goggles. “You do not wish me to fight, my lady?”

  For a moment, Medusa’s serpents writhed as if sharing an unspoken thought. “No, not yet. There are other threats—right here in this room.” She lifted her voice slightly, snakes hissing in unison. “You two can come out. I’ve been aware of you for some time.”

  From the chamber’s lofty beams, two figures dropped soundlessly onto the polished floor. The first wore a black cloak and a stylized plague doctor mask: Blank, the enigmatic head of The Crows.

  Beside him stood a man in a coat with thick fur framing his hood, the rest of his attire in shades of gray so pale it seemed to melt into the gloom. A mask covered his face, featureless except for two cold eye slits; it looked forged of ice and bark fused. Around him, faintly glowing blue chains circled.

  Medusa watched them both, chin propped on her hand. “So it was you creeping through my walls, Blank,” she said with undisguised disdain. “I wondered why my wards kept stirring. But who’s your companion? You usually bring the wolf or the fox.”

  Blank shrugged. “Lupin’s taking some time off. Meet Jackpot—one of my Seven Wings.”

  From behind his mask, Blank’s eyes gleamed with wry amusement. Clementine shifted, bracing herself as if ready to spring. The reputation of those called the “Seven Wings” was enough to breed caution—even dread—in seasoned warriors.

  Medusa’s serpentine hair tilted as though listening to the tension thickening in the air. Slowly, she smiled. “One of your strongest, is it? How gracious of you.”

  Blank executed a mocking half-bow. “There’s more. Another ally, a rookie, is running late. Might assign him to Lupin’s unit. I’m only here to lend a hand with your guests.”

  A cold laugh slipped past Medusa’s lips. “I fail to see how that’s your concern. The intruders don’t frighten me.”

  “Save the bluster,” Blank teased, voice lilting with an edge. “We both know you have reasons to avoid a direct clash with Cyrus. Don’t worry; I’m not here to shame you—only to remind you there are alternatives.”

  Her nostrils flared, and frustration rippled through her snakes. “I don’t recall asking for your concern. If you’re not delivering your usual…inventory, you’re wasting my time.”

  Blank spread his arms in a theatrical show of feigned offense. “The corpses will come as agreed. I value our business, dear Medusa. I only came to offer help.” He chuckled softly. “But if that offends you—”

  Medusa cut him short, flicking her hand dismissively. “Clementine. Show these two out. Do so by force if necessary.”

  Obediently, Clementine vanished from Medusa’s side in a blur, gauntleted fists aimed straight at the intruders. In a heartbeat, her strike arced toward Jackpot’s masked face. But before impact, a glimmering wall of blue crystals erupted before her. The moment her fists connected, the crystals rang out like a muffled bell, absorbing the blow without a crack.

  “Please, wait,” Jackpot said, his voice calm and steady, as if addressing a minor inconvenience. His blue chains, hovering around him in a graceful orbit, began to hum softly with energy. “I’m in the middle of contract negotiations with my employer here, as facing you is not a part of my job.”

  Blank gave a long-suffering sigh. “Are you serious? Now of all times? Fine, what do you want?”

  Jackpot inclined his head slightly, his masked face revealing nothing. “My son’s birthday is in a month. I’d like the entire week off, not just the day.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Blank heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. You have it. Handle this.”

  With a snap of Jackpot’s fingers, the shimmering wall surged forward, slamming Clementine back against a stone column. In an instant, the crystal barrier melted and re-formed, entombing her in a cocoon of scintillating scales, leaving only her furious face visible.

  Blank turned to Medusa, confidence restored. “Now, may we help you?”

  Medusa’s glare wavered between anger and pragmatism. Finally, she motioned with a weary hand. “Let her go.”

  Jackpot snapped his fingers again; the crystal prison cracked and dissolved, the shards flowing back to him as if drawn by magnetism. Clementine landed gracefully, her stance rigid, pride stung but body unhurt.

  Medusa offered Blank a glare tempered by reluctant acceptance. “Clementine, guard the throne room. If the intruders manage to reach this chamber, these two will deal with them.” She paused, as if the arrangement pained her. “Slow the adventurers down—but don’t sacrifice your life.”

  Clementine bowed stiffly. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Meanwhile, the party pressed on. They navigated the castle’s twisted corridors in grim silence, the weight of unseen eyes following their every step. Faint torchlight flickered across damp walls, revealing the occasional claw mark or scorch where previous battles had scarred the stone. Medusa’s influence clung like a living shadow, its very presence tainting the air.

  They soon came upon a long hall strewn with debris—broken pottery, discarded blades, and tattered banners lining the floor. At its far end stood a squad of maids, their silhouettes deceptively neat in pristine uniforms. Yet each face was a bare skull crowned with a bright wig.. They gripped swords, axes, or bows in bony hands that clacked with a grisly marionette-like motion.

  Noah, feeling the drag of fatigue from the castle’s endless trials, positioned himself behind the vanguard. “They just keep coming,” he said quietly. “Everyone, get ready.” While the others braced for combat, he focused on healing, channeling magical energy through the group. Subtle pulses of restorative light merged with the stale air, easing bruises and cuts before they could become crippling wounds.

  Cyrus flanked Noah, cold precision in his gaze. Every time an arrow whistled or a maid lunged, he answered with an ice spear that pierced the dark orbs powering those bodies. The maids collapsed into puddles of black mist, their bones dissolving into the floor. His aim never faltered, each spear shattering the grotesque “hearts” that fueled them.

  Off to the side, Ava darted forward. She snatched up a fallen sword, adopting a poised stance. “Sword technique: Wind Blade fused with Paralysis!” she hissed. A compressed gust ripped through the row of maid-warriors, halting them mid-swing, their limbs trembling and locking in place.

  Seizing this opening, Lucy and Adam lunged. Lucy’s greatsword cleaved through the immobilized skeletons, fragmenting their glowing cores. Adam’s legendary spear, Cú Chulainn, flew with uncanny intelligence—each time it destroyed one core, it ricocheted to the next, leaving shattered remains in its wake. In seconds, the corridor lay silent, its occupants reduced to dark stains seeping between the cracked stones.

  Noah exhaled, releasing one last burst of healing. “Good work,” he said, voice laced with weary relief. Their cohesive teamwork shone in moments like this.

  They continued down tight hallways where each step felt heavier, as though the castle itself resented their intrusion. At times, they glimpsed faint spectral figures drifting through walls, or heard scraping in the corners—signs that more horrors waited just out of sight.

  Suddenly, a flurry of inky black hands erupted from a nearby doorway, their slick, dripping fingers latching onto Ava’s arm before she could react. She cried out, shock, and pain mingling in her voice.

  “Ava!” Noah shouted, racing forward, but the heavy door slammed shut with brutal finality. Black liquid oozed out from beneath it, coalescing into towering Black Knights that blocked the party’s path. Each time one knight fell, another formed from the swirling darkness, forcing Noah and the others into a stalemate.

  Inside that room, Ava found herself in a massive library that seemed larger than the exterior could possibly contain. Rows of towering shelves crowded with worn tomes and ominous grimoires rose high into the vaulted darkness. Tiny motes of light hovered like stars, drifting among floating ladders and hidden alcoves. At the edges of her vision, shadowy hands skittered along the shelves, palms marked with eerie, unblinking eyes.

  Near the center stood a curved desk, and upon it perched a woman with long cyan hair that shimmered as though woven from galaxies. Within the silky strands, faint constellations flickered and shifted. She wore yellow-framed glasses that gleamed in the star-like glow. A sleek black cat curled in her arms, its emerald eyes mirroring the eerie luminescence in the room.

  “Hello,” the woman said, her voice disarmingly gentle. “Welcome to my library. I’m Celeste.” Her smile hinted at something predatory beneath the polite tone. “Such a lovely guest you are.”

  Ava steadied herself, dagger raised. Though her heart pounded, she kept her voice firm. “If you’re another of Medusa’s minions, I won’t hold back.”

  Celeste chuckled, stroking the cat absently. “Let’s not waste time on formalities. You’ll be my prey tonight.” She rose with a fluid grace. The black cat leapt from her arms and vanished into the shadows, its eyes two emerald sparks in the gloom.

  Ava took a measured breath. “Awaken, Robin Hood!” she cried, summoning a vibrant emerald hoodie embroidered with swirling leaves. Mana flowed through her limbs, bolstering her stance. She gripped her dagger, steeling herself for a fight.

  “Ooh, a Regalia,” Celeste mused, adjusting her glasses. “How adorable. But it won’t save you from me.” With the faintest curl of her lips, she murmured, “Ability: Collapse.”

  A sudden crushing force bore down on Ava, pressing her knees to the ground. Her hoodie felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Each ragged breath scraped in her lungs as the invisible gravity warped the surrounding space.

  “W-what…?” Ava gasped, struggling to stand. Her muscles strained, sweat beading on her brow. But Celeste advanced, every step multiplying the gravitational weight pinning Ava to the stone floor. Within moments, Ava had collapsed fully, her cheek pressed against cold granite.

  Celeste’s voice was calm, almost soothing, as she knelt beside her captive. “Gravity manipulation,” she explained. “I can make the world crush you if I choose.”

  Ava clenched her jaw, fear spiking through her. She tried to lift her dagger, but her arm felt like lead, glued to the floor. “Damn you,” she choked out.

  Celeste reached into the swirling shadows. “You’re darling when you’re defiant,” she murmured. From the darkness, she produced a small black serpent, its eyes gleaming with cold hunger. “I promise it’ll be painless.”

  Ava’s eyes widened. She couldn’t roll away or even lift her head to dodge. The snake slithered forward, wrapping around her trapped arm before sinking its fangs into her flesh. Black mist bled from the wound, burrowing into her veins with a chilling pulse. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat pushing the corruption further.

  “It’ll be over soon,” Celeste said, her tone as gentle as a lullaby. “Just let go. Stop fighting.”

  Tears slipped from Ava’s eyes as her limbs numbed, a silent terror gripping her mind. She tried to form a word—Noah’s name—but her voice came out as a ragged whisper. Beneath the crushing weight of Celeste’s power, her consciousness began to slip. The black mist devoured warmth and will, leaving only cold emptiness in its wake.

  Celeste watched with detached curiosity, her cyan hair aglow with distant stars. “Sleep,” she cooed softly, stepping back to admire the slow collapse of her victim. Ava’s vision blurred, the edges of the library fading into swirling darkness.