Chapter 92: If They Touch, I Burn...

Chapter 92: If They Touch, I Burn...

The noise was overwhelming, it’s an orchestra of madness.

The undercroft had become a pit of howls and screams. The shrieks of young beasts echoed off the cracked stone. Somewhere to his left, someone screamed, a poor worker, or maybe a mercenary, cut short by the wet crunch of teeth meeting flesh. The scent of burning mana and iron filled the air, thick and acrid, coating Keiser’s throat until it burned to breathe.

Over the din, the sharper cries of men rang out, mercenaries barking orders, their voices rising in panic as something massive crashed through a cage. Steel clashed against bone and the hiss of crackling followed, flaring briefly before being swallowed by the dark again.

Then came another sound, a high, pained cry from deeper in the madness. Seventh, Genevra’s hireling, furious and disoriented.

"Make it stop!" Her words were cut off by a sudden crack and a dull thud, her own runic parchment backfiring in her hands.

Keiser didn’t stop to look back. His boots pounded across the uneven floor, the air behind him hot with the charge of wild mana and flame. Every breath burned. Every heartbeat screamed that they were seconds from being caught.

Ahead, through the black haze and falling dust, he could see the faint shape of Tyron at the base of the stairwell, just a shadow moving against another, his cloak whipping as he turned to look back. The boy’s eyes gleamed faintly like the sky in the dark.

"Go!" Voice hoarse, Keiser bellowed, echoing off the broken stone. "Get to the others! Don’t stop no matter what you hear!"

The boy nodded and darted up the steps, his footfalls light and quick. Keiser didn’t let himself look again. Trust was all he had left. Tyron could handle himself, he had to. And if Lenko, Olga, and the sixth princess were still up there, then they’d handle the rest. They’d make sure the beasts didn’t reach the streets. They’d contain the madness.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

The child on his back, no, the dragon, tightened her hold, her small claws pricking through the torn fabric of his cloak. She was trembling, her breath warm against his neck, a faint hum of mana pulsing through her.

Keiser gritted his teeth and ducked low, sliding behind a collapsed pillar as another volley of parchment lit up the darkness in bursts of blue and red. Each flash painted the world around him in harsh glimpses, the twisted corpses, the shattered cages, the half-melted iron still glowing from mana overloaded runes.

His mind raced.

He still hadn’t found it. The dragon’s heart. Tyron’s mother’s heart.

Midnight was closing in. He could feel it, a dull ache under the bandages on his wrist pulsing in time with his heart.

He had to end it before them. Muzio and Lenko.

"Damn it..."

He pushed off the wall and moved, weaving between wreckage and shadow, one hand steadying the small dragon on his back. The air grew thicker, hotter, the deeper he went, each breath tasting of ash and smoke. The undercroft was collapsing in sections now, the ceiling groaning under the strain of explosions and unleashed mana.

A blast rocked the floor behind him, the shockwave throwing him forward. He caught himself with a curse, slid, and rose again, dizzy but unbroken.

Keiser stayed perfectly still, his back pressed against the jagged edge of a collapsed wall, every muscle in his body is strung tight.

The air stank of burned metal and singed mana, sharp, acrid, and hot against his tongue with every breath. The faint light spilling from the staircase cut through the dark in fractured beams, catching on floating dust and half-shattered cages.

Beyond it, the lamps of the mercenaries swayed like wisps through the maze of wreckage, their shadows stretching long and warping against the broken walls.

He could hear them, boots crunching over debris, armor scraping, voices muttering in panic and anger. The metallic clang of something being dropped made him flinch. He crouched lower, dragging in a shallow breath.

The faint weight clinging to his back stirred. Small fingers fisted tighter into the rough fabric of his cloak. The warmth seeping from her chest pulsed against his spine, faint but steady, like a second heartbeat.

Reaching a gloved hand back, Keiser brushed aside the folds of his hood until his fingers found her tangled hair. He ruffled it gently, whispering, "Little flame, you’ll be my eyes, okay?"

The girl huffed against his neck, a low, rumbling sound that was almost a growl. Her reply came soft but firm, the edges of her words vibrating faintly with restrained mana.

"Fine. But if they touch, I burn."

Keiser bit back a laugh, it came out more like a breathless exhale. "Let’s not roast the capital while we’re at it."

He shifted slightly, eyes narrowing toward the flickers of lamps weaving through the maze. With the dragon child shielding their presence, the world around him blurred between darkness and shadow, but her sight pierced through it. He could feel the mana humming from her skin, the faint tingle spreading through his fingertips where he held her.

Through the outline of a shattered pillar, and the glint of steel. The mage was moving carefully just ahead of the next corner.

"Runesteel," he muttered under his breath. "That explains how they broke through earlier."

Keiser’s jaw tightened. Runesteel. He could sense it. The familiar cold hum of rune etched metal in the air, a blade coated with sigils designed to cut through mana.

The girl tilted her head, whispering near his ear, "Those blades... they hurt. They cut through the air wrong. Like it screams."

Her voice trembled slightly, and Keiser’s grip on his dagger tightened. "Yeah. They brought them because they knew."

"Knew what?"

"That they were caging you." ’a dragon,’ Keiser said grimly. This wasn’t random. Genevra’s people weren’t just smuggling young beast for profit, they must been a reason... he hope it wasn’t because of a certain fourth prince.

The dragon child stirred again, pressing her small hand against his collar. "They’re coming closer," she whispered. "Three... no, four. One of them smells like blood."

Keiser inhaled slowly, steadying his heartbeat to match the rhythm of hers.

He shifted his stance, eyes flicking to the faint glow that guided him through the dark. His body moved low and silent, ghosting between the wreckage as the girl’s warmth bled outward, a soft shimmer in the air that warped the light around them.

The mercenaries’ voices grew clearer now, cutting through the dark.

"...Check the cages! The beast’s still in here somewhere!"

"...Watch your flank, those runes are unstable, "

"I saw movement! Right there!"

Keiser didn’t wait for the rest. He signaled the girl with a brief touch to her arm.

"Now," he whispered.

The faintest ripple of mana brushed over them, invisible, but powerful, and the shadows swallowed them whole.

The mercenaries passed within arm’s reach, their lamps flickering uncertainly. One of them turned, sensing something. His blade twitched up, runes pulsing faint blue.

And Keiser’s dagger flashed once, silent and precise.

The man fell before he could scream, his lamp hitting the ground and rolling away, spilling light across the dark floor, revealing Keiser’s pale smirk for just an instant.

"Little flame," he murmured, stepping over the body, "you’re doing great. Keep it up."

The girl’s quiet reply came with a small, fierce pride. "Then run faster. I smell more of them."

Keiser grunted as his boots splashed through shallow puddles, the reek of iron and burned runes thick in the air. "Okay, little flame," he panted, shifting his grip on his dagger, "can you feel any more that is ’like you’ around?"

The girl clinging to his back tilted her head, her tail looping loosely around his arm before tightening, tugging him sharply to the left. "That way,"

Her tail flicked again, guiding his movements through the labyrinth of cages and fallen beams. When he needed to duck beneath a half-collapsed archway, she yanked down his hood, when he had to leap over debris, she tugged at his collar like reins, steady but precise.

Keiser almost tripped once, but somehow, through sheer instinct or fate, his body responded with speed and grace that didn’t feel like his own. ’Muzio’s body,’ he thought, chest heaving. ’He’s getting faster than before. Stamina, too.’

His eyes had finally begun to adjust to the dark, catching faint movements ahead, only for sudden bursts of light to stab his vision every few steps.

A mercenary to his right swung a lamp wildly, its flame reflecting off steels from runed cages. Keiser reacted before he could think. His blade cut through the air, shattering the lamp in a shower of sparks. The flare blinded him briefly, hot and white against the back of his eyes, but he kept moving, momentum carrying him forward.

"Damn it," he hissed, blinking the light out of his vision.

The girl’s claws pressed lightly against him, urging him on. Her tail gave another pull, leading him through a narrow passage. He ducked under a broken beam, his shoulder grazing splintered wood. Behind them, shouts rose, angry, desperate, echoing through the collapsing undercroft.

"...Spread out! Find them!"

"...Watch your steps, don’t let them---."

The voices cut short with a thud and a muffled scream. Keiser didn’t look back. He just kept running.

They turned another corner, breath hot and ragged. Then he felt the girl’s small body stiffen against his back. Her tail froze mid-motion.

"Like me... Like me... here?" she whispered.

Keiser slowed, his boots skidding across. The single word, small, uncertain, and questioning, made something cold coil deep in his gut.

He turned his head slightly, his voice low and wary. "What do you mean ’here’?"

The girl’s breath brushed against his neck, trembling with confusion. "It feels... like me."

Keiser’s throat tightened. The sound of running feet and crashing debris faded for a moment, drowned out by the pounding of his heart.

"Like you?" he echoed softly.

She nodded against his back, her voice even smaller. "Yes. here. Like me. But.... Sleeping."

Sleeping...?