Rumble!
In an instant, the entire castle trembled, shaking violently.
Luge had just opened his door when the tremor struck, and he immediately braced a hand against the wall to steady himself.
Is this what she meant by a solution? Luge thought.
He quickly tried to open his spatial door, but after an earnest attempt, he was met with failure once again.
The rumbling hadn't ceased. He glanced left and right, still seeing no sign of Old Butler Izel. Recalling the rudimentary map, he began energizing spell models. Bull's Strength and Body Lightening were cast one after another to empower his body, while Boiling Spirit cleared the lingering grogginess from his recent sleep. Fully prepared, he pushed off the wall and darted forward like an arrow released from a bowstring.
According to the young master, who had filled in details on the map drawn by the succubus scholar, this wasn't the deepest level of the castle. That meant he had to climb seven floors to reach the library. Moreover, many sections of the castle had collapsed into ruin and become impassable; the layout the succubus knew was from centuries ago.
"Nobles really have screws loose..."
Luge grumbled inwardly as he sprinted through the tremors.
The stairwells between each floor were located on diagonally opposite sides, forcing him to make endless detours just to climb up floor by floor. Wouldn't the nobles themselves have wasted a tremendous amount of time walking this every day? Besides, according to the succubus, the more noble someone's status, the lower down they lived. The City Lord naturally occupied the bottommost level, while his scions typically resided on the second-to-lowest floor.
He sprinted in long strides, still debating whether to swap Bull's Strength out of his first demonic mark—his temporary spell slot—and pre-energize and store a Fire Bolt. That would guarantee an instant cast. But one of the tips written in the Black Codex stated that to maximize the success rate of acquiring a first-ring compound spell, one should avoid casually swapping the spell in a temporary spell slot. Luge wanted to take this principle to the extreme: keeping only a single spell in that temporary spell slot from the moment it formed.
Floor after floor, he counted silently, marveling all the while at the castle's immense scale.
What was more, the higher up he went, the larger the floor area became. Even with many sections collapsed, he could still navigate paths to press forward. While grumbling, he even paused to try opening his spatial door again, but it was still a failure.
Only two floors left, he muttered inwardly, continuing his desperate sprint.
Suddenly, the tremors stopped.
The surroundings fell quiet at once, returning to the castle's usual gloomy stillness, save for the rustle of loose gravel and the clatter of crystal lamp ornaments falling in the corridor.
Luge hesitated for a fraction of a second, but he didn't stop. Instead, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to push his speed even higher.
The joints all over his body groaned with unnatural creaks.
"Young Master, what are you doing?"
The old butler's figure appeared around the corner. Behind him lay the stairs leading upward.
If he could just get past this spot, only one floor remained before he reached the library.
Old Butler Izel remained as unhurried and composed as ever, but his appearance was far from his usual perfection.
One of his arms was gone from the shoulder, his clothes were torn in several places, and he had even lost a shoe. None of this affected his bearing, however; his back remained ramrod straight.
"Young Master, there is no need to worry. Please return to your room and rest at ease."
The old butler initially stood at the intersection. Seeing that Luge made no move forward, he stepped away from the corner and approached step by step.
"A few hideous demons merely strayed into the castle's grounds. They possessed some brute strength but lacked intelligence, and I have already disposed of them. Young Master, there is no need for concern. The castle is exceptionally sturdy. Were it not for fear of disturbing your rest, those demons could have spent their entire lives and still failed to breach the barrier and enter."
Old Izel continued to draw near.
Luge glanced at the empty space beside him and slowly walked forward to meet him.
"I want to give you the protective talisman Father left for me, Izel."
Looking at the old butler, Luge quietly cast the zero-ring spell Fetid Skin. At this point, he no longer worried about irritating the man; he only wanted to directly sense whether there was any malice, and to continuously monitor any shifts in intent. To his delight, the old butler harbored not a shred of malice toward him, the fake young master, which allowed Luge to act even more boldly.
Luge untied the strip of cloth from his wrist as he walked.
In his view, perhaps burning the corpse wouldn't even be necessary.
The rigid old butler looked dazed, as if caught off guard by the young master's actions, momentarily at a loss.
In truth, Luge had noticed just a moment ago that the injured butler appeared somewhat sluggish and bewildered.
Summoning his courage, Luge lifted the old butler's remaining hand as if taking the hand of a familiar elder. He swiftly tied the cloth strip torn from the apprentice wizard's robe tightly around it, pressing the handsome youth's tooth flush against the butler's wrist. He made sure the sharp tip of the true young master's tooth dug right into the wound on the side of Old Izel's wrist—it had been the sight of that very wound that inspired Luge's idea in the first place.
It was as though no blood flowed within Old Butler Izel's body; even at his severed arm, not a single drop of fresh blood was shed.
Naturally, Luge had decided on a two-pronged approach.
He leaped past the old butler's side in a sudden burst and surged up the rising stairs.
"I'll leave the rest to you!" he called out without looking back.
Before untying the cloth strip, the young master had appeared beside him.
That was why Luge had changed his mind on the fly, deciding to give the two old fellows a surprise first. Indeed, that young master was actually centuries old himself. Offering them a chance to finally meet in such an unexpected way—if it worked, what better method could there possibly be to buy time?
He charged all the way up and finally caught sight of the library doors.
The double doors were made of stone and looked quite imposing, their heavy masonry matching the castle walls perfectly.
He held his arm level. Embedded in the hardened hide formed by Demonskin was a small tooth fragment that he had snapped off using Bull's Strength; he still remembered the young master's instruction that holding a piece of the tooth would help locate the corpse.
Pushing open the library doors, he found higher-grade crystal lamps embedded in the walls. Directly opposite hung a portrait depicting a tall, martial figure clad in peculiar blue armor. His facial structure bore some resemblance to the young master, and upon closer inspection, the facial features were quite similar, though the young master didn't possess even a fraction of the man's commanding aura.
This must be the City Lord, he thought.
The library was larger than he had imagined.
Following the wondrous guidance emanating from the tooth fragment, he walked toward the library's depths step by step. Along the way, many crystal lamps on the walls were broken, growing darker the farther in he ventured. Fortunately, such dimness was no obstacle for the little kobold's eyes.
Reaching the deepest part, he found bookshelves arranged in concentric rings like a labyrinth. Judging from the marks on the floor, these shelves seemed to have once been capable of moving on their own.
A pitch-black opening to a downward staircase sat prominently in the center of the ringed bookshelves.
Luge reached the top of the stairs and suddenly froze in his tracks.
The words Half-Man had spoken before his departure flashed through his mind: as an outsider from another world, one would instinctively sense the proximity of an abyssal altar, an impression by no means difficult to distinguish. This sensation, so hard to put into words, was something he was now experiencing firsthand.
There was actually an abyssal altar down below.
Could the castle have been transported here through a sacrificial rite?
But how could that be? If it was done through sacrifice, there had to be a target, a recipient.
And why would the young master's corpse be in a place like this?
Even as thoughts raced through his mind, Luge took out Half-Man's half-face, holding it in his hand as he stepped down the stairs one by one. It was as if that half-face could grant him endless courage.
Chapter 60