The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 335 Female Knights' Silent Infiltration (1)

Cerys and Vyrelda moved through the darkened corridors of the Technomancer data vault with silent determination. The place smelled like metal shavings and old arcane fumes, a mix that hung heavy in the stagnant air. Strange, glowing sigils lined the walls—none that Cerys recognized, but all of them pulsing faintly in the gloom. Their flickering lights cast unsettling shadows across the stone floor, sometimes making it feel as though something larger than them was watching from the corners.

Cerys, the Lone Wolf with her striking red ponytail and impassive face, led the way. Every footstep she took was measured, each movement honed by years of survival and relentless training. She wore dark leathers that didn't reflect the faint light, helping her merge into the dim surroundings. Her emerald eyes, sharp and ever-watchful, flicked from one end of the corridor to the other, ready for any threat.

Behind her, Vyrelda stayed close, equally quiet. Tall and strong, she moved with an assured air that came from a lifetime serving the Silvarion Thalor knights. Each time her gaze landed on an unfamiliar shape, her hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, ready to defend them both. Despite the tension in the vault, her expression remained controlled, a reflection of her loyalty to Queen Elowen and her childhood ties to the throne. She and Cerys formed a team that few could challenge—a combination of discipline, skill, and a steely resolve that bordered on intimidating.

They slipped down a short stairway that led to a side passage. Here, the lighting was even worse, the faint glow of the runes flickering erratically, like broken lights on the verge of failing. A hum in the air made Vyrelda's skin crawl. It was as if the very walls carried a current, or maybe the aftereffects of spells cast long ago.

Just then, a guard appeared around the corner, a Technomancer soldier sporting an obsidian breastplate that gleamed with embedded arcs of magical conduction. Cerys's reflexes kicked in. She lunged forward before he could even register her presence, clamping a gloved hand over his mouth while delivering a sharp, precise strike to the side of his neck. The guard collapsed with a choked gasp, unconscious. His metal gauntlets rattled loudly for a split second, echoing down the corridor.

Cerys winced at the noise but wasted no time, dragging him into the shadows behind a pillar. Her heart hammered, though her face remained its usual mask of calm. The adrenaline reminded her of those early days—danger around every corner, the fear of losing everything in a single misstep. She'd survived then, and she'd survive now.

Vyrelda followed, her expression darkening at the minor commotion. She knelt beside the unconscious soldier, checking for any immediate threat or hidden device. When she found none, she nodded at Cerys, and the two continued deeper into the vault.

"I hate these halls," Vyrelda whispered, just loud enough for Cerys to hear. "It's too quiet. Makes me think we're already caught, and we just don't know it yet."

Cerys grunted in agreement. "Focus. Let's finish this fast."

They moved on, gliding past junctions and sealed metal doors. Every so often, they heard muffled mechanical noises—likely more guards or automated defense units patrolling. At one turn, they nearly bumped into another enforcer. But Vyrelda, quick to react, pressed a hand to Cerys's shoulder, guiding her back into an alcove. The enforcer's footsteps receded in the opposite direction.

After what felt like an hour of cautious navigation, they reached a chamber that had the distinct hum of data processing. A soft blue glow radiated from the archway, and the air had that electric tang that came with advanced Technomancer machinery. Above the entrance, the partial silhouette of a gearlike emblem flickered in a low-power state.

Cerys paused, taking a breath. She wasn't the best with complicated interfaces—her strength lay in combat and stealth. But Vyrelda had proven adept at gleaning information from encrypted systems back in Silvarion Thalor's war room. She could handle this. Cerys would guard her back, making sure no one snuck up on them.

They stepped inside carefully. The chamber, though small, was packed with humming consoles and rows of crystal plates that likely stored vast amounts of data. Thin arcs of magical energy wove between the plates, giving off a faint hum that reminded Cerys of a beehive—endlessly busy, never truly resting. Two more unconscious guards lay on the floor, courtesy of someone else's handiwork, perhaps. Or maybe the place had been left with minimal staff. She tried not to dwell on it. Time was short.

Vyrelda approached the nearest console, her gloved fingers dancing over the haptic-like projections that sprang up when she touched the panel. Lines of encrypted text scrolled across a faintly glowing surface. She glanced at Cerys, who stood watch with arms folded and eyes constantly scanning the doorway.

"Keep an ear out," Vyrelda murmured. Her focus returned to the console, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she navigated the data vault's security layers. She might not like Mikhailis's methods, but she had no qualms using the hacking tips gleaned from his questionable knowledge about the Technomancers' systems. Slowly, the encryption gave way to partial clarity.

Behind them, an unseen mechanism whirred, and a small lens device on the ceiling rotated, scanning the room. Cerys tensed. She motioned for Vyrelda to hurry. If that lens beeped a silent alarm, they'd have enforcers crawling all over them in minutes.

Sweat beaded on Vyrelda's brow, but her expression never wavered. After a tense minute, she exhaled quietly, and her posture relaxed. "I'm in," she whispered.

Cerys leaned closer, glimpsing the lines of text forming on a holographic display. "Anything useful?"

Vyrelda's eyes flicked across the data, sifting through references to infiltration attempts, arcane modifications, and older records that stretched back decades—sometimes centuries. Most were irrelevant. Then, her gaze snagged on a file titled Archived: Mist-Born Projects—High Clearance. She tapped it, decrypting with a stolen passcode Mikhailis had gleaned from an earlier run-in with an overconfident Tech officer.

Lines of text and images burst onto the screen, though old and partially corrupted. The words made little sense at first: Biomass integration… partial success… meltdown at site… discontinued. Then one line jumped out:

Encounter: Mist-Born Constructs

Date: Over 100 years

Status: Failed Experiments

Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Warning: If the Serewyn system reawakens, Luthadel falls.

Vyrelda went still, her breath catching in her throat. "It's here," she murmured. "Mist-born constructs. Experiments from a hundred years ago."

Cerys's stomach churned. She recalled how some of those masked assailants manipulated the mist, forming constructs that seemed almost alive. "So the Technomancers tried this once before?" she asked, voice low and clipped.

Vyrelda nodded slowly, reading on. "They tried to harness the original Serewynian infrastructure for their own means. The results were… catastrophic. The documents mention meltdown or meltdown-like events, entire city blocks consumed by unstoppable mist expansions."

Cerys swallowed a knot of apprehension. "And that line—'If the Serewyn system reawakens, Luthadel falls.'" She couldn't help the chill creeping into her voice. Something about the statement rang final, as if it were a prophecy etched in stone.

Vyrelda's expression was grim. "So the city stands on the brink. The old system might reclaim what was once forcibly taken from it. Or the experiments might trigger something far worse."

A clang reverberated from somewhere down the corridor, and both women stiffened. Cerys reached for her sword, motions swift yet controlled. Vyrelda exhaled, forcing her composure to remain steady, though tension rippled across her shoulders.

They had the data. They needed to leave before more guards closed in.

Cerys carefully shut the console down, ensuring no leftover traces signaled which files had been accessed. Then, with a silent gesture, she led the way out of the data chamber. Vyrelda followed in tight formation, glancing over her shoulder to confirm they weren't being pursued.

They slipped back through the same corridors in reverse, each footstep echoing with a subtle menace. The path was longer this time, or at least it felt that way, the knowledge of what they'd found bearing down on them. If the Serewyn system truly awakened, and the city's forced constraints on the mist unraveled, then a calamity might be in the making.

Near the vault's entrance, a guard stirred, but Cerys dispatched him with a quick strike to his pressure point. A pang of guilt rose in her mind—she wasn't here to kill, only to gather knowledge. She left him breathing, just unconscious. Her heart pounded as they reached the final stretch: a wide corridor leading to the exit. The ward-lamps flickered overhead, casting dancing light across the obsidian floor.

They were nearly out when a swirl of mechanical sound filled the air. Another sentinel, small but agile, hovered at the end of the corridor, scanning the environment with a red lens. Cerys and Vyrelda pressed themselves against the wall, out of direct sight. The device's lens whirred, passing back and forth in a methodical sweep.

Cerys gritted her teeth.