The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 336 Female Knights' Silent Infiltration (End)

Cerys gritted her teeth. They had no time to fight, and the corridor offered little cover. She exchanged a glance with Vyrelda. The knight's jaw clenched—she was prepared to strike, but they both knew a full confrontation might trigger alarms.

With a swift, improvised motion, Vyrelda removed a small device from her belt—a mini disruptor Mikhailis had given them. She tossed it gently down the corridor. It landed near the sentinel with a soft clink, causing the machine to swivel in curiosity. A second later, the disruptor activated, sending a localized burst of interference that scrambled the sentinel's sensors.

The device whined, the lens flickering. In the confusion, the sentinel twitched and rotated wildly, trying to recalibrate. Cerys took that moment to slip forward, Vyrelda at her side. They darted past, each footstep careful not to slam on the floor. The sentinel whirred again, but by the time it could see clearly, they were already gone.

A few more paces and they emerged into the outer corridor, the swirling city mist meeting them like a silent greeting. Slipping into the half-lit street, they finally breathed.

Cerys exhaled, running a hand over her ponytail to tighten it. Her muscles quivered from the tension of the infiltration, but she clung to composure. "We have it," she murmured. "The data. That line... about the Serewyn system." The words tasted bitter.

Vyrelda's eyes flicked around, making sure no immediate threat lingered. Then she nodded, voice hushed. "If the Serewyn system reawakens, Luthadel falls."

Cerys and Vyrelda moved through the darkened corridors of the Technomancer data vault with swift, silent steps. The very air smelled charged—like a mix of old metal, arcane residue, and that distinct tang of potions left too long in dusty vials. Dim lights flickered along the walls, tracing runic patterns that pulsed faintly, as though the vault itself was alive and breathing.

Cerys, the Lone Wolf whose red ponytail swept over her shoulder, kept to the lead. Her gaze was keen, scanning each corner for potential threats. She wore an expression that was at once detached and focused, her green eyes every bit as sharp as the blade at her hip. Over the years, she'd perfected the art of stealth and efficiency in combat, having spent her formative years in knightly training after surviving the horrors that stole her family from her. She chose solitude, she chose the path of minimal bonds—yet here she was, risking herself for a cause she still didn't fully understand.

Vyrelda followed close behind. With sleek movements, she nearly mirrored Cerys's vigilance, each muscle primed for a sudden strike if needed. As a childhood friend and loyal knight to Queen Elowen, she shared her queen's strength and sharpness. She was protective, especially regarding anything that might threaten Silvarion Thalor's interests. And given that Mikhailis was part of those interests, she had reluctantly stepped into this chaotic puzzle he'd stirred.

They came upon a narrow hallway blocked by a single Technomancer guard, his obsidian breastplate reflecting a faint neon glow from embedded runic strips. Without missing a beat, Cerys rushed forward, locking an arm around his throat. Before the startled guard could shout, she jabbed a precise blow to his nerve cluster. He crumpled wordlessly into her arms. She dragged his limp body into the shadows, her heart thumping with a familiar rush.

"Check him," Cerys muttered under her breath, pressing her back to the wall. She eyed the corner vigilantly as Vyrelda knelt to search the guard's pockets for any data keys or alarms.

Vyrelda shook her head after a moment, her voice a near-silent whisper. "No. He's clean."

Cerys exhaled, relieved but wary. "Let's keep moving."

They navigated deeper. The data vault's interior was more elaborate than she'd expected, each chamber lined with crystalline plates humming with arcane or technological energy. Some plates glowed a steady blue, others pulsing in erratic patterns. Conduits snaked across the ceiling like metal vines, feeding power into the vault's core. Every so often, they spotted a lit console or a sealed door labeled with runic symbols.

This place feels like a caged beast, Cerys thought, scanning for patrols. It's all eyes and ears, waiting to catch intruders.

Behind her, Vyrelda slipped into a side alcove, motioning for Cerys to follow. The hum of a sentinel drifted from an adjoining corridor. They froze, pressing back against the cold stone as a floating orb-like machine drifted past, scanning the area with a red, probing lens. A faint mechanical hiss marked its passage. Then it turned a corner and vanished.

Vyrelda's eyes narrowed, and Cerys caught the slight tension at the knight's jawline. She, too, disliked these half-living machines that patrolled with perfect efficiency. One wrong step, and the entire base would go into full alert. They needed no reminders of the danger.

Finally, they reached a locked doorway with heavy, reinforced steel. The sign above it read HIGH-SEC LOGS. Cerys touched the console, her gloved fingers carefully testing the panel for a response. A red glyph blinked at them—Access Denied. She frowned, resisting the urge to force it open.

"We'll need a bypass," Vyrelda murmured, glancing around. A smaller console to the left glowed faintly—perhaps a security override. Without waiting for a nod, she knelt beside it, producing a slim device from inside her cloak. Mikhailis had given them a few stolen codes, courtesy of his earlier Technomancer run-ins, though they had no guarantees it would still work here.

Cerys kept watch, sword half-drawn. Her mind flickered back to the many infiltration missions she'd done alone. Now, she had a partner—someone she had to ensure didn't get hurt. The old anxiety crept up, the fear of losing someone else. She forced it down. Focus on the mission, she told herself. Emotions can come later. Experience more tales on My Virtual Library Empire

Vyrelda gave a triumphant little exhale as the panel flashed green. The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a cramped chamber lined with crystalline data slabs. Soft, pulsing lights ran across the shelves, indicating that these logs were actively maintained or at least recently accessed.

The room itself smelled like stale air and faint ozone, as if the environment had been vacuum-sealed for too long. Cerys took one cautious step inside, scanning for traps or hidden sentinels. She saw none. Vyrelda followed, moving to the main console at the back—a large, flat surface bearing runic glyphs.

"Cover me," Vyrelda said quietly. There was a small note of tension in her voice, but also determination.

Cerys stood at the threshold, sword at the ready, her posture radiating a fierce kind of calm. If anything moved that wasn't Vyrelda or a harmless object, it would meet swift retaliation. She listened to the faint hum of the data slabs, the soft beep of the console as Vyrelda typed in commands. Outside, the corridor remained silent for now.

Time stretched uncomfortably. This was the vulnerable phase: infiltration always had that delicate moment where half the team was busy hacking or searching, and the other half had to hold off any threats. Cerys's heart pounded with the tension. Each second felt longer than it was.

Finally, Vyrelda gasped softly. "I found something," she whispered.

Cerys glanced back, sparing her a look while keeping the corridor in her peripheral vision. "What is it?"

Vyrelda's brow furrowed as lines of text scrolled across the console. "Records from about a century ago. Failed experiments with 'mist-born constructs.' Something about attempts to harness the old Serewyn system. They… they called it 'Project Aegis,' an effort to forcibly integrate the city's original infrastructure with Technomancer augmentation." She skimmed further. "It ended in meltdown events—mass casualties, entire blocks lost to uncontrollable fog expansions."

Cerys felt a chill run through her. "So they tried to do exactly what the Crownless House might be attempting now?"

"Perhaps," Vyrelda replied, biting her lip. The runes on the console glowed a murky green as she navigated deeper into the files. "Wait, here's a summary." Her eyes raced across the text. "'Designation: Mist-Born Entities… partial success… meltdown… discontinued… sealed data…'"

Then, she froze, color draining from her cheeks. "Oh no."

Cerys's knuckles tightened on the hilt of her sword. "What?"

Vyrelda turned to her, voice low and urgent. "There's a direct warning." She inhaled, reading verbatim: "'If the Serewyn system reawakens, Luthadel falls.'"