Seraphina exhaled sharply, her breath uneven as she fought the weariness weighing down her body. Her neck throbbed where the mana-sealing collar bit into her skin, leaving it raw and bruised. The humiliation and pain it symbolized were nearly unbearable.
This was different—so much worse than anything she'd experienced before. Even the harrowing mind metamorphosis she'd undergone with Arthur, a trial that had stripped her down to her very essence, felt distant compared to the suffocating dread that filled this place.
Her eyes, gleaming like twin glaciers, darted around the dimly lit cell. Every movement of the guards outside grated on her nerves. Layers of mana seals suppressed her strength, rendering her high Ascendant-rank power inert. Though she had not been subjected to outright torture, the treatment here was cold, unrelenting, and degrading.
A sharp burst of laughter echoed through the corridor, followed by the guttural, leering voices of her captors.
"Hey, is this the elf His Majesty caught?" one of the newer guards asked, his tone dripping with crude curiosity.
"Idiot, half-elf," the older one corrected, jabbing an elbow into the younger guard's ribs. "Look at her ears, boy. That's the dead giveaway."
The younger guard shrugged, his eyes lingering far too long on Seraphina. "Still. Prettier than Her Majesty, if you ask me." His lips curled into a grotesque grin.
Seraphina glared at him, her icy blue eyes narrowing. She wanted nothing more than to rip the smirk from his face, but the chains and seals rendered even the thought futile.
"I wonder when His Majesty will finally do something with them," another guard chimed in, his tone thick with insinuation. His gaze flicked between Seraphina and the two other women in neighboring cells.
Rachel Creighton. Cecilia Slatemark.
They were all here together, bound and suppressed, though each in a different condition. Rachel, the Saintess of the North, was in a cell lined with far more comfort, though her status as a symbol of holiness meant her captors dared not lay a hand on her. Meanwhile, Cecilia sat shackled like Seraphina, her expression unreadable, though her crimson eyes burned with defiance.
"Bah, the Saintess is untouchable," the older guard scoffed, nodding toward Rachel. "The Empire would crucify us for even thinking about it. She'll be freed soon enough."
"But the other two?" The younger guard whistled low, his eyes gleaming with lascivious intent. "I wonder if we might get lucky."
"Keep dreaming, boy," the older guard laughed. "You're not fit to shine their boots, let alone—"
The crude banter devolved into raucous laughter, a grating sound that filled Seraphina's ears like nails on glass. She clenched her jaw, her gaze drifting to the two other women. She didn't have to speak to know they felt the same simmering rage.
The younger guard, emboldened, pointed toward Cecilia. "Her, though... maybe she's just high and mighty enough to fall for someone like me."
The older guard roared with laughter. "You? She'd break you in half before you got within five paces."
Seraphina let her eyes close for a moment, drawing on what little focus she could muster. These guards were insignificant—two five-stars and one six-star. In any other circumstance, she could obliterate them with a single strike, leaving nothing but ash and regret. But the prison itself was the real foe: a masterwork of containment magic designed to neutralize even the strongest.
She reopened her eyes, her fury simmering just beneath her calm exterior. The guards' voices faded into background noise as she steeled herself.
'Stay strong,' she reminded herself. 'Arthur will come. He always does.'
But even as the thought crossed her mind, a faint flicker of doubt lingered. This place—the Empire of Void, or whatever the people of the future might call it—was unlike anything she had faced before. Arthur might be powerful, but so were the forces arrayed against them here.
She glanced toward Rachel, whose serene expression betrayed no hint of the storm she was undoubtedly weathering. The Saintess would be "freed," yes—but not truly. The people in this world would find ways to manipulate her sanctity for their purposes.
And as for Cecilia...
Seraphina's gaze shifted to the woman in the neighboring cell. Despite the oppressive magic that bound them, Cecilia's crimson eyes glinted with a sly confidence. Her lips curled ever so slightly, forming a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.
It was a silent promise. 'I have a plan.'
Seraphina furrowed her brow. What plan? What could Cecilia possibly do against the intricate sealing magic that bound them? Still, she said nothing. Trust in Cecilia was her only option, even if it was thin as ice.
Time passed. A day, perhaps more—difficult to measure in the suffocating monotony of their imprisonment. Cecilia made no move, save for eating the bland food the guards provided. Seraphina clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, her patience fraying.
When the guards returned for their shift, their vulgar presence filled the space like an unwelcome stench. The youngest of them, the so-called "newbie," allowed his lecherous gaze to linger on Seraphina, his eyes crawling over her like insects.
"What are you doing, newbie?" the older guard barked, though there was no reprimand in his tone—only amusement.
"I can't touch her, but I can look, can't I?" he shot back, his voice dripping with sleazy confidence.
"Well," the older guard chuckled, "they really are that pretty."
The laughter grated against Seraphina's nerves, igniting a fire in her chest. Rage surged through her, her Sword Heart pounding in resonance. She could feel the weight of their malice, their vile intent, and for the first time, fear coiled in her gut—not for herself, but for what might happen if they were given even an inch of power over her.
Her mind snapped back to Arthur. Even at his most teasing, his gaze never carried this venom, this predatory malice. The difference was like day and night.
'These men are beasts.'
Her Sword Heart beat again, harder this time. The sensation was unmistakable—a pulse of something sharp, something alive.
Seraphina's lips parted in shock as a surge of astral energy ignited within her. It defied the collar, slipping through the cracks of the seals like water through a sieve. She felt it rushing into her limbs, hot and searing, demanding action.
With a cold, calculated rage, she let it out.
The cell shattered, the sealing magic obliterated as shards of ice erupted from the ground. The force of her mana was a winter storm unleashed, frost lancing through the air and freezing the youngest guard where he stood. His body became a grotesque sculpture of fear, his expression locked in place as the frost consumed him.
"Die," Seraphina said, her voice as frigid as the mana around her.
The second guard, also a five-star, barely had time to scream before the ice claimed him as well. The third guard, stronger and quicker, managed to unleash a burst of mana in defense. It wasn't enough.
Before Seraphina could redirect her attack, a bolt of pure mana sliced through the air, striking the six-star guard with surgical precision. His head snapped back, the force of the impact obliterating his skull.
Seraphina turned, her gaze locking onto Cecilia, who now stood free of her bonds. The remnants of the collar dangled from her neck, charred and broken, her crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"You figured it out," Seraphina said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Cecilia gave a slight nod, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. "Of course I did. The seals were complex, but they weren't flawless. They relied on external mana to maintain their strength. I simply… redirected that flow."
As if on cue, Rachel's cell door creaked open. The Saintess stepped out, her sapphire eyes scanning the carnage with a quiet sadness. "It's over, then?"
"Not yet," Cecilia said, her tone pragmatic. "The guards will notice something's wrong soon. We need to move."
Seraphina flexed her fingers, feeling the power of her mana coursing through her once again. The oppressive weight of the collar was gone, replaced by a cold clarity.
"Let them come," she said, her voice sharper than the ice shards around her. "I'll kill every last one of them if I have to."
"No," Rachel interjected softly, placing a hand on Seraphina's arm. "We need to leave. We can't risk losing ourselves to this place."
Cecilia stepped forward, her usual smirk replaced by a rare look of seriousness. "She's right. This is only the beginning. We have to regroup and find Arthur. He'll know what to do."
The mention of Arthur stilled Seraphina's fury, replacing it with a steely resolve. "Fine," she said, brushing past the shattered remnants of her cell. "But if anyone gets in our way…"
Her words trailed off, but the ice crackling at her fingertips spoke volumes.
Together, the three women stepped out of the prison, their strength returned and their determination unwavering. They had no answers yet, but one thing was clear: they would not be prisoners again.