On the table, Wallace stirred, woken up by the gentle touch of morning sunlight. But as he opened his eyes, a strong familiar weakness spread through his body again—making it feel heavy.
The impact of the thing that the woman made him go through his head was still vivid in his memories, his inner soul, and his physical body, to the extent that it paralyzed his body, rendering him motionless—not leaving the Baron table she put him to—for three consecutive days.
"Why is this woman so relentless in her pursuit to torment me? What have I done to deserve her constant attacks?" Wallace pondered, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's completely unfair! I am not accountable for the errors of my ancestors!"
This was no laughing matter.
Although he had only caught a glimpse of the things she possessed, it felt as if his very soul was being drawn to it, forcefully linked to the tormented spirits of his legitimate family in this world.
If one of them were to endure the scorching pain of fire, his soul would burn in unison.
If one were to suffer the agony of having their skin peeled off, Wallace would sense the phantom feeling of his own skin being stripped away as well. And if one were to be devoured alive, he would taste the terror of being consumed, his mind and soul writhing in unbearable agony.
Afterward, his soul would be restored to his physical body, leaving his body behind but his true self shattered, on the brink of collapse, disconnected from the present moment.
With a deep sigh, Wallace glanced at the cluttered desk, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the forgotten trinkets and scattered papers.
"Three days have gone by," he whispered, speaking so softly that his voice could hardly be heard. "Yet, that strange memory... eludes me still... I can't find it... And I know I have to find it."
The night of the massacre clung to him like a suffocating hand of a giant demon, refusing to release its grip, and free his soul.
But deep down, Wallace knew that within the depths of that night lay something incredibly important, something he desperately needed to remember.
Like a simple noise!
A simple, modern electric noise that could rescue him from the memories that tormented his very soul!
It was within those memories and fragments that he hoped to find deliverance—a savior.
As Wallace delved deeper into his own mind, immersing himself in his mental prison, a sudden and loud series of knocks on the door shattered his concentration.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Taken aback, he instinctively called out, his voice tinged with weariness, "Come in."
Wallace swiftly turned his gaze towards the entrance, his eyes brimming with curiosity and nervousness.
In walked a butler, exuding incredible elegance, dressed in a well-fitted black suit. Each step he took on the gleaming wooden floor created a gentle rhythm, adding an intriguing ambiance to the room. His graying hair, neatly slicked back, hinted at his wisdom and experience, evident in every wrinkle etched on his face—a testament to years of loyalty and dedicated service.
Wallace observed the butler, his eyes fixed on the man's calm demeanor.
It was the butler—the one who told him he is Wallace Toraz, son of Baron Wycliff Toraz.
"Young Baron sir," the butler said, his voice comforting amidst the chaos, "Today, a group of Mana Knights has arrived at our gates, and one of them claims to be a Mage."
A throbbing pain pulsed in Wallace's temples as he struggled to understand the meaning of these words. "What does that mean?" he managed to ask, his voice filled with confusion and frustration.
The butler's face froze for a moment, revealing a brief expression of surprise—an almost unnoticeable crack in his composed demeanor.
Wallace mirrored the butler's frozen state, his heart racing in his chest.
He realized that he had no memory of the events and secrets connected to his own existence, for he only knew things—he is an illegitimate son.
Suddenly, the butler cleared his throat, breaking the silence and bringing Wallace back to the present.
Ermmmm!
"Sir, may we know why you've returned suddenly and why you're at the Baron's table? And, if I may ask, where are the Baron, Madam, Lucas, Luna, Leila, and Leshna, the young master?"
Wallace furrowed his brow, feeling perplexed. The mere mention of the Baron and the others only added more puzzling pieces to the enigmatic puzzle in his mind.
Once again, he found himself frozen, trapped in a bewildering dance with a family he couldn't remember. With a bewildered gaze, he shook his head, his voice filled with frustration. "I... I don't want to answer that," he muttered, feeling the weight of his unknown past pressing on him. "Come back tomorrow..."
A flicker of concern appeared in the butler's eyes, a silent worry that he didn't openly express.
"Maybe you need some rest, sir," the butler gently suggested, his voice calm amidst the storm inside Wallace. "Let me prepare a soothing cup of tea for you."
Pretending to appreciate the butler's understanding, Wallace reluctantly nodded.
As the butler turned to leave, a sense of unease settled over Wallace's weary shoulders. However, as the heavy wooden door closed behind the butler, a brief moment of relief seemed to fill the room, as if the air itself sighed.
He let out a tired sigh, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his burdens.
Out of nowhere, Wallace would clutch the seat handle and then hoist himself up. During these three days, he realized there were many tasks he could have accomplished if only he had the ability to move.
However, he couldn't. Nevertheless, he refused to resign himself to this perpetual state. He never abandoned his efforts, attempting to move every few hours while awake. It was because of this persistent determination that he managed to shift his upper body.
This enabled him to use his upper body—especially his hands, to write the blurry memories he experienced that night and to find the memory of those little moments that would give him hope.
Then, now, unexpectedly, as if by some sort of miracle, he rose to his feet! And as he did so, his eyes widened in astonishment.
"What in the world-"
Those were the last words he managed to utter when he heard a series of knocks on his door.
Knock! Knock!
Wallace collected himself, realizing that he shouldn't celebrate just yet.
He still have problems to deal with.
When the butler entered the room, his attention sharpened as he studied the troubled expression etched on the butler's face, the worry lines deeply furrowing his forehead.
The butler's eyes darted anxiously, like birds trapped and desperately seeking escape. It was evident that something serious had occurred.
With great effort, the butler took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling voice before delivering the unsettling news.
"Sir," he began, his voice shaking slightly, "they insist that they can't wait any longer. They threaten to leave, taking the valuable Magic Crystals with them."
Wallace's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his face.
Yet, despite his confusion, his intelligence in his second life as an adult allowed him to piece together fragments of information that he could grasp, so he composed himself well.
From the tone of the butler alone, Wallace could deduce the importance of the Magic Crystals to the Kingdom, even though their purpose remained somewhat unclear.
Nevertheless, their value should be undeniable.
"Really? How can we convince them to stay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "And why would they want to leave?"
Upon hearing these words, the butler froze. He felt a headache coming on, as if trouble was brewing in his head.
"Sir," he pleaded, his voice filled with weariness, "I implore you to come with me. There is much to discuss, and time is running out."
…
On the other side of the dungeon entrance, seven noble Magic Knights stood tall, their imposing figures dressed in shiny armor that reflected the dim light around them.
They were facing an intriguing sight—a dungeon unlike any they had ever encountered. A bright, futuristic glow emanated from the entrance, as if its design alone was meant to intimidate despite its polished appearance.
The Magic Knights couldn't help but be amazed as they gazed at the clean, shiny exterior, their eyes filled with curiosity.
"What kind of dungeon is this?" one of the Magic Knights pondered.
Having explored numerous dungeons in their adventurous journeys, they had never come across one that appeared in such a mysterious manner.
"I don't know, but by all that's holy, it's ridiculously expensive. How dare this Baron demand such a sum! Does he want me to end his life or something?" grumbled another Magic Knight, his focus fixed on the exorbitant entrance fee—a hefty toll of ten ordinary Magic Crystals. And that's just the beginning—the game itself required a significant payment of fifteen ordinary Magic Crystals.
It meant they needed to pay twenty-five Neutral magic crystals, each one of them!
Even for experienced warriors like themselves, it was a steep price to pay.
In most Baron territories they visited, Barons would entertain them by inviting them to enter the Noble's Dungeon. However, most of the time the Nobles would plot against Magic users, hoping to lure them inside, as their deaths would benefit the prosperity of the territories.
"It's definitely expensive, but at the same time, it piqued my curiosity as to why," another Magic Knight mumbled.
Soon, another Magic Knight chimed in, saying, "Me too..."
As the Magic Knights engaged in a lively discussion, their attention suddenly shifted to a figure dressed as a regular mage. His eyes, previously closed in thought, flew open wide, sensing the weight of their expectant gazes upon him.
Meanwhile, the mage looked at the peculiar entrance with mild disinterest, his relaxed demeanor evident.
"Maybe this dungeon offers something unique," the mage lazily suggested.
"Let's explore its mysteries. It would be a waste to retreat, only to come across another Baron Territory Dungeon with the same predictable setup, providing an equally ordinary experience that wouldn't help our situation."
At that moment, their collective attention was drawn to two figures approaching on the horizon.