The stone corridors spiral downward, plunging us deeper into the castle's bowels. With every step, the air grows colder, thick with dampness and the musty scent of decay. Flickering torchlight casts long, wavering shadows across the walls, illuminating the dark patches of mold creeping between the ancient bricks. Water drips intermittently from the ceiling, the rhythmic plink echoing eerily through the narrow passageways.
Despite the grim surroundings, Yumi appears relatively unfazed. I, however, cannot shake the gnawing unease creeping up my spine. Every instinct screams at me to stay on high alert, my senses sharpening with each step. Every shadow we pass, every flicker of movement in my peripheral vision—it all sets me on edge. Something is wrong. I can feel it.
I clear my throat, breaking the heavy silence. "Excuse me, but where exactly are we going?" My voice remains steady, but my eyes stay locked on the knights ahead. "Isn't the summoning chamber on the upper floors?"
The bearded knight leading the way glances back briefly, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. "Ah, that chamber's only for bringing you lot into this world. Reverse-summoning requires a different kind of magic circle. It's been prepared in a separate chamber."
His explanation comes easily—too easily.
Something about his words feels… off.
My mind churns through the details. When we first arrived in this world, the summoning ritual was a grand and elaborate affair. It sure required significant resources, manpower, and preparation—something evident from the sheer number of people involved and the intricate setup. Logic dictates that reverse-summoning magic should demand just as much effort, if not more.
Yet, how much time has passed since we were summoned? Just a few hours at most. Setting up a reverse-summoning circle in such a short time seems implausible, especially since it would likely require resources they couldn't have spared in advance. Preparing it beforehand doesn't make sense either. What if we had all awakened extraordinary blood talents and decided to stay? The effort and resources would have been wasted.
I can't help but notice other inconsistencies as well. For a task as significant as reverse-summoning, wouldn't mages or other magical experts accompany us? Instead, we're being escorted by just two knights—hardly the personnel I'd expect for such an important process.
Still, I remind myself that I don't truly understand how magic works in this world. For all I know, the knights could be telling the truth. I have no way of verifying their claims, and pressing them for more answers would likely yield nothing but irritation—or worse. For now, the safest course of action is to follow their lead, while keeping my guard up and staying alert for anything unusual.
As we continue our descent, the shadows seem to deepen. I tighten my grip on my own sense of control, preparing myself for whatever might come next.
————————
Eventually, we come to a halt before a colossal iron door. One of the knights steps forward and delivers two resounding knocks. The echoes reverberate through the corridor, and moments later, the door groans open with a slow, ominous creak.
A woman emerges
"Good evening," she greets us, her voice smooth and confident. "My name is Sophia. I will be overseeing the reverse summoning spell."
For a moment, I am utterly still.
I hadn't been prepared for this.
Sophia is breathtaking—almost unnaturally so. Her beauty is not the kind one stumbles across in ordinary life; it's ethereal, unsettlingly perfect, as though sculpted by the hands of a deity. The moment she speaks, her voice weaves through the air like silk, laced with a sweetness that lingers too long, like honey dissolving on the tongue. Though her robe conceals much, it does nothing to diminish the sheer allure she exudes.
Raven-black hair spills from beneath her hood, cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of midnight. But it's her eyes that hold me captive—piercing, cerulean, and far too knowing. For the briefest second, as they lock onto mine, it feels as though she is peeling back the layers of my soul, reading me in ways I don't understand.
The air around her is thick with an intoxicating perfume, so rich and cloying that it borders on overwhelming. The scent coils through my lungs like an invisible serpent, its presence lingering even as I exhale.
"Wow, you are beautiful! And your perfume is amazing!" Yumi exclaims.
Even she isn't immune to the woman's otherworldly allure.
Sophia smiles graciously, the corners of her lips curving just enough to deepen her charm. "Thank you, dear," she replies warmly. "So, you're here to return to your world?"
"Yes, please," I respond.
"Very well," she says, gesturing toward the open doorway. "Come in. Everything is ready for your return."
And so, I'm about to walk into the room.
Suddenly —
The alert comes from Sapphire, the artificial intelligence assistant embedded in my brain.
Before stepping into this world, I prepared for every possible scenario, and Sapphire is the pinnacle of my preparations. Designed and developed by me, it's the most advanced AI on Earth—a cornerstone of my power.
I freeze mid-step, my instincts kicking into overdrive as the warning registers. My senses sharpen, adrenaline coursing through me.
So this is a trap.
"What's wrong?" Sophia asks, tilting her head.
"Ah, nothing," I reply, quickly masking my unease with a neutral expression.
That was close. Too close.
I don't know what just happened, but for some reason, I had been completely disarmed in Sophia's presence. That is not like me. I am always on guard, always cautious—especially in a situation as suspicious as this.
How could I have let my defenses slip so easily?
Sure, she's beautiful—stunning, even—but I am not the kind of man who loses his senses over mere physical attraction. Especially not here. Not now.
No… This isn't normal.
It's magic.
Or at the very least, something unnatural.
If this world contains such things as magic and enchantments, then that extends far beyond fireballs and lightning bolts. There could be spells woven into scent, into sound, into a mere glance—subtle, insidious manipulations that can break the mind before the body even has a chance to resist.
And now, thanks to Sapphire, I have proof.
The perfume I smelled earlier—seems like it's not just perfume.
"Sapphire," I murmur inwardly, ensuring no change flickers across my face. "Analyze and identify the compound."
It sucks that even Sapphire couldn't identify the thing.
But well, what the substance is is not important.
The important thing is its effects.
And it's not hard to guess.
It's seems to be something designed to cloud judgment, lower defenses, and lull its target into a state of suggestibility.
"Sapphire, filter it out of my system. Now."
A subtle shift ripples through my senses as Sapphire isolates and neutralizes the foreign substance in my bloodstream. Almost immediately, my thoughts sharpen, the hazy allure of Sophia's presence fading like mist in the morning sun.
For the first time, I see her clearly.
And I do not like what I see.
She is dangerous.
Her beauty is not a mere coincidence—it is a weapon.
She intended for us to be entranced, to drop our guard.
And that raises the question: Why?
What awaits us beyond that door?
If she is using this passive form of control, does that mean a more forceful method is waiting inside?
I keep my breathing steady, my body relaxed, as if nothing has changed. If she suspects that her influence over me has broken, she may act preemptively.
For now, I will play along. I will be the perfect fool.
"Thank you," I say, my voice calm, my movements smooth as I step forward.
But in reality, I am ready for war.
———————-
As soon as we step through the door, the atmosphere shifts—suffocating, heavy, wrong.
Beside me, Yumi freezes mid-step. Her entire body goes unnaturally rigid, her arms falling limply to her sides. Her head tilts forward ever so slightly, and her eyes lose all focus, turning glassy and vacant. The lively spark of her personality vanishes in an instant. She looks less like a person and more like a puppet whose strings have been severed.
The moment I register this, I mimic her.
My body stiffens, my breathing slows, and I force my gaze to unfocus. If I'm right, whatever has taken hold of Yumi is meant to incapacitate us both. If I give even the slightest hint that I'm unaffected, I'll lose my only advantage.
For now, two critical questions demand immediate answers:
What does Sophia want from us?
And what should I do next?
The two knights, standing silently by the door, are likely formidable opponents. But Sophia is an even greater unknown. A mage working directly under the King is unlikely to be weak—her slender frame and composed demeanor are no indication of her true power. In this world, where magic alters every calculation, judging someone's combat potential by their physical appearance is a dangerous mistake.
Still, there's one thing working in my favor: Sophia seems convinced her trick has worked on me. She believes I'm fully under the effects of her mind-control magic or the hallucinogenic substance lingering in the air. That gives me a sliver of advantage.
So, I choose to stand still, watching and waiting. Whatever she's planning, I need to understand her intentions before making a move.
Sophia moves across the room, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor. She approaches an ornate wooden cabinet and pulls open its intricately carved doors.
From within, she retrieves two large iron collars.
Their surface is engraved with runes—faint at first, but as Sophia lifts the collars, the markings pulse with a ghostly white glow. The room darkens slightly, as if the very presence of these objects drains the light from the air.
Then, she pricks the tip of her finger against a small, wickedly sharp blade. A single crimson bead of blood wells up and drips onto the metal.
The runes ignite.
A surge of white-hot light bursts from the collars, blinding in its intensity. The chamber is flooded with an eerie brilliance, shadows stretching and contorting as if they writhe in pain. The air hums with an unnatural energy—something old, something binding.
As the light recedes, Sophia turns to face us.
Cold. Detached.
For the first time, there's something in her expression that might resemble pity.
Shaking her head slowly, she lets out a quiet, weary sigh.
"Poor things," she murmurs, almost gently. "You should have told the King that you wanted to stay. It would have been easier that way. Now, your only choice is to become our slaves."
She steps closer, tilting her head slightly, as if contemplating something regretful.
"Please, don't resent me," she says with a sad smile. "I'm just following orders, after all."