Chapter 40 - Getting Abducted

But Mikhailis ignored the warnings. He had already made up his mind. He watched as the assassin's eyes narrowed, the blade shifting to the side at the last possible moment. Instead of a lethal blow, the strike landed on the side of his neck—an intentional, calculated hit meant to incapacitate rather than kill.

The world around Mikhailis blurred, the shouts of Vyrelda and Lira fading into the background. The last thing he saw was Vyrelda's horrified expression, her mouth open in a scream he couldn't hear, and Lira's terrified eyes wide with disbelief. Then, everything went dark.

Mikhailis smiled one last time, murmuring under his breath as consciousness slipped away.

"Don't worry... I got this."

The darkness consumed him, and his body went limp, collapsing onto the cold ground.

___

Mikhailis woke up to the familiar, crisp voice of Rodion echoing in his head even though he knows that it came from his glasses.

"Oh shut up, please..."

He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurring momentarily before coming into focus. The world around him was dark, with only a dim light hanging above. The place smelled of damp concrete and rusted metal.

He blinked, his head throbbing, and then winced as he moved his neck.

"Ugh… Rodion, did anyone get the number of that truck?" he muttered, his voice raspy. The pounding headache was still there, a dull reminder of what had happened.

He tried to shift his shoulders, feeling the stiffness in his muscles.

Mikhailis let out a small huff.

"Thanks, Rodion. I'm sure that'll come in handy."

He took a deep breath, trying to push away the headache. Then, the memory came flooding back—how he had barely managed to tense up and brace his neck just enough to reduce the impact before getting knocked out. If he hadn't prepared, they might have done more than just render him unconscious.

"Lucky me," he mumbled, the hint of a smile appearing on his face, though his expression was still tinged with irritation.

Mikhailis could hear the sarcasm dripping from Rodion's words, and he rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Rodion, you know this is the perfect way to find out who we're really dealing with. And now, here I am, all tied up and cozy—just like I planned." He wiggled slightly, feeling the rough rope around his wrists.

"Hey, you know I'm a sucker for adventure," Mikhailis quipped, wincing slightly as he tried to stretch his neck.

"Besides, it's not every day I get kidnapped by strangers in a fantas world."

Mikhailis grinned, despite the circumstances.

"Patience, Rodion. Let's at least meet the folks who went through all this trouble to have me as their guest."

The banter was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. The door to the room creaked open, and Mikhailis quickly closed his eyes halfway, pretending to still be struggling to regain full consciousness.

He could feel the presence of someone entering—soft footsteps, deliberate. The scent of something floral—lavender, maybe—drifted into the room. He opened his eyes fully to see a woman standing before him. She had an air of authority, her face partially hidden by a mask, and her sharp eyes were fixed on him. But he could smell the faint fragrance of floral perfume from her.

"So, the infamous consort of Queen Elowen finally wakes up," she said, her voice smooth but tinged with mockery.

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow, giving her a lazy smile.

"Infamous? I think 'charming' would be a better word, but I guess we can't all have the same taste."

The woman remained unfazed, her gaze cold as she crossed her arms.

"I don't think you're in a position to joke, Mikhailis Volkov."

"Oh, you know my name. I feel flattered," Mikhailis replied, his voice light but his eyes searching. He had to stay composed, keep his guard up—something told him that this woman wasn't one to trifle with.

The woman stepped closer, her eyes narrowing.

"You can drop the act. We know about your modern technology—devices from your world that don't belong here."

Mikhailis blinked, feigning confusion.

He tilted his head slightly, wincing at the lingering ache in his neck.

"Modern technology? You must have the wrong guy. I've got nothing but a charming smile and a few bad jokes."

Internally, his mind was racing.

How did they know about his tech? But well, he already has a rough idea where the intel came from.

Rodion's voice chimed in.

Mikhailis kept his expression neutral, only allowing a confused frown to cross his face.

"Honestly, lady, I think you've got the wrong guy. All this 'modern technology' talk… it's creepy how much you seem to know about me. What, have you been spying on me while I take a bath too?"

The woman's lips curled into a smirk.

"Spying? You could say that. We know more about you than you think, Mikhailis. You're an outsider—a stranger in this world. We know when you sleep, when you eat, when you… indulge yourself in your fantasies about bugs and whatever else you fancy."

Mikhailis grimaced, shaking his head slightly.

"Alright, now that's just creepy. Seriously, you guys need a hobby."

The woman ignored his remark, her eyes cold as she continued.

"Now, let's make this simple. Who are you really, Mikhailis? And why did you come here? If you answer honestly, maybe I'll answer one of your questions in return."

Mikhailis's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze growing more serious.

"Who I am? Well, you seem to know more about me than I do. As for why I'm here…" He paused, giving her a cold smile.

"Maybe you should tell me first why you're so interested. You're clearly not here for my charming company."

The woman's eyes flickered with irritation, but she kept her composure. She took a deep breath, her voice gaining a passionate edge.

"You must understand, Mikhailis. You come from a world filled with technology that we can only dream of—technology that could change everything. Imagine the possibilities. We could harness that power to advance this world, to help people. We need your knowledge. We need you to help us."

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the chair he was tied to.

"You know, if you wanted my help, maybe kidnapping me wasn't the best way to start. Just saying. You're kind of doing the opposite of getting on my good side."

The woman laughed—a sharp, mocking sound.

"Your good side? You're nothing more than a tool—a consort whose only purpose is to provide an heir for the queen. You think you matter here? You're a means to an end, nothing more."

Mikhailis's smile faded, his gaze sharpening.

"Is that so? Then I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong."

The woman stared at him for a moment, her eyes glinting with disdain. She turned, motioning to the men who had entered the room with her.

"Make him talk," she ordered, her voice cold.

"If he wants to play stubborn, then make him regret it."

With that, she walked out of the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind her. Mikhailis was left with two masked men, both of them carrying a variety of tools that looked far too sharp for comfort.

One of them stepped forward, cracking his knuckles as he eyed Mikhailis.

"You heard the lady. Let's see if we can get you to start talking, pretty boy."

Mikhailis looked at the two men, then sighed.

"You know, I'd love to chat, but I'm really not in the mood for pain today."

The second man sneered, holding up a wicked-looking blade.

"You don't have much of a choice, do you?"

Mikhailis watched as they approached, his eyes narrowing slightly. The two men were too busy admiring their tools to notice anything else, but Mikhailis's gaze flickered to the rope binding his wrists. He could see it—a faint, almost imperceptible movement. The rope was being eaten away, strand by strand.

Rodion's voice echoed softly in his mind.

Mikhailis's lips twitched into a small smile.

"I was wondering when my little friends would show up."

The men were too caught up in their intimidation tactics to notice the subtle shift in Mikhailis's demeanor. He watched them, his expression calm as he felt the final threads of the rope snap.

He rolled his shoulders slightly, cracking his neck as he met their eyes. His voice was low, and there was a hint of anticipation in his tone.

"Those are the words I've been waiting for."