The Magisterium's underground corridors stretched endlessly, carved from the same ivory stone as the towers above. The walls pulsed faintly with magical energy—wards, Hikaru assumed. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became, like something unseen was pressing down on them.
Budi walked beside him, wrists loosely bound with enchanted cuffs. Hikaru's hands were also tied, but—only because he let them be.
The guards marched ahead and behind them, leading them through the restricted levels of the Magisterium's dungeons.
Hikaru smirked. "So, do I get a personal cell, or do I have to share?"
The nearest guard didn't even look at him. "Keep talking, and you'll be sleeping in the lower depths."
Budi raised an eyebrow. "The lower depths?"
The first guard hesitated, then muttered, "You don't want to know."
Hikaru's grin widened. Oh, now I definitely want to know.
The guards took a sharp turn, leading them deeper. The passage narrowed, the torches dimming as they descended an old spiral staircase.
Finally, they stopped at a thick iron door, etched with glowing runes.
One of the guards pulled out a golden key and pressed it against the sigils. The runes flared—then vanished, and with a deep groan, the door swung open.
A gust of cold, stale air greeted them.
Beyond the doorway, the walls changed.
No longer smooth ivory. These were ancient stone, cracked and damp, as if they belonged to an entirely different structure buried beneath the Magisterium.
Budi exhaled. "Well, that's inviting."
One of the guards shoved them forward. "Inside."
Hikaru stepped in first. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the air shifted.
He felt it—an unnatural weight, a pressure that curled around his senses like an invisible presence watching.
Then he heard the whisper.
…You are not supposed to be here.
Budi tensed. "Did you hear that?"
Hikaru didn't answer. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, scanning the corridor ahead. The cells were carved into the stone itself, each sealed with intricate magical locks.
And at the very end—
A single heavy iron door.
The guards didn't take them to a cell.
They took them straight to it.
The one who had spoken earlier turned to them. "We're here."
Hikaru tilted his head. "This our VIP suite?"
The guard scowled. "This is where Arman the Blind is kept."
Budi frowned. "You keep a blind old man locked away at the bottom of a dungeon?"
The second guard scoffed. "You think this is cruelty? If you knew what he was, you'd throw away the key yourself."
Hikaru hummed. "Sounds promising."
The first guard pressed his palm against the door's sigil. "Don't get too excited. He doesn't talk to anyone. You'll get five minutes."
The runes flickered, the door unlocked, and the heavy stone creaked open.
Hikaru stepped in.
Budi followed reluctantly.
The door slammed shut behind them.
The chamber was dark.
Not just dim. Truly dark.
Hikaru couldn't see the walls, couldn't even tell how big the space was. The air was thick with dust and the scent of something old—older than the prison itself.
Then—
A voice.
Low, ragged, yet strangely calm.
"So… they finally sent someone interesting."
A faint glow illuminated the far side of the room.
Sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, surrounded by faintly glowing runes, was an old man.
His robes were faded, his hair long and tangled, his skin pale, almost translucent. His hands rested on his knees, unmoving.
But his eyes were missing.
Not blind.
Just gone.
Hikaru raised an eyebrow. "Arman the Blind, I assume?"
Arman smiled. "And you are not just another visitor."
Budi stepped forward, shifting slightly. "So you can see us?"
Arman chuckled. "No. But I see everything else."
Hikaru adjusted his glasses. "That's ominous."
Arman's smile widened. "And you are the one who stole from the Magisterium."
Hikaru smirked. "Borrowed. I'll return it. Eventually."
Arman exhaled slowly. "It's been a long time since someone came looking for the Forgotten Ones."
Hikaru flicked a card between his fingers. "Then let's skip the foreplay. You were alive before they were erased, right?"
Arman nodded.
"So tell us. Who were they?"
The old man tilted his head. "You expect an easy answer."
Hikaru's grin didn't fade. "I expect a fun one."
Arman was silent.
Then, he slowly raised a hand.
The glow in the room shifted.
And suddenly—
The air wasn't cold anymore.
It was burning.
The stone beneath them rippled like liquid.
Budi tensed. "What the—"
Then—
The shadows around them began to move.
Hikaru stayed still as the air twisted, folding in on itself.
Shapes flickered into view. Figures—ghostly, yet solid.
Not memories.
Not illusions.
Hikaru realized what he was looking at too late.
The room was no longer a prison.
It was a battlefield.
He stood in a world that no longer existed.
The sky was red, burning with fire and something deeper—something unnatural. The land stretched far beyond what he recognized, a place not on any modern map.
And then, he saw them.
The Forgotten Ones.
Not demons. Not monsters.
Gods.
But they weren't divine beings of light or wisdom.
They were warriors. Hunters. Rulers. Their armor was made of twisted gold, their eyes burned with colors that should not exist.
And behind them, something darker loomed.
Something bigger than history itself.
Hikaru exhaled.
"Well," he murmured. "That's new."
Then, everything collapsed.
The battlefield shattered, the visions dissolved, and they were back in the prison.
Arman lowered his hand.
Budi staggered back, gripping his head.
Hikaru let out a slow breath, adjusting his glasses. "Okay. That was a lot."
Arman's voice was quieter now.
"The Forgotten Ones did not disappear."
He met Hikaru's gaze—or would have, if he had eyes.
"They were buried. Sealed away."
His next words sent a chill down Hikaru's spine.
"They are waking up."
Silence settled over the chamber.
Then—
A loud, metallic bang echoed from outside.
Budi straightened. "That didn't sound good."
Arman exhaled. "They're here."
Hikaru flicked a card into his palm, already grinning.
"Guess we overstayed our welcome."
The prison break was about to begin.