Chapter 10

  The others stared at me.

  Again.

  I’d lost count of how many times that had happened in the last few hours.

  There was that familiar look—equal parts suspicion, hope, and a creeping sense of what-the-hell-is-he-about-to-do-now. None of them spoke at first. Just silence, taut and heavy, like the calm before a particularly ill-advised storm.

  Finally, Maira broke it.

  “What kind of spell do you know that we don’t?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory—more curious than skeptical, though the edge of caution was there.

  I couldn’t help myself. My grin widened.

  “It’s not a spell,” I said, voice low and a little too pleased with myself. “At least, not in the way you think.”

  Then I reached into my satchel.

  From deep within the layers of supplies, tools, and half-forgotten trinkets, I retrieved a small object—roughly the size of a walnut, smooth, spherical, metallic. It caught the rune-light and shimmered faintly from within. No markings. No inscriptions. No sinister glow or screaming aura of forbidden magic.

  Just a slightly warm, softly humming orb.

  “I picked this up a few months ago,” I said, holding it up between thumb and forefinger. “A goblin trader was offering it on an Abyss-side black market. Don’t ask me why I bought it. Seemed fun at the time. Might actually save our lives now.”

  For a heartbeat, they all just stared at it.

  Then Simon exploded.

  “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

  His voice bounced off the walls like thunder. He looked at me as if I’d just suggested we feed the altar a virgin and hope for the best.

  “You brought that down here?” he snapped, his eyes locked on the orb. “That’s not just some bomb. That’s a concentrated mana sphere—a volatile containment shell with twenty high-level fire spells crammed inside it! Twenty!”

  I blinked innocently. “They just told me it makes a boom in emergencies.”

  Vin stepped back slightly.

  Maira looked like she was debating between casting a barrier spell or tackling me to the floor.

  Simon took a step forward, face flushed with rage. “Do you have any idea what happens when that thing shatters in a confined arcane space like this?! You’re not just lighting a firecracker, Luken—you’re detonating raw inferno magic in a chamber filled with ancient runes, underworld energy, and gods-know-what binding rituals! That doesn’t just break the room—it could collapse half the valley!”

  His voice cracked with fury.

  I remained... calm.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Mostly.

  “I mean,” I said, attempting a disarming tone, “if we’re already dealing with the end of the world, a little boom might be what we need to reset the board.”

  Simon looked like he was about to physically seize the orb from my hand.

  “You’re not setting it off!” he growled. “You’ll kill us all!”

  After that, Simon seemed to run out of steam. His fury didn’t vanish, but it retreated—boiling beneath the surface like a kettle taken off the flame. He stopped berating me, though his eyes still burned with a warning.

  I held the bomb carefully in my hand now—much more carefully. Even the faint warmth of the metal felt heavier than before. The humming had taken on a different weight, as if the danger had become real now that someone had said it out loud.

  Then, into the silence, Maira spoke.

  Her voice was soft. Measured. But laced with something I hadn’t expected—grief.

  “I know you don’t care for my faith,” she said gently, not looking directly at me, “but I have… a difficult history with explosions.”

  The quiet in the chamber deepened.

  She took a breath, and her eyes grew distant, clouded by memory.

  “My chapel,” she continued, “was destroyed in an attack. The Inquisition of Fobos. They used fire spells, alchemical charges, divine blasts—I don’t know what exactly. But I remember the sound. I remember the heat.”

  Her voice wavered just slightly. Not enough to crack—but enough to let the pain show through.

  “I know you don’t want to hear about Erebos, or the rites, or what that place meant to me. But you need to understand—what I lost wasn’t just a building dedicated to death and shadows.”

  She looked up then. Met my gaze, and there was something raw in her expression.

  “I mourn more than just walls, Luken. That explosion killed hundreds. Not soldiers. Not cultists. Civilians. Children. The innocent.”

  A long silence followed.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Mostly because I didn’t know what to say.

  She was right—I didn’t want to hear it. I’d made my thoughts about her god and her faith more than clear. And to be honest, hearing her speak of the Inquisition that way… it made me uncomfortable.

  Not because of the story, but because—deep down—I had always admired the Inquisition of Fobos. Their efficiency. Their resolve. The purity of their actions.

  But that was a truth I couldn’t voice now.

  So instead, I sighed. A deep, quiet thing.

  And I gently slipped the bomb back into my satchel.

  The soft glow disappeared beneath the fabric, and with it, the immediate tension in the room lessened.

  “All right,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s… talk next steps.”

  The heavy tension that had hung in the air began to ease, like fog slowly receding after a storm. No one looked entirely relaxed, but the crackling edge of fear had dulled—for now. I could feel it: they were ready to listen again.

  So I stepped forward and spoke, my voice clear and resolute.

  “If we can’t destroy this room to stop the ritual,” I said, “then we’ll destroy the ones behind it. The crytomancers. We take them out.”

  Vin shifted beside me, her brow furrowed with concern.

  “But… we don’t even know who they are,” she said carefully. “Do we even know they’re guests at the inn?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Simon answered before I could. He sounded certain—too certain to ignore. “If the ritual is this close to completion, they have to be nearby. Here, in this place. And the only entrance to this chamber is through the storeroom. I double-checked it. There are no other ways in.”

  That settled it. The crytomancers weren’t distant threats. They were close. Right above us, probably drinking spiced ale or playing cards by the fire.

  “Could we set a trap for them?” I asked, mulling over possibilities aloud.

  Simon rubbed his chin, thinking.

  “Maybe,” he said slowly. “But first we need to identify them. We can’t move without knowing who we’re actually dealing with.”

  “Then we find out,” I said evenly. “Tomorrow night, when everyone’s gathered in the common room, we’ll search their chambers. Quietly. Quickly.”

  Maira frowned slightly, not out of disapproval—more like doubt.

  “How exactly do you plan to get into their rooms?” she asked. “We don’t exactly have keys to every door.”

  “We will,” I replied smoothly. “Markus gave me the storeroom key without hesitation. All I have to do is ask for a master key. Tell him it’s part of the investigation—say it might help us find out who killed his son.”

  Her frown faded.

  No one argued.

  I looked around, meeting each pair of eyes. Vin gave a single nod. Simon crossed his arms, but the gesture felt more thoughtful than defensive. Maira inclined her head, expression calm and composed.

  All in agreement.

  “Good,” I said. “Then tomorrow, we find our crytomancers.”