Capítulo 400: The Paladin Moves
Rose frowned, her brows knitting together in a tight line. There was an itch in the back of her mind, a whisper of unease she couldn't quite shake. Something wasn't right.
It wasn't unusual to feel tense—she was, after all, now part of Project Nyxthar, the Tower's most secretive and ambitious endeavor. Named after the legendary sword wielded by the Martial King himself, the project carried the weight of myth and danger in equal measure. But this felt different. It wasn't just the project making her uneasy.
Her thoughts drifted to Arthur and Cecilia. She'd watched them interact over the past few days, and though their relationship seemed genuine, there was something peculiar about the way they behaved when Maximus was around. The lack of time they spent together, the subtle glances exchanged—too deliberate, too careful.
Rose shook her head, her auburn hair brushing against her cheeks. "I'm just overthinking," she muttered to herself, smoothing the front of her white shirt and tucking it neatly into her black pants. Anxiety wasn't uncommon in high-stakes environments, she reasoned. She had to focus. She had a job to do.
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended from the 180th floor, where Rose had been staying, to the highly restricted 190th floor—the heart of Project Nyxthar. She tapped her keycard against the scanner, the quiet beep granting her access to a world few were permitted to see.
As the doors slid open, the air seemed to change, heavier with mana and the weight of secrecy. Rose stepped out, her boots clicking against the polished floor as she offered a respectful bow to the researchers she passed. They barely glanced at her, their focus entirely on their work. She was, after all, only an assistant, dwarfed in skill and experience by the minds around her.
"Ah, Rose! Good, you're here!" Maximus's voice rang out, his tone brisk as he handed her a sleek tablet. "I need you to—"
The words froze on his lips as the room was suddenly bathed in red light. A shrill alarm blared, cutting through the air like a dagger. The researchers around her stiffened, their gazes darting to the source of the commotion.
"Tch!" Maximus clicked his tongue, shoving the tablet back toward Rose without finishing his sentence. He strode purposefully toward the chamber at the center of the room—a massive glass tank filled with an iridescent liquid that shimmered unnervingly under the emergency lighting.
Rose followed his gaze to the figure suspended inside. The Paladin of Void.
The man's black hair floated gently in the liquid, his body crisscrossed with intricate runes and connected to a network of mana-conducting instruments. He seemed impossibly still, yet the instruments monitoring him told a different story.
"His mana levels are rising, sir!" one of the researchers shouted, his voice tinged with panic.
"I see it," Maximus snapped, already moving. His hand pressed against the chamber, and his mana surged, flowing through the runes etched into its surface. The runes glowed, weaving together in a delicate dance as Maximus guided them into alignment.
The air crackled with energy as he stabilized the mana surge. The researchers watched in a tense silence, their eyes wide as the runes pulsed and the tank's glow dimmed. Maximus exhaled heavily, his face lined with effort.
"He's not ready to wake," Maximus muttered, his voice low but resolute. "His mind or body would collapse under the strain. We're not there yet."
The room seemed to let out a collective breath as the crisis subsided. Maximus turned back toward Rose, his demeanor calm but commanding. "Rose, I need you to—"
Before he could finish, the alarms blared again, louder this time, and in a different pattern. It was a warning Rose didn't recognize.
Maximus's expression darkened, his gaze snapping to the control panel. "Now what?"
"Sir, it's not the Paladin!" one of the senior researchers shouted from across the room, his voice trembling. "T-there's been an attack!"
The room erupted into chaos. Researchers scrambled to their stations, pulling up mana displays and security feeds. The tension in the air thickened, suffocating, as Maximus barked orders, his usual composed demeanor replaced with a razor-sharp edge.
Rose clutched the tablet in her hands, her pulse racing. An attack? Here? The very idea seemed impossible, but the evidence was undeniable—the blaring alarms, the panicked faces of the researchers, the flickering mana screens showing parts of the Tower engulfed in disarray.
"Lockdown the 190th floor!" Maximus commanded, his mana flaring. "Nobody in or out without my express permission. I want every barrier reinforced and the defensive runes fully activated."
Rose stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing. What was happening? Was this connected to Arthur's mysterious behavior? Was it something else entirely? She didn't have answers, but she knew one thing: the stakes had just been raised, and they were higher than she'd ever imagined.
The hum of failing mana resonated in the air like a final, dissonant note of a symphony spiraling into chaos. Researchers flitted between consoles, their faces pale with disbelief as they grappled with the impossible.
"Sir, the defenses aren't activating!" one of them called out, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock and terror.
"What?" Maximus snapped, turning sharply. His expression, usually a picture of calm control, now bore the cracks of unease.
"The artifacts… the runes… they're useless," the researcher stammered, as if the words themselves defied belief.
Artifacts, bonded to individuals or systems through intricate rune arrays crafted from the blood of mana beasts, were supposed to be infallible. Here in the Tower, they represented the pinnacle of the union between magic, alchemy, and science. These defenses had been designed to withstand anything short of an assault by a Radiant-ranker.
And yet, now they lay inert—cold, unresponsive trinkets where once they had been the backbone of the Tower's might.
"Did an Immortal-ranker launch an eight-circle spell or martial art at us?" Maximus murmured, his brow furrowed. His mind raced through possibilities, dissecting each one with the precision of a master alchemist. Yet, the usual signs of such an attack—destruction, collateral damage—were absent. No force had broken the Tower's defenses; they had simply… stopped.
Deactivated. A single, terrifying word echoed in his thoughts. The defenses hadn't been overwhelmed. They had been nullified. The implication gnawed at his mind. Something—or someone—had rendered the Tower's greatest safeguards meaningless.
His mana flared as his senses expanded outward, scanning for the source of the disturbance. Then, he felt it—a presence. A sharp, suffocating wave of power that sliced through the air like a blade.
"Everyone, behind me now!" Maximus commanded, his voice steel-edged. The researchers scrambled to obey, crowding behind their leader as the doors to the chamber burst open.
Arthur strode in, his expression calm but charged with purpose, flanked by Cecilia. She stepped forward, her crimson dress sweeping the floor like a banner of war.
"By the order of Cecilia Slatemark," she declared, her voice ringing with the authority of imperial lineage, "Princess of the Slatemark Empire and second-in-line to the throne, Project Nyxthar is officially disbanded. Every researcher involved will stand trial for participating in this treasonous and dangerous endeavor."
Her words landed like hammer blows. The researchers froze, their faces paling further. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Maximus's response.
He clenched his fists, his mind a whirlwind of calculations. They could fight. They had the numbers and the talent. But victory against an Imperial Princess, even here, would mean nothing. The retaliation from the Imperial Palace would be swift, merciless, and absolute.
Before he could speak, the room's atmosphere shifted again. This time, it was darker—colder. A wave of despair swept through like a shadow swallowing light. The researchers fell silent, their mana faltering under the oppressive force.
Maximus's eyes widened. The sensation wasn't just power. It was wrong.
Then came the blade.
With a sickening wet sound, it pierced through his chest, emerging in a flash of silver and red. Maximus staggered, coughing blood as the room erupted into chaos. His hands instinctively reached for the blade, but his strength was already ebbing away.
Arthur and Cecilia's eyes widened in shock. Neither of them had sensed the attacker's presence, and now, the very air seemed to thrum with malevolence. The sword glinted ominously, its wielder hidden by the swirling despair that engulfed the chamber.
Maximus collapsed to his knees, his blood pooling beneath him as he turned his gaze toward Arthur and Cecilia. There was no fear in his eyes, only confusion—and the faintest glimmer of defiance.
"The Paladin…" he rasped, his voice a whisper as the light in his eyes began to fade. "He… moves…"
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