The tunnel's darkness swallowed them whole, pressing close like a living thing. Cold, damp air clung to Regulus' skin as he skidded to a halt at another fork. Left—a steep incline slick with moisture. Right—a narrow passage where the ceiling hunched low like a slouching beast.
He waited.
No itch flared along his spine. No discomfort prickled behind his knees. *Numquam Itineris* remained silent—paths untaken were beyond its ken.
Nyx's fingers brushed the wall beside him, light as spider's silk. "Left," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "The right branch reeks of stale air. Dead end."
Regulus didn't ask how she knew. He'd learned by now that questions wasted time Nyx wouldn't spare.
He ran, their footsteps muffled by the tunnel's grime. Nyx orders him with the certainty of a woman who'd spent lifetimes in the dark. Her hand shot out, pulling Regulus' hair back just as the floor dipped unexpectedly.
"Mind the step," she murmured.
He barely avoided stumbling. No shadows coiled to guide her. He supposed that she can sense them at any time. Like the quiet expertise of a thief who'd learned to read the dark like scripture, but better.
A misstep sent a jolt of discomfort through Regulus' ankle—*too much weight on the outside.* He adjusted, shifting his balance, and the prickling faded. Another correction as his calf tensed wrong—*stride uneven.* The skill knew his body better than he did, but the tunnels? The tunnels kept their secrets.
Behind them, the Altenans chose poorly.
The distant clatter of armor echoed, followed by a muffled curse. A hollow *clang* rang out—helm meeting stone.
Nyx smirked. "Academic types." Her voice dripped with glee. "Always forget to duck."
Regulus' breath came in short gasps as they rounded another bend in the tunnels. "How are they still tracking us? Even with all these turns, they're not losing—"
A sudden pressure against his chest cut him off mid-sentence. Nyx had planted her hand firmly against him, stopping them both in their tracks. Her other hand went to the grimoire tucked under her arm.
"Altenans," she said, her voice dripping with disdain, "love to mark their valuables with tracking spells. Like insecure children tagging their toys."
Regulus stared at the book in her arms. "The grimoire?"
"Obviously." Nyx rolled her eyes.
A distant clang of armor echoed through the tunnels. Closer now. Regulus swallowed hard. "Can we hide the signal? Temporarily?"
Nyx's grin was all teeth in the dim light. "Oh little moth, I thought you'd never ask." She shoved the grimoire into his arms and began rolling up her sleeves. "Hold this. And try not to wet yourself."
Before Regulus could protest, Nyx's shadow—normally so restrained—erupted from her feet like ink spilled in water. It spread across the tunnel floor, up the walls, coating every surface in a thin layer of darkness that seemed to drink the air itself.
The effect was immediate. The grimoire's faint hum ceased. The distant sounds of pursuit faltered, then stopped altogether.
"Shadow blanket," Nyx said, panting slightly. "Blocks all magic signatures. Temporarily."
"How long?" Regulus whispered.
"Long enough for you to use it." She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. "Now read. And try not to drop the book."
The darkness clung to them as they sat down, swallowing their footsteps, their breath, even the sound of Regulus' pounding heart. For the first time since entering the tunnels, there was only silence.
Regulus exhaled, his fingers trembling as they traced the grimoire's worn cover. The pages parted with a whisper, revealing elegant script that shimmered faintly in the gloom.
"On the Nature of Magic"
The words burned themselves into his vision.
'There are two paths to power: intrinsic and acquired. The first is born of blood—the legacy of races shaped by gods and time. The second is forged in the crucible of the Falna, a borrowed flame kindled by divine hands.'
Regulus' breath hitched. The ink seemed to pulse, each stroke rearranging itself into sharper clarity. He read faster, the grimoire's knowledge pouring into him like water into parched earth.
'Intrinsic magic answers to no god. It sleeps in the veins of elves, dwarves, and creatures beyond mortal ken. But acquired magic—'
A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him. The tunnel's walls blurred. Nyx's voice, sharp with warning, dissolved into meaningless noise.
Darkness swallowed his senses.
Then—
Light.
A featureless void stretched in every direction, neither warm nor cold. Regulus stood (did he have legs here?) adrift in a sea of quiet. Before him, the air rippled. A shape coalesced—familiar shoulders, his own face, his own eyes staring back at him.
The grimoire's manifestation of him tilted its head, lips parting with his own voice:
"What is magic to me?"
Regulus felt the answer rise unbidden from his throat. "The power to do the impossible. To achieve what has never been done."
The doppelgänger's eyes gleamed. "What sort of thing is magic to me?"
"It's the power that turned fiction into reality." His words came faster now. "How this light novel became a living, breathing world."
The apparition leaned closer. "What do I seek from magic?"
"To be able to do the same."
"Is that all?"
Regulus hesitated. "I want to gain power, money and women."
The reflection's mouth twisted in disappointment. "How foolish. And a total lie."
Regulus exhaled through his nose. "It is. Maybe that will change in the future."
The grimoire's manifestation didn't blink. It simply waited, as if knowing the truth would surface given enough silence. The void around them pulsed like a living thing, pressing against his skin with quiet insistence.
Nyx's distant voice cut through the mental space - muffled but urgent. "Hurry up, idiot. The shadows won't hold forever."
The grimoire's manifestation dissolved like smoke as Nyx's voice shattered the mental space: "Time's up!"
Reality rushed back in a disorienting wave. Before Regulus could process the return to his body, Nyx's foot hooked behind his ankle and shoved him face-first onto the cold tunnel floor.
"Wh—"
"Quiet." Her knee pressed between his shoulder blades as she yanked his shirt up. "We've got about a few minutes before Athena's hounds sniff us out again."
Something cold and sharp—her nail, glowing faintly with divine energy—traced his exposed back. The familiar sting of Falna script burning into his skin made his muscles tense.
Regulus Nihil
Level 1
Strength: I-12 → I-18
Endurance: I-19 → I-24
Dexterity: I-27 → I-35
Agility: I-17 → I-23
Magic: I-0 → ???
Skills:
[Numquam Itineris] - You know what to do
Magic:
[Zr H'ud Vqhsdmm] -
"N Gdudmr, vhsmdrr lx fqds tzmbsjshmf,
Zr rsqzr zanud, rn hmj mnv vzhjhmf.
Zr zanud, rn adknv zkhmfdc,
Vgzs vzr lhzhmfdc mnv cdehmcd.
Eqnl rkhmds ozfd sn rgnstshmf rddk,
Kds dqudq rbqhadc vnqc ad lzcd qdzk.
Ax pthkk'r bnllzmc zmc zsgtnq'r gzmc,
H qdmc sgd udhk 'svhws sgnsgs zmc kzmc.
Kds ghrsnqx admc! Kds rsnqdr qhrd!
Tmvqdsdm sqgtrr szjd lnsqzk fhrhd.
Zkk ezakdr vnudm, zkk kdfmcr rotm—
Enq sghr hr, Zr H'ud Vqhsdmm!"
Nyx's nail hesitated over the space where magic should be listed. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "Oh-ho. Interesting."
The discarded grimoire lay nearby, its pages now blank and clean. Whatever knowledge it had contained was spent—transferred somewhere deep in Regulus' being, stimulating an awakening from within.
"Up." Nyx kicked him in the ribs—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting. "The fun part comes later. Right now—"
A distant explosion rocked the tunnels. Dust rained from the ceiling.
"—we run."