Realm Lord
Chapter 110: Fill In

Chapter 110: Fill In

Kay cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the chamber’s acoustic qualities. "Before you two start," he said, gesturing toward Arthur and Aziel, "let me fill you in on what happened on our end."

His deep voice rumbled through the dungeon as he recounted their experiences after the group’s separation. Following Aziel’s abrupt removal from the laboratory and Arthur and Jonas leaving after him, the remaining trio—Lara, Kay, and Jake—had embarked on their own desperate quest to reunite the fractured party.

"We went door to door," Kay explained, his hands gesturing to illustrate their methodical approach. "Must’ve gone through at least thirty different rooms."

His expression darkened, jaw tensing visibly beneath his unkempt beard. "Then we got unlucky. Really unlucky."

According to Kay’s account, they had stumbled upon this very dungeon. The sheepman had been waiting. The battle that followed had been brutal and desperate, with Jake ultimately paying the ultimate price.

"He died protecting Lara," Kay said quietly, his eyes momentarily flicking toward his silent companion. "Bastard got between her and that thing’s blade. Didn’t even hesitate."

During the conflict, they had made the same discovery about the sheepmen that Arthur had—the creatures served as physical anchors for the castle’s enchantment, animated constructs rather than living beings. Kay didn’t elaborate on how they’d vanquished the dungeon’s guardian, but the shattered remains against the far wall testified to their eventual victory.

When Kay finished, a leaden silence settled over the group. Arthur took this as his cue and launched into his own narrative, carefully detailing the events following his and Jonas’s departure. He described their harrowing battle with the sheepman, the discovery of his shadow manipulation ability, and—with a voice that threatened to crack despite his best efforts—Jonas’s sacrifice.

At the mention of Jonas’s death, both Kay and Lara physically recoiled. Kay’s massive frame actually swayed backward as if struck, while Lara’s already pale complexion somehow managed to lose another shade of color. Her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides, knuckles blanching white with tension.

Arthur pressed on, describing the altar room and the ancient carvings that adorned its walls.

When he finally concluded his account, Arthur’s mind still buzzed with unanswered questions. He leaned forward as he directed his inquiry toward Kay and Lara.

"What do we actually know about the gods the realms worship?" he asked, his brow furrowed with genuine curiosity.

Lara remained detached from the conversation, her vacant gaze fixed on some middle distance only she could perceive. In her unsettling silence, Kay again took up the mantle of information provider.

"To be honest..." he began, scratching his head, "not much."

"Altars like the one you found in the rose field and here are the only real records of the gods they worshipped," he explained, his voice taking on the measured cadence of a lecturer. "And those altars are hard to come by, to say the least. I mean, only a handful have ever been found and studied, so the fact that you’ve found two on your first time in the realms is more than unbelievable."

His eyes gleamed with scholarly interest, momentarily overshadowing his grief. "We’ll definitely have to remember to check that room out again. Records like that are goldmines of information."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this context before voicing another question that had plagued him since their arrival.

"And one more thing," he said, fingers absently tracing the seam where his recently reattached arm met his shoulder. "It’s been on my mind since entering this castle, but... there are so many unanswered questions. Like, where are the bodies? The royal family’s, the servants—there are none, well, besides whoever was unlucky enough to get stuck in that cell back there."

His arm gestured vaguely toward the corridor of cells they’d explored earlier.

"And what’s more," Arthur continued, frustration evident in his tightening expression, "what’s even the point of the spell on this castle?"

Kay expelled a heavy sigh that seemed to originate from the depths of his massive chest. He scratched his head contemplatively, the gesture oddly childlike coming from such an imposing figure.

"Well... I don’t know," he admitted with refreshing candor. "Your guess is as good as ours. We’re trapped in here just like you, you know."

Arthur nodded, resignation settling across his features. "I figured as much."

His acknowledgment gave way to an awkward silence that stretched uncomfortably between them. Arthur found himself avoiding eye contact, studying the intricate patterns of dried blood on the stone floor as if they contained some profound revelation. The tension in the chamber built incrementally until Kay finally broke the stalemate.

"Aziel," he said abruptly, turning toward the unusually quiet Aziel. "What about you? What happened after that thing pulled you out of the laboratory?"

Arthur’s gaze shifted to his companion, genuine curiosity mingling with concern as he recalled Aziel’s earlier reluctance to discuss the experience. The question hung suspended in the stagnant dungeon air.

Aziel scratched the back of his head, eyes narrowing in obvious discomfort. His usual confidence seemed to evaporate under the weight of three expectant stares.

"Uh... I-I outran it," he finally offered, the explanation patently insufficient. "You know, lightning speed and all." He punctuated this transparent evasion with a laugh so awkward it practically echoed with falseness.

Kay’s expression shifted to one of skepticism, his eyebrows drawing together as he prepared to press further. His mouth opened, the beginning of another question forming on his lips—

"Enough talking."

The voice that cut through the chamber was simultaneously familiar and foreign—Lara’s distinctive timbre, yet stripped of its usual tone. Every head snapped toward her with startled synchronicity.

She stood with her back perfectly straight, shoulders squared with military precision. The vacant look had vanished from her eyes, replaced by something far more unsettling: cold, crystalline fury that seemed to radiate from her very being.

"Enough planning," she continued, each word sharp enough to draw blood. "Enough thinking."

Her hands, previously hanging limply at her sides, now curled into white-knuckled fists. The air around her seemed to vibrate with barely contained emotion, grief transmuted into something more dangerous.

"I’m gonna kill those last two sheepmen," she declared, her voice rough and vengeful, scraping against their ears like steel on stone. "And we’re gonna get the fuck out of here."

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