Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 133: Royal panic

Chapter 133: Royal panic

The wind howled faintly at the edge of the cursed tunnel, carrying with it the echoes of a place none of them could quite remember.

King Soris stood tall—barely. His cloak was torn at the edges, and his polished armor now looked dulled, almost rusted. His eyes flickered as he stared into the tunnel they had just been spat out from.

"What... happened?" he murmured.

Around him, his knights groaned, picking themselves up. Some coughed violently, as though choking on memories that refused to be recalled. Others clutched their heads, their expressions strained and uncertain.

One knight looked around with alarm. "Lady Mandira?! Where is she?!" he shouted.

There was no answer.

The group glanced at one another, their confusion deepening. The tunnel loomed behind them again, dark and silent.

Sir Calen of Second Order narrowed his eyes. "She was with us... wasn’t she?"

King Soris turned sharply. "Of course she was. She was walking right beside us." He looked at the others, a hint of desperation in his voice. "You all saw her. Right?"

"I..." one knight began, faltering. "I don’t remember, your highness. We walked. And then..."

"Everything went black," whispered another. "Like... like we were walking through a dream. And then suddenly, I was on the ground."

"It wasn’t a dream," Soris growled, fists clenched. "I remember something... just a glimpse. A garden. A cursed garden."

Sir Halric’s eyes widened. "The Garden of Darkness?"

The knights froze. That name hadn’t been said aloud before.

King Soris stepped back. "How do you know that name?"

"I don’t know! my lord." Halric snapped, sweat running down his brow. "It just came to me! Like I’ve always known it—but I don’t remember learning it."

The air grew colder.

Soris looked toward the tunnel, a deep frown on his face. "Whatever was inside... it took something from us."

He knelt down, placing a gloved hand on the earth. "It didn’t kill us. It could have. But instead..."

"It rejected us," Sir Calen said softly. "Like we weren’t worthy."

"No," Soris corrected. "Like we were beneath its notice."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Still no Mandira," Halric muttered. "We have to go back in—"

"No," Soris said sharply. "We don’t."

"But—"

"Look at yourselves!" Soris barked, eyes blazing. "We don’t even remember how we got out. Or what happened to us. What if we go back and never return again? What if the next time... it eats our bodies instead of just our memories?"

The knights fell silent again.

Then, a rustling sound.

They all turned.

Just a few paces away, half-buried beneath the fallen leaves and dust, someone was lying motionless on the ground.

Soris strode forward at once, pushing aside loose debris.

It was a man. Bloodied. Bruised. And familiar.

"Sir Juno?!" Soris knelt beside him.

The once-proud knight lay unconscious, his breath shallow but steady. His blond hair was matted with dirt and dried blood. The cursed sword of his was gone.

One of the knights ran to assist. "Is he alive?"

"Yes," Soris replied, placing a hand over Juno’s chest. "But barely."

The others gathered around in stunned silence.

"How did he get here?" Calen asked. "Was he in the dungeon while we were travelling here?"

Sir Halric looked toward the tunnel again. "Maybe it spit him out too. Like us."

"But why now?"

Soris stared down at Juno, something grim in his expression. "I think it’s done with him."

A soft wind blew through the trees.

Soris stood and turned back to his knights. "We’re leaving. Now."

"And Lady Mandira...?" Halric asked quietly.

Soris hesitated. Then, in a heavy voice: "We carry out our duty. We return the wounded. We take decision on what we saw."

"But we didn’t see anything," someone said bitterly. "We barely remember anything at all, my lord."

Soris nodded. "That’s exactly what we report."

The knights exchanged glances, uncertain.

"What do we say about Lady Mandira?" Calen asked. "We can’t lie to the council."

"No," Soris agreed. "Tell the truth. She vanished. We don’t know how. We don’t know why."

He paused, gaze fixed on the tunnel’s shadowed maw.

"But I suspect Shennong does after all he had been guilty of many things now."

Far below the surface, in the dungeon’s hidden core chamber of main room, Mandira was still staring at her hands.

"They were shaking," she whispered. "I never noticed until now."

Shennong watched her from a distance, eyes calculating. "Whatever happened to you in that realm—it stole your memories. Maybe even tried to erase your presence entirely."

Mandira looked up. "Then how did I get out?"

"Something pushed you out," he said simply.

"Do you think your mage santucary has answers for this strange phenomena?" Shennong asked looking at Mandira.

"Do they?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I don’t know," Shennong admitted. "You’re the memeber of that society."

She met his eyes. "They are not people that obeys any laws or commands. Almost all of them would act on their voliation. So they will act when they think is necessary."

He didn’t answer.

Mandira walked toward the glowing runes etched into the wall. "This place... It’s alive. Just like your other creation."

Shennong nodded. "The second floor wasn’t supposed to be like that. Before I could even react that entity had the changed the whole place.."

Mandira turned to him, expression sharp. "Then why bring us here? Why risk it?"

"Because I needed someone else to see it," he said. "To confirm I’m not crazy."

"Congratulations," Mandira said dryly. "You’re not crazy. Just recklessly selfish to send me there like that."

A faint smile touched Shennong’s lips. "I’ll take that."

She sighed. "The King... the knights... They’ll think I’m dead."

"Good," he replied. "That’ll buy us time."

Mandira raised an eyebrow. "Time for what?"

"To figure out what’s really happening down there," he said, gesturing toward the floor beneath them. "And whether it’s still my dungeon floor... or something else entirely."

Mandira rubbed her temples. "The council will want answers. The Empire too. If they found out such a dangerous place exist within this dungeon. Your moonlight forest is already dangerous enough..."

Shennong chuckled softly. "Fair enough."

Mandira leaned against the wall, exhaustion catching up with her. "We’re in over our heads."

"We’ve always been," Shennong said. "But now... we’re running out of air too."

She looked at him tiredly. "So what’s our next move?"

He turned to the glowing map of the dungeon structure, now flickering with static over the second floor.

"First we find some one knowledgable about this," he said.

Mandira blinked. "Hardest thing."

"Well everything we did was hard until we tried it," he replied grimly.

She stared at him for a long moment. "Fine. But next time, you tell me if we’re walking into an eldritch death trap."

"Deal."

Mandira took a deep breath. "Then let’s figure out who—or what—has hijacked your dungeon."

Shennong placed a hand on the stone table. "And find Sasha. Before whatever’s taken control... takes her forever."

Far below, in the twisted garden where red flowers pulsed like beating hearts, something opened a single eye.

It wasn’t human.

It wasn’t kind.

But it remembered.

And now... it had seen the King.

It had seen the Archmage.

It had seen the Shennong.

And it was waiting for certain someone.

***

The throne room, usually a place of calm order and distant regality, was anything but.

The thick air buzzed with tension as nobles, military commanders, and court mages whispered anxiously among themselves. Reports were coming in from every region. Monster activity had increased. Magical surges were flaring without explanation. And worst of all—

Mandira was still missing.

Sir Juno was now here but he was in a deep sleep.

Their two strongest assets—gone.

King Soris sat on the throne, eyes sunken, his golden crown heavy on his brow. His armor remained unworn; he hadn’t changed since returning from the dungeon, a deep frown etched into his face like stone.

A young messenger ran into the hall, breathless. "Your Majesty! We’ve just received word from the border scouts—nothing. No sightings. No trails. But the enemies are gathering! They might have heard the news about Sir Juno’s problem."

"Of course they did, they have spies all over our nation." muttered General Elwin, his grey cloak fluttering as he stepped forward. "Also Archmage, she wouldn’t be wandering around in the open if she were alive. Either she’s hiding—or she’s dead."

The entire hall froze.

Soris’s voice came low and sharp. "Mind your tongue, General. We are tlaking about my sister. She has no reason to betray us."

Elwin bowed his head slightly. "Apologies, my lord. But the Archmage has been missing for a full day. No contact. No trace. And Juno—our Champion—vanished days before her. We are leaderless in our time of need and I just said two possible things."

An advisor, Lord Margrave, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, forgive the tone, but we must take action. The nobles are beginning to whisper. They say your court is cursed. That you consorted with demons in that dungeon."

Soris stood up. Slowly. Purposefully.

"The nobles can burn if they spread fear instead of courage," he snapped. "I entered that dungeon. I saw what lies beneath it. And I assure you—whatever this is, it goes far beyond our politics and any wars we might face."

"But what is ’this’, Your Majesty?" Lord Margrave asked. "The people need an explanation."

Soris’s hands clenched. "So do I. Send messages to all the S ranked adventuerers and mages from mage santucary quickly. We need to get this done."

Across the room, a young knight barged in, ignoring the guards’ protests. "My king! Sir Juno—he’s still unconscious, but... he woke up for a moment!"

Gasps echoed through the hall.

Soris’s eyes lit with fire. "Where?"

"The western wing, the royal infirmary—he muttered something. We couldn’t understand it all, but he kept repeating one name."

The king descended the steps two at a time. "Whose name?"

The knight hesitated.

"Malek, Your Majesty."

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