15. Rescue operation (10)

Unfortunately for me, Lyrael never reveals the truth behind her stockings. But I’m pretty sure I was onto something with that pinpoint guess.

I mean, they literally never tore or scratched up - neither hers nor Nyra’s did - so there was a good chance it was some artifact.

But it seems I flustered her too much with that question, because she dodged it professionally.

Got lots to learn from her. Haha.

By now, we were in front of the stone tower I mentioned earlier. There was a long corridor leading to the main entrance, also entirely encased in stone.

Really, these Stone Cauldron dudes are way too on the nose with their design choices.

The corridor was, naturally, heavily guarded. Basically, the only way of getting in or out of the Royal Detention was through a load of armed, high-level guards.

Of course, there’s also the rare event where the little prince takes out the most powerful of his minions on a mission to gather pills. But it’s ended by now, expectedly.

That was how me and Lyrael got out three days ago, but now things were a tad different.

"Make us an entrance, Dren!"

I stuck my finger out, pointing it toward a side of the tower closest to the jail entrance hatch.

Without a word, he took out his sword.

Makes sense. The stone’s all reinforced with the strongest sorcery this continent has to offer. Not that I’m worried; this guy’s a sub-deity now. This much should be possible.

A mass of dark energy pooled under his feet, then rose to envelop him whole.

Hot damn, he looks sick. I gotta add more flare to my fully manifested form. Maybe more artificial cloak billowing?

He dashed toward the tower at breakneck speed - I knew all about that shit, from experience - and slammed it with the hilt of his sword.

Boom!

The tower wall crumbled, putting up no resistance.

Well, technically it was more of a spire in shape, but I like to call it a tower, for simplicity’s sake.

"Intruder Alert!"

The men inside the spire cried out their rehearsed line in unison, not wasting a moment for recuperation.

"Alright, friends! Fuck ‘em up! Nagi, stay here and back Dren up. A monstrous dude’s gonna come fight him soon."

"Yes, boss!"

Just as we planned, the eleven healers and Lyrael followed me in, while Dren singlehandedly took on a whole tirade of warriors to stop them from getting in our way.

That much was necessary.

We opened the hatch… well, shattered it, to be accurate.

The stairwell down was just as tediously long as I remembered, and the Black Lake healers all looked on edge as they followed us in, glancing around and tensing their muscles at every little creak and sound.

That’s damn annoying. Maybe I should’ve activated voracity a bit later, once I was already inside the jail. Fucking hate hearing every little muscle twitch from these goons.

I let out a sigh, one that was rather loud due to the absolute silence of our party, which prompted the men behind us to flinch once more.

Only me and Lyrael were calm. In fact, she was smiling.

Crazy bitch… Did she get addicted to the adrenaline rush of a good fight in the last few days? I’m no better, I suppose.

My facial muscles were starting to feel sore from holding a huge grin for so long, though at least I had an excuse, being my nature as a threadripper.

"In other words, while I was born a little unhinged, you became like that yourself."

Those words were spoken out loud.

"Huh? You just started your sentence with ‘in other words,’ you fucking wordsmith."

She gave me a reproachful look, which confused me.

"Huh? What’s wrong with that?"

"You know, Ori, I can’t read your mind. You just continued a thought you were having in your head out loud! How am I meant to follow?"

I scratched my neck, which created three more silvery claw marks.

Wait. She’s right.

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"My bad. Simply put, I was just praising you in my mind - called you deranged and a crazy bitch - for being so pleased with yourself in this situation."

"Ahah. Imma marry your sorry ass once this is over. Getting compliments like this daily is telling my ego so hard, you know that?"

"Of course I do. Shit like that fills my cumsock too."

Her smile turned into a frown real quick.

"Ew, what the fu-no, don’t say that. That’s disgusting. Now you’ve gone and ruined the moment."

"I, uh… Yeah, you’re right. My half of the population really likes joking about our, umm, appendages. Comes pre-installed, if you’re born male."

"I don’t buy it."

"Fair. Because that was a lie. I think it’s just my aboriginal upbringing talking."

"Haha!"

By now, her arms were folded behind her neck, head resting on the palms.

The men looked uncomfortable as hell, though. It was kinda funny.

They must be tense about fighting Nether’s eldest. Hah, and these Black Lake healers go around boasting about their so-called ‘fearless fighting spirit’. What a joke. Even Lyrael, a second-tier fighter, seems better suited for combat than them. Kids these days are so soft, tsk.

***

Thirty minutes prior to the cohort’s break-in, Malrik started his interrogation.

He was sat in front of the chained Nyra, who was casually resting against a wall, seemingly unbothered.

It was quite a big contrast to when he first glimpsed her.

She’d been speaking very openly so far, even though he had yet to resort to actual torture.

How strange. Why did they even bother inviting me if she was so willing to speak?

Perhaps she’d realized who Malrik was and decided not to risk getting on his bad side? But it was still unexpected. Nyra had definitely been spooked initially.

Her newfound calmness was somewhat jarring.

Regardless, the questioning proceeded, though Mal was struggling to tell which parts were true.

Matter of fact, I haven’t felt a single sign of a lie in what she’s said so far.

"Ori, you said, is the name of the swindler? Oreanthalys, the Seventh Talon being his full name. And he’s one of the last survivors of the threadripper tribe, on top of his theft and jailbreak crimes. Is that all correct?"

"Mhm, that’s the kind of person we tangled ourselves with, despite better judgment. All because my sister fell for the idiot, I think; not that she’d ever admit it. That’s what made shit really hit the fan, I’d say. She acts all smart around him, but I saw how her eyes sparked when we first met him. Nyra’s too rational to believe some unknown man’s words otherwise."

At the same time, Nyra thought:

I can’t understand her tastes at all, though. Sure, Ori has a handsome face, but his eyes hold a scary glint. Plus, Lyrael’s never been one to care about looks beyond superficial physical attraction.

Being a royal, Lyrael’s met countless ridiculously good-looking boys, both her age and not. So Nyra assumed there was more to it.

Malrik nodded and wrote something down in a notepad that he pulled out of, uhh, gods know where.

Men’s clothing really has bottomless pockets. How unfair.

For a moment, a slight smile crept up on her face; Nyra was amused by her own laid-back thoughts during what was supposed to be a tense interrogation.

A few more moments passed, and Mal finally spoke up again.

"How peculiar it is that you decided to work with him, then."

"Well, one part of what Ori said was absolutely not a lie. He truly was the Stone Cauldron lord’s childhood friend, through and through. Knew every habit, every movement of his. So I was inclined to believe that he would succeed in stealing those vitality pills. And as for why I followed along - it’s actually very simple. Our bloodline teaches powerful arts, but they require immense energy to advance, which was why the pills were an incredibly sweet proposal."

"That follows. It’s a lot of info you just dropped on me, so give me a minute."

He sped up his writing, furiously scribbling words down on paper with a thin stick burnt at the tip.

It was quite unusual to see someone use the increased mental processing speed of a high-level cultivator for something as mundane as writing.

Whenever the charred part wore down, he would bite on the stick, burning a bit more of it with his flame arts.

The sight of his teeth glowing red-hot every time he did so was rather eerie in the darkness.

"Alright, I think I understand the general picture. Simply put, he involved you in his plan to steal the resident lord’s pills, which he needed for himself. Then, did he seek you out knowing who you were beforehand?"

Mal spun his makeshift pen between his fingers as he waited for Nyra to gather her thoughts.

She leaned forward slightly, crossing her legs and propping her chin on her palm. Then, she shook her head.

"Actually, no. It was a chance encounter."

Mal tilted his head to the side.

"What’s to say he didn’t set the meeting up? You yourself claimed that Ori’s information network is rather wide, and that he’s a manipulative one."

"See, I thought so as well at first, but as I’ve learned after talking with him for a while, he doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what’s going on outside of Stone Cauldron. You probably already knew this, but Nyra and I are from Coralridge. On top of that, we’re both princess candidates - information about us is kept secret until at least one ascends to the throne."

He folded his notepad and tucked it back inside of his cloak.

"Alright. All that makes sense, but I still can’t understand why you stayed behind while Lyrael and Ori escaped. No, before that, there’s something else I’m curious about, on a personal level. I won’t press you if you don’t want to tell me."

Nyra’s eyebrow went up. Mal’s willingness to let his own matter go confused the shit out of her.

The hell? I’m losing my mind here… Why’s a torture expert like yourself saying you won’t press further?

At her words, Mal chuckled quietly.

"First of all, I have my standards as an ‘expert’. I don’t harm people out of curiosity."

At least not anymore.

He kept that last part to himself, however.

"Also, I have a name; it’s Malrik. Even Ori, the ‘bad guy’, had enough sense to ask me what I was called."

Suddenly, Nyra leaned forward and grabbed onto Mal’s shoulders, an intense expression on her face.

Her composure was gone, replaced with desperation. Questions poured out with no structure.

"You met Ori? Was he with my sister? Please tell me Lyrael was alright. The fucker didn’t take a bite out of her, did he? Or, wait, did you do anything to her? I swear, if you harmed her, I’m going to break your jaw even if it kills me!"

Malrik’s easygoing attitude dropped, and he glared at her with a grim expression. Embers danced in his eyes; it was a threatening reminder of his superior position in this conversation.

"Let go."

Rattle

The chains around her wrists rattled as she realized her mistake and quickly pulled back.

"This is not your place to ask. So, do you want to answer my personal question, or shall I proceed with the official interrogation? To reiterate, you are permitted to say no to personal questions. It’s a principle of my work."

He switched the topic, an outright refusal to say anything.

Then, Nyra apologized for overstepping her bounds with a light bow, and replied with a shrug.

"I don’t mind telling you. Beats getting interrogated."

"That makes it easier for me."

Nyra was, of course, glad to avoid talking about anything that could result in things getting violent, but just as Mal opened his mouth to speak, both of them jerked their heads upward.

A massive surge of dark energy collided with something above ground, making the whole structure of the jail rumble.

What the hell was that?