The crowd froze in place, staring up at the strange bird hovering overhead.
This creature bore a striking resemblance to a crow—its wings were so glossy they shimmered with a faint blue sheen; the way it flapped its wings in flight, and the position of its claws, were indistinguishable from those of a real crow. But it couldn't possibly be a bird. Its wing movements were incredibly natural—and that was precisely what made it unnatural; no bird could fly safely with such a horrific wound.
Something seemed to be flowing from the stump of its left wing. The cross-section was indistinct, but a black, semi-fluid substance of unknown composition writhed ceaselessly. Unlike the fluid guardians outside, it possessed a cold, hard metallic texture. This substance writhed, attempting to seal the wound and even reconstruct the wing, yet failed at the very first attempt each time. After forming a small portion of the wing's base, the black semi-fluid rapidly collapsed, merging back into its body and causing strange ripples to appear across its feathers.
As everyone watched with bated breath, Miranda drew a shivering breath and whispered, "Taling…"
"Up, up—click—" the Raven Taling replied, "—Master, master—looking—"
Tasha stepped back a few paces, just to confirm who the Taling was addressing. She stepped back a meter, but the direction of the Raven Talin's gaze remained unchanged; its head was fixed on Miranda, the black-robed mage whose tear stains had not yet dried. Those red eyes resembled faulty light bulbs, their red glow flickering on and off. Its voice, too, shifted from a flat human tone to an increasingly shrill pitch, like a waterlogged talking toy, so piercing it gave listeners a headache.
Anyone with eyes could see that this thing was severely damaged, much like the various dismembered skeletons and golem debris they'd encountered along the way. The only question was: why had it appeared at this very moment? Had its functions malfunctioned after being attacked by the Forerunners, or…
"Did you summon me, Master?" Miranda asked.
In the blink of an eye, the black-robed mage had wiped away her tears, straightened her back, and, casting aside her earlier disarray, reverted to the confident researcher she had been. Her eyes shone brightly as she spoke the ancient mages' language slowly and with meticulous enunciation, her tone humble yet steady.
Click. The bird's shrill, wavering cry ceased.
Its flapping also ceased abruptly. The bird-like form, having lost this mimetic movement, remained suspended motionlessly in midair—God knows by what principle. Tasa's keen hearing could pick up the sounds emanating from the Raven Spirit at this distance: a chaotic yet ordered cacophony, as if a tape had been rewound and restarted.
Nearly ten seconds later, the Crow Spirit "restarted." Its flapping became uncoordinated, and the sound emanating from its beak grew completely hoarse and indistinct, making it impossible to make out any meaning. It spun on a dime and flapped its wings toward a corner of the lab.
Miranda followed.
The rest of them exchanged glances, but there was no time left for hesitation. Miranda ran after it, clearly using every ounce of her strength, moving faster than ever before, and soon disappeared into the depths of the lab after a series of sharp turns. "Let's follow her!" Gloria urged. "Take the same path she took!"
They made their decision quickly. Rudolf cast the most basic protective spell on everyone; the necromancers abandoned the slowest zombies (since this floor didn't require lighting anyway, and the black candles had already been put away); Tasha took the lead, and the group began to sprint.
The group veered off the corridor adjacent to the laboratory and, following the raven spirit flying ahead to lead the way, ran deep into the laboratory.
At first, the surroundings looked just like the corridor—clean and tidy, filled with equipment that would captivate any mage. After a short distance, however, the laboratory began to grow chaotic and disorderly; the familiar remains of spell-casting golems reappeared everywhere, growing increasingly dense. The "cleanliness" at the start of this level seemed easy to explain: all the guards had been lured toward the center. Whatever the pioneer had done, the area of concentrated firepower looked increasingly intense.
Less than ten minutes later, the surroundings looked completely different from the entrance. The furnishings were in utter disarray, and traces of spellcasting were everywhere. Large patches of charred blackness covered the floor and ceiling, even destroying some ore lamps and dimming the light in the vicinity. Some of the damage resembled the acid Miranda had used, some the aftermath of fire spells, some lightning, and some the overlapping effects of multiple spells—Tasha couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer chaos of the floor and ceiling; the tables here had all been reduced to shards, or not even that.
Miranda's feet slipped as she crossed a patch of ice; after all, a mage—brilliant in mind but clumsy in limb—couldn't run a marathon on sheer willpower alone. She tumbled a good distance before Tash caught up, pulled her to her feet, and dragged her forward. The Raven Spirit continued to fly steadily, never looking back, utterly indifferent to the fact that someone had caught up behind it.
Finally, the Raven Spirit came to a halt.
They had cut straight through the entire laboratory, passing through a sea of battle scars and a staggering number of golem fragments, until finally, the surroundings grew empty once more. The wrecked spell-casting golems were now few and far between; the defenders of this mage tower had likely been worn down to the point of exhaustion. Where the Raven Talin came to a halt, there were no tables or chairs, no magical devices, and no signs of battle—only a vast, empty floor, with a one-winged bird circling overhead.
The long line that had stretched out during the run converged here. The mages had come to terms with their own limitations along the way; those who couldn't keep up had climbed onto the soldiers' backs. Now, as they climbed down from the guards, they were still panting, their faces looking even worse than those who had carried them the whole way. Tash set Miranda down, and Miranda eagerly took two steps forward, walking beneath the Raven Tower Spirit.
The circling bird landed as she approached, settling on the empty floor and placing its two talons into small, claw-shaped indentations in the ground. Tasa watched as the talons sank below the surface, like tenons fitting into mortises.
The floor lit up in an instant.
Beneath the Raven Spirit's claws, a massive magic circle materialized on the empty floor, as large as a banquet table, its radiance rivaling the ore lamps overhead. The edge of the circle stopped right in front of Miranda; Tash had reflexively pulled her back just in time, pulling her out of the circle's range.
The tower spirit at the center of the magic array watched them, its inorganic gaze devoid of emotion.
Gloria took a few steps forward and crouched at the edge of the magic array. She examined the magical runes that formed the array and said, "This is a non-fixed teleportation array."
"The destination isn't fixed?" Tasha asked.
"The activation time isn't fixed, and the destination isn't fixed—there's a default location, but as long as the caster wishes it, whoever steps onto it could be flung to all sorts of random places," Gloria explained. "If left undisturbed, this one probably leads to the 'teacher's office' at the top of the tower… I'm guessing."
Tasha nodded; she hadn't been holding out much hope of getting a definitive answer anyway.
"Nine times out of ten, it leads to the next level up. We might already be at the top," Bruno said. "We ran all the way up here and didn't see any stairs leading upward, nor did we see a fixed teleportation array."
So this one was very likely the teleportation array leading to the top of the mage tower.
Ancient mage towers were like the embodiment of a stepped pyramid. The tower master, who held absolute power over life and death for all creatures within, resided on the topmost level. There were no stairs or permanent teleportation arrays connecting the top level to the others—only "non-permanent teleportation arrays" controlled by the tower master. On the one hand, this design allows the tower's master to ensure their own safety, whether during a rebellion within the tower or when the lower levels are breached. On the other hand, it enables the mage who owns the tower to maintain an air of mystery and authority. The outcome of every audience at the tower's summit is a matter of life and death, entirely in the Tower Master's hands. This plants the seeds of obedience in the apprentices' minds, granting the master the upper hand should a master-apprentice conflict arise in the future.
Tasha has not conducted in-depth research into the mages' domains; most of her knowledge is merely mechanical data entry, and delving into relevant materials requires some effort. The reason this particular piece of information came to mind immediately was simply because it was somewhat intriguing—that mages, who were detached from mundane affairs and indifferent to worldly power, would actually employ certain imperial strategies when constructing their mage towers.
For modern mages, it is simply unimaginable that the master-apprentice relationship could be so tense.
Therefore, for ancient mages, a command like "The master is looking for you" carried far more than just the risk of psychological trauma.
Miranda knew this as well.
She had struggled briefly when Tashan first pulled her back, but now Miranda stood rooted to the spot, staring at the teleportation array with hesitation, as if she were feeling a sense of trepidation at the very thought of returning home. Tashan could almost see countless thoughts flashing through the black-robed mage's mind, wrestling and clashing with one another.
"If that really is the top floor, we'd better steel ourselves," Bruno said. "Teleportation to the top floor of the Mage Tower is entirely under the Tower Master's control. Once we're up there, we'll likely have to face the master of the Mage Tower."
"I'd actually prefer that," " Gloria muttered, "If it wasn't the Tower Master summoning us, but rather the Tower Spirit going haywire after being attacked, we might not be able to get back down once we're up there. We can't exactly count on it having another freak episode just to open a door for us, can we?"
"Is being trapped up there any different from being trapped down here?" Tasha asked.
"Maybe it's even more cramped up there? More dangerous? Littered with magical traps? An endless army of spellcasting golems?" Gloria ran through a few possibilities, then shook her head. "In any case, the security up there is definitely tighter than down here. If we go up, it'll be like moving from a regular prison cell to a high-security one. Even though we don't even know how to break out of a regular cell yet, at least our chances are slightly better."
"At least that pioneer has already gone in," Tash said.
All traces of battle along the way vanished here; there was no other path around, nor a single skeleton. As long as the pioneer hadn't simply vanished into thin air, it was highly likely that person had made it to the other side of the teleportation array.
"There are no signs leading elsewhere; we haven't found any indication that the pioneer left." Bruno's eyebrows drooped, his gaunt face resembling a melancholy Saluki.
The pioneer went in and never came out; he or she might have died there, or might have successfully escaped from the highest-level cell in that mage tower. Which outcome was more likely was obvious to anyone.
"Maybe we should look around some more to see if there are any other passages," Rudolf said, "Rushing headlong into a suspicious teleportation array seems unwise no matter how you look at it… Wait, is the tower spirit acting normally?"
Everyone's gaze instantly focused on the raven tower spirit; the bird's flickering red eyes had just gone dark.
The red eyes went out after a final, intense flash, like a lighter burning through its last drop of fuel. The ruby-like eyes instantly dimmed to the color of coal. It was unclear whether this was their natural hue, or if the brilliant rubies had withered along with the energy that had caused them to glow. The metallic feathers, which had been constantly shifting, began to soften—like food frozen and then thrown directly into a fire—quickly becoming pliable before dripping away, no longer clinging to the body. The Raven Talisman crumbled; what had once formed its feathers dripped onto the ground, resembling melted tar.
It melted rapidly, faster and faster, as feathers and flesh disintegrated, revealing the silvery-white bones beneath. The bones seemed to bear peculiar patterns, but they were fleeting, fading swiftly like silk unearthed from an ancient tomb. Gloria covered her mouth, yet could not fully stifle her wail.
It was unlikely this was the voluntary choice of the Tower Spirit or its master; the destruction was neither fast enough nor slow enough, the process utterly grotesque, the outcome irreversible yet not quite complete. A heap of debris, vaguely reminiscent of the feathers' former form, now lay amidst a viscous, tar-like black substance. Both surrounded a scattered, dull silver skeleton, which had collapsed haphazardly within the teleportation array.
Guiding and activating the teleportation array seemed to be the final straw, causing the Tower Spirit—which had existed for who knows how long and "survived" immense damage—to finally give up the ghost.
There was no time to dwell on this now; the more pressing issue was that those two claws were barely holding on.
The previously stable teleportation array began to flicker, just like the Raven Tower Spirit's flickering eyes.
Miranda dashed forward, her figure vanishing into the flickering light. Dolores immediately took a step forward; the necromancer, who had remained silent for most of the time, was the second to step into the teleportation array. Gloria bit her lip, Bruno sighed and shook his head, and Rudolf clicked his tongue—the mages' expressions varied, but their actions were in unison.
They stepped inside.
Tasha did the same.
Beyond the teleportation array lay the unknown—a place that inspired both caution and anticipation. She staked everything on this gamble without hesitation, yet gave no one an order to proceed or not—when no one knew which path led to survival, each person made their own choice, and each was responsible for their own life.
Some charged in, gritting their teeth; some resisted and stayed put; others wavered, their steps slow as if glued to the ground. The teleportation array made the choice for the latter group. Two tiny bird-like claws finally touched down, and the array flickered one last time before going completely dark.
The power of the teleportation spell tugged at Tasa's body.
They had already used several teleportation arrays along the way, and those had been as smooth as elevators. But this one was different—was it because unstable teleportation arrays were inherently like this, or had the sudden failure of the array's core spirit caused an unexpected glitch? Those being teleported had no way of knowing; they only felt the world spinning and turning upside down, as if they'd been tossed into a washing machine set to the highest spin cycle.
After what felt like an eternity, Tasha tumbled out the other side of the teleportation array. If she hadn't taken various piloting courses on her own after growing wings—including 3,600-degree aerial spins and the like—she too would have been tossed about so violently that she wouldn't have known which way was up. Tasha staggered slightly but quickly regained her balance. Glancing around, she saw everyone else who had been teleported lying haphazardly on the ground, completely disoriented.
Whether mages, mage apprentices, or guards, they all lay sprawled on the ground at that moment, unable to stand. Some particularly wretched souls even turned their heads to vomit. If this was the Tower Master's scheme, it had been a resounding success. With nothing more than a teleportation array on the verge of failure, the Tower Master had rendered ninety percent of this squad's combat effectiveness useless.
Tasha, the sole survivor, looked around. Aside from her fellow sufferers, there was nothing else.
On the other side of the teleportation array, there was no army of golems standing ready for battle, no spells or magical creatures poised to strike, and certainly no sign of the Forerunner or the Tower Master. They were standing on a circular platform, with nothing but empty space all around them.
The circular platform beneath their feet was as large as the teleportation array itself. The array had been just large enough to hold Tashan's entire squad moments ago, but now that the number of people had been cut in half, there was more than enough room for everyone. Even so, the view stretching out in all directions was still enough to make one's heart race. Tashan took a single glance and immediately understood why everyone had dropped to the ground.
When you're dizzy and unsteady on your feet, teetering on the edge of a cliff, everyone's instinct is to drop to the ground as quickly as possible, letting the earth and friction hold them in place.
There were no railings around the circular platform; it dropped straight down into a deep pit. To put it another way, it was as if I were still on that vast floor from earlier, but the entire floor plan consisted only of the solid platform beneath my feet, while the rest is completely hollow—you could fall all the way down to the very bottom of the tower from this level. Whether this space is as vast as the laboratory level we were just in, or whether the height of the walls truly matches that of the tower, remains unknown. Once again, it is pitch black here; we can only see our surroundings thanks to Dolores, who lit a black candle the moment we arrived.
Dolores was the other person present who didn't look too bad. She remained expressionless, half-crouching like the others, shielding the black candle in her hand. Legend has it that this necromancer, through an accident (or perhaps on purpose) during one of her spells, transformed herself into a half-dead being with dulled senses. Judging by her calm expression and the slow, steady beat of her heart, perhaps there was some truth to the rumors.
By the light of the black candle, looking down from the edge of the circular platform, the space below was pitch black, as if leading to a bottomless abyss.
Before the members, who had been sprawled on the ground, could get back to their feet, they encountered no attacks.
It was very quiet here; apart from their breathing, no other sounds could be heard. Tasa considered taking the candle to fly a circle around the area but was stopped by the alchemist.
"It's probably best to stick to the 'plan' for now," Gloria said, pointing in a certain direction.
On one side of the circular platform, a suspension bridge extended outward.
There were no guardrails around the platform, but on one side stood two thick wooden posts, with a narrow bridge spanning between them—just wide enough for a single person to pass. Walking to the edge of the bridge with the candle, even with her arm fully outstretched, the light from the black candle illuminated only the solitary bridge; nothing could be seen on the other side.
"Is this the top of the tower?" Rudolf asked.
"No one knows what the top of the tower actually looks like," Bruno said with a forced smile. "Ancient mages didn't like to write memoirs or diaries."
He was probably trying to make a joke, but it fell flat; no one laughed.
"I really don't know which one to expect. "Gloria held up two fingers. "Either this isn't the top of the tower, and we've been flung into some unknown dimension by the tower's master—who's still here for some reason. Or this is the top of the mage's tower, that extremely dangerous place known as the mage's last line of defense, the lair of an ancient mage. No one tampered with the teleportation, the master isn't here—or maybe he just wants to slowly torture us to death up here… It can't be that bad, can it? A Grand Mage wouldn't stoop so low, would he?"
She looked down at her two fingers—one still extended, the other lowered—and pouted.
"I'm going over there," Miranda said firmly. "No matter what you think, I'm going over there."
"Yeah, you're the chosen one in black robes. Maybe the ancient mage won't kill you—he might even take you as a disciple," Laurien muttered.
His teacher, Bruno, shot him a disapproving look, but Laurien shrugged without a hint of fear, clearly used to being disrespectful. Miranda shot him a sullen glare, said nothing more, and merely gave Tassa a slight bow.
The Black Robe Mage turned and strode resolutely toward the suspension bridge.
"Then you don't mind having company, do you?" Tassa said.
Miranda stopped in her tracks.
Gloria sighed heavily and said, "That's exactly why I don't like you."
"I don't need you to like me," Miranda retorted, turning back as if by reflex.
"I don't like you, not because of what you study or how harshly you speak," Gloria said, brushing dust off her multicolored robe as she continued, "but because you're always ready for a fight, as if we were born to be your enemies. But aren't we all mages? We're all pursuing knowledge and the power it brings—what's wrong with that? You don't even speak up, yet you assume everyone will turn against you. That doesn't make any sense. —I mean, aside from the path you're taking, don't we have any other options here?"
Miranda's resolute expression cracked, and she looked a bit awkward.
"I'm in favor of taking that path," Rudolf said, trying to smooth things over.
"Seconded," Bruno said.
Dolores nodded.
"We'll follow the teacher," said the apprentices stepping onto the teleportation array.
"I'll bring up the rear," Tassa said.
"We can lead the way," said the guards who had followed them.
"The Skeletal Sentinels can lead the way," whispered the necromancer apprentice who had been carried on the guards' backs the entire way.
As one after another voiced their opinions, the black-robed mage's expression of selfless fervor faded, giving way to a touch of shame and a great deal of unease. Her lips moved, but in the end she said nothing; she merely looked away and nodded.