CHAPTER 296: 296

The entire city boiled in unrest, the streets thick with tension and fury. The Priests of the God of War were on a rampage. Word had spread that intruders not only infiltrated one of their sacred vaults but fought their way out, mocking their authority. It wasn’t about the stolen goods—no, it was the sheer audacity that enraged them.

"Lock down the gates!" one of the senior priests bellowed as his war axe slammed into the stone floor.

"Since the gods have graced us with battle, we must indulge!" roared another, veins bulging across his neck.

"Anyone who captures or defeats them shall be granted a divine mark!"

Meanwhile, in the dark, filth-ridden underbelly of the city, Kael crouched beside Ariana behind a moss-coated pipe. The echo of water dripped endlessly, and the faint clatter of boots above made their hiding place feel like a coffin.

"This was supposed to be a simple retrieval but for you we need to suffer?" Kael whispered harshly, his brows furrowed in frustration.

Ariana didn’t respond immediately, only handed him a flask the size of her palm and flicked it open. A quiet shimmer of flame lit the narrow tunnel, revealing patches of aged stone, winding ducts, and rotting vines that clung like fingers to the walls.

The stench of rot and iron lingered thick in the air as Kael and Ariana trudged through the ankle-deep sludge of the underground drainage network. Cracks above filtered dim beams of light, slicing through the gloom like pale blades.

The walls were moss-covered, wet, and lined with streaks of filth. Rats squeaked in the distance, their shadows scuttling across the damp stone. Every drip of water echoed like a whisper of warning.

Kael held his breath, glancing at Ariana who walked silently ahead, her posture stiff. She uncorked a small flask, and a soft amber flame flared from within, revealing more of the path ahead. The flame didn’t flicker—protected by some strange alchemical field.

"You were prepared for this?" Kael muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Ariana didn’t look back. "Always. I don’t like dark places."

They pressed on, but soon an eerie sound started to echo faintly—low, guttural whispers twisted into melody. It was almost like a chant, rhythmic yet unstable. The further they moved, the clearer it became. The voices were many, layered atop one another like overlapping screams.

Kael paused. "Is that... singing?"

His voice was tight. Ariana’s grip on the flask trembled slightly. She nodded. "The Choir of the Crimson Lord... I’ve read about it. But it’s not supposed to be here."

Kael looked upward at the ceiling where the sound seemed to slither down like mist. "The God of War’s church doesn’t allow any cults nearby. If these maniacs are here..."

His words trailed off as his boot stepped on something soft. He looked down and recoiled. Blood. Not fresh, but dried and smeared across the stone like paint. Strange symbols were carved and drawn around it—twisting, looping sigils that bent the eye and seemed to shimmer when stared at too long.

The writing scrawled in thick crimson ran up the walls

"Praise to the Crimson Lord, the Butcher of Faith, the Harvester of Souls.Blood is our scripture, flesh our offering."

Ariana stopped walking. Her face had turned pale, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes stared ahead, unblinking.

"Ariana?" Kael called out. No response. She stood motionless. Her skin seemed to shift, flickering between her face and another distorted, monstrous.

"Hey! Girl, snap out of it!" Kael shouted and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her.

Her eyes darted rapidly before she gasped, stumbling backward. She looked at him, truly seeing him for the first time since the chanting began. Her breathing was rapid.

"It’s... them. The Crimson Choir. They leave behind this... psychic residue. Their chants are designed to break the mind—distort what you see, what you feel."

Kael’s frown deepened. "They’re infecting the very air?"

She nodded, rubbing her temple. "Not just that. They must’ve used this place for their rituals. It’s not safe. If we stay too long—"

Kael cut her off. "Then we move. Now."

They advanced more cautiously. Symbols kept appearing on the walls some with skulls nailed to them, others with bundles of bone hung like charms. The chanting was louder now, echoing deeper. At one point, they passed a massive underground junction where multiple tunnels met, and there in the center stood a stone altar—stained black, surrounded by decaying torches and mutilated effigies of saints.

Kael paused, eyes narrowing. "This... isn’t just an old hideout. This was a temple. A real one."

"Then it means the Choir had deep roots here." Ariana whispered.

"Or still does." Kael’s eyes scanned the shadows.

From somewhere deeper, the whispers shifted again—this time forming words they could understand.

"Bleed for the Lord. Let them feel despair. No sin is greater than purity."

Kael’s hand instinctively went to his blade, not to draw it, but to assure himself it was there.

"Let’s get out before this place decides to welcome us." he muttered.

But even as they turned down the next tunnel, the shadows behind them began to stir. Something had heard them. And it wasn’t pleased.

Ariana turned around to walk, but her steps suddenly faltered.

"What happened?" Kael reacted swiftly, grabbing her arm with a frown forming across his face.

Ariana clutched her head, her fingers trembling. Her eyes dulled and her breathing turned ragged. The tunnel around her seemed to twist and spin, an unnatural blur that made her stumble.

Kael’s eyes narrowed. She was acting as if she had been drugged. He shook her firmly. "Hey... Hey! Snap out of it!"

She didn’t respond. He slapped her cheek twice—trying to jolt her out of the trance.

"Stoppp..." Ariana screamed hoarsely. "I haven’t gone mad!" Her voice cracked as if every word tore at her throat.

Kael froze for a moment, then leaned closer.

"It’s the effect of the songggagaaa... mkallaal..." she mumbled, eyes rolling, words slurring. Her body jerked again as if strings were pulling her in different directions. She clutched at the air, and her feet dragged as if she were dancing to a song only she could hear.

Kael gritted his teeth. The song. That damned voice echoing through the tunnels like a siren’s wail wasn’t just haunting; it was poisonous and hypnotic.

A mental parasite. He had trained against such phenomena in the war sects. This wasn’t just music; it was a mind weapon.

He closed his eyes briefly, channeled his mana, and let it circulate through his inner core, flooding the meridians with purifying energy. It helped nullify the invasive suggestions within the melody like turning off a radio in your mind.

Ariana lacked that resistance. Of all people, she should have prepared better.

Kael raised a finger and snapped.

GROOM!

A powerful mana pulse erupted like a burst of sonar, dispelling the thickened air. Ariana jolted upright, dazed eyes clearing. She found herself inches from Kael’s face which his cold, sculpted expression staring back.

Her heart skipped. With the tunnel’s breeze trickling across her face and the lingering warmth of Kael’s energy, her cheeks flushed bright red. She pushed him away instinctively, trying to stand, only to wobble and fall again. Her ears were ringing—completely numb.

A few seconds later, her hearing returned. She coughed, caught her breath, then looked up. "What did you do to me?"

Kael crossed his arms. "The sound wave has a hypnotic effect. I disrupted its rhythm using a mana echo. You need to learn to resist it."

"Resist it?" she muttered.

"Focus on your heartbeat," Kael said, voice low and calm. "When the outside rhythm clashes with your inner rhythm, your mind slips. But if you anchor your consciousness to your pulse, your breath, your mana, anything internal—you can counteract it."

He tapped two fingers to her chest. "Feel it. When the song shifts, shift with it but don’t follow. Oppose it. Reverse the pattern inside your core."

Ariana closed her eyes and tried. Her mana circulation was erratic, but gradually she found her breath aligning. She forced her attention inward—counting the beats, letting Kael’s words sink in.

Suddenly, the pull of the outside song dimmed. The pressure in her skull lessened.

She opened her eyes, stunned. "You... How did you do that?"

Kael smirked, brushing dust from his coat. "Of course, it’s because I’m a genius."

Ariana scoffed inwardly. If you were such a genius, why were you beaten to dust in the last life?

But she didn’t voice it. That memory was tangled, bitter.

Her gaze lingered on him. Had he come back too? No... he wasn’t even awakened in the past. He died early. Unless... It was a lie.

She remembered how Kael had died—too clean, too sudden. No body was ever recovered. That man... even if he’d been killed in a gutter, the Duke would’ve brought him back.

The thoughts tangled her mind. She rubbed her temples and sat down again, trying to calm the unrest.

Then—

Kekkekek...

The laugh slithered down the tunnel, thick and sticky like blood.

"We were wondering which two little mice snuck in to ruin our day..."

A shadow twisted on the wall ahead.

"So it seems... you were here."

A low chorus followed.

"Blood to Crimson, Songs to the Sky.Rejoice, rejoice, the feast draws nigh..."

Kael and Ariana stood still as the madness crept closer.