The entrance to the Fallen Throne was hidden beneath a ruined cathedral, deep in the capital's old quarter. Vines strangled the spires. Statues of long-dead kings watched in silence as Paul pried open a sealed stone hatch, revealing a spiral staircase that disappeared into darkness.
This is it, he thought. Where the second fragment sleeps.
The air grew colder with each step. Torches refused to stay lit. Magic stirred in the silence like dust. Paul pressed forward through twisting halls and shattered murals—until he reached the Chamber of the Veiled Throne.
At its center stood a massive door etched with glowing glyphs. Five rings interlocked on its surface—some ancient puzzle-lock. Stone sentries lined the walls, motionless. Waiting.
Paul tried brute force first. No success. Then magic. Still nothing. Every attempt triggered arcane backlash or triggered dead-end traps.
Hours passed.
He stared at the rotating rings, realizing something terrifying: this wasn't a test of strength.
It was a test of insight—an entirely different battlefield.
Frustrated, he slammed a fist into the wall and sighed. "This… isn't my field."
He hated backing down, but even Luna's granted power couldn't solve this. Not here.
So, with heavy steps and a heavier heart, Paul made his way back to Elaria.
---
Back in Town – The Guild Tavern
The tavern was unusually calm that night. Paul slumped at a corner table, nursing warm tea instead of ale. He scanned the room absently, already planning how to force the door open if needed. Maybe explosives?
"You look like a warrior trying to arm wrestle a riddle," came a voice.
He glanced up—and saw her.
She wasn't armored like most adventurers, but wore a long coat layered with belts of tools and scrolls. Silver-blonde hair framed sharp hazel eyes behind round reading glasses. She looked young—but not inexperienced.
"Excuse me?" Paul said cautiously.
She sat without asking. "I saw your name on the dungeon clearance board. Whispering Hollow, solo run, Class-B. Impressive. But you came back from the Fallen Throne empty-handed."
He frowned. "You've been watching me?"
"I've been watching whoever chases fragments. Word gets around, and I study ruins. Ancient puzzles, traps, sigils... That's my thing. I'm Kaela."
She offered a hand. He shook it, quietly assessing her mana.
She wasn't a powerhouse.
But her aura whispered of insight, not destruction.
"And what do you want?" Paul asked flatly.
"To help," Kaela replied. "And before you say no—I've already mapped the Fallen Throne's upper layers. I've decoded three of the five ring-glyphs. I just can't fight my way past the sentries guarding it."
"So you need muscle."
"And you need brains."
Paul went quiet. She was right, but part of him hated relying on others. He couldn't lose someone again. Couldn't let them get close.
Still… the mission came first.
"You don't ask many questions," he said. "You're not curious about the fragment? What I'm really after?"
Kaela smirked. "Everyone who comes here is after something. Treasure, vengeance, love, or secrets. I don't need your reasons. I just want to see what lies beneath that door."
He nodded slowly. "We leave at dawn."
Kaela grinned. "I'll pack my scrolls."