The Master of the Tower That Dreams Beyond (7)
As we crossed through the dimensional gate, damp air greeted us. We'd landed in a dark, humid corridor. From the faintly burning torches and the rhythmic sound of dripping water, it seemed like we were underground.
Bibian drew her arming sword and whispered, "Is this the mage's hideout?"
"Doesn't look like a mage's bedroom, at least."
"It's awfully gloomy."
Looking back, the gate we'd come through had vanished, replaced by a cold stone wall.
"Let's move for now. The fact that these torches are lit means this place isn't completely sealed off. There has to be an exit somewhere."
I pulled a torch from the wall and led the way down the corridor.
"Healer? What are you doing?"
Turning at Bibian's words, I saw Celestine standing stock-still, gasping for breath.
"Celestine? What's wrong? You sick?"
"G-Guild master…."
As I approached, she was sweating like it was pouring rain, trembling all over.
"I… I can't breathe…."
I handed the torch to Bibian and touched her cheek—it was pale and ice-cold. Was it claustrophobia or something?
"What happened all of a sudden?"
"The church… they sentenced me to death… locked me in an underground dungeon…."
Damn. Apparently, the church had kept her in an underground cell before sending her off with the demon trackers. It must have left a massive trauma, and now it was kicking in.
"Breathe deep, Celestine. We're not trapped here. We just dimension-shifted to the innermost part. We can get out anytime."
"Y-Yes… Got it…."
She nodded, panting hard, sweat dripping from her chin and brow.
"Supervisor. Let's hurry. I'll take point—look after Celestine."
"Got it. Healer, this way."
I took the torch back and quickened our pace down the corridor. Our footsteps echoed off the walls. It felt like something might lunge out from the darkness ahead in response to the sound.
"Do you hear something?"
Bibian, supporting Celestine, whispered low.
Straining my ears, sure enough, a strange growling came from ahead.
"It's here. I'll check it out."
"Be careful."
I told Celestine and Bibian to hold and advanced alone. The torchlight and Nightrend's starlight pushed back the dark, revealing iron bars lining both walls.
Iron bars? No way—this was a dungeon?
Approaching the bars, I could see what was caged inside.
"What the fuck…."
Was that a person…? A person… right?
Inside the cell was a massive, human-shaped something. I called it something because it was a twisted mash of severed arms, mangled legs, eyeballs dangling from a face—every conceivable broken body part tangled, blended, and kneaded into a horrific abomination beyond normal comprehension. It was like the feverish brushstrokes of a painter obsessed with the aesthetics of cruelty, a nightmarish fantasy painting fit for a death festival of pure nightmares.
Astonishingly, even this thing had an expression. One embodying pain, despair, rage, disgust—all humanity's negative emotions distilled into the essence of malice.
And it wasn't just one. Endless cells lined the corridor on both sides, filled with these things slumped against walls or scraping at them, emitting agonized moans.
The hellscape before me was too much for ordinary nerves; without my Demon Hunter mental protection skill, Last Bastion, I might've passed out right there.
What the hell are these things? Some experiment made from human corpses?
Hunting Dog's Mark activate! But no mark appeared, so not demons either.
How far did these bars go? Thankfully, they ended soon, and faint light leaked from ahead.
"Captain Bibian."
"Here."
Her voice came from the darkness.
"Come straight to the torchlight. Don't look to the sides—eyes front. You can do that, right?"
"Understood. On our way."
At the end of the bars, I held the torch high and waited. Soon, the two women entered its glow. Celestine was ghostly pale, her black shirt soaked dark with sweat. Bibian, too, had a tense, rigid face from hearing those pained moans in the dark.
We hurried toward the light. As we neared, its shape emerged—a rectangular door, light spilling from the crack.
"Wait here."
I stopped them and approached alone.
"Don't touch it recklessly!"
Bibian shouted as I reached for the handle.
"What if there's a trap spell on it…!"
"There isn't."
"How can you be sure?"
Instead of answering, I turned the handle and opened the door. Blinding light poured out, momentarily blinding me.
"My god…. What is this place…."
Captain Bibian, following me, muttered in awe.
Before us stretched an endless field of flowers. It was like summer had exploded at once—countless blooms in riotous splendor. Scattered like a rainbow on the ground, every color imaginable, from familiar flowers like zinnias, love-in-a-mist, and sunflowers to ones I'd never seen, thousands upon thousands creating a fantastical vista.
In the center lay a lake. Its mirror surface perfectly reflected the sky with its drifting white clouds. Silver-tinted birds soared above, their wingbeats sending gentle ripples across the water.
Majestic mountains ringed the field and lake, soaring skyward as if to pierce the heavens. Wispy clouds clung to their peaks, close enough to touch.
The space was transparently bright, free of shadows or illusions—stunningly beautiful, yet alien and mysterious in a way that defied understanding.
"Where… is this…?"
Celestine, leaning on Captain Bibian's shoulder, asked in a dazed voice.
"The mage's tower."
"This is the tower…? But it doesn't look like the inside of a tower…."
"Magic warped the space. That's why."
"This is magic…? No way…. How do you fit a place this vast…."
Celestine was lost in admiration, drinking in the scenery.
"Hold on. Then where's the door we came through?"
Captain Bibian turned back. But there was nothing.
"What? The door's gone?"
"It ruins the aesthetics."
A stranger's voice suddenly spoke.
Captain Bibian yanked Celestine close and aimed her arming sword toward the voice.
Not far off in the flower field stood a young man in a blue robe.
"A lone door in the middle of the flowers would look so awkward, wouldn't it?"
He brushed back his ear-length silver hair—shining in the sunlight—with a soft, warm, yet faintly melancholic smile.
"It's been ages since guests visited the tower."
His eyes, deep blue like a sad, lonely sea, scanned us slowly.
"Leaving guests standing like this is poor manners. Let's sit and talk calmly."
The moment he finished speaking, we were seated at a table.
"Gasp?!"
Celestine and Bibian startled, looking around in confusion.
We were by the lakeshore. Gentle waves lapped in with the breeze, retreating obediently.
In that brief glance, a table had appeared with warm tea and simple refreshments.
"Are you… the mage…?"
Bibian asked tensely amid the surreal scene.
"No. I'm a gardener."
He replied softly with a faint gray smile.
"I pull weeds, kill pests, tend the flower beds. Nothing grandiose like a mage."
"If people knew exactly what 'weeds' and 'pests' you mean, they'd faint."
I cut into their exchange.
"Still wrapping your silver tongue around bullshit like it's the truth, huh, Orlean?"
"And your straight-to-the-point, no-holds-barred style hasn't changed either."
The mage Orlean smiled with his eyes, looking right at me.
"Long time no see, Leonar. I knew we'd meet again someday, but I didn't expect it like this."