Zeke sat on the cold stone ground and inspected the wound on his chest, where the flesh was slowly knitting itself together. He had hoped to walk away from this fight in a better state, but there was no use crying over spilled milk.
Judging by the rate at which he was healing, he would only need a couple of minutes before the cut would be closed. All he had to do was remain here and don't move. However, before even a single minute had passed, he heard the sound of footsteps coming down one of the staircases.
"For fuck's sake," Zeke cursed.
The guards must have been alerted by the noise of the collapsing ceiling. He couldn't afford to be seen here. Cursing once again, he rushed to the stairs at the opposite end of the hall and paused just long enough to confirm that the way was clear before rushing up.
Even though his hurried escape had opened up his wound again, it wasn't too bad. It would take a while until the guards would discover Ishaan's body under all that rubble. By then, all of this would already be over.
The staircase led to a long corridor with numerous openings on either side, without even the luxury of doors. There were no carpets or ornamental drapes either, and the sheer stone walls were without a spec of color. It was a sight wholly unbefitting of the majestic exterior of the building.
Zeke didn't pause for even an instant as he immediately crossed the hallway. His steps were unerring, and his gaze directed forward. It almost seemed as if he had been here a hundred times before. And in a way… he had.
All those memories he had consumed over the past week had given him a lot of insights into the life of the Archmage. Of course, he had mostly consumed shallow impressions instead of life-altering events. However, that was exactly why he knew this place like the back of his hand. Zeke couldn't count the number of times he had experienced walking these very halls.
He marched up to the end of the corridor and passed through the door. His [Perfect Spatial Awareness] had already informed him that the other side was clear. Once through the door, he turned left, went straight, and then took another left. Fortunately, he didn't run into anybody, not that he had expected he would. It was the middle of the day, after all, and he was in the sleeping quarters for the slaves.
After ascending another stairwell, he arrived at his destination. It was another corridor, identical in length to the one below, but that was where the similarities ended. A plush red carpet stretched from one end to the other, while the walls were painted in a light brown hue. There were significantly fewer rooms, and their doors were made of a dark wood that matched well with the walls.
Zeke approached the first door on the left and tested the handle. It was unlocked. His brows rose in surprise. Quite trusting for a member of the cartel. But who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? He opened the door a fraction and peered in. Nobody was home.
He strode into the room and made for the closet. After a moment of digging, he emerged from the wardrobe with a bundle of clothes in his hand. Satisfied with his find, he donned the red robe, pleasantly surprised that his wound was already closed. He looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He was wearing the outfit of one of the lieutenants, including the crimson leather gloves and hood that covered his face completely. The jacket also bore a large patch portraying the gang's insignia. The outfit was a little snug around his chest and shoulders but not so much as to draw attention.
A smile emerged on his lips. This had gone a lot smoother than expected. Zeke departed the room with a deliberately casual stroll. Now that he was in disguise, he would only stand out if he were to hurry. He walked the halls of the headquarters as if he didn't have a care in the world as he approached his next destination.
The closer he got, the more often he ran into guards. The trio coming down the hallway was far from the first ones he encountered. Zeke tensed up at first, but when his disguise held, he relaxed significantly.
"Have you heard?" one of the men asked. "There was a collapse near the hole."
Another man nodded eagerly. "I heard. Ishaan might actually get in trouble this time."
The last of the three, and the only woman, had a bitter smile on her face. "I hope he does," she said. "It would be a first, though."
All three fell silent when they noticed Zeke's clothing and bowed reverentially as he passed. This was quite fortunate, as their submissive postures made it impossible for them to inspect him closely. Zeke didn't respond or even acknowledge their gesture, just like he had seen all the higher-ups do in the Archmage's memories. He turned the corner and found himself in front of his destination.
Four guards protected a reinforced metal door, and compared to the men from earlier, they inspected him with sharp eyes as he drew closer. However, they soon lost interest as he passed them by without stopping. He didn't have a choice, as he wouldn't be able to take them in a fight. The last of the gazes left him as he turned another corner.
Zeke took another couple of steps and, after making sure that nobody was watching, disappeared. He materialized inside the room the men were defending. He already knew that there were no guards inside, as the Archmage didn't trust anybody enough to let them stay in there.
His gaze roamed the many shelves and chests that were filled with silver and gold coins. Precious stones and artful paintings filled the rest of the room. This was the treasury of the Ember Scar cartel, and Zeke could barely keep himself from whistling in appreciation. They really had done well for themselves, as the wealth on display wasn't insignificant — even by his standards.
He would make sure to visit this place again after dealing with the Archmage. However, for now, he had a different goal. Zeke marched over to one of the chests in the corner of the room and tested its lid. It was unlocked. He opened it up and peered inside. A wide grin spread across his face as he found exactly what he had expected.
With eager anticipation, Zeke lifted the Marrow-Shackle from the depths of the chest, his fingers tracing the intricate engravings adorning its barrel. As he turned the weapon in his hands, he felt the hefty weight of the dwarfen construct.
The Marrow-Shackle looked a bit like a heavy metal crossbow without any strings. It consisted of a steel barrel, revolving chamber, sturdy stock, brass trigger, and crystal sight. The weapon seemed to embody both beauty and lethality without sacrificing any one aspect to the other.
Examining the barrel, Zeke noted the engravings etched along its surface, symbols of dwarven lore. His gaze then shifted to the revolving chamber, where he observed the seamless rotation of its mithril and adamantine components. One would be able to shoot it multiple times before reloading.
Eager to understand the inner workings of the weapon, he turned his attention to the trigger mechanism. With careful precision, he tested the responsiveness of the gears and springs, marveling at their smooth operation and efficiency.
Turning his attention to the firing pin assembly, Zeke scrutinized the intricate arrangement of pins and gears, admiring their meticulous craftsmanship. Examining the sight and scope, he gained a newfound appreciation for the renowned reputation of dwarven engineering. Despite the absence of magic, Zeke found himself confident in the superiority of the weapon, ready to compare it favorably against any magical creation.
At that moment, Zeke realized the true essence of the Marrow-Shackle. This wasn't a weapon for Mages but against them. Even the lowliest of peasants would be able to stand up against a True Mage while holding this tool.
This was a level of craftsmanship and technology that almost seemed like Magic in and of itself. It was an approach to the field he had not encountered anywhere else. He and Akasha would need to spend some time analyzing this design in the near future. Maybe he should visit the dwarfs sooner than planned. The mere thought of what he might be able to uncover in one of their workshops almost had him drooling.
Zeke shook off those distracting thoughts. Now wasn't the time. He grabbed a second Marrow-Shackle and, after scanning the corridor on the outside, disappeared with his loot. His gait was a lot less casual now that he hid two heavy metal weapons inside his jacket. Fortunately, it wouldn't have to last for much longer.
The Archmages chambers were on the topmost floor of the building, and there was only a single stairway that led to that place. Zeke was able to arrive at the second-highest floor unmolested, but he was well aware that his disguise wouldn't get him any further than that. Elite guards manned the last checkpoint, and they wouldn't hesitate to attack him on sight if he dared approach while hiding his face. Instead, he decided to abuse his [Teleport] to pass through the ceiling.
Zeke found himself in a lavish room, more opulent than any he had ever visited. It seemed to be a library of sorts, but the books were clearly of secondary importance to the extravagant furniture. This was the home of a man who loved to revel in luxury. Not that Zeke was surprised by it. He had seen as much in the memories he had taken from the Archmage.
"Hold it right there!" a voice commanded aggressively.
Zeke turned and found himself face-to-face with a familiar person. It was a Chimeroi woman with two tiny horns above her temples and a feint grey hue to her skin. She had been the guard who inspected him a week ago when he entered the headquarters as a Slave.
"Drop the weapons! NOW!" she ordered, noticing the bulges created by the Marrow-Shackles he was trying to hide beneath his jacket.
Zeke froze under her murderous gaze. The air was heavy, and he felt it difficult even to muster the strength to keep his knees from buckling. Would it feel like that to stand against Gravitas or Vulcanos? All of a sudden, he had a lot more respect for the young Firebrand who had dared to face them.
"I said NOW," the woman yelled.
Zeke let go of the weapons he was holding, and they clattered to the floor noisily. The Chimeroi woman furrowed her brows upon realizing what he had been carrying. "Where did you get those?" she questioned. However, Zeke kept his mouth shut.
At that moment, a second person entered the room. It was a Chimeroi sporting the same tiny horns as the woman. He was just as tall as her, looking down on Zeke with a placid expression.
"Intruder?" he asked the woman.
She nodded. "Look what he was carrying," she said, pointing at the two Marrow-Shackles on the floor.
His eyes went wide. He quickly strode over and picked them up. "Where did you get them?" he asked as well.
Once again, Zeke didn't reply, to the obvious displeasure of his captors. Before he could even react, the woman was behind him and restrained his arm and neck. "If you dare to resist or cast any Spells, I will kill you. Do you understand?"
Zeke nodded, and they marched him out of the room.
The library led into a spacious hall decorated with silken curtains and elegant furniture. The moment he emerged, a few dozen eyes gathered on him. They belonged to a bevy of beautiful women who eyed him with curiosity. Zeke knew who they were. The Archmage called them his harem—his wives, but that wasn't what they truly were. After all, not one of them didn't wear a collar.
There was Maliah, the favorite; Nisha, the youngest; and Meera, the only one who had ever tried to run away. The long scar marring her face was the only thing she had to show for the attempt. Zeke knew them all. As a matter of fact, he knew them far more intimately than he would have liked. Zeke gave them a smile as he was marched down the hall.
Just before he exited the room, his eyes found a group he didn't recognize. Three identical-looking women were huddled together in a corner. Unlike the members of the harem, they were nervously looking around, the fear and uncertainty evident in their gazes. Each had a set of furry, orange ears and a bushy tail.
Zeke instantly realized who they were. These must be the triplets the Archmage had managed to purchase recently at great cost. They were lucky that he had decided to 'enjoy' them only after his victory over the Lion's Den. However, he wasn't allowed more than a glimpse as he was pushed out of the room by his impatient captor.
From his memories, Zeke realized where the two were taking him. A moment later, he was in front of a lavish door, guarded on either side by Chimeroi, who looked just as intimidating as the two-horned siblings. How many peak Grand Mage level combatants did the Archmage command?
"Halt!" one of the guards commanded. "What are you two up to?"
He eyed the Marrow-Shackles the man was carrying with obvious nervousness. It was no wonder. The tools were even more effective against Chimeroi, after all.
"We caught an intruder," the man carrying the weapons responded. "He was carrying these when we caught them."
The guard relaxed upon hearing the explanation, but his tone didn't lose its edge. "Why bring him here while the Master is unwell? Throw him into the dungeon."
The man shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why?" the guard questioned.
"Think about it," the man said. "We have no idea how he got in here. There could be others. Also, don't you find it suspicious that an assassin showed up the moment the Master got unwell? The two must be linked, and I am certain that Master would like to interrogate him in person."
The guard slowly nodded, seemingly convinced by the argument. "I will ask."
He entered the room, and all the noise disappeared the moment he closed the door. The room must have had some kind of Enchantment to block Sound and Magic as even his [Perfect Spatial Awareness] couldn't penetrate. However, he remerged a mere moment later, nodding at the two.
"Bring him in."