The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 346: Where the Runes Wake

"Sure," she said, her voice steadier than before.

They walked side by side for a few steps until Rhea realized she was staring at him. Quickly, she looked away, clearing her throat. Her heart beat a little faster, and she silently berated herself for acting like a schoolgirl.

They caught up to the group, and Rhea found herself falling back into her usual posture—arms tense, eyes scanning the corridor. But something in her chest felt lighter. She couldn’t put it into words, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Mikhailis moved ahead, taking the lead now, cracking another joke under his breath about how the catacombs needed better interior decorating. Rhea rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile before she could stop it. She noticed Lira smirking knowingly, which made Rhea’s cheeks grow hot.

I must be losing my mind, she thought, but somehow, it didn’t feel so bad.

They reached a wider chamber where broken pillars lay scattered across the floor, and the ceiling arched overhead like a dark canopy. Faded murals clung to the walls, depicting scenes lost to time. A fine layer of dust covered everything. Vyrelda paused, studying the map again, then nodded toward one of the side passages.

As they continued, Rhea noticed that her earlier frustration was gone, replaced by a cautious calm. She was still alert, ready for danger, but her mind wasn’t racing with dark memories.@@@@

Mikhailis turned toward her at one point, voice dropping low so only she would hear. "Hey," he said, "you sure you’re good?"

Rhea’s lips twitched into something almost like a real smile. She looked him in the eyes. "You’re right."

He arched a brow. "Of course I am. What did I say?"

She shook her head, feeling the tension slip from her shoulders. Something about his presence, his willingness to notice she was off, made her want to trust him more than she expected. The memory of Estella flickered again—"You belong to me..."—and the pain that once haunted her felt a bit less potent.

"Doesn’t matter." She shook her head, and for once, her frustration faded. "Let’s keep moving."

_____

He believed it. The Technomancers’ gear looked different from the usual city enforcers—a heavy focus on runic reinforcements, especially around the arms and chest. That meant only one thing: they’d anticipated they might have to deal with mist-manipulation or arcane defenses.

Lira’s dagger slid from her sleeve into her palm. The movement was swift, almost elegant, but the look on her face was anything but gentle. Rhea gritted her teeth, stepping slightly to the side, ready to pounce if things got ugly. Meanwhile, Cerys stood with her sword drawn, her posture calm, though the set of her jaw showed she was ready for a fight.

The first Technomancer made a sharp motion, and one of his subordinates lifted a runic rifle. Mikhailis’s gut twisted, a cold knot forming. He recognized that weapon from Silvarion Thalor’s intelligence reports: a prototype capable of firing bursts designed to interrupt or negate mist-based magic. Not good.

A bolt of energy blazed across the tunnel, too fast for most to see. But Mikhailis saw enough. He dove to the side, rolling across the rubble-strewn floor. The shot slammed into the spot where he’d been standing, blasting cracks through the stone. Fragments flew, some narrowly missing his shoulder.

"Fine," he muttered, dusting off his coat as he rose. "We’ll do this the fun way."

He heard the distinct swish of Lira’s dagger meeting metal. Sparks flew where her blade clashed against the Technomancer’s gauntlet. Behind her, Rhea lunged with her short sword, aiming for the gap in another enforcer’s armor. The enforcer twisted, deflecting with a rune-encrusted bracer that sent ripples of energy skidding along Rhea’s blade.

Cerys wasted no time. She rushed forward, sword slicing in a precise arc toward the lead Technomancer. He parried, but the force of her strike pushed him back a step. Her second slash was even faster, forcing him to shift his footing.

Vyrelda, her eyes calculating, stepped into a blind spot. While two enforcers focused on Cerys’s aggressive onslaught, she moved behind them, striking with lethal efficiency. One collapsed, a muted grunt escaping his lips. The other spun too slowly to defend, and Vyrelda’s blade found its target again. Her expression remained impassive, as if she were fighting ghosts.

Mikhailis ducked under another crackling bolt of energy. He felt the heat of it pass over his head, singing a few strands of his hair. He grimaced—hair was important to him, after all. This was getting messy. He had to do something about that rifle.

A voice flitted through his mind, that AI tone he was so used to hearing: Find more chapters on novelhall.Côm

He grit his teeth. Not now. In the swirl of combat, he couldn’t risk anyone else seeing an army of monstrous hybrids suddenly appear at his beck and call. It would raise too many questions—questions he couldn’t answer here.