Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 383: Dungeon

The corridor of red ice seemed to pulse as they advanced, as if the inner light burned in gentle waves. The heat was intense, stifling, trapped within the frozen walls like a caged animal. Kael maintained a tense expression, observing each shapeless reflection in the living ice.

Sylphie walked close to him, uncomfortably. The red glow cast elongated, almost liquid shadows on the floor, making it seem as if the group were walking on frozen blood.

After long minutes of silence, without attacks, without traps, without more creatures, Kael murmured:

"This is… strange. Too calm."

"Don't complain about the calm," Irelia replied, running her hand along the hilt of her sword. "I prefer it this way than another Gélion spitting ice in our faces."

"I'm not complaining," Kael said, dodging a pointed formation. "I'm suspicious."

Amelia sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Suspicion is healthy. The problem is when it precedes something horrible."

Sylphie looked up, examining the path ahead. The corridor finally opened onto something different: a large oval platform, with three possible paths. However, only one stood out—a set of wide, spiraling stairs, illuminated by a red glow, as if that same energy flowed down the steps.

"Stairs," said Sylphie, frowning. "If we're going up…"

"...it means we were on the lowest level," Kael finished. "The palace dungeon is above this. That's what makes sense."

Irelia stepped forward, pressing her boot onto the first step to check its stability. "It seems safe. Strangely safe."

Amelia approached and examined one of the side railings—not wood, not metal, but mixed gray and red ice. "This is horrible architecture," she declared bluntly. "Who makes a hellish corridor inside a palace?"

"Someone who intends to keep something trapped," Sylphie replied, more serious than before.

Kael looked at her intently. "Do you think all this… this trapped heat, this strange color… has anything to do with the king?"

"I don't know," Sylphie admitted. "But the ice here isn't natural. It traps the heat instead of dissipating it. It's… unnatural."

"So we have a palace frozen on the outside," Amelia began, counting on her fingers, "a hot labyrinth underneath, and red ice that fries anyone's hand if they touch it?"

"Yes," Sylphie said in a low voice. "None of this is good."

Kael shrugged, starting to climb. "Good or bad, the king is here somewhere. We have to keep going."

The stairs were long—much longer than they should have been. They climbed and climbed, as if snaking not only toward the top, but also through different layers of structure and magic. As they advanced, the air ceased to be hot and stuffy, becoming cold again… until finally it turned icy once more.

When they reached the top of the steps, they came upon a metal door embedded directly in the ice. Thick, cold, rigid. There was no handle on the outside, only a thin crack in the center, as if it had been locked from the opposite side.

Kael placed his hand on the metal surface. "It's frozen."

Irelia pressed her ear to the door and listened. "Nothing on the other side. I only hear…"

Sylphie raised a hand, asking for silence.

"Wait."

She bent down and positioned her hands before the lower crack of the door. Tiny green filaments, as thin as strands of hair, emerged from her fingertips. They grew, lengthened, snaked like living roots, sliding into the crevice.

Kael watched, tense. "Can you see?"

"The roots are going in," Sylphie murmured, her eyes half-closed as her mana fluctuated in sync. "I can feel… the ground, the walls… and…"

Her face paled.

"Lives."

Amelia swallowed hard. "How many?"

"Not many. Two walking… the rest are standing still. Very still."

"Still how…?"

Sylphie took a deep breath, absorbing more information through the roots.

"There are cells. Many. The smell of metal, rust, and dampness… and bodies. People trapped. But I can't tell if they're alive."

Kael clenched his fist. "And the two figures?"

"Guards," Sylphie replied, her voice low and tense. "But… they're not ordinary soldiers." She frowned deeply.

"Their mana… is corrupted. Rotten. Almost viscous. They're black witches."

Amelia took a step back, automatically gripping her staff tighter. "Black witches? In here? In the palace dungeon?"

Irelia narrowed her eyes, her expression hard. "So it's true. They've taken control. They're using the dungeon for… what? Experiments? Interrogations?"

Sylphie shook her head. "I don't know. But they're pacing back and forth. Patrolling. They seem… restless. As if they're expecting something."

Kael took a deep breath, assessing the door again.

"Can you open it from the inside?"

Sylphie narrowed her eyes as the roots tried to coil around some internal lock. But she quickly clenched her fingers, gathering the roots as if she had touched something unpleasant.

"No. There's a magical seal on the lock. A cold seal… dense… like ice reinforced with mana. My magic won't get through."

Kael gritted his teeth. "Then we have to go in the hard way."

Irelia raised her sword. "I can try to cut—"

"No." Sylphie raised her hand immediately. "If we break the door too hard, they'll know. And if they raise the alarm… we could lose the king before we even get to him."

Amelia looked around, uneasy. "So what do we do? Wait?"

Kael was silent for a few seconds, staring at the door as if trying to see through it.

"We won't wait."

Three pairs of eyes turned to him.

"We'll observe their pattern," he said. "Sylphie, can you see when the witches move away from the door?"

"I can."

"Great." Kael took a deep breath, placing his hand on the icy surface. "When there's a gap, I'll open a small passage. Small enough that no one will notice immediately."

"How do you intend to do that?" Irelia asked suspiciously.

Kael raised his other hand.

The black flame glowed, silent and steady.

Sylphie sighed, but didn't try to stop it. "Alright. But do it slowly."

"I always do it slowly," he said.

Amelia snorted. "Liar."

Kael gave a half-smile.

"Maybe."

Sylphie touched the ground again, sending the roots back through the crack. Her expression became distant, focused, as if she were listening to something the others couldn't hear.

And then, after a few seconds, she whispered:

"Now. They're both at the end of the corridor. You have ten seconds."

Kael stepped forward. The flame in his hand grew, but in a controlled manner—a thin, precise blade that touched the edge of the door without touching the central metal, only the ice around it.

The sound was soft.

Like snow melting under the sun.

A small circle of ice began to lose color, becoming transparent.

Sylphie guided him.

"More to the right… now up… that's it…"

With each centimeter melted, the metal was slowly revealed.

With each centimeter gained, their time dwindled.

Until, finally, a narrow rectangle broke off with a sigh of hot steam, opening a small space, but enough for a person to pass sideways.

Sylphie gathered her roots. "The witches are coming back."

Kael extinguished the flame. "Then let's go."

And, silent as shadows, they crossed the opening and entered the dungeon of the frozen palace.

The chamber that opened after the makeshift passage was even colder than the frozen lake outside—but it wasn't the natural chill of snow or wind. It was a chill that hurt. That bit. That clung to bones like invisible hands.

Sylphie was the first to move, crouching behind a row of opaque ice pillars, gesturing for the other two to follow. Kael stayed behind, near the hole they had entered, watching the witches approach through the mana that vibrated in that strange structure.

"Go," he whispered. "I'll catch up to you."

They nodded.

Sylphie pulled Amelia and Irelia into a deeper area of ​​the dungeon—and finally they saw.

The cells.

Rows and rows of ice cubicles, stuck to the cold wall like open wounds. They had no bars. Just a translucent layer of frozen crystal, thin enough to show human shadows inside… but thick enough to imprison even a giant.

Sylphie approached the first cell.

And her heart sank.

Inside, a man—a knight—was huddled in the corner, his lips purplish, his beard covered in frost. His eyes open, but empty. His breathing so weak it was almost imperceptible.

"My God…" Sylphie brought her hand to her mouth.

Irelia approached another. "Here too."

Amelia rushed to the third cell, bracing her hands on the ice layer. "It's like they're… draining them." She inhaled, trembling. "Not just cold. They're sucking the mana, the vitality… everything."

Sylphie closed her eyes, trying to feel something beyond the pain that echoed from these trapped lives. "They're not dead," she murmured. "But they're on the edge."

Irelia growled, her fist tightening around her sword. "This is torture."

Kael's serious voice echoed behind them: "It is."

He had approached unnoticed, observing the frozen men with hardened expressions. The black flame flickered faintly in his palm, reacting to the corrupt atmosphere around them.

Sylphie turned to him. "Kael… they're dying."

"I know."

She tried to control her voice. "We need to free them. Now."

Kael nodded, but his gaze was cold—calculated.

"As soon as the witches return to this sector, we kill them. Quickly. Before they can issue any warning."

Irelia gave a fierce half-smile. "Finally, a plan the way I like it."

Amelia swallowed hard. "Black witches are dangerous, Kael. They use draining magic, corruption magic. If we touch them—"

"I know how to deal with them," he replied. His voice was low but firm. "And you also know what happens if we leave these people like this any longer."

Amelia looked away, biting her lip. "Yes…"

Sylphie approached Kael, touching his arm. "Are you sure you can control them? They'll sense your mana from afar."

"They will," said Kael. "And that will lure them both here."

Irelia tilted her head. "You want to use them as bait."

"Exactly."

"Brilliant," Amelia commented. "What could go wrong?"

"Almost anything," replied Sylphie, crossing her arms. "But we have no other choice."