Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 386: Then we’d better finish this before.

The silence that followed was too heavy to be called silence. It was an emptiness—a space filled only by the muffled sound of the survivors' weak breaths. The kind of silence that accompanies true despair. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Kael took a deep breath, massaging his temple for a moment before turning completely to Amelia.

"Nine is enough to make it worthwhile," he said, without any trace of hesitation. "Open all the cells that can still be opened. I want everyone outside."

Sylphie touched one of the frozen bars. Green mana coursed through her veins to her fingertips, and roots sprouted gently, pushing against the corroded and weakened metal. The lock gave way with a dry snap.

A man too thin for his age staggered out, leaning against the red walls, his eyes vague and lost.

Irelia promptly grabbed his arm.

"Stand firm. You're safe now."

Safe.

The word echoed down the corridor as something almost… out of place in that environment. But none of them dared to question it.

Sylphie continued opening cell after cell. Each survivor seemed more frail than the last. Some could barely hold their heads up; others dragged their feet, their pale skin contrasting with the red glow of the surrounding ice.

A young girl, perhaps Sylphie's age, tried to speak, but only produced a hoarse sound. Sylphie immediately held her by the shoulders, supporting her weight.

"Hey… calm down. You're okay. We'll get you out of here."

The girl's eyes filled with silent tears.

Kael walked past them, analyzing each survivor with a clinical gaze—not cold, but decisive. Determined. The shadows around him moved as if they were part of his concentration.

When he reached the last cell, he reached out his hand.

The door was jammed.

Kael placed only two fingers on the hinge… and a subtle ripple ran through the metal, shattering it as if it were thin glass. The door fell forward with a dull thud.

Inside, there was a man nearly unconscious.

Kael placed his arm under his shoulder and lifted him with ease—a strength that seemed impossible for someone of his size, but very well controlled.

"Come on. It's not the end for you yet."

The man murmured something unintelligible; Kael didn't demand understanding. He simply led him closer to the others.

Once everyone was outside, Amelia finished another sweeping spell.

"These nine can survive, but they'll need to get out of here immediately. The cold… is killing them faster than we can compensate."

"I know." Kael looked at the ceiling, where faint vibrations of ice pulsed. "And the temperature will only get worse from here upwards."

Sylphie took a deep breath, trying to stay focused.

"We have to get them out of here before we go up." Kael shook his head.

"No. We don't have time."

The three women stared at him simultaneously.

Irelia stepped forward, frowning.

"Kael… we can't take them upstairs. Not in their condition."

"I know."

He released the man for a moment and raised his hands. The obedient shadow—the animated corpse—moved silently, stopping beside Kael like a morbid guard.

The survivors swallowed hard, some instinctively recoiling.

Kael ignored the reaction. He placed his hands on the ground.

Shadows spread.

Like roots of black ink.

Like liquid smoke drifting against the wind.

Amelia took an instinctive step back.

Sylphie grabbed her arm.

Irelia merely watched.

Shadows spread across the floor like a living spill, filling every crevice between the stones, every crack in the red ice, every corner where light hesitated to enter. The entire corridor seemed to hold its breath.

And then…

Something began to emerge.

First, arms—long, slender, formed of condensed smoke, like black ink floating on icy water.

Then, torsos.

Humanoid forms, yet empty, faceless, textureless, just dense silhouettes sustained by Kael's will.

One…

Two…

Five…

Seven…

Twelve.

One after another, they rose from the ground as if pulled by invisible threads, bending their knees, straightening their posture, waiting for orders. The silence was absolute, except for the whisper of the ice reacting to the concentration of mana.

Sylphie instinctively placed her hand on her chest, as if trying to keep her own heart in place.

"…Kael…" she murmured, incredulous.

Amelia stood completely still, her eyes wide, as if witnessing a forbidden ritual—but at the same time, unable to look away.

Irelia… ah, Irelia simply watched intently. Not with fear, but with a grim acceptance that came from someone who had already seen too much brutality to be surprised.

Kael rose slowly, wiping his hands on his cloak. The shadow of the dead witch positioned itself beside him like a sergeant awaiting orders.

"Listen."

His voice echoed through the underground corridor like a vibration—an order conveyed not only by sound, but by the mana that permeated the air.

All the shadow heads turned to him at once.

Kael pointed to the survivors, frail, trembling, some nearly fainting in the girls' arms.

"Take them all out of the kingdom. Now."

The shadow soldiers took a single step forward—synchronized, heavy, firm—and then began to divide into groups.

Two approached the girl Sylphie was holding. She recoiled, frightened.

"It's okay," Sylphie whispered, even though she herself wasn't entirely sure. "They… will take you to a safe place. They obey him."

The girl hesitated, but when the shadows lifted her with a gentleness surprising for such inhuman creatures, her weak legs gave way and she simply let herself be carried.

Other soldiers picked up the nearly unconscious man Kael had pulled from the cell. Two picked up a boy who could no longer move on his own. Each survivor was lifted and supported as if made of crystal about to shatter.

And none of the soldiers moved violently or hastily.

It was almost… respectful.

Kael crossed his arms.

"Take them to the warmest spot you can find beyond the ice wall. Away from any presence of witches. Don't let anyone follow them. Protect them until they are safe."

The shadows bowed their heads simultaneously, like a silent army.

"Go."

The corridor filled with movement.

The shadows advanced with precision, gently carrying the survivors as they traversed the darkness toward the exit. They moved fast—too fast to be human—but without jolting or harming those they carried.

It was like watching a ghostly procession dissolve into the cold.

The shadow of the dead witch was the last to leave—walking slowly, her decapitated body maintaining an upright, obedient posture. When she passed before Kael, he snapped his fingers and the creature vanished in a column of dark smoke, as if it had never existed.

Sylphie took a deep breath.

"So… they'll be safe?"

"Yes," Kael replied. "These shadows are direct fragments of my mana. As long as I'm alive, they will obey me to the letter."

Amelia rubbed her arm, trying to shake off the shiver.

"That means… if you die…"

Kael didn't let her finish.

"I won't die."

There was so much certainty, so much cold conviction in the sentence, that Amelia fell silent immediately.

Irelia gave a slight, sideways smile.

"Then let's hope so."

Kael made a slight gesture with his hand, summoning the group.

"Now that the survivors are safe, we no longer have the luxury of wasting time."

He pointed to the staircase leading to the upper levels.

"The king is in the palace. With the elder witches."

Sylphie swallowed hard.

"Probably in the center of the heat prison… in the heart of the ice magic."

"Exactly."

Amelia planted her staff firmly on the ground.

"Then let's go after him."

Kael began to climb the stairs.

"Let's go."

Irelia followed right behind him.

Sylphie took a deep breath and followed.

Amelia, last, still looking at the dark corridor where the army of shadows had disappeared.

The staircase seemed endless.

None of them dared speak—the air seemed too thick, as if the surrounding ice were watching, listening to every breath, every heartbeat. The shadows were no longer there, but the feeling of vigilance hadn't diminished in the slightest.

Their footsteps echoed muffledly, swallowed by the crimson walls of warm ice. The climb was narrow, claustrophobic, forcing them to walk in single file.

Kael led the way.

Irelia followed behind him, silent, her gaze ever watchful.

Sylphie came next, holding her breath with each new crack of the ice.

And Amelia brought up the rear, frequently glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting to see some enemy emerging from the void.

When they finally reached the last step, Kael raised his hand in a short gesture—to stop.

The three froze in place.

Kael pushed open the metal-reinforced wooden door… which creaked softly before swinging open.

What they found on the other side made the four exchange instant glances.

A gigantic room.

A ceiling high enough to hold an entire tree.

Wide pillars, made of blood-red ice, supporting the ceiling like great crystalline veins.

The floor gleamed like polished marble, despite being ice. The light reflected off it with an almost aggressive sharpness.

And yet…

There was no one.

No guard witch.

No prisoners.

No sound, except the faint, distant crackling of living ice.

Kael narrowed his eyes.

"This is strange."

His voice sounded louder than it should have in that emptiness.

Sylphie entered right behind him, wrapping her arms around his body.

"This floor should be full of witches… this is where the intermediate wing of the prison is. There's always movement…"

Irelia walked a few steps forward, her hand already on the hilt of her sword.

"There are signs of passage." She crouched, running her fingers along the crystalline floor. "At least twenty… maybe thirty people. But… nothing recent. It must have been a few minutes… maybe half an hour."

"Enough time to take the king even higher up," Amelia murmured.

Kael took a few more steps forward, analyzing the surroundings like a predator sniffing out a change in the wind direction.

He raised his hand.

A small shadow, a reduced projection of himself, detached itself from his feet like dark smoke and spread across the floor, traversing the entire room in seconds.

When it returned—dissolving back into his feet—Kael took a deep breath.

"No enemies nearby. No living beings. And…" He frowned. "There's heat coming from above. A lot of heat."

Amelia looked up at the ceiling.

"It's the core of the magic. It must be where they're concentrating the power."

Sylphie touched the nearest pillar.

When her fingers touched the red ice, she gasped.

"The ice is… vibrating," she whispered, pulling her hand back with an involuntary tremor. "As if it were alive. As if the heat trapped inside it were… trying to get out."

Kael didn't take his eyes off the ceiling.

"They're preparing something big."

"Some kind of ritual?" Irelia asked.

"Something bigger than a ritual," Kael replied, with unsettling calm. "This… this whole place… is being used as a source. They're feeding something up there."

Sylphie took a step toward the center of the room.

"But why isn't anyone here? Did all the witches go upstairs at the same time? That doesn't make sense." Kael clenched his jaw.

"Yes, it does."

The three looked at him.

"…Why?" Amelia asked.

Kael turned to them.

"Because whatever they're doing, it's nearing completion. And they need all the witches alive to keep the heat contained while they finish."

Sylphie took a step back.

"You think… if they lose control…"

"This whole palace will explode," Kael finished.

For a moment, no one breathed.

The ice around them crackled—a deep vibration, like a distant roar coming from the bowels of the fortress.

Irelia drew her sword.

"Then we'd better finish this before."