The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?-Chapter 141: Ch140 A Continuous Path
Light filled the chamber.
Not in a violent way.
Not explosively.
Just completely.
The mist turned into brilliance, and the runes flared brightly before dissolving into white.
For a moment—
There was nothing.
Then the light dimmed.
Luther blinked slowly.
"...Finally."
He took a breath.
The air felt different.
Less heavy.
Less intrusive.
He stood up.
Looked around.
His expression fell.
"...You have got to be kidding me."
The demonic sword floated at shoulder height.
I sense dissatisfaction.
"Dissatisfaction?" Luther snapped. "I was vaporized in holy light and dropped in the same blasted place."
Correction.
"This is not the same."
Luther turned slowly.
Stone walls curved away into the faint distance. Runes glowed softly along them. The air hummed with that same ancient sound.
"It is identical."
No.
"It is absolutely identical."
There are structural differences.
Luther pinched the bridge of his nose.
"If you say that calmly one more time—"
You will what?
He dropped his hand and glared at the floating sword.
"I will consider throwing you at a wall."
You tried that once.
"You enjoyed it too much."
The sword gave an offended hum.
You are ungrateful. I assisted you.
"You insulted me."
With accuracy.
Luther exhaled sharply.
He stepped forward—
And stopped.
The mist did not coil this time.
It did not resist.
That made it worse.
"...Why is it quiet?"
Because you are still being watched.
His jaw tightened.
"Of course I am."
He extended his senses outward again—more aggressively this time.
Mana surged through the air in a sharp wave.
The runes reacted—but did not resist.
They pulsed once.
Then stilled.
He frowned.
"...It’s not pushing back."
Because you passed.
"I did not agree to another stage."
You rarely agree to anything.
He ignored that.
Instead, he began walking.
Not calmly.
Not thoughtfully.
With short, irritated strides.
"If this is another circular trap, I am burning the architecture."
You cannot burn sacred elven stone.
"Watch me."
You are dramatic.
"I am tired."
That is the same thing.
He walked several paces before he finally realized—
The wall was not curving.
He slowed.
His steps echoed differently now.
The space stretched forward.
Linear.
He stopped.
"...This wasn’t like this before."
No.
His eyes narrowed.
The chamber wasn’t a chamber anymore.
It was a corridor.
A long passage lined with softly glowing runes that shimmered as he moved.
He stood still for a long moment.
"...It changed."
Yes.
"And it waited until I stopped complaining to show me?"
Probably.
"That is rude."
Elsewhere—
In the viewing chamber—
The priest leaned forward slightly.
Elythra’s hands tightened against the table’s edge.
The mirror-wall shimmered, revealing the new corridor.
The priest inhaled sharply.
"...That room."
Elythra glanced at him.
"What about it?"
His golden eyes remained on the reflection.
"We haven’t seen that path in decades."
Her brows furrowed.
"What does that mean?"
The priest’s voice dropped to a whisper.
"It only appears to one."
Elythra’s eyes flicked back to Luther.
He stood at the corridor’s entrance, staring at the door.
She said nothing.
But her heartbeat quickened.
Back in the corridor—
Luther began walking.
Slowly.
Measured.
The runes along the walls shifted faintly as he passed, glowing brighter for a moment before dimming again.
It felt...
Different.
Less like resistance.
More like acknowledgment.
"I do not like being acknowledged by architecture," he muttered, annoyed.
The runes glowed brighter as he moved past.
He scowled.
"Do not glow at me."
They are acknowledging you.
"I did not request acknowledgment."
You rarely request anything.
"And yet everything keeps happening."
He walked another dozen paces before he noticed it.
The air ahead shifted.
Not mist.
Not distortion.
Something solid.
He squinted.
"...What is that?"
Finally.
"Finally what?"
You noticed.
"Noticed what?"
The sword tilted upward.
There.
Luther followed its angle.
At the far end of the corridor—
Something massive stood in the shadows.
He slowed instinctively.
"...That better not be another illusion."
It is not shifting.
"That does not comfort me."
He continued forward.
A door.
A colossal one.
He stopped several paces away.
His mouth opened.
Then closed.
"...That is unnecessary."
It is ceremonial.
"It is excessive."
It is impressive.
"It is compensating."
The sword gave a dry chuckle.
For what?
"For the fact that it’s attached to a hallway that refuses to end."
He craned his neck upward.
It was enormous.
Towering.
At least three times his height.
Carved from pale stone veined with faint gold, layered with intricate symbols woven into one another in dizzying complexity.
He stopped several paces away.
"...This is excessive."
The sword tilted.
It is ceremonial.
"It is absurd."
He craned his neck upward.
"Doors should not require vertical admiration."
It does look designed for something larger.
"Yes," Luther muttered. "If a giant wished to host guests."
He stepped closer.
The scale pressed down on him—not physically, but symbolically.
This was not a casual door.
This was a statement.
His fingers brushed the surface lightly.
Cool.
Smooth.
He hesitated.
He didn’t know why.
He wanted out.
He wanted this blasted trial finished.
And yet—
The door’s weight made him pause.
"What do you suppose waits behind it?" the sword asked quietly.
"Another room." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢
You are avoiding the question.
Luther exhaled.
"...Something important."
Then open it.
He placed both hands against the stone.
Pushed.
Nothing.
He frowned.
Adjusted his stance.
Pushed harder.
The stone did not move.
Not even a tremor.
"...You are mocking me."
It may not open through force.
"I had gathered that."
He stepped back, rolling his shoulders slightly.
The irritation crept back.
"Everywhere in this cursed rune-echoed structure, there is always something."
Yes.
"A wall that moves."
Yes.
"A mist that lies."
Yes.
"A monster that refuses to stay dead."
Correct.
"And now a door that pretends to exist."
It does exist.
"It is being difficult."
The sword hummed softly.
Luther stepped forward again.
This time, he looked.
Not at the door.
But at the runes.
They spiraled outward from the center, forming layered circular patterns that intersected and overlapped.
When his palm pressed against it earlier—
They had reacted.
He narrowed his eyes.
"...You felt that."
Yes.
"They responded to me."
Yes.
He stepped closer.
Placed one hand flat against the surface again.
The runes shimmered beneath his touch.
The sword tilted.
What are you doing?
"Be quiet."
Excuse me?
"Just for a moment."
He closed his eyes.
The corridor fell silent, except for the low hum of ancient magic.
He let his own mana rise—not violently, not forcefully.
Just enough.
He did not push.
He allowed it to flow.
Into his hand.
Into the stone.
Into the patterns carved there.
The runes flared brighter.
The sword went still.
They are accepting it.
"Yes."
The glow intensified, tracing outward in intricate lines like glowing rivers branching across the door.
Luther focused harder.
The structure of the runes became clearer in his mind.
Not a barrier.
A seal.
A recognition lock.
His magic flowed deeper.
The door trembled.
Stone vibrated faintly under his palm.
The runes lit fully now—brilliant gold against pale stone, cascading upward in breathtaking symmetry.
In the viewing chamber—
The priest stepped back.
"...Impossible."
Elythra’s breath caught.
The mirror shimmered with light as the door illuminated completely.
"He is not forcing it," the priest whispered.
Elythra’s eyes never left Luther.
"No," she murmured.
"He is opening it."
Back in the corridor—
The light peaked.
Then—
The stone groaned.
Deep.
Resonant.
The massive door slowly parted down the center.
A narrow line of darkness appeared between the halves.
Then widened.
The air shifted.
Cool.
Still.
Luther opened his eyes.
The runes dimmed gradually as the door fully separated.
He slowly withdrew his hand.
The sword rotated beside him.
That was elegant.
"I prefer cooperation."
You did not break it.
"I was not meant to."
The corridor fell silent behind him.
The doorway loomed ahead—blackness waiting beyond.
He hesitated only briefly.
Then stepped forward.
Darkness.
Complete.
No mist.
No runes.
No glow.
Just absence.
The door sealed behind him with a low, final sound.
He stood still, allowing his eyes to adjust.
"...Well," he muttered softly, "this is new."
The sword hovered closer.
I do not sense hostility.
"That is almost worse."
His gaze lifted slowly.
Something emerged from the darkness ahead.
Not movement.
A shape.
A silhouette.
Tall.
Still.
Stone.
His steps slowed.
Recognition settled in his chest before his mind caught up.
"...No."
As faint light filtered from somewhere unseen above, the outline became clearer.
A statue.
Carved in pale stone.
Robed.
Head slightly bowed.
Hand extended.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Luther stopped several paces away.
His throat tightened slightly despite himself.
"...Again?"
"You can’t be serious..."
