The echo of footsteps rolled through the halls, the patter of snare drums that were the centipede’s legs joined by the heavier, slower thuds of Noah’s own steps. It filled the darkness of the arching ceilings overhead with the heavy feeling of immense emptiness. Noah did everything he could not to gawk. He was still trying to project an air of control, and his focus couldn’t afford to split when his mind was as frayed as it was. But even with three different versions of himself all honed in on marching deeper into the Lost Citadel, he couldn’t help but stare at what, at some point in time, must have been grand halls. This was no cave network or ancient catacomb. It was — or at least, it had been — beautiful. Massive banners hung from the ceiling, tattered and faded. Noah couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it had been to make them. They had clearly been tapestries at some point, but any traces of design upon their surface had long since been eaten away by the years, and only faint traces of their once-red color still persisted. Even the walls themselves had been a piece of art at some point in the past. Traces of gold still lingered from where it had traced around the edges of the carefully selected stones. Somebody had gone through a great deal of effort to make this place beautiful. Fat load of good it had done them. Pillars ran throughout the hall, their great marble surfaces cracked and broken. Only a few of them remained standing. They had once supported the ceiling, but now Noah suspected they didn’t support much of anything. The pillars were held together by nothing more than the great purpose that they had once born. Even the slightest of touches was liable to send them crashing to the ground. Doors lined the sides of the hall, all much more normally sized than the one he’d entered through, but rubble had blocked them all off. Unless he wanted to go digging through the clearly unstable stone… the only way to advance was forward. Neither Noah nor the centipede spoke again as they advanced. The sound of their footsteps was the only thing that accompanied them. Beyond deep gouges in the floor and walls that marked the Devourer’s passing, no traces of the great beast were visible. It was as if it had vanished. Noah wasn’t particularly bothered. He didn’t care much about the Devourer. It was just another monster. Another brick wall in his path to victory. And right now, when his solution to just about everything was bringing a magical sledgehammer to it, one more wall wasn’t really that much of a threat at all. The path sloped, taking Noah and the centipede through a winding pathway deeper into the earth. They passed by dozens of other passages as they continued. A number of them actually seemed rather usable, but the centipede didn’t even give a second glance in their direction. That worked just fine for Noah. Whatever they were, they clearly weren’t the main path. And if he was going to figure anything out about where he’d ended up and how he could find Moxie, Lee, and the others again, he was going to need to find the heart of this place. A library. A core. Some kind of records. Anything, really. He just needed information. And, for what it was worth, it seemed like the centipede knew where it was going. It forged ahead at a steady path. No matter how terrifying the Devourer or anything within the Lost Citadel may have been… Noah was closer. And he was far less patient. “How much farther?” Noah asked. “Where are we going?” “The Heart,” the Centipede replied, its chittering words terse with fear — or perhaps that was simply the stolen voice causing it some trouble. Noah still wasn’t sure how it had learned to talk. Perhaps it had literally ripped out Sebastian’s voice box. That was a problem for another time and another Noah. They continued on, delving deeper and deeper through the winding halls. Never once did the Lost Citadel lose its grandiose nature. Its creators hadn’t spared any expenses. The tattered banners weren’t just reserved for the entry hall. The faded river of old, musty cloth stretched deep, clearly once as extravagant here as they had been at the start. Noah wasn’t sure how long they walked. He was already bad enough at keeping track of time under normal circumstances. Now, with flickers of the Line still dancing in and out of his vision, with the cracks gnawing at his soul and white void filling gaps within him like putty, it was all he could do to keep his mind from crumbling apart like a sandcastle upon a stormy beach shore. And then the centipede came to a halt before one of the side passages. This one was a little larger than many of the others had been, with extruding designs protruding from around the entryway. It didn’t pause to inspect anything. The centipede just went in, and Noah followed after it. They continued into the darkness. But this new passageway didn’t make them wait for long. After no more than just a few turns deeper into the earth, it yawned open to drop them off upon a platform built into the wall and suspended above a sea of darkness. Noah couldn’t think of any other word to describe it. A wide span of stone stretched out before him, several dozen paces in every direction away from the wall and the door they’d stepped through. The only thing upon its surface was a single podium. And beyond that was nothing. The darkness in the room was so thick that he couldn’t make anything out beyond the edge of the platform. This wasn’t a magical darkness. Noah had seen more than enough of that to recognize it. Whatever this shadow was, it was simply from such a complete and utter lack of light that even the flickers of the Line shimmering through his vision couldn’t illuminate it to his eyes. Support creative writers by reading their stories on NovelHub, not stolen versions. The Centipede chittered uneasily. “Heart.” Noah squinted into the shadows waiting before him. There was nothing within them to find. The only thing in the room aside from them was the stone podium at the edge of the platform. Even in his current state, it wasn’t difficult to tell what the Centipede was waiting for him to interact with. He strode across the platform and over to the waiting protrusion. The darkness wasn’t enough to conceal the faintest hints of an Imbuement upon the stone. Age and dust had covered much of the lines, and the shadows certainly didn’t help with visual clarity. What was this place? Some manner of control room? Surely not. That would have been deeper, and the main path ran for much longer. This is something else. Noah brushed his hand across the surface of the podium, trying to reveal some of the patterns that had been Imbued upon it. A spark of energy leapt up the instant his palm touched the stone. It sizzled against his skin. Noah yanked his hand back, but it was too late. Hot white light sliced across the surface of the stone like the sun breaking free from behind a thick bed of gray storm clouds. The lines slashed across the podium, twisting down into the platform at Noah’s feet. A rumble shook the ground. Debris and dust rained down from the ceiling. And then, deep within the shadows of the room beyond where Noah stood, the lines raced into being. They wove up in a flash, illuminating a massive stone formation looming in the center of the room in their embrace. It was wide at the base, easily the width of a small city block, but twisted together into a point at the top almost like an inverted stone tornado. The glowing white lines reached the peak of the strange mountain, an orb of burning white light snapped into being. The light sputtered for a moment. Then it swiveled, coiling lines rolling through its bright surface to form features. Noah raised his hands before his face and squinted at it through the sudden harsh light. The orb stretched at its sides ever so slightly, turning ovular. A dark spot appeared in its center. Then it blinked. “Access Point 4 has been activated.” A metallic voice grated from somewhere within the eye. Each word came smoother than the last, as years of disuse were being shaved away the longer it spoke. “Attempting to establish connection to Heart Point.” There was a short pause. Then the eye sputtered, a candle in the wind. A blaring screech rolled through the room, driving into Noah’s ears like a spike. He hissed, clapping his hands over his head, but the eye was already speaking. “Connection failed. The Heart’s imbuements are disconnected from the grid. Attempting to establish connection to the backup grid.” This time, Noah managed to clap his hands over his ears before the screeching warning noise cut through the air once more. “Connection failed. This Access Point is cut off from the rest of the Citadel. Researcher, locate your immediate supervisor immediately. The Citadel is likely to have sustained critical damage.” Noah braced himself, but no further noises came. He slowly lowered his hands from his ears, staring at the glowing eye. It seemed to be watching him. “Where are we?” Noah asked. “This is Access Point 4. Casual name: Library,” the eye replied. Well, isn’t that lucky? A library… that has to have some records in it, right? And this thing doesn’t seem to recognize the fact that I’m not one of its researchers. That means it should help me, right? “Do you have access to records?” Noah asked. “Of the Citadel. Where is it located?” “I am unable to assist you in this query. Connection to the Heart failed. Queries outside the scope of this Library are impossible. It is recommended that you find a supervisor.” “How many Libraries are there in the Citadel? Surely you know that. Access Points. How many of those are there?” “Seven hundred and fifty as of the final connection report in my memory,” the eye reported. “None of them are accessible. The grid is down.” Holy fuck. There are 750 libraries? Scratch the luck. I’d have been lucky not to find one… and it looks one doesn’t have shit in terms of records. Goddamn it. “Are you aware of the locations of other Access Points?” Noah asked. Then he paused, a new thought striking him. “How much power do you have left? Can you remain active?” “The personal reserves of this Access Point are undamaged. There is no expected termination date for this location. I am unaware of the physical locations of other Access Points. This information is beyond this Access Point’s purpose and requires a query to the Heart.” A self-sustaining Imbuement, then? Shit. That’s advanced, especially for something this big. But fat load of good this thing is. “What do you have, then?” Noah asked. “What is this Access Point’s purpose?” “Access Point 4’s primary directive is to function as a Runic Research Library,” the eye responded. “These functions are still active. They have not been impacted by the damage of the grid, but it is suggested that this researcher contact a supervisor immediately.” Holy shit. Rune research? Like… books of combinations and the like? There’s no way I can pass that up. Even if this thing is useless, this stuff is the research that they were doing outside Arbalest. It’s invaluable, isn’t it? And if I could get my hands on enough Space Runes, I might be able to just teleport out of here. “Activate the primary directive,” Noah said. “Do you have runes on—” A rumble ran through the room. More dust rained down from the ceiling. Noah took a step back — and a massive hand rose up over the edge of the platform. Veins of burning white pulsed along its metal surface. The hand was easily as large as Noah was, and it wasn’t alone. A second one slammed down on the other side of the platform. An enormous golem rose up between Noah and the looming tower. Only its upper half made it up past the darkness. But that alone was more than enough to loom more than three times Noah’s height. The entire thing was made of polished silver, covered with so many imbuements that it was practically impossible to find a single patch of un-modified metal. Its head was the helm of a medieval knight, and the only spot of light upon it that wasn’t white were its eyes, which each burned a cherry red. Fınd the newest release on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵 A deep whir rose from within the golem. Then a wave of force slammed into Noah, sending him and the centipede skidding back several feet. Pressure bore down on him, threatening to crush his domain. Noah’s eyes went wide. There was no mistaking this feeling. The metal golem had Rune Force. “Primary directive activated,” the eye reported from behind the golem as the whir of mechanical parts filled the air. Coils of white magic spun out from within the golem as the imbuements covering it powered up and its molten eyes focused on him. “Research objective: Survival.”