Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided
Chapter 111. Frigid Hallway

“Cryomax! ~ Shard!”

The thunderous cry reverberated from the hallway, snapping Zetius out of his thoughts. Instantly, he rolled over Pael’s body, dragging it up to block the incoming attack.

A sharp icicle pierced the air, shattering on impact as it collided with the thick armour.

The momentum knocked both Zetius and Pael to the ground.

A female mage stood in the middle of the hallway, her eyes glowing with mana as she prepared a second attack.

“Lampos!” Friederich hurled a glowing blade from behind her. The mage spun, casting a ‘Phoros’ sphere to intercept.

The projectile deflected on contact — her barrier held strong.

“She must be at least Stellius!” Zetius exclaimed as he bolted towards her, he and Friederich flanking her from both sides.

Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Cryomax! Blast!”

A surge of cold mist slammed into Zetius’s face, his breath turning to frost.

“Pull back!” he shouted, retreating just in time as an avalanche of ice burst from all directions, freezing everything in its path.

He bolted away, nearly caught in the powerful cryo-arcane.

His eyes widened, fixed on the ice mage who began summoning another burst. Meanwhile, Friederich scrambled back to his feet.

“Please work,” Zetius whispered, channelling his mana from his chest to his fingers.

Two fingertips aimed at her. “Empyrion!” he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

A small orb of condensed energy formed at his fingertips.

Grinning, he shouted, “Fire!”

The inferno beam ripped through the air, hurling toward her head.

Caught off guard, the mage turned with wide eyes, raising her staff in an attempt to conjure a defensive spell.

The fire beam struck her barrier, bursting outwards on impact.

“Holy Gaia... her barrier is incredibly strong,” Zetius muttered, continuing to channel more mana into his fire arcane.

Behind her, Friederich dashed forward with twin glowing blades in hand.

With a nimble twist mid-air, he shattered her Phoros sphere.

“Damn you! ~ Magnetos!” the ice mage screamed, pointing her staff at Friederich.

A magnetic field burst out, flinging him across the hall.

Grunting, he called out, “Lampos-spatha!”

He cast a spell that repositioned his blade mid-air. He manoeuvred with it, landing on the sword itself.

His legs coiled, then launched him forward, dashing at the ice mage a second time.

But as she focused on casting another counter-spell, Zetius was already behind her.

“Stop it!” he roared, hurling himself at her.

They crashed to the ground. The mage’s staff slid across the floor as Zetius pinned her wrists with his hands, his weight pressing her down.

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“Let me go, you jerks!” the mage screamed, struggling against his strength — but it was no use. Zetius’s power completely overmatched hers.

“Stay down, miss! Arcanists should never fight one another!” he urged, hoping to calm her.

Eventually, she stopped resisting, her body no longer tense.

“Good one, Zetius…” Friederich’s shadow fell over them. He quickly propped himself against the wall beside the meeting room.

“Come on in! We’re cleared,” Ziyue’s voice called out, her tone almost musical.

Zetius looked confused. “Did she really take down both Tien and another knight by herself?”

The answer became clear as Zetius escorted the ice mage into the meeting room, keeping a firm grip on her wrists behind her back to prevent any sneaky spellcasting.

“Stop pushing!” the mage grumbled with irritation, but Zetius said nothing.

Inside the room, chaos reigned. Papers, dust, rock fragments and splintered furniture were strewn everywhere. Scorch marks discoloured the walls.

Amid the wreckage, Ziyue stood over a downed Armatus knight, her arc blade lodged in his chest. Her purple eyes gleamed maliciously as she grinned with a devious smirk.

Nearby, the elven man — Tien Long — lay motionless across a broken table, his legs dangling off the edge.

Zetius’s eyes landed on the fallen knight propped against the wall, his legs sprawled out.

His heart skipped a beat. “Could it be Rhok?” he muttered, stepping closer with the mage still in tow.

As he neared, it became obvious that the knight was someone else — perhaps a Silver Knight accompanying Pael.

“See a ghost?” Ziyue teased, noticing Zetius’s pale expression.

He shook his head. “No...” he replied shortly, avoiding Friederich’s gaze as the elven mage slumped against the wall, arms crossed.

Ziyue approached the ice mage with a taunting grin.

“What do we have here? Another traitor?” she cooed, gripping the mage’s cheek, her sharp nails pressing into the skin.

“Ah~ You bitch!” the captive snarled, glaring at her with hatred.

Ziyue responded with a knee swing to the stomach, the impact sending a shockwave right past Zetius. The mage gasped and collapsed, saliva dribbling from her mouth.

She could no longer support herself, her knees giving way.

“Answer my questions or you’ll end up like the knight over there,” Ziyue threatened, tapping the mage’s nose with a finger.

Behind her playful mask, a true psychopath lay in wait.

After a moment, the mage tilted her head and spat in Ziyue’s face. It dripped down her cheek.

The mage smiled proudly, relishing her petty victory.

Ziyue didn’t flinch. She turned away, then spun around with a punch faster than Zetius could track.

It connected squarely with the mage’s face, moulding her features to the shape of the fist.

Her body went limp. She was out cold.

Zetius caught her, gently lowering her to the floor. Her nose was broken, her lips bloodied — a brutal sight.

“That was unnecessary... Ziyue,” Zetius muttered, glaring at her. Friederich said nothing, averting his gaze away.

Ziyue exhaled. “She wasn’t going to talk anyway. Useless.”

“Umm... I found this contract. Might be useful,” Zetius said, handing it to her.

She skimmed through it, then beamed. “Amazing work! You too, Friederich.”

She smiled sweetly, returning to her usual self.

“I’ll call for clean-up,” she added, fiddling with her ring to transmit a coded signal.

“What a mess,” Ziyue’s voice echoed in the background as Zetius pulled Friederich aside for a private conversation.

“How’s it going? Where have you been all this time? Why didn’t you reach out to us? And why are you dressed like a hobo?” Friederich bombarded him with questions.

Feeling the gold coins in his pocket, Zetius’s face turned serious.

“Friederich... now might not be the best time to catch up.”

He turned and walked over to Cindia, who was curled up in the corner, knees to her chest and trembling.

“What’s going on? You know her?” Friederich asked, still trying to make sense of it all.

“Come with me, Cindia,” Zetius said softly, helping her to her feet.

He pulled a tablecloth and draped it over her head and shoulders to conceal her face.

Looking at Friederich, he said, “I need to take care of something first.”

“Huh? What is it?” Friederich tilted his head, confused.

Zetius didn’t answer. Instead, he gave a soft smile.

“Let’s meet behind the apothecary shop on 11th Street, west side of the market grounds,” he said, then quickly moved towards the exit.

And just like that, Zetius disappeared with the slave maid, leaving Friederich with more questions than answers.

Despite his scepticism, Friederich chose to trust his old friend and let him go.

“Zetius clawed his way out of the Underworld… even Hades couldn’t hold him.” He let out a dry chuckle at the thought.