Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]
Chapter 51 - 8.3 : Beneath the Rotten Floorboards

Chapter 51: Chapter 8.3 : Beneath the Rotten Floorboards

After destroying the dark energy orb, Al confirmed that the spiritual creature was truly dead. Without hesitation, he burned the body using black fire—unique flames that left no trace behind. Not even ashes. Once it was done, Al turned, ready to head home.

But just as he was about to move forward—

His ears caught something.

Footsteps.

The faint scrape of metal. Labored breaths—several people, carrying something heavy.

Al froze.

He concealed his aura.

Skill: Stealth Activated

From a distance, in the dim forest shadows, a few flickers of flashlight beams could be seen. A group of seven people emerged, all dressed in black. They were carrying three large crates, each covered with dark cloth. Two people lifted each crate while one person led them from the front.

Their movements were slow—stealthy, yet coordinated.

"Keep quiet. And be careful not to drop it," warned the man in front. He wore a black jacket, jeans, and a fabric mask. Despite the casual attire, he exuded a commanding presence—likely the leader.

Al observed silently from behind the trees, stalking them. He moved from trunk to trunk, blending into the night.

The group made their way carefully through the overgrown forest until they reached an old wooden house, hidden in the heart of the forest. It looked abandoned—its walls warped and the roof sagging—but it was large enough to be more than just a shed. Weeds and vines grew wild around it, yet strangely, the house itself... was clean. Far too clean for a supposedly deserted structure.

As they approached, two familiar figures stood waiting at the front door.

Al squinted, eyes narrowing.

Jogo and Rudi Norvalien?

What are they doing here...? he wondered.

Jogo and Rudi greeted the group and helped bring the crates inside. Two guards stayed by the front entrance, silent and alert. The rest entered.

Al waited.

Then he moved. Swift and unseen, he crept toward the side of the building where no one was watching.

He peeked through a broken side window. Inside, dim yellow bulbs cast a weak glow across the old floorboards and mold-stained walls.

But—

The room was empty.

No crates. No people. Just a dusty, abandoned interior.

Al slipped in through the window—silent and seamless.

What is this...? Where did they go? he thought, scanning the room.

He examined everything—no teleportation stones, no magical traces, no dimensional doorways. But there was no way they could have vanished so quickly.

Al searched every room. Still nothing. Then, he heightened his magical awareness to detect any lingering aura.

Still... nothing.

No signs of life.

If it’s not teleportation or dimensional shifting... then there’s only one other possibility... Al thought as he analyzed the scene.

He knelt, placing his palm on the wooden floor. Gently, he activated a magic radar, sending pulses through the ground below.

A point of resonance was detected—an energy source.

Directly beneath the floorboards.

Al walked to the spot and studied it carefully. The floorboards here were symmetrical—oddly uniform. He touched one and felt a slight protrusion. He pried it up. It could be opened.

But—

There was a barrier.

Al examined it closely.

A motion-triggered detection barrier. Strong. Sensitive. If I force entry... I don’t know what kind of trap it might trigger, he mused silently.

He stared at the trapdoor.

There wasn’t enough information. Entering without preparation was too risky. His body was still unstable after using Dimensional Eye and fighting the spiritual Djinn earlier. He didn’t know what lay below—but one thing was clear: whatever it was, it hadn’t moved yet. And it wasn’t posing an immediate threat.

Al decided to fall back for now.

He’d return soon. Better prepared.

On his way out, Al exited through the front door—right past the two guards.

They never noticed him.

But as he passed, he tapped one of them lightly on the back of the neck. No wound. Just a faint spiritual pulse—and a tiny rune etched into the skin. It glowed momentarily, then faded.

But it left a faint sting.

"Ow..."

The guard flinched and scratched his neck.

"Mosquitoes here are vicious, huh..."

"What are you talking about? I haven’t seen a single one all night. You’re trippin’, man," laughed the other.

By then, Al was gone.

His figure melted into the forest. Swallowed by the shadows once more.

That was how the night ended for Al.

Quiet.

But it left too many questions.

And one conclusion:

The Norvalien family was hiding something...

Something big.

---

Elsewhere...

A large, dim chamber. A basement soaked in a heavy aura.

The walls were built from old bricks—damp, moss-covered. The air reeked of iron and wet earth. Rats scurried through cracks in the floor, lizards hid in shadows, and insects swirled around torches fixed to the walls—the only source of light.

"Is this... safe?" Jogo asked, his voice strained with anxiety as he looked around.

"Of course it is. Stop panicking. Everything is under control," Rudi snapped.

"You do want Rina, don’t you?"

Jogo bit his lip. "I... I do. But..."

Without warning, Rudi grabbed Jogo by the collar, yanking him close, eyes burning.

"We’ve come too far for second thoughts! Don’t make me regret bringing you here. If I knew your resolve was this weak, I’d never have involved you."

"F-Fine..." Jogo replied meekly, shrinking.

They entered the main chamber—a ritual room lined with ancient magic circles, blood-drawn sigils, and artifacts that smelled of iron and stale incense. Standing in the center was Daraka, a pale-faced shaman clad in tattered robes lined with dark red symbols. Several hooded followers stood behind him.

"Daraka... we brought what you asked for," Rudi said.

Daraka turned slowly, a smile curling across his face. "Excellent."

But Rudi raised a hand, halting him. "Wait. Answer me first. You were the one who said you didn’t want to be involved anymore. Not with that orphan boy. So why now? Why did you ask me to bring... this?"

Daraka’s eyes sharpened. Then he chuckled softly. "Let’s just say I need your help this time, Rudi. And that boy beside you... is he ready?"

Jogo swallowed. "I-I’m ready..."

Slowly, they opened the sealed magical crates.

A wave of red mist and light escaped, then faded—revealing three human corpses. Eyes shut. Skin hardened. Preserved unnaturally.

Daraka’s eyes gleamed with twisted delight. But Rudi and Jogo exchanged an uneasy glance.

"With these, you’ll gain the power needed to break the barriers protecting that child," Daraka said.

Just then, one of Daraka’s assistants—face hidden behind a cloth mask—approached and whispered in his ear.

Daraka’s expression darkened.

"What?! Only two orbs were retrieved?!"

Another figure stepped forward—bloodied and bruised. It was the shaman who had led the beach ritual at Lorari Coast. The one who had clashed with Al.

"Lord Daraka... Forgive me. We were ambushed. A shadowy figure interrupted the ritual. It disrupted everything. And the energy orb... he took it. We were powerless to stop him."

"What?! Who was it?!" Daraka demanded.

"We... we don’t know, sir. He moved like a shadow. We couldn’t see his face. But from his voice... it was a man. We couldn’t be sure. It happened so fast. He came out of nowhere... attacked... and stole the orb. He even... took the water Djinn with him."

"What? He took the Djinn?!"

Daraka clenched his fists. His face contorted in fury.

"I see. No wonder you lost. If he could overpower the Djinn... he’s no ordinary threat."

He turned back to the ritual circle. Dark energy began stabilizing around the prepared corpses.

"Enough. We’ve come too far. Forget what’s lost. We still move forward. Go recover."

"In a few days... we perform the ritual."

His eyes glowed cold and sharp.

Daraka stood at the heart of the circle, surrounded by death sigils and ancient magic.

"Stabilize the energy flow in these two," he commanded, pointing at Rudi and Jogo. "They’ll be the ritual’s mediums."

"Yes, Lord Daraka."

Daraka oversaw every detail of the preparations, ensuring nothing would fail this time.

And if it did—

Then he would resort to that creature...

He didn’t say it aloud. Only in his mind.

And so, deep underground, the conspiracy moved forward.

Relentless.