The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"I'll go first," she whispered, voice raw from the dust. "If it's blocked, I'll come back."

Mikhailis nodded, resting a moment. Rhea's breathing was labored, her face pale from pain, but she hadn't complained once. He admired her grit.

"Go," he told Lira, voice hushed.

The elegant maid braced herself, then slipped into the opening with cat-like agility. Her legs disappeared into the darkness, leaving Mikhailis and Rhea alone on the ledge, the catacombs' groans reverberating around them.

A flicker of worry twisted in his gut. If Lira found a path, great; if not, they'd have to find another route while the place was caving in.

Rhea closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily.

"I hate this," she said, voice tight.

He offered a gentle squeeze of her arm.

"I know."

She was never one for grand emotional displays, but the fear and tension etched on her face told him enough.

The floor shuddered again, a deep, resonant quake that rattled Mikhailis's teeth. The chunk of rock they stood on buckled, forcing them to cling to each other to avoid sliding off.

We can't hold out much longer, Mikhailis thought, heart thundering. Lira, hurry…

A minute passed—feeling like an eternity—before Lira's head popped back through the hole, her expression grim.

"It's tight, but I think it opens into another corridor."

Relief flooded him.

"Can we fit?"

She nodded.

"We'll have to crawl. No telling if it's stable, but it's better than waiting to die here."

Rhea tensed.

"I can crawl," she muttered, though the raw pain in her voice indicated how difficult it would be. Enjoy exclusive content from My Virtual Library Empire

Mikhailis gave a wry grin, ignoring the thud of a massive rock hitting the ground not far below them.

"Let's go, then. I'll push you up, and Lira can pull from above."

The plan was awkward, but with the catacombs shaking, they had no time to strategize a better approach. Lira ascended first, wedging herself in a small pocket where she could anchor. Mikhailis braced Rhea's feet, guiding her upward. She hissed when her injured leg scraped the stone, but forced herself to climb. Lira grabbed Rhea's arms, helping haul her into the cramped passage above.

Once Rhea was in, Mikhailis followed, hooking the fragment to his belt for a moment so both hands were free. The crystal flared in protest, as though it disliked being jostled, but he ignored it, focusing on clawing his way into that narrow chute. Loose rubble tumbled below, disappearing into darkness. If he slipped, a grisly fall awaited.

He grunted, straining every muscle to pull himself up. Lira offered a hand. He grabbed it. In that instant, another violent tremor rattled the catacombs. Mikhailis felt the entire opening shift, debris raining down in stinging showers. Dust clogged his lungs, forcing a hacking cough.

"Almost… there…" Lira hissed, pulling with unexpected strength for someone so slender.

With a final surge, Mikhailis lurched into the passage. He collapsed next to Rhea, who clutched her thigh, breathing heavily but alive. Lira exhaled, her ponytail coated in dust, cheeks flushed from exertion.

Below them, the chamber they'd been in moments ago let out a final tortured groan. Mikhailis glanced down through the hole, watching as the ledge crumbled away. The floor disintegrated into darkness, sending up a plume of debris. No going back that way.

He swallowed, shifting to glance at the fragment on his belt. Even in the gloom, it shimmered with a spectral glow, illuminating their cramped surroundings. We have to keep moving, he reminded himself. We're still not safe.

"Alright," he said, pulling in a breath that tasted of grit and stale air. "Let's find a way out before the ceiling gets any ideas."

_____

Meanwhile, on the other side of the collapsing ruins, Cerys and Vyrelda weren't faring much better.

The Technomancer chamber was disintegrating around them, sparks flying as the unstable device emitted a high-pitched whine that seemed to rise and fall in frantic waves. Pieces of metal clattered across the floor, rolling in jagged spirals, while thick wisps of acrid smoke twisted through the dense air. The stone walls, once etched with neat runic patterns, now crumbled in ugly chunks, leaving gaps that revealed the trembling corridors beyond.

"Move!" Cerys barked, grabbing Vyrelda by the arm. There was no time to see if her companion truly understood. The entire ceiling above them groaned, then cracked with a thunderous boom, dropping huge segments of stone where they had stood seconds before. Only a cloud of dust marked the place that could have been their grave had they lingered any longer.

Vyrelda's eyes burned with fury. Her dark hair was streaked with white debris, and her knuckles gripped a dagger so tightly that her fingers looked bloodless. "We're just leaving it?" she demanded, voice echoing in the chaos. A tinge of regret—or maybe rage—laced her words, as if the thought of walking away from the Technomancer's prized contraption left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"If you want to die here, be my guest!" Cerys snapped. She already scanned for an escape route, her gaze darting between piles of toppled equipment. This place had become a war zone—broken machinery spat sparks, sizzling arcs of strange purple light shot through the stale air, and a foul chemical smell lingered. If they stayed much longer, they'd be buried beneath it all. And that was the best-case scenario.

Vyrelda let out a low growl, refusing to let the moment pass without a fight. She turned with quicksilver speed, whipping one of her daggers toward the device's core. It glinted under the flickering lights, then struck exactly where she aimed: a fragile conduit of twisted copper and runic inscriptions. The impact sent a violent ripple of energy through the air, distorting everything for a split second. Even the color of the walls seemed to warp as if reality hiccupped.

Then a crackling explosion burst forth. Violet arcs leapt from the device, dancing like furious lightning. The chamber shook, dust pouring from the cracks in the ceiling. The force of it all nearly knocked Cerys off her feet. Some part of her recognized Vyrelda's mad grin—she took grim satisfaction in every bit of destruction aimed at the Technomancers.

But satisfaction only lasted an instant. Cerys reacted on instinct, grabbing Vyrelda around the waist and lunging toward the only passage left that hadn't caved in. They both bolted forward, each heartbeat echoing in Cerys's ears like a drum. The device behind them shrieked as it overloaded, and the entire room detonated in a wave of concussive force.

They barely made it through the narrow archway before that chamber effectively collapsed behind them. The shockwave hit them like a runaway carriage, slamming into their backs. Cerys hit the ground hard—sprawling face-first into a swirl of dust and broken stone. The impact rattled her teeth. Her ears rang from the thunderous blast. Pebbles bounced off her armor, and for a terrifying moment, she couldn't breathe through the hail of debris.

A moment passed—maybe a heartbeat, maybe a lifetime—before she groaned and pushed herself up with trembling arms. Her limbs felt shaky, and her lungs burned with stale air that reeked of burnt metal. Next to her, Vyrelda sat up, dusting off her sleeves as though they'd merely taken a tumble down a flight of stairs.

"Tell me that was worth it," Cerys hissed. Her voice sounded harsh to her own ears, ragged with exhaustion. She forced her eyes to focus on the shape of Vyrelda in the dim corridor.

Vyrelda offered a lopsided smirk, though it was clear she was breathing heavily. "Felt good."

Cerys closed her eyes for a beat, rubbing at her temples. Pain throbbed where a stone had clipped the side of her head, and she wanted to snap at Vyrelda for risking them both. But she couldn't find the energy. "We need to find the others," she managed, forcing authority into her tone. Every muscle in her body tensed, reminding her that their mission was still incomplete.

Their surroundings had shifted drastically. The corridor they ended up in was darker than before, the walls slick with moisture and strange lines of faintly glowing runes—runes that were never part of the original Technomancer blueprint. The air felt heavy, filled with something unnatural that slid along their skin like invisible fingers. The floor beneath them trembled with each passing quake, reminding them time was short.

As they stumbled forward, one of the half-collapsed corridors branching off the main path let out a ragged cough that echoed hollowly. It was the sound of a living, breathing person in pain. Cerys stiffened, her instincts from years of knightly discipline kicking in. Her sword was in her hand before she even realized it.

Vyrelda pivoted, scanning the darkness, eyes narrowed. "What now?"

From the shadows, a figure slumped against the wall—a Technomancer, his robes torn and stained with fresh blood. His breath was labored, each exhalation sounding like it might be his last. Sparks of arcane residue danced along his tattered sleeves, fizzling in and out as if the magic that once powered them was now flickering away.

"Well, well," Vyrelda said, raising a brow. She looked more curious than sympathetic. "Look who survived."