I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 919: A Loop of Fury and Bone

Adam stormed his way down the stairwell. Each step bore the weight of his fury and worry in footprints from which mist of sky-blue mana illuminated the dust-laden basement.

The light pierced through the recesses in the walls, revealing the shapes hidden in the dust.

Skeletons. Everywhere.

Some dressed in half-decomposed fabric, fretted with withered chunks of ancient banners, time-worn holes exposing glimpses of rotten flesh still clinging to yellowed bone. Most were black-boned, stained dirty from ages of silent waiting.

Adam barely looked around as he charged through the only corridor. Their state, their origin—they didn't matter. Only Quintella did.

He scoured the old passage back and forth, his mythical eyes burning through the irregular stones, finding only more depositories of shattered or armored skeletons. No hidden rooms or magical mechanisms he could see. Only the half-opened door of Marcellus' study dominated the end, somber lights spiralling with shadows that spilt from the sill.

Whatever the teacher had been doing before Desmond distracted him made Adam shiver. The imposter's room… it would be in there, wouldn't it? Hidden in the last place anyone would dare to look. He shook his head. Trapped with Marcellus, the imposter would have no way out. Sarah wouldn't enter either, at least not the shy Sarah he knew.

It had to be somewhere else. But where?

With a frustrated heave, he leaned on the wall behind.

CLICK

A brick sank into the wall. His eyes widened. Then, the sound faded from the corridor, from his mind, and he turned toward the corridor's entrance.

His rage turned icy as his mind raced. If the room concealment worked differently from Leoric's, it had to occupy physical space inside the underground. The repositories... they should be of the same width. So, what he searched for was where space vanished.

With a decisive stomp, he dashed to the first repository. Yet, he froze after a couple of steps, brow creasing, eyes narrowing. Something felt familiar.

On his shoulder, Bao mirrored his expression. It felt as if she had already lived this. No, Quintella was more important than suspicion!

She growled, and Adam resumed his charge.

Inside the first repository, he sent surges of mana across the walls, measuring their widths and depths, before comparing them with the next one.

Once he stood inside the fourth, over piles of splintered bones, a twisted grin split his face. There, his mana passed through the thinner stone, emerging inside the stolen space.

"Hang on tight, Bao. I'm blasting this wall!" His arm swelled with mana. Flames condensed into a miniature sun in his palm, gravity pulling the atoms in its core closer.

Diamond-shaped mana barriers stacked in front of him as he hurled the sphere the moment the atoms merged with a roar.

Then, silence. Heavy, disturbing.

The light of the sun vanished. The stacked barriers, thicker than two men, faded, and Adam's icy rage reignited into a blazing brazier as he ignored the wall to glare at the repository. "Bones again. Damn it! We must find Quintella."

Bao urged him, and Adam returned to the corridor, his mythical eyes burning through the irregular stones for hidden mechanisms. Before he knew it, he shuddered before the somber lights spiralling from Marcellus' sill.

The imposter would be in there, wouldn't it?

He leaned against the wall. A brick clicked. And he turned toward the corridor's entrance. The room must occupy physical space if the concealment differs from Leoric's...

A furrow carved his forehead, deep enough for shadows to drip from the creases. Why did it feel familiar?

Bao's growl cut through his suspicions. Quintella was more important. He agreed.

Yet, he didn't charge to the first repository. Not yet. The sensation of wrongness sank into his bones, slithered beneath his skin, and caused his hair to bristle. It wasn't a sensation.

Instead of the first repository, he charged outside of the corridor. Darkness shrouded the recesses, hiding the stairwell in lightless shadows. His mana footprints... gone.

Impossible! He had just arrived. Or it would mean that... An icy shiver ran down his spine. The imposter messed with his perception of time. Not his perception. Like with Quintella and Sarah, it played with his memories.

How many times had he found the room before forgetting and restarting to search? More importantly, for how long had Desmond been distracting Marcellus?

His pupils constricted. The teacher could return at any moment now. He had to hurry. But his rage allowed the imposter to trap him in a loop of forgetfulness. No, it should be the room's defensive mechanism—not the chaotic space of Leoric's, but the instant erasure of the memories related to its location. That was why it stood right beside Teacher Marcellus' study, undiscovered for fifteen thousand years.

'So how can I find it? Think, think, Adam. Marks on the walls? There should have been accidents, yet I saw none. The room likely erases them, too. Blast the entire corridor? I'll wound Quintella. Marcellus and Haldris would kill me for it after... What can I do?'

He gripped his face between trembling fingers. Once he lowered them, a steely glint entered his eyes.

"Forget the anger, the pain, the guilt. Forget the teachers, the imposter. Forget the danger Quintella is in and even yourself. Remember the space—only the space." His guttural voice reverberated across the entrance of the corridor. "It can't erase what is unique. My goal is. Quintella is. I'm. And I will find her."

More than when he enchanted his Chronoscar, and even more than when he fought Cordelia's golem, he focused on this single thought. Everything else was noise. Everything else became silent.

His mana receded, and his features eased. He didn't charge the corridor; he strolled it without care. What was that small beast on his shoulder? Who was he? He didn't know anymore. But he had something to do. There was a spatial anomaly somewhere, likely tucked between repositories. He had to find it.

Why? The answer didn't matter. He just had. Then, he would remember.

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AN: Sorry for the delay. A new reader asked me to edit chapter 217 because it was unreadable, so I... spent much longer than I wanted on it.