Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 300 - Noble echoes

As a whole, Gaspar did not know what to make of the Hall of Echoes’ inner sections. Their purpose eluded him entirely. Like many of the remnants left behind by the ancient Zuver, deciphering the creators’ intentions felt much like chasing shadows. Yet the Zuver had designed these chambers with formidable defences, suggesting their importance far exceeded what they had discovered so far.

Those defences were, perhaps not unsurprisingly, exceptionally frustrating to overcome. Gaspar had lost track of how long they had been navigating the labyrinthine corridors and chambers, but it had been long enough to necessitate multiple breaks simply to avoid complete exhaustion. Despite the Rising Isle's meticulous preparations, their supplies of healing potions, mana potions, and other critical resources—such as the numerous rare and expensive elixirs to keep the effects of mana exhaustion at bay—were running dangerously low.

Gaspar could scarcely recall the last time his wizards had been pushed to such extremes on a single expedition. Ordinarily, the Rising Isle prided itself on readiness, but this time, their preparations had fallen short. That failure gnawed at him. Worse still, despite their numbers, skill, and experience, his wizards were barely holding their own. If not for the assistance they’d received here, it was entirely possible—perhaps even likely—that they would have been forced to retreat hours ago.

Meanwhile, the Baroness’ much smaller group pressed forward with unrelenting vigor, leaving Gaspar’s wizards with nothing to do but scramble to keep up. Even when faced with increasingly treacherous obstacles, the Baroness’ people seemed ardent in their goal of finding their patron, and it was almost embarrassing that Gaspar could not see the same drive in his own people.

Certainly, he was not afraid to admit that Rosa’s absurdly potent charms were pivotal in their progress. No matter their…origins, there was no denying their effectiveness. Yet they were mere aids — the heavy lifting still fell to the Isle’s wizards. And still, Gaspar found himself wondering how his wizards had reached a point where they had come to rely so on a group of four youths.

He preferred not to dwell on it for the time being. There would be plenty of time for reflection later, and then, he would ensure that his wizards learned from this experience.

For now, their focus remained on uncovering the truth of what was happening here in the Hall of Echoes. The anomaly plaguing this place was as bizarre as it was troubling. While the echoes in the outer sections were both dangerous and numerous, they were predictable in their strangeness. The inner chamber’s threats were far more erratic. At times, they encountered powerful echoes that vanished with a single decisive blow. Others regenerated endlessly, exhibiting bizarre, unpredictable behaviours. Sometimes you were only dealing with ancient arrays and wards forgotten by time, or if you were fortunate, puzzles that only slightly made you want to pull your hair out. However, that mattered little when the nature of each obstacle could shift in an instant, as had happened with the echo that blocked their path earlier.

There was, of course, the disturbing question of exactly what was causing all of this. What was the nature of the anomaly that could seemingly infiltrate these halls built by the Zuver? And why did its control appear more stable in the outer sections as compared to the inner ones? Gaspar took some comfort in the thought that this instability might mean the anomaly itself was fragile. Though fragile or not, neither it nor the Hall’s defences had yet to present an insurmountable challenge. Expending dozens upon dozens of elixirs and potions in their progress was not ideal, but it was the price that had to be paid. Gaspar was confident that it was only a matter of time before they uncovered some answers.

That confidence only grew when their group entered a chamber far larger than any they had encountered before. Towering stone pillars lined the walls, between which floated massive discs of polished silver suspended by some invisible force. The discs rotated slowly, catching and bending the faint light into shimmering patterns that danced across the smooth stone floor. Within their reflective surfaces, soft, ghostly figures moved, shifting between recognisable forms and abstract shapes, as if echoing memories of the long-gone Zuver.

The chamber walls were etched with thousands of spiraling runes, climbing towards a ceiling that rippled like a glossy liquid stilled in mid-motion. A strange energy filled the air, casting a rum, almost oppressive grey tint over everything. Gaspar felt an odd pull, urging him both to advance and hesitate. His gaze fixed on the ceiling and the discs, their slow movements hypnotic. Behind him, murmurs of awe rose from the other wizards, no doubt sensing the immense power that resonated within this space.

“Wait, is that…?” Allyssa’s voice cut through the noise, hanging uncertainly.

Gaspar, and presumably many others, shifted his focus towards the far end of the chamber. A single, solitary figure stood there, facing them. A slight crease formed on his brow.

“That’s her, right? That’s Scarlett! She actually got here before us!” Allyssa exclaimed, her tone equal parts disbelief and excitement.

Gaspar glanced at the young girl, then at her companions, none of whom appeared to share her enthusiasm. His eyes moved to Fynn, the quiet one, who scrutinised the figure with a deepening frown.

Squinting, Gaspar’s attention returned to the figure. The greyish tint did not help things, but the silhouette certainly resembled the Baroness, even with her signature dark-red hair muted and dull. Instinctively, he would have assumed it to be her, but something undeniably felt off.

“I’d been wondering about it,” Rosa said, her voice calm, “but this place’s called the ‘Hall of Echoes’, right? Those fuzzy fellows we’ve been knocking around, they weren’t just your run-of-the-mill spooks, were they?”

Gaspar looked at her. Though this was not the first time he’d had the thought, for all her theatrics, the woman could be startlingly perceptive. He had been working under the assumption that the Hall’s defences—specifically, the echoes they had encountered in all their variations—were the remnants, or at least imitations, of past wizards. And if the Hall could replicate ancient figures, it wasn’t far-fetched to think it could do the same with present-day ones.

Why it would choose to depict the Baroness of all people, however, was beyond him. If this place held the memories of legendary arch wizards from ages past, why would it settle on mimicking a mere imperial noblewoman?

Whatever the reason, Gaspar supposed it could be considered a relief. They had already dealt with echoes of great wizards. If an echo of the Baroness was their next opponent, it was unlikely to pose a significant threat in comparison.

“Prepare yourselves,” he called to his wizards, gripping his staff and tapping it firmly against the stone floor.

Allyssa shot him a stunned look. “Wait, you’re not going to fight her, are you?”

Gaspar met her gaze evenly. Perhaps the biggest obstacle here would not be the echo itself, but overcoming their group’s hesitation to harm the illusion of their ‘patron’.

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“That is not the Baroness,” he said firmly. “It is at most an imitation. A facsimile, just like the others we’ve faced. If it were truly her, it would have already reacted to our presence.”

The figure hadn’t moved a muscle since their arrival.

Allyssa looked from the echo back to Gaspar, her expression torn. “But how can you be sure? What if she’s unconscious or can’t hear us? Or…I don’t know, under some kind of spell?”

“It’s not her,” Fynn interjected, his nostrils flaring faintly, as if testing the air. Gaspar still didn’t fully understand the boy, but his instincts had proven keen. “It looks and smells like her, but it’s different. She feels like those echoes.”

Allyssa bit her lower lip, her doubt still evident.

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“…I agree,” Shin added after a brief pause. “It’s unlikely to be her.”

Allyssa glanced at him, then turned to Rosa, clearly searching for someone who might share her concerns. But the bard only offered a soft smile, shaking her head. “Sorry, kid, but they’re probably right. I’m not sure Scarlett can even be put under that kind of spell. And, well…this one has a different ‘taste’ to it.”

“Taste?” Allyssa repeated, her confusion momentarily breaking through her worry.

“Yeah, but don’t tell her I said that,” Rosa said.

The woman’s answer seemed to ease Allyssa’s tension, at least, though Gaspar’s eyes narrowed as he studied the bard. What gave her such confidence that the Baroness would supposedly be immune to such spells?

As though sensing his skepticism, Rosa met his gaze with a calm, knowing expression. Gaspar cleared his throat, schooling his features back into neutrality.

“I trust we can rely on your cooperation, then?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want any sudden hesitation jeopardising our efforts once we begin.”

Rosa’s smile simply widened as she lifted her instrument with a casual flourish. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Never mind the hours spent trudging through endless corridors, casting charms until I’m so drained I might’ve literally started seeing sounds at some point. And oh, let’s not forget how I’m practically held together by fancy elixirs. Really, I’m sure none of that will catch up with me at the worst possible moment.”

“Hmph. I will take that as a yes.” Gaspar let his gaze sweep across the chamber once more. “Then there is little left to delay us.”

The room itself seemed to hum with latent energy. There were no other visible exits, which suggested this was indeed the innermost sanctum. The discs, the etched runes spiraling up the walls, and the rippling ceiling all begged for answers, and he was intrigued to investigate whatever secrets lay hidden here. But first, they had to deal with what stood before them.

“You make it sound like it’ll be a breeze,” Rosa remarked lightly.

Gaspar shot her a sidelong glance. “Do you truly think an echo of Baroness Hartford could pose a challenge to all of us?”

The woman tilted her head, eyeing the distant figure. “Well, I’m not sure. But I wouldn’t hedge my bets on it being easy. Scarlett’s usually pretty sparing with her mana, so you don’t often see her go all out. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it. I just know one thing: if there’s even a chance of ending up on the wrong side of one of her firestorms, I’d think twice about provoking her.”

Her companions nodded in silent agreement.

Gaspar frowned. He had accepted that there might be more to the Baroness than met the eye, but the idea that she could rival echoes of ancient wizards simply seemed absurd.

“Enough speculation,” he said curtly, turning to address his wizards. “Coordinate your casting. I want a synchronised, multi-school barrage at full force.”

Everyone moved into position, and the Baroness’ echo shifted ever so slightly. Her attire seemed to shimmer.

“She’s equipped her artifacts,” Fynn observed.

“It copied even that much, huh?” Rosa muttered. “Yeah, then we probably should be careful.”

Gaspar glanced at her, but he nodded towards Grand Wizard Clemmons and her barrier wizards. “Be ready to reinforce our defences if necessary.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced the echo would pose a serious threat, but if the Hall’s magic empowered it in some unexpected way, caution was warranted.

Steadying himself once more, he focused his mana through the length of his staff, the hum of power coursing through him. The other wizards mimicked his actions, and glowing runes materialised in the air. Intricate spell formations cracked with energy, building to a crescendo.

With practiced coordination, the barrage was unleashed — a dazzling storm of fire, ice, earth, and other arcane forces arcing across the chamber towards the echo. The shellwork converged, the sheer force illuminating the room in a cascade of light and colours.

But just before impact, the echo dissolved into a cloud of swirling mist. The spells slammed into the stone floor, their energy fizzling into harmless embers as the echo reappeared a short distance away, entirely unscathed.

Gaspar’s frown deepened. The Baroness could use teleportation magic? He cast an irritated glance at Rosa.

“She probably can’t pull that trick too often,” the woman offered. “Maybe twice more?”

Gaspar’s gaze lingered on her, not liking the uncertainty in her voice, but eventually he turned back to the echo. “Again,” he ordered, his voice clipped. His grip on his staff tightened. “Stagger the spells — don’t give it time to anticipate.”

The wizards adjusted their strategy, refraining from releasing all their spells at once. The first salvo launched, and the echo evaded it just as before. A second wave followed, only for the misty teleportation to whisk the figure away again. By the time the third barrage was cast—this time with Gaspar’s own homing spell among the mix—it seemed they might finally corner it. But as the spells closed in, shimmering elemental barriers materialized around the echo, their intricate patterns weaving fire and water in unison.

At the same time, hydromancy spells veered off course or vaporized in bursts of heat, while pyromancy attacks twisted into cascading torrents of water, snuffed out entirely. Spells from other schools met similar fates, absorbed by sheer force or redirected with uncanny precision. Even Gaspar’s own homing spell faltered slightly mid-flight, wavering as though resisting his control, before vanishing into a gleaming wall of water. When the magic storm subsided, the echo stood untouched, as if the assault had never happened.

Gaspar’s expression darkened further. “Agai—” He stopped mid-command, his words dying as the echo raised its hand in a slow, deliberate motion. A wreath of fire flickered into existence around its head, burning like a crown. The surge of magic that followed was palpable, and the chamber’s temperature spiked in an instant.

Clemmons and the other wizards just managed to raise their barriers in time as, all at once, an inferno erupted across the chamber. A colossal wave of fire surged forward, a wall of molten fury roaring as it engulfed everything in its path. Shockingly enough, the protective wards conjured by Clemmons and the others shuddered under the onslaught, their translucent forms flickering briefly as the inferno bore down on them. Beyond the barriers, the fire’s intensity rendered the chamber a blinding sea of flame.

Gaspar’s eyes widened as he took in the spectacle, not sure whether to believe what he was seeing. The sheer scale of the attack was staggering—a tidal wave of fire, conjured with no visible preparation, relying solely on pure pyrokinesis…

He had known the Baroness was skilled in pyrokinesis, yes, but this was beyond anything he could have anticipated. Clemmons and the other wizards had managed to hold the barriers, but he couldn’t help but wonder how many among them could have survived the attack without the protection.

He turned to Rosa, who was watching the flames carefully. When their eyes met, her usual levity was gone.

“I told you she could be a problem,” she said. Her gaze flicked back to the inferno. “Scarlett’s biggest weakness is her limited mana stores, but…maybe that’s not even a factor for this thing.”

As she spoke, the flames began to subside. The oppressive heat faded, and the chamber slowly came back into view. Gaspar’s eyes locked on the echo. Had he, once more, underestimated the Baroness that badly? It had to be a distortion of reality, a fabrication of the Hall. While he had never bothered much with the Hartford family in the Empire, he had at least heard the rumors painting Baroness Hartford as a middling mage at best. Given his interactions with her, he assumed some of those rumours had been false, or that she had improved as a mage. But this wasn’t just talent or improvement he was seeing. This was something else entirely. This level of magic—control, power—was something even arch wizards might find difficulty matching. It simply should not be possible.

If it were not for the fact that the echo stood alone, he might have doubted whether they could—

His thoughts froze as the air around the echo rippled and twisted. One by one, more hazy figures materialised around it, their forms indistinct. Gaspar’s stomach sank as their numbers quickly multiplied until they nearly matched the size of his own group.