The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 346: Where the Runes Wake

"Sure," she said, her voice steadier than before.

They walked side by side for a few steps until Rhea realized she was staring at him. Quickly, she looked away, clearing her throat. Her heart beat a little faster, and she silently berated herself for acting like a schoolgirl.

They caught up to the group, and Rhea found herself falling back into her usual posture—arms tense, eyes scanning the corridor. But something in her chest felt lighter. She couldn’t put it into words, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Mikhailis moved ahead, taking the lead now, cracking another joke under his breath about how the catacombs needed better interior decorating. Rhea rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile before she could stop it. She noticed Lira smirking knowingly, which made Rhea’s cheeks grow hot.

I must be losing my mind, she thought, but somehow, it didn’t feel so bad.

They reached a wider chamber where broken pillars lay scattered across the floor, and the ceiling arched overhead like a dark canopy. Faded murals clung to the walls, depicting scenes lost to time. A fine layer of dust covered everything. Vyrelda paused, studying the map again, then nodded toward one of the side passages.

As they continued, Rhea noticed that her earlier frustration was gone, replaced by a cautious calm. She was still alert, ready for danger, but her mind wasn’t racing with dark memories.

Mikhailis turned toward her at one point, voice dropping low so only she would hear. "Hey," he said, "you sure you’re good?"

Rhea’s lips twitched into something almost like a real smile. She looked him in the eyes. "You’re right."

He arched a brow. "Of course I am. What did I say?"

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

She shook her head, feeling the tension slip from her shoulders. Something about his presence, his willingness to notice she was off, made her want to trust him more than she expected. The memory of Estella flickered again—"You belong to me…"—and the pain that once haunted her felt a bit less potent.

"Doesn’t matter." She shook her head, and for once, her frustration faded. "Let’s keep moving."

_____

The deeper they went, the more unstable the tunnels became. Cracks in the ancient stone marked walls that looked ready to crumble at any second. Dim, uneven torchlight flickered over stray rocks and rubble littering the floor, casting strange shapes on the walls. Every few steps, the group paused, listening for any movement that might mean an ambush—or worse, a full cave-in. A dank, earthy smell hung in the air, making each breath feel heavy, like they were trudging deeper into a slumbering beast’s belly.

Mikhailis felt the temperature drop further, goosebumps rising on his skin despite his protective coat. The catacombs had felt cold before, but now it was as if they’d stepped into a different realm entirely—a place where sunlight was only a legend. Overhead, bits of the ceiling flaked off. Dust drifted down in pale motes, floating aimlessly before vanishing into the darkness below.

Rhea moved close behind him, one hand resting lightly on her dagger’s hilt. There was a fierce look in her eyes, and her movements were tense, but there was also a strange calm to her breathing. Maybe she was still riding that small wave of comfort after recalling Estella’s presence, or maybe she’d made peace with the danger. Mikhailis wondered if she could sense the same ominous feeling pressing down on them—like the shadows themselves had weight.

A thin rivulet of water trickled across the floor, forming a narrow path that led them past scattered remains of what might have been an old storeroom. Crates lay toppled, their wooden boards half-rotten. Some metal tools, rusted through, peeked from the debris. Lira briefly crouched to study a broken sword blade, her elegant brows drawing together as she tapped its worn edge. No words passed between them, but she slipped the shard into her pack, as if collecting evidence of the past.

Then, in the distance—a faint rumbling. It was like the heartbeat of the earth itself. Everyone paused, exchanging glances. Vyrelda, who’d been carefully checking the path for traps, looked up sharply. Before Mikhailis could crack a joke about it being time to turn around, the rumble grew louder, more insistent.

A series of glowing symbols along the wall flared up, responding to something unseen. The lines pulsed in time with the tremor, brightening to a sickly green that illuminated the tunnel in a ghastly glow. Mikhailis felt the hairs on his neck stand up as an electric jolt of energy prickled over his skin.

He shot a wary look at Lira, who returned a tense nod. They both knew that whatever was causing these runes to react was likely no friendly presence. Maybe the Mistborn Entity was stirring again, or perhaps the catacombs themselves recognized an intruder. He remembered how the walls had seemed to watch them earlier. Now, it felt like they were glaring.

A single, heavy pulse echoed through the stone—a tangible wave that made dust and pebbles bounce along the ground. Mikhailis cursed under his breath. "That’s probably bad," he muttered, glancing around to see if the walls were about to cave in. Instead, shapes moved in the gloom.

His heart sank at the sight. Emerging from an archway up ahead were armored figures. Their steps were methodical, like a well-drilled unit. Torchlight glinted off their gear, which was etched with runes that crackled with subdued energy. The lead figure halted, raising a hand, and the entire squad came to a disciplined stop.

"Technomancers," Rhea breathed, grip tightening on her weapon.

Ever since Luthadel’s lockdown, the Technomancers had spread their forces everywhere. But seeing them this deep in the catacombs was more than unsettling—it was downright alarming. Mikhailis wondered how they’d gotten here so fast and what they already knew about his group’s plans.

The leading enforcer lifted his chin, voice echoing off the walls. "By order of the Council," he barked, "you will not take another step."

Mikhailis forced a casual grin. "See, this is why I hate bureaucracy. Always someone telling you where you can or can’t stand."

Vyrelda’s eyes narrowed, her hand dropping slowly to the hilt of her sword. "They came prepared," she said under her breath, barely loud enough for Mikhailis to catch.

He believed it. The Technomancers’ gear looked different from the usual city enforcers—a heavy focus on runic reinforcements, especially around the arms and chest. That meant only one thing: they’d anticipated they might have to deal with mist-manipulation or arcane defenses.

Lira’s dagger slid from her sleeve into her palm. The movement was swift, almost elegant, but the look on her face was anything but gentle. Rhea gritted her teeth, stepping slightly to the side, ready to pounce if things got ugly. Meanwhile, Cerys stood with her sword drawn, her posture calm, though the set of her jaw showed she was ready for a fight.

The first Technomancer made a sharp motion, and one of his subordinates lifted a runic rifle. Mikhailis’s gut twisted, a cold knot forming. He recognized that weapon from Silvarion Thalor’s intelligence reports: a prototype capable of firing bursts designed to interrupt or negate mist-based magic. Not good.

A bolt of energy blazed across the tunnel, too fast for most to see. But Mikhailis saw enough. He dove to the side, rolling across the rubble-strewn floor. The shot slammed into the spot where he’d been standing, blasting cracks through the stone. Fragments flew, some narrowly missing his shoulder.

"Fine," he muttered, dusting off his coat as he rose. "We’ll do this the fun way."

He heard the distinct swish of Lira’s dagger meeting metal. Sparks flew where her blade clashed against the Technomancer’s gauntlet. Behind her, Rhea lunged with her short sword, aiming for the gap in another enforcer’s armor. The enforcer twisted, deflecting with a rune-encrusted bracer that sent ripples of energy skidding along Rhea’s blade.

Cerys wasted no time. She rushed forward, sword slicing in a precise arc toward the lead Technomancer. He parried, but the force of her strike pushed him back a step. Her second slash was even faster, forcing him to shift his footing.

Vyrelda, her eyes calculating, stepped into a blind spot. While two enforcers focused on Cerys’s aggressive onslaught, she moved behind them, striking with lethal efficiency. One collapsed, a muted grunt escaping his lips. The other spun too slowly to defend, and Vyrelda’s blade found its target again. Her expression remained impassive, as if she were fighting ghosts.

Mikhailis ducked under another crackling bolt of energy. He felt the heat of it pass over his head, singing a few strands of his hair. He grimaced—hair was important to him, after all. This was getting messy. He had to do something about that rifle.

A voice flitted through his mind, that AI tone he was so used to hearing: Find more chapters on novelbuddy

<Shall I deploy the Chimera Ants? This battle could be resolved in an estimated 37.2 seconds with appropriate intervention.>

He grit his teeth. Not now. In the swirl of combat, he couldn’t risk anyone else seeing an army of monstrous hybrids suddenly appear at his beck and call. It would raise too many questions—questions he couldn’t answer here.

<Understood. Continuing observation.>