The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 388: Zealots in the Dark (End)

"You talk too much," he snapped, voice low but fierce. He wasn't in the mood for monologues about their cunning. And if they thought they'd outmaneuvered him, they hadn't seen everything he had to offer.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Laethor's lips twitch with faint amusement despite his dire predicament. The prince's gaze flickered between Mikhailis and the Enforcer, gauging the scene. Even bound in chains, Laethor carried himself with a sort of regal defiance, head held high, as though silently daring them to break him.

The robed Enforcer chuckled, lifting one hand lazily. The mist coiled tighter around his fingers, forming twisting shapes in the flicker of lantern light. Mikhailis recognized the predatory gleam in the Enforcer's eyes: confidence that had likely been earned from brutal experience. He's used this power in battle before. The brand on Mikhailis's arm pulsed in response, an almost tangible wave of caution.

Rodion's voice cut through the tension, words clipped and urgent:

<He's collecting energy from the barrier. If you let him gather enough, he could corrupt you—>

Mikhailis never let Rodion finish. He'd always prided himself on his instincts, on speed—both physical and mental. Right now, he needed to end this confrontation before it spiraled out of control. He needed to free Laethor and ensure the Crownless House's plan ended here, not in some unstoppable ritual.

He tightened his grip on the elemental gauntlets around his arms, letting the swirling power of the Tempestrike Drakeant hum restlessly beneath his skin. Threads of lightning crackled at his fingertips, coiling around the layered bracers that combined the fiery might of Crymber Ant and the fluid elasticity of the Slimeweave. Each piece of his chimera ant equipment resonated with him, a silent chorus of readiness.

He breathed in slowly, ignoring the dryness clinging to his throat. Anger, frustration, fear all simmered within him, but beneath it was an unyielding sense of resolve. If the Enforcer believed he'd cornered Mikhailis, he was about to learn how quickly Mikhailis's brand of chaos could turn tables. A wave of swirling shadow flickered around Mikhailis's ankles, Riftborne Necrolord's stealth cloak adapting in an instant, ready to vanish him again if needed. But he didn't plan to slip away—at least, not yet.

He could sense the tension in the room spiking. The Serewyn knight took a step sideways, circling around to keep Laethor between him and Mikhailis. As if sensing an advantage, the Enforcer let out a low, mocking laugh. "What's the matter, Prince? Rethinking your vow to meddle in Serewyn's affairs?" He raised his robed arm, and the mist swirling around his digits began to surge outward, creeping across the floor like living tendrils seeking prey.

Mikhailis felt a quick jolt in his mind—Rodion's detection.

<Enforcer is attempting to expand the barrier's range. If successful, you'll be inside it too.>

Being locked in the same suffocating field that was already draining Laethor's magic? Not an option. He could imagine that suppressive energy leeching away his borrowed enhancements, leaving him vulnerable to a crippling mental assault from the Enforcer.

Still, he hesitated. If he rushed in blindly, he risked crossing the barrier and being pinned just like Laethor. He needed a precise, deadly strike. No time to second-guess.

"Enough talk," he spat, letting his voice drop to a tense hush. "You want to see what I can do when I'm serious?" A flicker of amusement danced in the Enforcer's eyes.

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"Show me, then. Entertain me a bit before you die." Mikhailis's lips curved into a grim smile. This was exactly the chance he needed—overconfidence, arrogance. The best way to exploit an enemy. He reached within, summoning the scorching energy of the Tempestrike Drakeant's speed boost. Lightning coursed through his veins, coiling in his muscles, setting them ablaze with frenetic energy. The brand on his arm flared hot, an internal alarm or perhaps a twisted cheer, urging him forward. He locked eyes with the Enforcer, adrenaline crashing through him like a tidal wave. Then, without warning, he moved.

Lightning surged through his veins as he activated the Tempestrike Drakeant's speed boost, launching himself forward at an impossible velocity. The sudden explosion of power raced through Mikhailis's muscles like an electric shock, crackling along his arms and legs in a vivid flash. One moment, he stood ten paces away from the Enforcer; the next, he closed the distance in less time than it took to blink. All the robed figure could do was widen his eyes in stunned realization, too late to react.

Mikhailis's knee struck the Enforcer's ribs with a brutal, resonating impact, the force loud enough to echo off the damp chamber walls. The robed man's breath left him in a ragged gasp, and his body crumpled backward, crashing thunderously into the stone. Bits of rock and mortar scattered around the impact site, a dust cloud rising in the dim lantern light.

He had no time to admire his handiwork. The entire chamber erupted into chaos as Chimera Ant Soldiers burst from underground, their sudden appearance sending the mercenaries into a flurry of panicked shouts. Emerging from concealed holes in the cracked floor, each soldier glided across the chamber's slick stone with an eerie precision. Their dark chitin shimmered beneath the flickering lantern glow, giving them an unsettling presence. Mandibles clicking, they struck with ruthless coordination, overwhelming mercenaries left and right.

Rodion's calm, measured voice hummed in Mikhailis's earpiece.

<Forty percent of the enemy forces are already neutralized. The rest are losing formation.>

Mikhailis allowed himself a tiny smirk. He usually hated confrontation, preferring jokes and sarcasm to real violence, but sometimes, a decisive strike was necessary. "A bit dramatic, but I'll take it," he murmured under his breath.

Then he spotted Laethor at the center of the chamber. The Crown Prince was shackled by thick metal chains that glowed with a sinister, pale light. The flickering glow gave the iron an almost alive quality, and the chains hissed faintly whenever Laethor tried to move, as though they were feeding on some hidden reservoir of energy. Even from across the room, Mikhailis sensed the unnatural suppression locked tight around the prince's body.

Crymber Ant's gauntlets roared to life, igniting with brilliant flames that combined with frosty vapor. The contradictory elements swirled in a chaotic dance of sparks and steam. One of the Chimera Ant Soldiers rushed forward, extending its segmented arm as if offering a stable platform for the Crymber Ant to brace against. In one fluid motion, the flaming–frost gauntlets tore through the magic-suppressing chains, causing them to melt and crack in an instant. The harsh green glow sputtered and died, the barrier shattering into shards of half-formed light that rained down like dying fireflies.

Freed from the shackles, Laethor collapsed forward, legs buckling beneath him. Mikhailis dashed in, catching him just before he hit the ground. The prince's body felt frighteningly cold, his face pale and glistening with sweat. Despite that, there was a flicker of a smirk still clinging to Laethor's lips, as though he refused to yield to the situation's hopelessness.

"You're coming with me, Pretty Prince," Mikhailis said, forcing a casualness into his tone that belied the worry gripping his chest. The brand on his forearm pulsed, matching the adrenaline pounding through his veins.

Laethor coughed wetly, his voice uneven and strained. "You have… you have terrible timing," he managed, but there was a stubborn glint in his eyes.

"No," Mikhailis shot back, hooking an arm under Laethor's shoulder. "You have terrible luck. But let's not compare notes on that right now."

He shoved Laethor toward the Hypnoveil Variant, which stepped forward from the swirling dust, its unusual flower-laden carapace pulsing with that signature purple glow. The ant cradled Laethor carefully, almost tenderly, then began to move swiftly away, guided by other Chimera Ant Soldiers clearing a path. Mikhailis let out a silent breath of relief. Getting the prince to safety was a priority, even more so than finishing off the Crownless House lackeys here.

But as Mikhailis turned back to the fight, something inside him lurched. He froze in place, eyes going wide, every muscle in his body seizing up in an unnatural lock. What? Panic burst like a spark in his chest. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to respond. Instead, a chilling wave of pain ran through his nerves, an icy burn that felt like knives turning beneath his skin.

The mist roiling in his veins began to twist, morphing from a supportive force into a vile, writhing mass of corruption. It wasn't just a fluke or a random surge. Something—someone—was hijacking the bond he shared with the mist.

His vision blurred, as if a purple haze tinted everything. The sound of battle around him dulled, replaced by a roaring in his ears that pounded like a second heartbeat. He could sense the presence of the Enforcer somewhere behind him, presumably picking himself up from that earlier assault. Damn it, I should have knocked him out for good, Mikhailis thought bitterly. But now it might be too late.

Rodion's voice crackled in his earpiece, uncharacteristically harsh and tinged with alarm:

<This is what happens when you go too deep, Mikhailis. If you don't pull back, you might not be able to come back at all!>

A whisper slithered through his mind, cold and insistent, as though something was trying to drown his consciousness. Let go… Give in… The words weren't his own—they felt foreign, malevolent, yet strangely tempting. The brand on his forearm throbbed violently, as if it was trying to tear free from his flesh.

Mikhailis clenched his fists, or tried to. His arms twitched, but responded with agonizing sluggishness. No. My will is my own. He forced the thought, repeating it like a mantra to block out the alien presence closing in on him. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, hoping the shock of pain would help him focus. It barely did.

Visions flickered at the edges of his mind: glimpses of a twisted realm where the mist roiled in savage storms, devouring entire landscapes. A thousand voices cried out, but each voice was replaced by a hush as the fog silenced them. He recognized a piece of his nightmares in that chaos, the same terror he felt every time he considered surrendering fully to the mist's influence. If he gave in, he risked losing himself to madness.

He wouldn't let that happen. Not while Rhea, Lira, Cerys, and Vyrelda were waiting for him back at the safehouse. Not while Laethor's life—and Silvarion Thalor's interests—still hung in the balance. Pride or no pride, he refused to let some twisted power rewrite him into a puppet.

With one final surge of control, he activated the Riftborne Necrolord's emergency teleportation, funneling the remains of his strength into the obscure spell. The entire chamber flickered in a swirl of dark threads that enveloped him, the Chimera Ant Soldiers, and every piece of gear they carried. The world around him began to unravel, the stone walls fading into a swirl of black and gray.

He glimpsed the Enforcer in the corner of his eye, rising from the ground with a slow, smug grin. Mist coiled around the robed man's arms, licking at the edges of reality, as though aiming to disrupt the teleportation. For a split second, their gazes locked, and Mikhailis felt the same malevolent presence try to dig deeper into his psyche. The grin the Enforcer wore was part triumph, part mockery—like he was fully confident that Mikhailis was running away in defeat.

But Mikhailis didn't care if it looked like a retreat. Survival was survival.

The darkness folded around them, reality warping in a thunderous swirl of compressed air. Stone, firelight, and swirling dust collapsed into swirling blackness, like a lens shutter snapping closed over the world.

The last thing he saw was the Enforcer's smirk as the world vanished into darkness.