Just then, he sensed a presence behind him. Casually, so as not to show any wariness, Karl turned. A figure was gradually rising from the rooftop, the surface rippling like disturbed water. The person, pale-faced with sunken black eyes and black hair, was dressed in a kefna. He eyed Karl briefly before speaking.

“We’re entering the castle now. You can choose your entry: through the front door or one of the many windows.” Without waiting for a response, the man sank back into the rooftop.

Karl stood, stunned. What? Is this their tactic? Divide and conquer? This was bad for him—most of the others didn’t see him favorably, and cooperation was unlikely. In other words, he was on his own for this mission. He hated that.

Before Karl could act, the others leaped into the air, throwing shards of glass at the castle. One by one, some passed through the veil as if it wasn’t there, others likely teleporting through the mirrors. But how was he supposed to get in? Watching the numbers around him dwindle, Karl gritted his teeth and donned his glasses once more.

Last time, he had spotted a small tear in the veil, allowing him to glimpse something inside. This meant the veil wasn’t omnipotent—it had weaknesses he could exploit.

The world shifted again to its dark, submerged state. Karl scanned the veil, not wanting to be the last to enter. Fortunately, luck was on his side. He spotted a small tear near an intricately designed window. Wasting no time, Karl jumped, cutting through the mist. His target: the window.

Approaching the fortress with a burst of strength, he pierced his fingers into the tear and drove a punch into the window, shattering it. Strangely, the mist did not rush in to enter, perhaps because the structure was veiled. He didn’t have time to wonder if the noise would alert the castle’s master. With the window broken, he slipped inside, stumbling slightly at the sight of the castle’s bizarre interior.

The interior of the castle was extremely strange. Karl had expected to find himself in a room, or at the very least, a corridor leading deeper into the vast structure. But what greeted him was entirely different—the room was upside down, and he was standing on the ceiling. The chairs and tables were all affixed to what should have been the floor, while the corridor, instead of being logically connected to the room’s current state, was attached to the ceiling. Before him was the door that led to the corridor, while above him was the room itself. Imagining the room in its normal state meant that the corridor exiting from it was built on the ceiling. What kind of bizarre architecture was this? It was disorienting and perplexing.

And if this was just one room, Karl couldn’t even begin to imagine what the rest of the castle looked like. It had to be a real maze. Despite this, the room was barely lit, shrouded in near-total darkness. Karl had to strain his eyes just to see a few steps ahead. In this eerie environment, his mind couldn’t help but wander to the terrifying possibilities lurking in the shadows. After all, the building seemed crafted from Astra—who could say if creatures from Astra had also made this place their home?

He waited for a few moments, pulling the sickle from his cloak, ready to strike at anything that might attack him. He cautiously ventured into the dark, narrow corridor. The silence, broken only by his own breath, was unsettling, but thankfully it wasn't as overwhelming as it could have been. As he continued walking, Karl soon noticed a series of doors on the left side of the room. Pausing briefly to ponder, he trailed his fingers along the wall until he found a round doorknob, twisting it carefully.

The door abruptly swung open, startling him for a moment. He quickly caught it, preventing it from banging against the wall. That was strange—almost as if the door opened from above, with gravity enhancing the force of the swing.

As odd as it was, Karl began to understand the castle’s odd nature. Even something as fundamental as gravity seemed distorted here.

From the open door, he peered outward—or was it downward? Regardless, the floor, which should have been beneath him, was now sideways, facing him. The "ground" was a vast hall, occupied by various people—some dressed in rags, others in decent clothing. They carried lanterns and wandered in a disoriented manner, as though unsure of where to go. What caught Karl's attention the most was the age of some of these people—several appeared to be no older than 10 or 12.

Could these be the kidnapped adepts? If they were, then Karl had stumbled upon something significant. But if that was the case, then something very strange was going on in the castle. None of them seemed to be interested in escaping; in fact, they all appeared to be in a trance or in a dazed state of sorts. Even more concerning, they were all armed—carrying weapons ranging from spears to swords.

Don’t tell me the master of the castle has messed with their minds—turning his prisoners into his guardians? Karl thought. That’s a clever strategy. If the Mysteries School of Thought is here to save them, they’ll likely avoid harming the adepts, which gives Olmer a significant advantage. But if this theory was correct, how had Olmer managed to do this? The intelligence Karl had received suggested Olmer didn’t have powers related to mind control. Or could high Astra be used for such a feat?

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Karl watched for a few minutes, trying to process what he was seeing. Then, as he attempted to move, he froze. Something was wrong—his body suddenly felt weak, far weaker than ever before. What was happening?

Just then, realization struck Karl like lightning. This place was made from Astra, which meant it was siphoning away his strength!

What? He tried to move, but his body felt impossibly heavy, as though a thousand boulders were pressing down on him. The overwhelming helplessness reminded him of when he had been trapped in Astra during Fresrick's hypnosis. That same fear and weakness crept back in.

No! Karl refused to let himself feel that way again.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move with every ounce of strength he could muster. He had to move. He must move. If he didn’t, who knew what could happen in this strange place? No, he wouldn’t allow himself to be trapped in such a pathetic position. But just as he felt his body surge with some strength, something solid collided with his head.

Bang!

His vision snapped back as he tumbled through the door and onto the "floor."

Boom!

He hit the pavement hard, pain shooting through his bones. But he couldn’t even react to it—dizziness overtook him. Why am I dizzy? Surely his body could endure tougher beatings than this. Was it the siphoning? Could that also be weakening his enhancements?

His vision blurred, and the last thing he saw was a boy, no older than 10 or 12, walking toward him with a black chain in hand. The boy looked familiar.

Isn't that Ludwig? This was Karl’s last thought as darkness swallowed him.

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He gasped back to consciousness, the pain in his body immediately assaulting his already groggy senses. He groaned, feeling increasingly confused about his situation. What happened?

He looked around, noticing the darkness was unusually dense—or was it his weakness making everything seem dimmer? Regardless, he needed to figure out what had happened. He tried to move but instead heard the unmistakable clanging of chains. His body was restrained somehow.

Am I chained?

Karl struggled, trying to free himself with his enhanced strength, but all it did was make the chains rattle louder. From what he could feel, he was hoisted up, suspended by chains. His hands were bolted together above his head, his legs spread apart. Judging by the cold on his skin, he realized he had also been stripped of his clothes.

So, they captured me? Karl clenched his jaw. If the rest of the group found him like this, it would only reinforce their low opinion of him. No, he had to find a way to escape before they arrived. But no matter what he tried, he only grew weaker with each passing moment. This is too strange. Even though he knew the castle was siphoning his power, the rate had increased—far more than before. It felt targeted somehow, as if his energy was being drained through a specific medium.

He summoned the face of the soul, watching as tiny specks of starlight blinked to life. He sighed with relief. His power was still there. For a moment, he had feared it had been stripped away like his rest in this castle. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. But how could he escape?

His mind raced, but no concrete plan formed. The lack of light around him was a serious problem. He needed to see something—anything—that he could use. He missed the white flames. He knew with them, he could have surely found a way out or at least illuminated his surroundings.

Sigh. Since there’s nothing I can do right now, I should conserve my energy. Karl thought. If my captor shows up, I’ll need whatever strength I have left.

So, he waited.

He didn’t know how long he remained in the darkness. Strange, though—the darkness felt almost audible now as if tiny voices whispered to him from within it. Karl shook his head, dismissing the ridiculous thought. Am I going insane?

By some stroke of fortune, Karl spotted a faint torchlight growing brighter in the distance. It was accompanied by the soft sound of footsteps—likely his captor. Soon, the light illuminated the area around him. But after spending so much time in the pitch-black darkness, Karl could only wince and abruptly shut his eyes against the sudden brightness.

Nonetheless, gradually, he opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light. What he saw were iron bars.

He was in a square chamber with a tall ceiling—or rather, a tall floor since everything here was reversed and distorted. The high square ceiling was now beneath his feet, covered in cracks with mold growing out of them.

Surrounding him was a large iron cage, with each bar as thick as a man’s arm. They looked old and rusty, but chains were tangled around them, stretching from his own bindings up to the “ground” or ceiling. It was an intricate setup. He suddenly had a thought: Was this what was stripping my strength away?

It was theory, one he was eager to taste out.

The man carrying the torch seemed older than those he’d seen in the hall earlier. He was pale-faced and dressed in a torn kefna as if he had been through a battle. He seemed more like one of the mission group members than an adept. Was he working for Olmer? Karl briefly entertained the thought but quickly dismissed it. The man, like the others, had the same dazed look—as if trapped in a trance. It reminded Karl of Fredrick’s control, but the difference was this man could move around.

The man dragged a person into the room. It was a kid, likely between the ages of 11 and 12, but he looked weak and pale, as if on the verge of death. The man brought an intricate key close to the cage, unlocking it with a loud clang. Then, he shoved the kid inside, attaching him to a chain beside Karl. The boy was soon hoisted up, his legs spread apart and his arms bound together.

Once the chains were secured tightly, the boy let out a groan but did not wake or move beyond that.

Just as I suspected—the chains are siphoning energy. But why? Could it be that Olmer can’t sustain this place and needs the energy of others to power it? That would make sense. And maybe those dazed people are the ones who’ve been completely drained? Or perhaps they’re being saved for last? But what does that mean for me? How do I escape?

Watching the "Puppet"—as Karl had taken to calling them—he sighed deeply and shouted, "Can’t you let me down?" His voice was tinged with panic.