The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Chapter 608: A Pact with Death

Chapter 608: A Pact with Death

"Trust me."

I offered no response, allowing silence to serve as both agreement and quiet skepticism.

The deeper we traveled, the colder it became, as if the life itself was slowly draining from the fortress walls. Crystal conduits above glowed dimly, their illumination a ghostly blue-white, bathing everything in a spectral hue. The patterns of leyline energy pulsing along them grew steadily more complex, intertwining in patterns I had only seen referenced in forbidden texts—patterns explicitly tied to the darker arts of necromancy.

Still, Asterion moved with calm, measured purpose, each turn, each step a subtle confession of his true knowledge. He navigated these forbidden corridors with practiced ease, his fingers brushing against warded walls just long enough to trigger minor deactivation runes. Each moment reinforced my suspicion into certainty. He knew precisely where we were headed—and he intended me to see it.

I let him lead. The deception intrigued me almost as much as it annoyed me, watching him perform a carefully orchestrated dance of trust and betrayal. As a scholar of deception myself, I appreciated the skill it required. Yet beneath the appreciation was cold calculation. He was playing a dangerous game, and I was more than prepared to match him step for step.

We passed through a heavy, ornate door sealed by complex magical locks. Asterion hardly hesitated, his hand tracing runes effortlessly until the wards dissipated into nothingness. The chamber beyond opened before us, immense and foreboding, its atmosphere so thick with latent magic that it pressed against my lungs. My breath came slow and controlled as I stepped inside.

The room was grander than any other we'd encountered in Aetherion, its walls carved intricately with patterns of runes older than the fortress itself. Crystalline conduits wove like veins across the ceiling, pulsating gently with contained leyline energy. Each pulse resonated deep within my bones, a rhythm strangely alive yet disturbingly unnatural. At the center of the chamber, resting on a stone altar engraved with ritualistic precision, lay a massive crystal—dark as midnight, yet threaded with flickering, pale white veins of energy. A nexus unlike anything I'd encountered, its mere presence screamed forbidden magic—raw, powerful necromancy.

Asterion stepped confidently toward it, his gaze almost reverent as it traced the crystal's surface. He paused for a moment, lost in contemplation. He seemed unaware of my careful scrutiny—or perhaps simply indifferent, convinced of his own control.

I let him linger, eyes moving swiftly across the room. Artifacts lay arranged around the altar, each humming softly with barely restrained energy. The patterns they formed were deliberate, ritualistic. This wasn't just storage or defense; this was a place of power. A sanctum designed explicitly for experiments and rites that even the Council would shroud in secrecy.

My pulse quickened subtly. Whatever the Council's ambitions were, this was their core, their beating heart. And Asterion had brought me here intentionally, willingly exposing the darkest secrets of his supposed enemies. It was clear now—he had no fear of the Council discovering us because he was one of them.

Turning slowly, I observed him with new clarity. Every movement he made carried hidden significance—the casual way his fingers brushed the crystal's surface, how his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly in careful analysis. There was no hesitation, no confusion. He was exactly where he intended to be.