Cornered within the damp, subterranean maze, the party found themselves at a complete standstill. With the city locked down beneath an impenetrable barrier, the royal guards mobilized as hollow constructs, and their diplomatic standing stripped away in an instant, every clear route forward had evaporated.
"We cannot stay stagnant," Hegemon muttered, his voice barely audible over the low rush of freezing water. "For now, we push deeper through the drainage system."
As they trudged through the cavernous brick conduits, Hegemon surveyed the sprawling iron grates and arched stone conduits with a quiet, analytical eye. 'An underground network of this scale and architectural precision...' he mused inwardly, a fleeting trace of nostalgia touching his thoughts. 'It mirrors the vast urban infrastructure of my original world.'
Suddenly, Kenji held up a hand, his body dropping into a low, combat-ready stance. The lightheartedness in his eyes vanished entirely.
"Hold on," Kenji whispered, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the Holy Sword. "Footsteps ahead. Heavy, unhurried, and coming straight toward us."
Lily raised her hand, dampening her hovering mana orb to a faint glimmer. They pressed themselves against the shadows of the curved stone wall, weapons drawn, waiting for whatever patrol had managed to track them into the sewers.
The heavy splashing of boots grew closer, accompanied by the ragged sound of strained breathing. But as the silhouette emerged from the dark curve of the tunnel into the dim light, the trio froze in utter disbelief.
There was no squad of Frost Sentinels, nor a barrage of mana rifles.
Standing before them was a frail, hunched old man, shivering severely in the subterranean cold. His face was weathered with deep, exhausted wrinkles, his eyes sunken, and his pale hair matted with grime. Instead of royal robes or polished plate armor, he wore nothing more than a ragged, coarse linen tunic wrapped loosely around his bony shoulders.
Kenji stared at him, bewildered. "An old man... down here?"
The elderly man paused, leaning heavily against a wooden walking staff to steady his trembling frame. He raised his hollow, tired eyes, looking past Kenji's drawn blade and landing directly on the diplomatic emblem pinned to Hegemon's cloak. A bitter, faint smile touched his cracked lips.
"Lower your steel, young Hero," the old man rasped, his voice dry and hoarse, like rust scraping against iron. "I am in no condition to harm a soul, let alone the wielder of the Holy Sword."
Hegemon stepped forward, his dark eyes studying the old man's posture, his soul signature, and the faint, agonizing trace of royal mana lingering beneath his bloodless skin. "Who are you?"
The old man let out a long, ragged sigh, bowing his head slightly in solemn resignation.
"My name is Karui Saltis," the old man answered softly, his words echoing in the quiet chamber. "The true sovereign of this hollowed realm... and the captive monarch whose throne you just saw occupied by a shell of wood and iron."