BOOM.
It wasn't a knock at the door. It was a seismic event.
The entire castle shuddered. A vase on the mantelpiece fell and shattered. The fire in the hearth flared green for a second, then died out.
"What was that?" Isabella asked, losing her balance and sliding off my lap.
My internal HUD lit up with a kaleidoscope of red warnings.
[CRITICAL FAILURE DETECTED.]
[Source: The Duke's Estate (Basement Level).]
[Project: "Passive Income" Mana Farm.]
[Status: CATASTROPHIC MELTDOWN.]
I swore. "My basement."
"Your basement?" Isabella stood up, adjusting her robe. "What did you have in your basement?"
"I was trying to automate mana generation," I admitted, standing up. My shoulder had fully healed, the slime knitting back into the illusion of cloth and skin. "I set up a loop of self-replicating slimes to eat garbage and produce mana crystals. It was supposed to be a self-sustaining ecosystem."
[Report: Slimes achieved unionization. Collective bargaining failed. Explosion imminent.]
"And?"
"And apparently, I forgot to install a pressure valve," I said. "I think I just blew up a city block."
We ran to the balcony. Isabella threw open the glass doors.
In the distance, across the city, a pillar of neon blue smoke was rising into the night sky from the direction of my estate. It looked like a nuclear mushroom cloud, if the nuke had been made of blueberry syrup.
But that wasn't the problem.
The problem was the lights coming toward the palace. Hundreds of torches.
And leading them was a carriage made of white gold, surrounded by Silver Paladins.
"Malakor," Isabella hissed, gripping the balcony railing.
My vision zoomed in. Even from this distance, I could see the High Inquisitor standing in his carriage. He wasn't looking at the explosion. He was looking—blindfold and all—directly at the Palace. Directly at me.
[NEMESIS DETECTED: High Inquisitor Malakor.]
[Current Status: Vindictive.]
[Objective: Investigation of Heretical Explosion.]
"He knows," I said. "He was waiting for a slip-up. An unregulated explosion of raw mana? That’s not just a fine. That’s an act of war against the Divine Narrative."
"He's coming here," Isabella said, her voice turning cold and sharp again. The playfulness was gone. She was the Empress now. "He knows you returned tonight. He’ll claim the explosion was an assassination attempt on the Crown, or a summoning ritual gone wrong."
"He'll demand entry," I said. "He'll demand to test everyone for 'residue'."
And I was currently covered in the invisible residue of a mana explosion because I was the mana explosion. My signature was all over that mushroom cloud.
Isabella turned to me. "Can you hide it? If he scans you now, will you pass?"
I checked my reserves.
[Mana: 4%]
"No," I said honestly. "I'm empty. If he uses the Truth Siphon, or even a simple holy candle, I'll melt. I need to recharge."
"How?"
"I need to eat," I said. "Something high-density. Magic items. Potions. A small wizard."
Isabella looked around the room. Her eyes landed on the jewelry box on her vanity. It was overflowing with enchanted necklaces, rings of protection, and amulets blessed by the Pope himself. The nation's GDP in magical artifacts.
She grabbed the box and dumped it onto the bed.
"Eat," she ordered.
"Your Majesty, that is the Crown Jewels collection. The history of your dynasty..."
"It's a tax write-off," she snapped. "Eat it. If Malakor finds a monster in my bedroom, I'm ruined. If he finds a Duke, we survive."
I didn't argue. I unhinged my jaw—literally, splitting my face open like a snake—and shoved a handful of diamond necklaces into my mouth.
Crunch.
They tasted like cold metal and static electricity. Delicious.
[ASSET CONSUMED: Amulet of Saint Jude.]
[Mana +15%]
[ASSET CONSUMED: Ring of Fire Resistance.]
[Mana +10%]
I chewed frantically as the sound of armored boots echoed in the hallway outside. The heavy doors shook. Someone was pounding on them.
"Open in the name of the Inquisition!" a voice roared.
Isabella smoothed her hair. She grabbed a book from the nightstand and sat on the chaise, posing as if she had been reading casually at 2:00 AM.
"Don't swallow the rubies whole," she whispered out of the side of her mouth. "They give you indigestion."
I gulped down the last of the royal heritage, feeling my power surge back to acceptable levels. My skin tightened. My eyes stabilized. I wiped a stray diamond crumb from my lip.
"Showtime," I muttered.
The doors burst open.
Malakor didn't walk in; he glided. The smoke from the explosion outside seemed to cling to his white robes. He was flanked by four Paladins with drawn swords.
He stopped in the center of the room. He turned his blindfolded head toward Isabella, then slowly, deliberately, toward me.
"A romantic evening?" Malakor asked, his voice soft and terrible. "Or were you two perhaps discussing the unauthorized detonation of a heresy bomb in the Duke's basement?"
I stood up, adjusting my tie. I flashed him my best, most shark-like corporate smile.
"Actually, High Inquisitor," I said, "we were just discussing the restructuring of the Church's tax exemptions."
Malakor smiled back.
"Good," he whispered. "Because I have brought the paperwork. And it requires a sacrifice."
The Paladins slammed the doors shut behind them.
[Objective Update: Survive the Night.]
[Tension: Maximum.]
I looked at Isabella. She looked at me.
We were trapped. We were guilty. And we were the only two people in the room who knew that God was just a bad landlord waiting to be evicted.
"Let's negotiate," I said.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.