When he finally reached the broken castle, it revealed itself not as some distant, mysterious silhouette anymore—but as something real, something worn down by time and whatever had come before him.
The structure lay in ruins, its once-mighty walls now fractured and uneven, as if they had endured countless battles or perhaps something far worse.
A faint, dry smell of dust drifted through the cracks in the stone, carried by the wind in soft, ghostly breaths.
It wasn't just the scent of age—it was the scent of abandonment, of something that had long been left behind. And yet, standing there now, it didn't feel entirely empty.
Kang-suho slid off his summoned bear, his boots sinking slightly into the thick layer of snow beneath him. The moment his feet touched the ground, the cold crept back in, reminding him how exposed he really was without the bear's warmth.
His footprints pressed clearly into the snow, each step leaving behind a mark of his presence in a place that looked like it hadn't seen visitors in a long time.
He moved forward slowly, his pace cautious, his eyes scanning everything in front of him as he approached the broken gate.
The gate itself was barely holding together. Parts of it had been torn clean off, scattered around like discarded scraps.
It didn't look like simple decay—no, this felt intentional, like something had forced its way through. Kang-suho's gaze lingered on it for a moment longer than necessary.
…Like someone had been here before him.
As he stepped closer, he noticed the barbed wires tangled around parts of the entrance, rusted but still dangerous. Carefully, he lifted his foot and stepped over them, making sure not to brush against the sharp edges. His boot landed on something brittle—crk.
The faint, unmistakable sound of broken glass echoed softly beneath him, like stepping into an abandoned house frozen in time. The feeling sent a small, uneasy thought through his mind, but he pushed it aside.
He glanced back at his summoned bear, its massive form standing just outside the ruined entrance. For a moment, doubt crossed his face.
"Can it even fit?" he questioned, eyeing the narrow opening compared to the bear's size.
Then, almost as if it understood, the bear moved.
It rose onto its hind legs, its towering figure stretching upward in a way that made Kang-suho blink in surprise.
"Woah!" he chuckled, a brief moment of genuine amusement breaking through the tension.
With surprising ease, the bear stepped over the ruined gate, carefully maneuvering its body through the entrance.
Once inside, it slowly lowered itself back down, returning to all fours as if nothing unusual had happened. The ground trembled faintly with the weight of its movement, but it remained calm, steady, and obedient.
Kang-suho let out a small breath, then turned his attention forward again.
Together, he and the bear moved deeper into the castle grounds. Their pace was slow, deliberate, each step taken with awareness.
The silence inside felt heavier than outside, like the walls themselves were holding onto something unseen. Snow had made its way in through broken sections, mixing with debris scattered across the ground.
Ahead of them stood a wooden door, worn and aged, set into a metal doorframe that had somehow endured better than the rest of the structure. It stood there quietly, almost inviting—and yet, not entirely welcoming.
As they approached, Kang-suho instinctively looked left and right, his movements cautious, almost routine.
It was the same way a person would check both sides before crossing a street, except here, instead of cars, it was something far worse he was wary of.
Monsters.
The bear mirrored his stillness, its presence looming protectively beside him as they stood before the door, the air around them thick with anticipation.
Then, once both Kang-suho and his summoned bear felt the stillness settle—no movement, no sound beyond the quiet whisper of wind slipping through cracks—they stepped inside the castle.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the air changed. It grew heavier, thicker, as if it had been trapped there for years, untouched and undisturbed.
Spider webs stretched across corners and ceilings like fragile curtains, clinging to broken stone and rotting wood. The smell of dust hung thick in the air, so dense it almost felt visible, making every breath slightly uncomfortable, slightly wrong.
The interior was massive—far larger than what the outside had suggested. The space opened up into a wide, hollow expanse, yet despite its size, it felt suffocating. There were no windows letting in light, no torches burning, nothing to guide the eye or offer comfort. Just darkness. Endless, quiet darkness.
"Woah… it's dark," Kang-suho muttered, though a faint grin tugged at his lips, the kind that came from curiosity rather than fear.
"Ohh…" he continued, a hint of excitement rising in his voice, "My light skil—"
He stopped.
The realization hit him mid-sentence, cutting off his thought as cleanly as a blade. He wasn't the same anymore.
The abilities he once relied on… weren't his to use like before. A Dark Mage now. The irony almost made him scoff, but instead, he simply exhaled quietly and moved on.
Without another word, he stepped forward into the darkness, trusting his instincts more than his sight.
Behind him, the summoned bear followed, its massive paws pressing into the ground with heavy, deliberate steps. Each movement stirred up layers of dust that had long settled, sending faint clouds drifting into the air.
Kang-suho quickly raised his hand, covering his mouth as the scent hit him harder now—a mixture of dry decay and something far worse.
Blood.
Old, stale, and faint—but still there. Mixed with dust, it created a smell so unnatural that it felt like it didn't belong in any normal place. It wasn't just unpleasant—it was unsettling.
They continued walking, their presence the only disturbance in the quiet ruin.
Then, out of nowhere, Kang-suho's foot caught against something.
He stumbled slightly before regaining his balance, his eyes narrowing as he looked down. What stood before him was what looked like a rusting cell, its iron bars corroded and bent in places.
And inside…
Carcasses.
Bodies—if they could even be called that anymore—were scattered in unnatural, messy positions. Some slumped against the bars, others collapsed onto the ground, all frozen in a silent, lifeless state.
Kang-suho didn't say anything. He simply stared for a brief moment, his expression tightening slightly before he looked away.
This place wasn't just abandoned.
Something had happened here.
They moved on.
Step by step, deeper into the castle, the darkness seemed to grow thicker, heavier, as if it was swallowing them whole. The silence stretched longer, almost unbearably so—
Then suddenly—
FWOOSH.
Torches ignited all at once.
Flames burst to life along the walls, their light flickering wildly as they revealed the space around them. Shadows danced violently across the stone, twisting and shifting in unnatural ways.
The sudden brightness was almost blinding after the darkness.
Kang-suho and his bear froze for just a second—just one—before instinct took over.
Alert.
Completely alert.
His body tensed, his eyes sharpened, and his stance shifted ever so slightly, ready for anything. The bear mirrored him, its massive frame lowering just enough to signal readiness.
And then… they saw it.
In front of them stood a throne.
It was carved from stone, massive and imposing, yet worn down by time. Cracks ran along its surface like scars, and jagged edges broke its once smooth form. It looked ancient… but not empty.
Because someone was sitting on it.
…Or something.
A figure rested upon the throne, unmoving, silent. For a brief moment, it looked like nothing more than a corpse placed there and forgotten. But as the torchlight flickered, illuminating it more clearly—
The truth revealed itself.
A skeleton.
But not just any skeleton.
It was dressed.
Robes, tattered but still recognizable, draped over its bones—robes that spoke of status, of power, of something far beyond ordinary. The kind worn by someone who once held immense knowledge…
immense magic.
An archmage.