The quest for the skull mountain II

As the door creaked open, Theodore strode inside, his hand tucked casually in his pocket, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Fooling the two girls had been almost too easy. Confidence radiated from him as he glanced around the dimly lit chamber.

"Shadow, check for traps," he instructed coolly, his voice low but commanding. Though a magical barrier encased him, he trusted nothing in this place.

The room was eerily silent as he ventured further. With each step he took, ancient torches mounted on the walls burst to life, their flames flickering with a strange, unnatural hue. The light revealed a figure bound in chains at the center of the room.

Theodore stopped in his tracks, his sharp gaze fixed on the captive. He didn't move closer but slid his small hand deeper into his pocket, his fingers brushing the comforting hilt of the dagger hidden there. The bound figure stirred, its chains clinking softly in the silence.

Then, its eyes snapped open!.

In an instant, the creature began to transform. Its flesh shifted and twisted grotesquely until it took the shape of a man with unnervingly sharp, snapping teeth and long, disheveled hair that hung in dark strands around its face.

A deep, guttural voice rumbled from the creature. "There's a familiar scent about you, human." Its piercing gaze locked onto Theodore. "I am Belial. And you are...?"

Theodore's smirk widened into a grin. He didn't answer, instead raising a hand. Shadow materialized beside him, its dark, amorphous form coiling like smoke, ready for his command.

Theodore smirked as he crossed his arms, speaking with confidence. "See, I'm a disciple of the Temple of Shadow. The old man said I should tame you, Belial."

At this, Belial let out a deep, guttural laugh, his sharp teeth glinting in the flickering torchlight. "Tame me?" he growled, inching forward, his predatory movements filled with anticipation. "I've been itching for a fight."

"I promised you I'd rule the world," Theodore said calmly, his voice filled with conviction. But before he could continue, Belial lunged, his fist hurtling forward with devastating force. Theodore barely dodged in time, the creature's punch obliterating the stone wall behind him, leaving a massive hole.

Stretching his hand and rolling his shoulders, Theodore muttered under his breath, "I see... Words are wasted on a filthy creature like you."

With a sharp intake of breath, Theodore's fist began to glow, shimmering with dark aura. His form blurred as he speed-blitzed toward Belial, landing a devastating punch that sent the creature flying across the chamber.

Belial groaned as he climbed to his feet, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His smile twisted into something even darker. Without warning, he slammed his hand into the ground, creating a massive crater beneath them. The floor trembled as he charged, aiming for Theodore's legs.

Reacting on instinct, Theodore leaped into the air, twisting his body mid-flight and landing a powerful kick to Belial's face. The force knocked the creature back, but it only seemed to enrage him. With a growl, Belial lunged again, his razor-sharp claws slashing through the air.

Theodore deflected the strikes with his mana-infused fists, their collision sparking bursts of energy. He retaliated with a sharp punch to Belial's jaw, sending him staggering. The clash intensified, their movements growing so fierce that the entire temple began to quake under the strain of their battle.

Panting heavily, Theodore noticed the cracks spiderwebbing across the ancient walls. "Enough!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. "This is pointless. You're injured."

But Belial only sneered, his expression filled with malice. "You think I'll stop because of that, boy?" Despite his injuries, Belial's power remained overwhelming, and Theodore could feel the gap in their strength.

He sighed, frustration flickering across his face. "If words won't stop you..." He raised his hand, channeling the deepest reserves of his shadow magic. A massive sphere of black energy began to form, pulsating with raw, malevolent power.

Theodore unleashed it.

The room was consumed by the dark energy, the explosion so immense it shattered the temple and pierced the heavens. The energy surged like a black pillar of power, reaching into the clouds. Across the world, monsters and other races turned their eyes toward the ominous display. The sinister aura sent ripples of fear and curiosity through the land.

As the energy subsided, Theodore collapsed to the ground, his body wracked with pain. Every bone, every muscle screamed in agony, and he couldn't suppress the anguished cry that tore from his throat. He clutched his side, gasping for air, the aftereffects of his own attack leaving him battered and vulnerable.

Through his blurred vision, he saw Belial standing over him. The demon smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Is this the limit of the Temple of Shadow's disciple?"

Theodore's vision darkened, his body refusing to move. As consciousness faded, his final thought was one of bitter regret. Is this the end?

The last thing he saw was Belial's twisted grin before the darkness claimed him.

________

Theodore's eyes snapped open. He found himself lying in his bed, dressed in fresh clothes. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, but his gaze quickly fell upon Belial standing nearby, a smirk playing on the demon's lips.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Theodore demanded.

Belial chuckled, his tone casual yet tinged with amusement. "Because I lost, boy. That energy blast of yours... It seems you're more interesting than I first thought."

Theodore raised an eyebrow. Belial's appearance had shifted; he now wore a sharp suit, his demeanor refined and gentlemanly. "What's with the outfit?" Theodore asked.

Belial adjusted his tie with a modest smile. "I've decided to become your butler. It suits me, don't you think? I even used a little magic to... convince the staff to hire me."

Theodore's shock was apparent, but it soon gave way to wariness. The once-feral demon now spoke with a level of poise and humility as if he had been a butler for years. "Why?" Theodore pressed.

"I enjoy a challenge," Belial replied, bowing slightly. "And you, young master, are unlike anyone I've met."

After dismissing Belial, Theodore sat cross-legged on the floor to meditate. As he concentrated, the lingering pain in his body became evident—several bones were still fractured from his fight.

I need to rebuild myself, Theodore thought, devising a plan to strengthen his physical form. Alongside meditation to replenish his mana, he resolved to lift weights and practice rigorous swordsmanship.

As his focus deepened, his thoughts drifted to the nature of the world's power systems:

 • Magic Circles: Formed on a mage's chest, they determined a user's magical rank.

 • Beginners: First to Third Circle.

 • Advanced: Fourth and Fifth Circle.

 • Intermediate: Sixth and Seventh Circle.

 • Masters: Eighth Circle, with only three recorded Archmages in history.

 • Aura Stars: Exclusively for swordsmen, these stars reflected physical prowess. The highest rank, the Tenth Star, was a legendary achievement. Theodore's father, the King, had reached the Eighth Star, making him one of the strongest warriors in the kingdom.

Theodore smirked. I'm the only one in the kingdom to master both magic grand aura.

Suddenly, Theodore felt a familiar presence. He summoned Shadow, the dark entity emerging from the ground to deliver its latest findings. It tossed the ethereal forms of Sky and Cadi's souls onto the floor.

Theodore observed them with disdain. Thanks to Shadow's ability to interpret the speech of spirits, their words echoed in his mind.

"You monster!" Sky wailed. "Why did you use us for your schemes?"

Theodore scoffed, unbothered by their outrage. "I have no reason to explain myself to the dead. My goal is simple: to take over the world."

As Sky sobbed, a sudden wave of knowledge overwhelmed Theodore's mind. It was the book's doing—a surge of dark magic. He laughed maniacally, delighted by the newfound power.

Channeling his energy, Theodore created four shadows. Two immediately devoured the souls of Sky and Cadi, their forms shifting. They gained human-like bodies, albeit with dark, shadowy skin. Theodore observed their new abilities:

 1. Priestess Shadow: Gained healing abilities from Sky, a former priestess.

 2. Scholar Shadow: Inherited the ability to decipher ancient languages from Cadi.

The shadows groaned at their "lame" names, but Theodore ignored them. Content with his progress, he noted his magical circle had advanced to the Fourth Circle—a feat unheard of for a ten-year-old. His aura had also reached the Third Star, though he vowed to train harder in swordsmanship.

A knock echoed through the room, shattering the stillness of the dead of night. Theodore dismissed the shadows that swirled protectively around him, watching as they slithered back into the ground like obedient pets.

"Come in," he called, his tone calm, though his mind was alert.

The door creaked open, revealing Mimi. Her damp hair clung to her pale face, and her white gown, slightly translucent in the dim light, clung to her form. Her green eyes glowed faintly, catching the flicker of the candlelight. Theodore raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking as he took in her appearance.

"What brings you here at this hour, Mimi?" His voice carried a calm edge, a mixture of politeness and suspicion.

She stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. "I wanted to accompany your highness," she said, her tone light and sweet, though her eyes betrayed something more calculating.

"Accompany me?" Theodore leaned back slightly, tilting his head. "Why?"

"I thought…" She paused, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. "You might need comfort. From a maid to a her master."

Theodore's thoughts sharpened, a flicker of annoyance hidden beneath his calm demeanor. I have a feeling she's about to try something outrageous, he mused, steeling himself for what was to come.

Mimi walked closer, her movements deliberate and fluid, until she was beside him. She sat down, her presence uncomfortably clingy, her hand softly brushing his. Her intentions were clear, and Theodore resisted the urge to sigh.

"You know, my prince," she said, her voice low and suggestive, "I only want to… ease your burdens."

Theodore's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ease my burdens? What exactly do you mean, Mimi?"

She giggled softly, leaning in just enough to invade his space. "As a maid, of course. I'm here to serve you."

Theodore resisted rolling his eyes, instead fixing her with a disbelieving stare. The queen must have sent her. No doubt this is part of some scheme. And judging by her movements… yes, she's armed. His gaze flicked briefly to the folds of her dress, spotting the faint outline of a hidden dagger.

Feigning ignorance, he offered a small, knowing smile. "I see. Perhaps you'd like to tell me a bedtime story, then?"

Her smile didn't falter. "Anything for you, my prince."

"One quick question," Theodore said, his tone light but probing. "How long have you been my maid?"

"Since the day you were born, my prince."

That answer struck Theodore like a blade, but not for the reasons she might have expected. He felt a pang of pity—not for himself, but for the original owner of this body. This boy had been poisoned and manipulated by this woman for years. She had drained him of his potential, leaving him vulnerable and unable to use magic.

But pity was fleeting, quickly replaced by cold, simmering rage.

The shadows in the room trembled as dark energy surged around Theodore. Before Mimi could react, a massive shadowy hand materialized and wrapped tightly around her throat, lifting her off the ground.

Her eyes widened in shock, hands clawing at the magical grip. "Ugh—!" she choked, thrashing desperately.

"Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?" Theodore's voice was low, almost a growl. His expression was icy, devoid of mercy.

"You've been poisoning me for years," he continued, tightening his hold as her body shook. "That's why the real Theodore died. But I'm not him. And you've made a grave mistake."

Mimi's lips twisted into a defiant sneer despite her predicament. "So you're not the real Theodore," she rasped. "And you can use magic. I should've skinned you alive and send you to hell when you were helpless in that bed!"

Theodore smirked, his amusement dark. "But you didn't. And now, I'm going to send you to hell myself. Send my regards to those assassins while you're there."

"Do you think this ends here?" she spat, her voice venomous even as she struggled for air. "My father is the Mercenary King! My family is from the Assassin Clan! You'll regret this—you'll follow me to hell!"

With a desperate scream, she hurled a dagger at him. It flew true, aimed for his throat, but Theodore's barrier shimmered to life, deflecting the blade with ease. The weapon ricocheted, embedding itself in her leg.

Mimi screamed in pain, collapsing to the floor as the shadow released her.

"Damn you!" she snarled, clutching her bleeding leg. "Theodore wouldn't do this—he wouldn't dare!"

Theodore knelt, his smirk growing wider. "I told you, I'm not the Theodore you knew. I'm from another world… and I don't waste time explaining things to the dead."

Her defiance crumbled, replaced by panic. "Wait!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Spare me! I'll tell you everything! The queen's plans, the assassins—whatever you want!"

But Theodore had no intention of listening. He raised his hand, summoning the shadows once more. They surged forward, enveloping her in a writhing mass of darkness. Her screams echoed through the room, growing weaker until they finally ceased.

When it was over, Theodore stood over the remnants of her body, the faint smell of ash lingering in the air.

"Well, that's one problem solved," he muttered. Then he glanced at the shadows still swirling in the room. "But now, who's going to serve me?"

The shadows shifted, taking shape. In moments, they transformed into an exact replica of Mimi, her green eyes and pale face identical to the original.

The new Mimi opened her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I am the new Mimi, my lord. I will serve you forever."

Theodore studied her, intrigued. He reached out, brushing his hand against hers—it felt warm, human.

"Impressive," he remarked. "You have her memories and skills?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied, bowing. "And far more experience than she ever did."

"Good," Theodore said, turning away. "Then you'll act as my spy. Keep an eye on the queen and her plots."

"As you command, my lord," she said, her smile unwavering. She bowed deeply before leaving the room.

_____

Two weeks passed. Theodore's training progressed rapidly, his strength and skills growing by the day. He even managed to break Shadow Armor,his new shadow creation, in a sparring match—though the gap in their power was still evident.

"You're improving," shadow armor with a grin, lounging nearby. "At this rate, you might even survive the coming storm."

Theodore chuckled darkly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I have no choice."

Before he could continue, a guard arrived, bowing low.

"Your Highness, the King wishes to see you."

Theodore followed the guard to the palace gardens, vibrant with flowers and tall, ancient trees.

Theodore entered the garden, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. His father sat at a small table beneath the shade of a flowering tree, a stack of papers in front of him and a goblet of wine within reach. Guards stood behind him, statuesque and imposing. The table was laden with refreshments and sweets, but the King paid them no mind, his quill scratching against parchment.

Theodore bowed, his voice steady. "Greetings, Your Majesty."

The King didn't look up, his focus unwavering. Theodore waited, his bow unbroken, the silence stretching like a drawn blade. Finally, the King set down his quill and leaned back, his piercing gaze meeting Theodore's.

"You don't look like a man on the verge of death," the King said flatly, his tone devoid of warmth.

Theodore straightened, his smirk carefully concealed. Is this how you greet your son? What a pathetic excuse for a father. "It's thanks to your generosity, Your Majesty," he replied smoothly, his voice betraying none of his disdain.

The King studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You've changed."

Theodore tilted his head, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Change is necessary, isn't it? Especially for those who wish to survive."

The King's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it never fully appeared. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Your queen—"

"Your wife," Theodore interrupted, his tone sharp but polite.

The King's gaze hardened for a fraction of a second before he continued. "She has informed me of your recent… activities. I hope you aren't wasting the resources I've provided."

Theodore's smirk crept onto his face, this time deliberate. "Of course not, Father. Every coin you've so generously allocated is put to use. Though," he added, a note of mock concern slipping into his voice, "it seems the queen occasionally feels the need to supplement them herself."

The King's expression didn't change, but the flicker in his eyes was unmistakable. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table. "You'll be heading to the academy next month. I've arranged for your butler to manage your expenses and ensure you stay… focused."

"How considerate," Theodore replied, his words dripping with false gratitude. "I'll be sure to thank him personally."

The King's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a low, measured tone. "Do you need anything else, Theodore?"

Theodore held his father's gaze, his smirk fading into a cold, unreadable expression. "No, Your Majesty. You've given me everything I need."

A long silence followed, thick with unspoken words. The King finally waved a hand, dismissing him. "Then you may go."

Theodore bowed once more, turning to leave. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. I don't need your scraps, old man. One day, I'll take everything you value and burn it to the ground.

As he exited the garden, the faint sound of the King's quill scratching against paper reached his ears. It wasn't an act of dismissal—it was indifference.

Theodore returned to the training grounds, his anger igniting like a storm within him. Each swing of his blade was sharper, faster, and more ferocious than the last.

Belial watched from the shadows, his grin widening with delight. "You're as cold as ever, young master," the demon said, his voice filled with amusement.

Theodore didn't stop, his movements fueled by rage. "I don't care about building bonds with a man like him. My only goal is destruction."

Belial chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Then let's make the world tremble together."