Chapter 24: Sila's Cruel Fate
How does he know everything?
Vivian looked puzzled.
The rules of the Dimensional Rift were clear—
Once someone successfully claims its rewards or triggers an escape mechanism, the rift closes.
No intel from inside ever leaks out.
Vivian was still processing this when sudden comprehension struck—her face paled in horror.
The only possible explanation was this:
Sila couldn't have learned specifics from within the rift… but he knew the rift's prototype.
Dimensional Rifts form by harvesting fragments of history. Sila must have recognized the meaning behind the rift's signature "illuminated surfaces"—the fleeting visions glimpsed during its activation—and reverse-engineered the truth from them.
But this…
This demands encyclopedic historical knowledge!
Not just the sheer volume of information, but terrifying analytical prowess!
Even those in the so-called "Historians" guild might fail at this!
Yet Sila's primary class was Mage.
Vivian studied Sila beside her, her gaze growing more conflicted.
Rumors at the academy painted him as a perpetual womanizer—chasing skirts and drowning in earthly pleasures.
But now she wondered: How could someone supposedly drowning in debauchery amass such terrifying knowledge at his age?
The truth crystallized.
Sila's playboy persona was camouflage—a smokescreen for years spent honing his mind in deliberate obscurity.
Even his dramatic exit from the academy after Scott's provocation became strategic: freedom to devour knowledge unrestrained.
As for why he hid his brilliance? Vivian understood. Not all families resembled the Rockefellers, where two sisters gracefully deferred leadership. Even minor noble houses bled over succession wars.
Even in minor noble houses, succession wars turn brutal and cutthroat!
Sila never wanted this mask. Survival's harsh calculus forced him into the shadows.
Vivian understood.
Maternal instinct stirred—pity warmed her features, softening imperceptibly.
"What's with that look?" Sila frowned over his shoulder.
He led the way, tossing the question over his shoulder.
Sila guided Vivian deeper, twisting through the cavern's labyrinthine passages toward their objective.
Vivian didn't respond. Instead, she closed the distance to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
Sila had expected the young woman to confront him with questions. The twisting cavern offered near-zero visibility—their only lifeline being the faint glow of Moltenfire capsules illuminating their path.
Their Moltenfire capsule reserves were dwindling—if they squander them, hypothermia would claim them long before escaping these caverns.
Yet the young woman followed without protest, leaving Sila off-balance.
"Even accounting for exploiting Vivian's vulnerabilities, trust shouldn't escalate this rapidly. What's her angle?"
Baffled, Sila remained oblivious to Vivian's conviction.
Here stood a master tactician, forced into subterfuge by lethal sibling rivalries.
Whatever madness dictated Sila's serpentine path through the tunnels—
Vivian trusted there was calculated logic behind it.
Crack!
A bat-winged humanoid horror lunged from the shadows.
Before Sila could react, Vivian's alchemical revolver barked.
Flame-etched rounds tattooed the creature with tracery of burning sigils. Seconds later, the markings detonated into cleansing fire, reducing the monstrosity to ash.
Only a crystallized bone fragment clattered to the stone floor.
"You unharmed?" Vivian's concern carried protective edge.
In her mind, Sila remained a low-tier Elite: schemer's mind, brittle blade.
"Appreciated." Sila gestured at the crystalline remains. " [Shadowstitch Predator]. Their corpses desiccate, but this spinal fragment? Bloodspire Husk. Decently malleable alchemical substrate."
"Secure it."
Sila had hoped to dazzle her with esoteric knowledge.
Vivian simply... claimed the trophy with practiced efficiency.
Sila: "... "
Here is the strict line-by-line translation preserving original narrative voice and Western colloquial style:
"Something's off here."
"Isn't this where I'm supposed to show off? The fuck?"
"Still no reaction??"
I distinctly remember the original protagonist used alchemy knowledge to boost Vivian's affinity!
"Keep the spoils." Sila shrugged when her companion remained unresponsive. "I'm after the real jackpot - the Dimensional Rift's legacy."
Vivian didn't refuse, silently pocketing the Bloodspire Husk.
Forward they pressed—Sila navigating, Vivian maintaining silent vigilance.
Until the youth froze mid-stride.
"Explain this." Vivian's gaze locked ahead.
Two adventurers clung together, not in passion but desperate warmth-sharing.
Scattered around them lay spent elemental crystals.
"These once channeled fire affinity."
Vivian examined a depleted shard.
Sila nodded grimly.
Hypothermia's victims, clearly.
His eyes sparked with recognition.
The landmark.
While Vivian speculated whether these were recent Rift entrants, Sila knew better—these were historical casualties, permanent fixtures of the cavern's grim tapestry.
In the original narrative, these corpses marked proximity to the first loot chamber. Meaning...
The real plunder begins.
"Move! Now!" Sila barked with tactical urgency.
Vivian's body reacted before conscious thought.
If Sila's knowledge dictated flight, resistance wasn't an option.
She lunged forward.
Virulent emerald mist erupted through subterranean channels.
By the cavern's faint bioluminescence, they glimpsed twisted figures fleeing—doomed souls dissolving into crimson slurry as the miasma overtook them.
Sila abandoned all pretense now.
Hurtling through tunnels with map-forged certainty.
The defense mechanism had activated—meaning rival teams neared the Rift's primordial core.
That mist carried Journey of Radiance's infamous instant-death mechanic.
Survival wasn't dice worth rolling. After ten frantic minutes, a cramped aperture appeared, shielded by pale blue barrier.
Beyond shimmered hewn stonework—slate-gray flagstones, wooden railings. Civilization's touch.
Sila breached the shield without hesitation. Vivian followed into the chamber. Moltenfire capsules came off immediately.
Vivian mirrored his actions, discarding thermal units as blue energy hummed around them.
Sila opened her mouth to say something, then closed it with a resigned click of teeth.
Why does it feel like…
Vivian's trust in me is… absolute??
Sila mentally grumbled as she led Vivian deeper into the cavern. A mage statue clutching a staff materialized from the gloom.
The silver-haired woman strode forward and kicked the statue's base. The staff-bearing pedestal shattered with crystalline violence.
CRACK! The shield-like barrier sealing the cavern disintegrated. Noxious fumes came surging in.
A cerulean orb tumbled from the wreckage, pulsing with soothing light. Sila snatched it mid-air.
The encroaching miasma recoiled from the orb's aura, its corruptive tide repelled by radiant wavelengths.
"What was that poisonous mist?" Vivian stepped closer, intrigue breaking her usual impassivity. "Does this orb provide necessary protection?"
The clearly alchemical creation sparked rare curiosity in this typically "emotionless girl."
"This is alchemical gear." Sila explained, gesturing at the walls. "The murals gave clues."
The stone carvings depicted a mage gouging out his own heart.
From this single image alone, deducing that smashing the mage statue would yield a miasma-repelling orb required leaps of logic.
Sila had instantly solved it through past life memories.
Vivian alternated staring at the mural and Sila, cheeks flushing crimson.
She realized her only contributions to their partnership had been crafting supplies with Sila's gold and… coasting through challenges.
What difference did it make who brewed the potions? Any alchemist could've done it.
Since entering the rift, Sila had utilized pre-packed coldgear, guided them through poison mists, deciphered ancient puzzles…
While she'd merely slain some roadside mobs.
With Sila's wealth, disposable spellscrolls could've handled those beasts.
The girl was still brooding when her companion's voice sliced through the gloom.