The stairs led them into a small underground corridor, lined with stone and metal, half-devoured by roots. The air hummed faintly, not the stable pulse of modern mana circulation, but something rawer. Older.
Elara tightened her grip on her spear, her instincts prickling. "This place feels… wrong."
"It's mana corrosion," Merlin murmured. "Residual traces from failed experiments."
They reached a rusted door at the end of the corridor. A faded plaque hung above it, the letters almost erased by time. Only one word remained legible:
LAB 7.
Merlin's pulse slowed. He knew that name. From the novel, from a single, throwaway line describing "an abandoned research facility from a forgotten age."
He reached for the latch. It gave way with a creak.
Inside was a small lab, half collapsed, filled with shattered glass, rusted tools, and half-fused crystals glowing faintly red. The stench of old mana burned faintly in the air.
Elara stepped in beside him. "What… happened here?"
