Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]

Al and Basri had finally arrived at an abandoned area on the outskirts of Makazhar City.

Basri, his body swaying from exhaustion, still took a moment to scan their surroundings carefully. Then he crouched, brushing his rough hand against the dusty ground until a faint glint of metal appeared beneath the dirt. He tried to lift it, but his trembling arms quickly betrayed his lack of strength.

Al stepped forward without hesitation.

"Let me handle it."

"My apologies, sir… I didn't mean to trouble you," Basri replied, panting softly.

Al focused for a second and tried lifting the metal plate using magic — yet, to his surprise, something strange repelled his spell. A faint backlash jolted through his arm, making him pause, eyes narrowing in mild shock.

Basri gave a weak, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, sir. But this thing… it carries a magic neutralizer. I'll explain it later, but for now, it's best if we open it manually."

Still slightly puzzled, Al nodded and reached down. His fingers gripped the cold surface and pulled with steady strength.

The heavy plate shifted with a metallic groan, slowly revealing a hidden passage below — a stairway descending into darkness.

They climbed down one after another and closed the entrance behind them.

Before following further, Basri pressed a small button embedded in the wall. A faint vibration trembled through the ground above — the mechanism sealed itself, letting the soil slide back to conceal the metal door completely.

Inside, a narrow corridor stretched out before them, dimly illuminated by small lights embedded on each side of the walls. Their flickering glow danced across the thin veil of mist that lingered in the air, painting the stone passage with a dreamlike hue. The air was thick, heavy, and moist — the kind that carried the scent of time itself.

Al followed behind Basri in silence. Each step they took echoed deeply, reverberating through the stone walls and returning as whispers — soft, ghostly murmurs from a time long gone.

He kept his gaze low, tracing the faint carvings that lined the old walls. These stones weren't just dead matter — there was life within them. He could feel it. A pulse of energy ran through their structure, rhythmic and subtle, as though the walls themselves were breathing.

This isn't just an ordinary underground tunnel, he thought to himself quietly.

He extended a bit of his magical perception, testing the flow of energy. The spell connected — he could sense it. Magic worked fine inside this place, but not from the outside. That meant the entire structure functioned more like a protective barrier rather than a prison.

The energy here was peculiar. Not chaotic, not wild — instead, it circulated smoothly, moving in an endless loop. It was a perfect, constant rhythm, like two intertwined formulas that supported and activated each other, sustaining an eternal cycle.

It felt as though they were standing within the beating heart of a self-sustaining magical system — a protection formula so sophisticated that it seemed to stop time itself. The air did not age, the temperature never changed, and even the humidity remained perfectly balanced.

Al slowed his steps and brushed his fingertips along the cold wall. A faint vibration crawled up his skin, making the hair on his arm stand upright.

"Fascinating…" he murmured softly. "Its energy flows like an eternal circulation—endless and alive."

Basri turned his head slightly. His tired eyes softened, yet a faint pride flickered in them.

"You're right, sir. This entire mechanism was built from an ancient magical design — something passed down in my family. My parents once told me that a great sorcerer crafted this place long ago, back during the age of conquest. Not as a weapon… but as a refuge. That's why it neutralizes magic from outside interference."

His voice was hoarse, the tone cracking as a dry cough escaped his lips. His body was visibly deteriorating — steps heavy, breath ragged — but he pushed on, unwilling to stop.

Al nodded slightly, still studying every inch of the tunnel with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"Except for the house and the inheritance that people know about," Basri continued softly, "this place is the only hidden sanctuary left to me after my family perished. For years, it's been the one place where my daughter and I could live safely… without the fear of ever being found."

Al listened in silence, not interrupting. His eyes wandered ahead, toward the darkness at the end of the corridor — a darkness that seemed to stretch forever.

He could sense the presence of ancient energy around them, layers upon layers of protective formations woven together in harmony. Even for him — someone who had mastered the art of breaking through high-tier magical barriers — this structure was something beyond full comprehension.

What an extraordinary design… whoever created this must have understood the dimensional structure of energy itself, he thought in awe.

He gave a small nod to Basri, signaling him to keep moving forward.

The passage wasn't long, yet every step they took felt like walking deeper into another chapter of a forgotten world. Some sections of the wall bore ancient symbols, glowing faintly with a silvery-blue hue that shimmered against the chill of the underground air. The deeper they went, the colder it became.

At last, Basri stopped in front of a large metal door, its edges rusted and worn by time. He pressed his palm against the center of it, and from his hand, a faint spiral symbol emerged—glowing softly, like an ancient seal being awakened.

Creak—!

The heavy door opened slowly, its grinding echo cutting through the silence.

Al stood still on the threshold, eyes quietly observing what lay beyond.

The room wasn't big, but spacious enough for a small family to live in. The walls were made of damp natural stone, parts of them covered in fine moss. Several old shelves lined the corners, filled with bottles, books, and small objects blanketed in dust.

In one corner, small candles flickered weakly—as if someone had tended them not long ago. Large cabinets were stacked with old documents and piles of magical artifacts, hidden away from prying eyes.

But Al's attention was immediately drawn to the simple bed in the middle of the room.

Upon it lay a young girl, unconscious.

Her body was frail, her face pale and delicate—around thirteen or fourteen years old. Her hair was a faint brown, long and messy, falling over her peaceful yet unnervingly still expression. An IV line was attached to her arm, its tubing still fresh and glimmering faintly in the candlelight.

Basri stood beside the bed, staring at the girl for a long moment before speaking in a trembling voice.

"She's… my daughter. Her name is Putri."

His voice cracked at the end. He tried to smile, but the curve of his lips only deepened the sorrow in his eyes.

Al stepped closer, silently watching the girl. Something about her presence shifted the air itself—an unseen pulse, faint but distinct. His heartbeat grew subtly faster, though he couldn't explain why.

"She's been like this for a long time?" he finally asked.

Basri nodded slowly.

"Since birth, she's had this… condition, just like I told you before. But she's been unconscious for the past year. The doctors have no idea what it is, since her vital signs are all perfectly normal. They just call it a coma."

"What about spiritual healers? Shaman?" Al asked quietly. "Anyone from the magical or esoteric side?"

Basri nodded again.

"All of them said the same thing—it's a curse. But none of them could offer more than that. They all said it's far beyond their level, a high-grade curse only powerful mages could undo. Beyond that… I don't really understand much."

He sat at the edge of the bed and gently held his daughter's fragile hand.

"Sometimes she twitches, sometimes she doesn't. But her body is warm, and her pulse is there. It's like she's alive… but not really here."

Al stared deeply at the girl's face. Then he lowered his gaze, and for a moment, his pupils trembled—reflecting a faint shimmer, as if glimpsing something unseen.

He tried to channel energy into his dimensional eyes to investigate further—but pain spiked through his head before he could focus.

"Ugh…" he muttered under his breath, wincing slightly.

Then, to Basri he said,

"I can't see clearly right now. The fight earlier drained me too much. But… I think I know what's happening to her. I'm just not entirely sure yet."

Basri looked at him in shock.

"You know, sir? You mean… you actually know?"

Al gave a small nod.

"Yeah. If my theory's right, this isn't something hard to cure. In fact… it's not even a disease."

Those words hit Basri like a miracle. The air in the room seemed lighter, warmer. His eyes widened, glistening with disbelief and fragile hope.

He grabbed Al's arm tightly, desperate.

"Truly, sir? You can really save her?"

Al looked mildly annoyed at the man's sudden closeness, but didn't pull away. He just nodded lightly.

He glanced at the girl's pale, small hand, then said softly,

"It's only a theory for now, but I'm confident in it. Unfortunately, I can't act on it yet."

Silence fell.

Only the sound of dripping water from the stone ceiling echoed faintly.

Basri's eyes grew distant. Then, as if clinging to a lifeline, he tightened his grip on Al's hand again. Something in him—perhaps desperation—made him believe every word Al said.

Tears fell onto his daughter's cold hand.

"Sir… if you can save her, I'll do anything. Anything you ask of me." The kind of promise that only comes from someone who's been crushed by love and helplessness.

Al said nothing. But his eyes shifted slightly—somewhere between pity and curiosity. Deep down, he sensed something else. The girl wasn't just sick… she was connected to something far greater.

Hmm... I don't know, but she might be the key… to finding the Third Dimension, he thought silently.

He rose slowly, glancing around the room. The air seemed to hum faintly, as if responding to his presence.

Then he looked back at Basri and gently freed his arm. From nowhere, a small glass vial appeared in his hand.

"I'll help you," Al said calmly. "Consider it payment—for guiding me to that artifact."

Basri nodded rapidly, almost overwhelmed with gratitude.

Al handed him the vial.

"Drink this. It might taste unpleasant, but it'll make you feel better and help you regain better control over your body. At the very least, it'll keep you alive a little longer," he said calmly.

Basri blinked, stunned.

"Wait, you mean… it'll make me live longer?"

Al shook his head.

"Not live longer—just function longer. Although, technically, I suppose it's the same thing. You'll understand later."

Basri didn't really get it, but he nodded anyway.

"Thank you, sir… You're truly a blessing. A savior."

Al sighed softly.

"Don't praise me too much. I'm just a normal guy. What matters now is that you keep your daughter safe until I return. I need to recover my energy first."

Basri shifted awkwardly but nodded.

"Will you be gone long, sir?"

"Hard to say," Al replied casually. "If nothing troublesome gets in my way, I should be back before sunset. But… well, my life tends to attract troublesome people. Irrational ones, mostly."

The sudden complaint caught Basri off guard. He just blinked in silence.

Al waved it off.

"Never mind that. I'll send my team to guard you both for the day, until I return. Will that be alright?"

Basri hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Of course, sir. That's more than enough."

Al nodded back in agreement.

---

Moments later, Shae and Sa-Ya finally arrived.

"You two happy now?" Al said casually to the two of them. "I've switched your assignments—Kian and Bata will take over the watch there."

Both girls looked visibly relieved, even cheerful, as they gave Al a thumbs-up in unison.

"Thank you, Master! Finally, we get something that actually suits our level!" Sa-Ya said with her usual bright grin.

"Keep your voice down, Sa-Ya," Shae scolded softly, glancing at the unconscious girl nearby. "You'll wake her up. And... thank you, Master. We'll handle this properly."

"Of course you will," Al replied with a faint smirk. "Huff... alright then, I'll leave everything to you two. And one more thing—if you run into anyone from the Ordo Ferox, don't hesitate. Wipe them out completely."

The two of them straightened up and nodded firmly, their expressions turning sharp and focused.

"Understood, Master."

"Good. Then I'll take my leave."

They both bowed low, showing their respect as Al turned around and walked away.

Not long after, Al found himself outside again, the dim horizon already tinted with a hint of dawn. His wristwatch showed that it was nearly four in the morning. The air was cold, carrying faint traces of dust and smoke from the earlier battle.

"Tonight's really been one hell of a show," he muttered under his breath, half amused.

In the distance, the city was already stirring again. People had been awakened by the earlier explosions, and the noise of activity began to return, faint but steady.

Then, from behind him, Al felt a faint surge of energy—familiar yet unpleasant. He chuckled softly and turned around.

"Hehe, sorry for worrying you all," he said with a wry smile toward the figures approaching from the shadows.

Four silhouettes emerged, dressed in sleek black uniforms. It was Ai and her two subordinates—along with Sebastian.

Ai walked ahead, stopping right before Al.

"You always do things your own way, Master," she said, a touch of exasperation in her tone.

Al just smiled faintly and reached out, running his fingers gently through her hair. The gesture was simple, but it was enough to dissolve the tension that had built up through the night.

And just like that, the long, chaotic, terrifying night finally came to an end.

---

By the time Al reached his room, the clock had just passed four. He changed into more comfortable clothes, the weight of fatigue finally catching up to him.

There was still enough time to rest before morning. With a light snap of his fingers—click—the lights went out, leaving the room bathed in quiet darkness. Al lay down, closing his eyes, letting the calm finally settle in.

But then—

Skratchhh!

A rough, scraping sound came from his blanket.

Al's eyes opened instantly. With a swift, almost lazy motion, he threw the blanket aside, uncovering whatever had hidden beneath it.

And what he saw next… was something entirely unexpected—something that made him pause, confused and intrigued at once.

---