Chapter 230 | Bound by Gear, Forged by Power

Matthew sheathed his longsword and turned his gaze toward the inconspicuous wooden door in the corner of the hall.

According to what Stefan had said before he died, that was the entrance to the basement.

He walked over slowly, reaching out to push the wooden door open.

A gust of cold, damp air rushed over him, mixed with a faint musty odor and an indescribable sour smell.

Behind the door was a flight of stone steps leading down, narrow and steep, vanishing into the bottomless darkness.

Without hesitation, Matthew stepped down.

The stone steps were longer than he had imagined. After walking down about twenty steps, his feet finally touched flat ground.

He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the dimness.

He had thought the basement would be nothing more than a cramped storage room or a prison cell, but the scene that unfolded before him now made his heart skip a beat.

This underground space was much larger than he had anticipated.

With the help of the faint light filtering down from the stairwell, Matthew could vaguely see a rectangular space at least thirty feet deep and about twenty feet wide.

The ceiling was not high, roughly eight feet, built of rough stone blocks with fine droplets of water condensed on the surface.

The air was cold and stagnant, and he could feel a lingering dampness with every breath.

The most eye-catching feature was the hallway directly facing the stairs.

It was a narrow, short corridor, about ten feet long, with several wooden doors neatly arranged on both sides.

A quick count revealed there were as many as six doors, three on the left and three on the right.

This meant the basement was divided into at least six separate rooms.

The moment Matthew stepped into the basement—

“Hum...”

A very slight vibration echoed from the walls.

Immediately after, several spots on the walls of the corridor slowly lit up with a soft, white glow!

The light was faint at first, like fireflies, but it quickly stabilized, forming hand-sized patches of light evenly distributed along both sides of the walls, illuminating the entire corridor clearly.

The light was not intense, but it was bright enough to dispel the darkness without being glaring.

Matthew's pupils contracted slightly.

This scene... was actually somewhat similar to the motion-sensor lights from his previous life!

But the underlying principle had to be different!

After all!

How could there be electricity and sensors in this world?

He immediately focused his gaze and saw that the light sources came from white stones embedded in the walls.

The stones were irregularly oval, smooth as jade, and there seemed to be clouds swirling inside, steadily emitting a continuous glow.

Extremely fine dark patterns were etched at the joints where the stones met the walls, vaguely forming some kind of circuit pattern.

When Matthew's gaze fell upon those white glowing stones, his eyes suddenly trembled!

A familiar yet long-lost fluctuation was faintly emanating from inside the stones—

Mana!

Although it was extremely weak, even fainter than the trace of mana Stefan had emitted when he drank the potion, Matthew could absolutely not mistake it!

It was a completely different, purer, and more profound form of energy than life energy. It was ironclad proof of the existence of magic!

A tempest raged in his heart.

“These stones... can actually store and release mana?”

Matthew stared intently at the glowing stones, his mind racing.

“No, it's not just storage... These circuit-like dark patterns resemble a trigger-type magic circle.

When someone steps into this area and disturbs the energy field in the air, it activates the magic circle, which in turn stimulates the mana inside the stones to convert into light...”

In an instant, Matthew was deeply shocked.

Because the implications behind this sent a shiver down his spine.

Being able to use mana to power lighting indicated that the creator of this place had not only mastered the basic properties of mana but could also apply it to practical technology.

This meant that magic in this world was not some illusory legend, but had already formed a reproducible, controllable system of knowledge!

Aside from the shock, a strong sense of unease quietly crept up his spine.

If the construction of this basement was related to that yellow-haired youth,

Or even further, related to some wizard organization,

Then the danger of this place probably far exceeded his initial estimates.

A force capable of applying magical technology to daily facilities possessed a foundation and methods that were by no means comparable to ordinary nobles or gangs.

But Aidan might be behind one of those doors.

Matthew took a deep breath, suppressing the tumultuous thoughts in his mind.

He could not afford to delay any longer.

He quickened his pace, passing through the narrow, short corridor illuminated by the glowing stones.

The wooden doors on both sides were tightly shut, with no windows to peek inside.

Matthew did not test them one by one, but walked straight toward the end of the corridor.

Common sense dictated that rooms holding prisoners would usually be located in the deepest or most hidden parts.

Sure enough, at the end of the corridor on both sides, there was a wooden door that was much thicker than the others and reinforced with iron bands.

There were small feeding slots on the doors, which were currently closed.

Matthew listened intently. A faint, chaotic sound of breathing came from the room on the right, while the left was dead silent. Without hesitation, he raised his sword and aimed at the lock of the door on the right—

“Crack!”

With Silver Rank strength poured into the blade, the wooden door shattered in response!

The moment the door collapsed inward, a gust of stale air mixed with sweat and the smell of blood rushed over him.

Matthew frowned slightly and stepped inside.

It was a room about fifteen feet long and ten feet wide, with no windows. The walls were rough stone, and the floor was covered in damp straw.

There was a row of iron cages on both sides of the room, each about three feet square, barely large enough for an adult to curl up inside.

Matthew's gaze quickly swept over them—

Eight people.

Three were locked in the four cages on the left, and five were locked in the four cages on the right.

Six of them were awake, looking up in terror at Matthew, who had broken through the door.

Two were unconscious, curled up in the corners of their cages, their survival unknown.

And in the innermost cage on the right, a familiar figure was struggling to sit up.

Aidan.

His clothes were tattered and stained, his face bruised, and his lips dry and cracked. But the moment his eyes fell on Matthew, they widened suddenly, reflecting unbelievable shock and wild joy.

He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to shout something, but due to his extreme excitement, his throat was hoarse, and he could not make a sound.

The weight in Matthew's heart finally lifted, but his face did not betray any emotion.

He scanned the room and saw that most of the other conscious prisoners were also dressed like Class holders. Some had injuries, but their spirits seemed decent, indicating they had not been imprisoned for long.