Dark Magus Returns

Chapter 1527: The Underside (Part 2)

Alen could feel the tension thickening in the air. He glanced between Raze and Mordain, noticing the faint edge of anger sharpening Raze’s voice. He had no idea why. From Alen’s perspective, Mordain hadn’t said anything unusual. If anything, most of the soldiers present agreed with him. It was the general consensus among the military.

"You say my opinion is wrong," Raze said, his tone low but cutting, "and why is that? Because you’ve studied all the information handed to you by the world above? Because they fed you their carefully selected statistics, their convenient reports, their polished narratives, all designed to make them look like the righteous, while branding others as irredeemable villains?"

His eyes narrowed, and the flicker of dark energy in his aura made several of the younger soldiers instinctively step back.

"In reality," Raze continued, "you’ve never once set foot here. You’ve never walked these streets, never breathed this air, never lived this life. Yet you speak as though you understand. How arrogant."

The frustration on Mordain’s face grew visible. He prided himself on being well-educated, on having access to the best archives and studies Alterian had to offer. To him, knowledge was truth. Why should his opinion be dismissed just because he hadn’t lived in this place? Did experience outweigh fact?

"I’m not saying you can’t have an opinion," Raze said firmly. "But all of your knowledge comes from a flawed perspective. You’ve been fed one-sided truths, crafted from the viewpoint of those who benefit from your ignorance. That is not the same as knowing the reality."

"Then explain it to me." Mordain crossed his arms, forcing his voice to remain calm though the heat in his eyes betrayed him. "Explain to me why I’m wrong."

Raze’s expression darkened. He stopped walking, the group halting behind him as his cloak swayed in the faint underground breeze. His words rolled out like a hammer striking stone.

"What you said may have been true once," Raze began. "But the truth now is far more complicated. The first generation who ended up here in the Underside weren’t addicts or criminals. They were survivors, those who lost the wars against other countries. With no place to go, many were forced down here. Illegal substances weren’t their weakness; they were tools deliberately used to control them, weapons employed by those in power to keep enemies and the lower classes subdued.

"Whether you believe that or not is your choice. But even then, you’ve missed the heart of the issue, the present. Even if we accept your argument, even if every adult down here truly fell because of their own choices... what about the children? What of those who are born here, who never chose this life? Are they born with sin branded on their skin? Do they deserve to inherit punishment for crimes they never committed?"

Raze’s voice rose as he stepped closer to Mordain. "There is no magical education here. None. If you’re from the Underside and you dare mention it when trying to rise above, you’ll be cast back down. I’ve seen it happen. Only a handful ever manage to climb out, and even then, they had to excel so far beyond their peers that no one could deny their worth. If a mage from the Underside matches a mage from the surface in strength, the surface mage is chosen every single time. The other is discarded, branded inferior by birth alone.

"No policies exist to change that. No system has been created to lift them. Society above prefers it this way. It is easier than building prisons. Easier than facing responsibility. The Underside is their convenient shadow, a dumping ground they can ignore while continuing their so-called perfect lives."

He pointed deeper into the Underside where the smell of sewage mingled with the faint laughter of children. "And here’s the cruelest truth: some of the kindest, hardest-working people live down here. Men and women with no crimes on their records, no stains on their hands. Yet society bars them from climbing out. It refuses to give them even the chance to change their lives.

"You call them criminals. I call them victims of a system designed to keep them buried."

Raze’s gaze bore into Mordain, unwavering. His words grew sharper, heavier. "You’re ignorant of how this world truly works. And your ignorance has bred arrogance. You believe that because you were educated in the shining cities above, you hold the authority to pass judgment. But I know this world far better than you do. Do you want to know why?"

The air around him seemed to vibrate with his magic as he declared, "Because I was born here. The Underside is where I grew up. This darkness raised me, and from here I rose to become a Nine Star Mage. So before you try to dismiss my words with your textbooks and your pristine reports, keep your mouth shut. Or I’ll show you how highly educated I truly am."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Some of the soldiers audibly swallowed, the sound echoing faintly in the cavern. No one dared speak. The weight of Raze’s fury was too much. If anyone attempted to counter him, to insist that their studies held more truth than his lived experience, their words would shatter instantly. He was not just another mage, he was a scholar of combat, of magic, of hardship itself, and his authority came from survival.

It was no wonder, they realized, that Raze’s hatred for the Grand Magus ran so deep. It was not simply revenge. It was rooted in this, decades of systemic cruelty, cycles of oppression that the powerful allowed to fester.

The group pressed forward in uneasy silence, each step echoing louder than the last. As they continued through the winding tunnels, the atmosphere shifted. Up ahead, illuminated faintly by crystals wedged into the stone, stood a structure that caught their collective attention.

It rose like a spire out of the shadows, its frame built from scavenged stone and wood but shaped deliberately, purposefully. Arched windows lined the sides, faint light flickering behind them. A massive wooden door barred the entrance, flanked by makeshift carvings that resembled saints or guardians.

The building looked like a church.

Raze stopped, his eyes narrowing. The others followed suit, staring in disbelief.

"What the..." Raze whispered.

"There’s been quite a few changes," Kelly said with a small, knowing smile.

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