"Tch, what a cold guy!" the raspy voice from the next cell muttered after Jon ignored him. "Hey, how did you end up here? They stuck you all the way in the deepest cell. I thought this place would stay empty forever!"
In this dungeon, the deeper you were held, the more severe your crime. Jon had been placed not only on the sixth and deepest level, but also in the innermost cell, the one reserved for the worst of the worst.
Jon remained silent.
Unfazed, the voice kept talking. "Me? I tried to assassinate a prince. Didn't succeed, but I came damn close! Regret not finishing that little bastard myself."
Jon's interest was piqued. In a kingdom like this, assassination of a prince wasn't just a crime, it was the ultimate heresy.
And yet, somehow, Jon's offense had earned him an even worse fate?
"The prince you tried to kill... was it Prince Adam?" Jon asked.
"You know that bastard?" the man spat. "Figures. He probably made enemies left and right."
"Why did you try to kill him?" Jon pressed.
"Because he got my daughter killed," the man growled.
Jon went quiet for a moment, then said, "I don't know if this will bring you any peace, but Adam's already dead. And not just dead, he died horribly."
"What? How?" The man's voice suddenly sparked with energy.
"I killed him."
And so Jon recounted the whole story: how the prince had been cursed by the witch Antimora and turned into a beast, how he met Belle, and finally, how he was slain.
"You're a hero… A damn hero!" the man said, voice trembling. "If I weren't locked up, my life would be yours."
He paused, then asked, "Wait a minute... Is that why you're in here? Because you killed him?"
"Nope. The king and queen don't even remember him. They don't remember he existed at all," Jon said.
The curse of Antimora had erased all memory of Adam from the minds of the people, even his own parents.
Then something occurred to Jon, and he looked toward the stone wall separating the cells. "Wait... Why do you still remember Prince Adam?"
The curse was absolute. Yet this man, a random prisoner, still remembered? It didn't make sense.
"Must be because I hated him so much," the man reasoned. "Maybe my rage was too strong for the curse to take hold."
"No. That's not it," Jon said sharply. "Prince Adam's sins weren't exactly hidden. A lot of people probably hated him as much as you did. If hate alone could break the spell, we'd be seeing chaos out there. This is something else..."
A thought struck Jon.
He closed his eyes and summoned the Darkhold, its heavy black pages glowing faintly as they materialized before him.
The man couldn't see what Jon was doing behind the stone wall, but he noticed the sudden silence and called out. Jon didn't respond. He was focused.
After flipping through several pages, Jon found what he was looking for.
There it was—recorded within the forbidden pages: The Anti-Magic Physique.
A trait never shown in the mainstream Marvel Universe, perhaps because it was too rare, too powerful.
The Anti-Magic Physique nullified all forms of magic. No matter the type—illusion, enchantment, divine miracles, it would all crumble upon contact with someone possessing this trait.
It was like Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker from A Certain Magical Index, except not limited to a single hand, this body was an entire anti-magic barrier.
Even divine magic would be neutralized. That kind of immunity made such a person a nightmare for any spellcaster.
Could it be? Was the man next door one of these rare individuals?
"Hey," Jon finally called out. "What's your name?"
"Me? I'm Aldred. Why?" The man sounded surprised. "I've been pouring my life story out here and you barely said anything. Don't even know what to call you. How'd you land in this place, anyway?"
"Call me Jon. I'm here because I insulted the Snow…. No the Ash Queen will suite her more."
"You... WHAT?" Aldred gasped, voice filled with horror. "You insulted the Queen? Are you insane?!"
Jon scratched the back of his neck. "Man, I just called her out. That's hardly madness. You tried to kill a prince. Who's crazier here?"
"You don't get it! The Queen is the soul of this kingdom. The people worship her like a goddess. She's untouchable!"
Jon rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. The theatrical queen turns herself into some kind of saint now?"
But his mind was elsewhere. It all made sense now. The people's rage wasn't personal, it was fanatic. Like religious zealots who'd excuse murder from their gods but burn heretics alive for even speaking out.
Fortunately, Aldred didn't seem completely brainwashed. And if he truly had an Anti-Magic Physique, he might be useful.
"Hey, Aldred," Jon said with a grin. "Earlier, didn't you say that if you weren't stuck here, your life would be mine?"
"Uh, yeah... Why?"
Jon smirked. "You'll find out soon enough."
***
"This way, Your Majesty."
Just as Jon was chatting with Aldred, he heard the voice of a guard. A moment later, the so-called Snow Queen appeared, striding in with theatrical elegance, dressed in stark white.
Jon narrowed his eyes, watching her approach.
"Oh heavens, it's the Queen herself! Why would she come down here?" Aldred whispered in shock.
Jon glanced at him, pondering for a moment before asking quietly, "Aldred, be honest with me. Do you think... the Queen is white like snow?"
"Huh? Why do you ask?" Aldred looked puzzled, then hesitated before replying, "Of course she is. She's the faith of the people."
"I asked for the truth."
Aldred paused, then sighed. "Alright. To be honest... I think she's not "snow" as her title goes by. I've always wondered why people say she's. But everyone who speaks otherwise ends up burned alive. So, yeah—I kept quiet."
Jon nodded with satisfaction. "Thought so. Now everything makes sense."
The Queen drew near. Aldred instantly bowed his head, not daring to meet her gaze.
She ignored Aldred entirely, fixing Jon with an icy stare.
"Leave us. I'll question him alone," she commanded.
The guards obeyed and stepped away.
"Who are you?" the Queen demanded.
"The man you'll never have," Jon answered flatly.
"!?"
Her expression twitched. This man was clearly not playing by the rules, and it threw her off completely.
Regaining composure, she said, "You're... a warlock?"
"Oh, now you realize I'm a man? Progress!" Jon mocked. "But no, sorry to disappoint. I'm not a warlock. Just a guy."
"Someone capable of defeating so many guards alone must be using magic. And you cast without incantation or focus, that's black magic," she stated coldly.
"You're kidding. I, Jon, don't do magic." He sounded downright offended by the accusation.
"Then how did no one manage to subdue you?"
"Natural-born strength," Jon replied with a smirk, as if quoting a movie.
The Queen's expression darkened again. "That's ridiculous."
"Yeah," Jon said cheerfully. "Ridiculous enough to fool even you, your highness."
The Queen's expression twisted with fury.
"Enough!" she snapped. "You dare say you're not magical? My charm spell uses no traceable magic, yet it's ineffective against witches. Even normal sorcerers fall under its sway. But you? You saw through it."
Jon had suspected as much. It baffled him how someone so like her could be worshipped as a divine beauty.
There were two possible explanations: either everyone in this kingdom was blind, or the Queen used some kind of magical disguise, one that didn't work on him.
"So, you're the real witch here, aren't you?" Jon said casually. "No, wait... witches are all supposed to be gorgeous. You're the exception."
His words struck a nerve. The Queen's fury boiled over.
"Guards! Take him to the Iron Tower!"
The cell door swung open as soldiers burst in and dragged Jon away roughly.
The Queen's gaze then turned toward Aldred. He froze, paling visibly.
"Who is this man?" she asked icily.
"Your Majesty, this is the prisoner who once attempted to assassinate the Ninth Prince," a guard answered.
The Queen thought for a moment, then said, "Add another charge, defying the Queen while in prison. Execute him by fire tomorrow at dawn."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Aldred was too stunned to speak. As Jon was dragged away, he gave Aldred a reassuring look.
But how could Aldred feel reassured? He knew what the Iron Tower was. A place built to contain witches, none had ever escaped. Not even the strongest.
What chance did Jon have?
Still, Aldred didn't blame him. He knew where the real evil lay, within the wretched Queen herself.
Soon, Jon was escorted by two of the Queen's attendants to the infamous Iron Tower.
Two guards stood at the entrance, weapons crossed.
"By order of the Queen, this man is to be imprisoned on the top floor," one attendant announced.
"The top floor?" one guard frowned. "That place is reserved for only the worst. No one's ever survived up there... except the old witch."
"That's for Her Majesty to decide. Don't ask questions." The attendant shoved Jon forward and walked away.
The guard just shook his head, grunted, and yanked Jon up the stairs.
Jon noticed the urgency. The guard clearly didn't want to linger, he couldn't wait to be rid of the assignment.
This piqued Jon's interest. What exactly was at the top that made these tough men so scared? Was it that so-called old witch?
As they ascended the spiral stairs, moans of agony echoed from every level.
The truth about the Iron Tower wasn't known to the public. It didn't only hold witches, it also imprisoned cursed creatures like werewolves and vampires.
Jon was a little disappointed. He had expected some sort of all-female prison fantasy. Clearly, that dream was of his would never come true.
------------
(A/N: If you want to see more chapters, go to my Patreon to see more chapters ahead. patreon.com/TheMightyZeus)
- The subscription fees for the +20 ahead chapters now costs $10 instead of $20, and I hope you enjoy it.
- The end of this arc is approaching. Can you guess what the next world will be?