Detective in Another World: Solving Crimes with Necromancer System Chapter 103: Opening Ritual

The capital had never been quiet.

Even at night, even in winter, even during famine, there had always been sound, rchants arguing, soldiers patrolling, nobles whispering behind gilded doors.

During the night, in the cold of winter or even during tis of famine, there had always been sothing. The shouts of rchants, the clatter of armour on cobblestones, or the occasional drunkard stumbling through dimly lit streets. Life, even in its smallest monts, made noise.

But not tonight.

Tonight was unlike anything the capital had ever experienced before.

Above the palace square, the sky looked like a fractured piece of glass.

It began as a thin line, no wider than a strand of hair, stretching from one end of the heavens to the other.

Then it deepened, widening with unnatural speed, spreading into a gaping hole of darkness.

Those who had not fled stood frozen, heads tilted upward as the line widened into a jagged crack. There was no light beyond it. No stars. Only emptiness. A void that seed to watch, to wait, and perhaps even breathe.

So claid they could see shapes moving behind the crack. Shadows flickering and twisting, impossible to define, yet undeniably there. Murmurs spread, but fear choked them off. No one dared speak, and as the cracks spread across the sky, people’s ability to even run seed to fade as they all stood frozen in place.

At the center of the square, the royal fountain had long since run dry.

In its place, carved into stone older than the city itself, a massive ritual array pulsed faintly with crimson light. Ancient runes coiled in spirals and intersecting circles, each line vibrating with a life of its own, humming low as though whispering secrets older than humanity itself.

Above the array floated three objects.

Three Keys.

One burned with a faint golden glow. One shimred with silver glow, like moonlight on water. The third pulsed with a deep violet, almost black hue, as if it contained all the darkness of the night itself.

Auren stood beneath them. His cloak stirred, despite there being no wind in the city’s square.

Near the array itself, there were no citizens. Whether they were scattered by fear or forcefully removed by Auren’s forces, no one could tell.

Only soldiers remained. So bore the old royal crest, a token of the kingdom it once was. Others were armoured in darker steel etched with the insignias of the Crimson Oath. A few dwarven warriors stood along the outer periter, axes grounded, expressions like carved stone, unwavering and stern.

Then the silence was shattered.

Arrows rained down on the square. The first pierced a human soldier’s throat. The second buried itself into a dwarven shield, quivering. The third never reached its target, disintegrating midair as the crack above pulsed violently.

"Elves!" One of the dwarves yelled with disgust. The distinct arrow design made the recognition fairly easy.

Auren, however, did not care. He did not even glance at the soldiers falling around him. He raised his hand, and the three Keys began to rotate faster instantly.

The ritual array flared, brightening until the entire square was bathed in crimson light. A low, rolling sound grew, resonating not from the array, not from the humans below, but from beyond the fracture, a place deeper than the sky, darker than night itself.

Edward felt it before he saw it.

As the capital’s towers crested the horizon over the hill, sothing inside his chest tightened. It was not pain, not fear, not exactly recognition, but sothing far older. Sothing familiar that clawed at him from the depths of mory he didn’t know he possessed.

He staggered slightly, bracing himself against a broken stone marker.

Seraphine, walking beside him, imdiately turned to him. "What is it?"

He did not answer at once.

The sky above the distant rooftops was... wrong.

The crack stretched across it like a wound that refused to close. A faint shimr crawled along its edges, dark and twisted, as if whatever lay beyond was pressing itself against reality, seeking a way through.

"It must’ve started," he muttered under his breath.

He lingered a mont longer, eyes narrowing, before speaking more clearly and louder than before. "We need to hurry."

Unbeknownst to them, at the East Gate of the capital, the elven forces had arrived. Their longbows were already drawn, quivers brimming with arrows that glead even in the crimson light of the ritual array.

At their head rode Prince Arthur, Aeris, and Elarien. Each of them wore a hardened expression.

re days earlier, a royal guard loyalist had travelled to the elven kingdom, carrying news of the King’s death, of the rebellion, and of the danger that now threatened the world itself.

The young prince had spent days negotiating, convincing the elves to act. Though tied by oath and marriage, they had no choice but to march alongside him. But seeing the scene before them, even the elves’ practised composure faltered. This was no simple rebellion. This was a force that could rend the world apart.

A few monts later, as Edward and Seraphine rode up the small hill curving around the Northern Gate, their eyes fell upon the elven forces stationed at the East Gate.

Edward’s eyes widened.

’Elves?’

The sight of them, in the heart of the human capital, was almost as otherworldly as the cracks tearing the sky above. Their bows drawn, cloaks flaring in the crimson light, their presence brought him a glimpse of hope... and a reminder of how dire the situation had beco.

Imdiately, Edward’s thoughts snapped toward his old companions, Aeris and Arthur.

’If the elves are here... then they must be too.’

He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the dread that pressed on his chest.

As much as he wanted to see them again, and as much as he needed their help, part of him wished they weren’t here, wished that they were sowhere far and safe, as the ritual that had just begun was set to bring the one who seeks the destruction of their very world.