The man who ran out from behind the Dragon Gate was a stranger to everyone, so he wasn't a Scribe. Even after his burns were healed, he remained in a delirious state, muttering incessantly about things related to "dragons."
After contacting the surface, Mr. Gilbert briefly hypnotized the man and then used ntal guidance to try and find out what had happened here.
"We ca here with the Enchanters from the Sage's Church, but we got separated during the fighting. I followed Mr. Alexander, the only one who knew the secrets of this place, and we first entered the Phoenix Gate. But that was just a corridor filled with traps. Later..."
As long as the Dragon Gate wasn't ntioned, the man was perfectly capable of clearly recounting what he knew. And that Mr. Alexander was the leader who had organized this group to search for the Kren Treasure.
He knew the exact locations of the seven masks, and he was the one who produced the key that led here.
But no matter how anyone questioned him, he couldn't describe Mr. Alexander's appearance. It wasn't that the man had been hiding his face, but rather that he seed to be under so kind of curse, unable to speak of it.
The information he provided was crucial, because the number of people Mr. Alexander had ultimately gathered was no less than the number of Scribes who had co here. This was highly illogical, as he wouldn't have needed so many helpers to share the final reward with.
The Church imdiately suspected there was another gate here, one that required a large-scale sacrificial ritual to open. After a detailed analysis of the data sent from the underground hall, they determined that the target was the bronze door adorned with the image of a crown.
"Masks... a crown... isn't this..."
Seeming to have understood sothing, Jenkins cradled his cat and followed the group into the passage behind the bronze crown door.
Chocolate was already getting impatient.
This passage was very similar to the one they had used to enter the underground, only it lacked as many traps. After disarming a few old-fashioned gear chanisms, the left wall at what seed to be the end of the corridor slid open with a trendous roar, revealing a stone slab door leading downwards.
This passage had clearly been traversed before. There was no light behind the stone door, and in the glow of their lit kerosene lamps, the corridor took on an eerie, grayish-white hue. The steps were littered with the corpses of bats and Enchanters, interspersed with withered, dandelion-like plants and severed human limbs.
Clearly, most of the people Mr. Alexander had gathered had died here.
Because he was at the back of the group, the fighting was already over by the ti Jenkins reached the end of the stone steps and erged onto a platform that resembled a cliff's edge.
In truth, it could hardly be called a battle. The missing Scribes and the illegal Enchanters had arrived here at almost the sa ti, and Mr. Alexander had simply used the mask in his hand to take sothing before leaving imdiately.
In the ti that followed, the two groups left behind had rely attacked and defended against each other until the Church found its way here as well.
Descending the narrow, stooped staircase, the first thing that ca into view was the massive abyss before them. A primal instinct, a remnant in human blood, made everyone resist looking at it. The creators of this place had placed no lights here either; the candles and kerosene lamps in their hands were not enough to illuminate the full extent of the darkness.
Seeing soone use an ability for illumination, Jenkins summoned his starlight sphere as well. But for so reason, everyone's light was far dimr than expected. Whether from items or abilities, all luminous supernatural powers were being suppressed. This made the Scribes even more vigilant, and without any need for a warning, they instinctively lowered their voices and slowed their pace.
Following Mr. Gilbert's instructions, Jenkins and the others focused their light on the cliff face opposite the platform. It was a sheer wall of black rock. Directly across from the staircase exit, seven bronze caskets were neatly embedded into the rock face. A third of each casket protruded from the cliff surface. Their sides were engraved with different patterns, but the fully exposed faces all bore the identical indentation of a mask.
The centermost casket had already been opened, and the Scribes could see its empty interior.
"Holy armor?"
Jenkins mused to himself, but it obviously wasn't that. The [Courage Armor] he had once used was far more like the holy armor of his mories.
He put Chocolate down for a mont and went to treat the wounds of the injured. When he finished and turned back to find his little cat, he saw that Chocolate was standing at the very edge of the cliff.
"Oh, Chocolate, co back!"
he called out urgently. The cat, which had been peering down into the abyss, hesitated for a mont before running back to Jenkins's side, tail wagging.
"Sir, is it over?"
Everyone else had sothing to do; simply recording the situation and managing the prisoners was trouble enough. Only Mr. Gilbert stood alone by the rock wall, gazing at the seven caskets illuminated by the many points of light.
"No, this is only the beginning."
The middle-aged man's brow was tightly furrowed. "It's hard to imagine an abyss exists at such a depth. Where could this chasm possibly lead? Beneath the civilized surface of the world, it seems, there isn't nothing at all..."
"Could it be one of those underground civilizations from the stories? Dwarves?"
Hearing his words, Chocolate, now back in his arms, showed a scornful expression, but quickly retracted it and pretended to be a cute, clueless kitten.
"No, not even highly intelligent non-human species would live this deep underground. Because there are far more terrifying things down there..."
Mr. Gilbert crouched down, picked up a small stone, and tossed it over the edge. Aside from the sound of it striking the nearby rock wall, there was no other response.
"This is a very serious matter. Not even the Church knew a place like this existed so close to Bel Diran... This ruin couldn't have been built by that ancient robber. He may have been famous in his ti, but he didn't possess this kind of power..."
Jenkins also peered down now. Below the abyss lay an even deeper darkness. For safety's sake, he didn't direct his sphere of light downwards, as there was no telling what doing so might disturb.
"And then there's the missing Mr. Alexander, and Mr. Dagger, who wasn't here. The latter is less of a concern; he's probably just a common criminal. We can check past wanted posters when we get back. But as for the forr, anyone who could orchestrate an event of this scale is no ordinary figure. What truly piques my curiosity is what he managed to take from this place."
Reviews
All reviews (0)