Chapter 611: Act 354 – Requiem IV
Whether in Vaunte or our world, there are more or less unnoticed corners on the battlefields of past and present. It is as if these places have been forgotten in the gaze of the gods; no matter how intense the battles or how strange the occurrences, they exist in a vacuum outside the thought processes of the commanders on both sides, and no one gives them a second glance. At the Hafeimeli Fortress by the eastern gate of Ampere Seale—this fortress was built around the year 1400 in the era of chaos, resembling an elven-style stronghold, but since its inception, it seems to have been blessed or cursed. Each war moved away from it, and when Eke faced the barbarians, the mountain lord ‘Razor’ Si Hading deliberately avoided the open eastern front, taking a long route to mount an attack on the southern gate of Ampere Seale. Later, during the first invasion by Madara in the Dark Tide, Lord Bone once again spared this ancient fortress. To this day, it seems the faction aligned with the princess and the northern nobility have agreed to leave Hafeimeli Fortress out of their affairs, leading to pandemonium in the city due to the demonic invasion, but the northeastern corner remains eerily silent. For a fortress constructed to withstand war, this is hard to say if it is good or bad.
However, after seven hundred years of wind and rain, this fortress, which had rarely experienced warfare, has inevitably shown signs of aging. Moss has grown on the battlements, and the walls, battered by wind and rain, have turned a deep green, laden with a rich sense of history. What sets it apart from other cities is the complete absence of scars along its three-hundred-meter stretch, nor any mismatched repairs. At this moment, there are no human soldiers in the fortress; instead, hordes of harpies noisily crowd the parapets or circle in the heavy rain—though the port guards have withdrawn, Hafeimeli Fortress has fortunately missed the opportunity for battle.
The harpies in the sky monitor the emergence of a large pit about one hundred meters in diameter below, where hundreds of cave dwellers dig in what could be better described as a muddy pit than a construction site. Of course, one might say it is a struggle. In such stormy weather, doing anything is not wise, especially tasks like digging pits or waging war. Even though the cave dwellers have constructed several structures under the command of the wizard from Jotungrund to stabilize the walls, collapses still occur frequently. Fortunately, the lives of the cave dwellers are insignificant; Lord Stark does not care if one, one hundred, or one thousand cave dwellers die. There’s no difference to him; the only difference is the amount of gold spent. The cave dwellers breed prolifically underground in Jotungrund and often need only a small piece of land to produce an entire army. He only needs to extract that thing within the time limit; any additional loss can be compensated.
From time to time, a jarring sensation arises from underground. Ordinary people might think it’s a bad omen before a disaster, but a skilled wizard can easily discern that it is the disturbance caused by dark magical energy flowing beneath, eroding the order of the world—certainly, this is not good news for ordinary people—yet to Stark, it feels like a chest of gold exuding a fragrance as rich as fine wine from underground. No, not just one chest, but a full hundred chests; even to describe it in the terms of demons from beneath the river of sulfur: a hundred chests of gold cannot match the value of that item, which cannot be measured by the foolish standards of the mortal realm. However, ignoring the shortsightedness of mortals, Stark equally despises the demons’ value system.
A treasure not measurable by gold? Isn’t that worthless? He shook his large bull-like head and scoffed at the notion. Worthless things are beneath Lord Stark.
But this time, he finally seems to have found the right place; Stark could smell the ‘stench’ of dark magic with his nose and couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. His cave-dweller subordinates have caused him enough trouble; in fact, right up to now, collapses have continued to occur at the bottom of the pit. The cave dwellers have to spend time hauling more dead cave dwellers up to prevent them from blocking the way below and becoming part of the new landfill, just like what is happening now, as another clamor came from below. What now? Another collapse? Can’t they work better? The Minotaur lord Stark reflects on the fact that Jotungrund never rains, determined that if those cave dwellers create more trouble, he would give them a deep lesson. Throw them into that maze he is most proud of, the very same maze that even the clever and beautiful Lady Medusa, Laisimeka, was unable to find her way out of.
However, after that time, Laisimeka quickly turned him into stone for two hours, claiming he was cheating and had not built a door in the maze. But isn’t that also a clever tactic by the Minotaur? Stark is deeply troubled by not winning the affection of the beautiful lady, wondering why no one appreciates his cleverness. Thinking of Laisimeka, her cold yet beautiful face vividly appeared in his mind, only to suddenly realize it was real because he saw the beautiful Lady Medusa walking out from the rain curtain.
“So, what has happened? I heard it’s in chaos down there,” Laisimeka questioned, somewhat displeased. “Is that big head of yours just meant for balancing your body, Stark?”
Hearing Laisimeka’s words, the Minotaur lord Stark revealed a simple smile, a look that could easily be characterized as a foolish grin, completely undermining his fierce countenance—can you imagine a bull looking foolishly happy? What Lady Medusa saw was just such a visage. She frowned, probably guessing that asking this big doofus would yield no coherent answer. Instead, she brushed him aside and leaned over to look into the pit. She immediately saw a spectacle unfolding at the bottom; a large group of cave dwellers screamed, scrambling up the incline like rats escaping a boiling pot. It felt as though there was a cat in the pot besides the rats.
“What are you doing!” Laisimeka nearly lost her mind. If she still had a shred of sanity left, she would surely turn around and glare fiercely at that bastard Stark, petrifying him forever. That statue would undoubtedly resemble the legendary Minotaur lord, and no one would ever again know just how foolish he really was; that was the crux of the matter.
But sadly, the cave dwellers couldn’t answer her.
……
“What are you doing!”
As the piercing scream, barely less intense than a siren’s, cut through the rain curtain, our Business Lady was transforming into a black cat with the help of White Mist. A puff of black smoke billowed up, and the small, shiny black cat with golden eyes stepped daintily out of the fog. She seemed very curious about this form, but for a witch, transforming into a magical animal is actually a specialized spell, and White Mist hadn’t told her—she would soon become accustomed to it all.
Seeing Romaine curiously licking her left paw, then her right paw, extending a paw to scratch her ear, and then wagging her tail, White Mist couldn’t take it anymore. She transformed into a circle of white mist around Romaine, forming a white bow at the back of the Business Lady’s neck. “Let’s go; it seems very chaotic down below, and now is the perfect time,” White Mist said in her usual listless tone.
Only then did Romaine step out of the grass and quietly approach the edge of the pit.
The bottom of the pit was in disarray; it was unclear whether a larger collapse had occurred or if something else was at play. Cave dwellers screamed as they fled upwards. There was no brotherly bond among these creatures from beneath Jotungrund; they fought each other just to gain the upper hand—if possible, even tossing a companion behind. In her fury, Laisimeka turned several cave dwellers that surged up from the pit into stone, yet she could not gather any coherent explanation. Naturally, no one would notice the commotion at the edge of the pit, or rather, there was simply no one to see a cat lurking there. In reality, only Stark and Laisimeka had keen eyes to see.
Romaine nimbly jumped down onto the scaffolding, leaping toward the pit bottom like a real kitten, prompting White Mist to sigh in admiration, thinking that being a cat would suit the Business Lady better. However, she suddenly felt that compared to Romaine’s curiosity, the cat said to have nine lives might truly be her destined form. If there were a concept of reincarnation in the world of Vaunte, White Mist might think Romaine was born in the wrong body. Just as she was momentarily distracted, the Business Lady deftly dodged around several groups of cave dwellers. She agilely landed on a support board, her golden eyes wide open, looking down into the pit. “White Mist, White Mist, look quickly, what’s that!”
White Mist ‘looked down,’ immediately spotting a dozen strange creatures pursuing the cave dwellers ahead. They were strange indeed, resembling spiders, yet in White Mist’s vast knowledge, there was certainly no spider that was entirely encased in sharp crystal. Were it not for the visible limbs, she might have thought those were just massive crystals hunting below. “Ah, it’s Crystal Mass!” she exclaimed.
“Crystal Mass, what’s that?” Romaine asked curiously.
At this moment, several Crystal Masses were closing in on the surface, displaying fierce aggression and a bloodthirsty demeanor. Many cave dwellers perished at their claws, but chillingly, they did not seem to kill the cave dwellers for food; they merely dispatched them with brutal efficiency and tossed their corpses aside as if trained and experienced in such actions.
On the ground, Lady Medusa Laisimeka finally noticed these uninvited guests. “Guardians?” she murmured, casually tossing away a fortunate cave dweller like a piece of refuse down into the pit.
She drew a short bow from her waist, took aim at the Crystal Masses, and with a single arrow, struck down the first two. The ferocity exhibited by the Crystal Masses was impressively strong, around the initial tier of gold. The cave dwellers stood no chance against them. When Laisimeka tested their strength, she realized she was facing a formidable opponent.
“Crystal Mass is indeed Crystal Mass; let’s continue to see,” White Mist was explaining to Romaine in her unique manner.
“Will they kill Romaine?” Romaine asked anxiously.
“They won’t, as long as I’m here,” White Mist replied simply.
Only then did the Business Lady nod and leap down, steadily landing on the other side of the pit. Only at that moment did both ‘individuals’ realize how deep this pit was—it had in fact been excavated through, and signs of human engineering appeared below. It seemed to be a relic, with many openings leading into the dark underground.
They chose an entrance and entered the relic, which at that time had no cave dwellers present, nor did any new Crystal Masses appear, apart from the sounds of rain and water, making it seem somewhat desolate. In fact, as they ventured deeper into the relic, the sound of rain gradually diminished, and in the dark, a certain enormous outline began to emerge.
“Ah!” White Mist exclaimed again.
“What’s wrong?”
Romaine quickly leaped forward, curiously looking up. She saw the huge outline becoming clearer in her view, gradually outlining the shape of a head—precisely, it should be a part of a colossal statue. Or in Romaine’s understanding, it resembled those marble statues used for decoration in Cold Fir Castle scaled up by a thousand times.
However, the facial features of the statue appeared very rugged, looking less like modern humans and more like sculpted beings from outside humanity. Yet upon taking a glance, Romaine confirmed it had neither a large beard nor pointed ears. It was neither dwarf nor elf, she mused wisely.
“What is this, White Mist?”
“……Titan statue, I never expected it to be here… I never expected it to be here…” White Mist murmured, her tired eyes widening as if they could grow larger.
……
Brendel listened intently; the rustling sounds in the darkness were growing closer. But it could not be the sound made by the spider matron; she wouldn’t create such a cacophony—though the spider matron was a colossal being herself, her movements were very light, a stealthy hunter.
Reflecting on his past adventures, Brendel still remembered it vividly.
Everyone stopped. The knights placed their hands on their swords, yet they did not draw them—a technique learned from Brendel. In certain situations, drawing first is not necessarily advantageous, but instead reveals one’s position to the enemy, especially when facing an unknown adversary.
Brendel was quite satisfied with the others’ actions; he was the first to spot the unexpected intruders.
In the darkness, the first thing to appear was a floating gleam, refracting the dim light of the illuminating crystal in his hand. Then he saw what it was—creatures made of crystal, which undoubtedly took on the form of spiders.
But they were no longer spiders.
“Crystal Mass?” Brendel paused slightly, wondering how these things had appeared here. This dungeon should not have contained such monsters; moreover, any of the creatures appearing in any given location within Amethyst Caves had a reason, just like the wind elementals below Malga Heights, which wouldn’t just wander in for no reason.
Crystal Masses were very unique creatures; Brendel had only seen traces of them in a handful of places, and each time their numbers had been few.
A multitude of thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. But he reacted swiftly; his center of gravity sank as the Earth Sword appeared in his hand.
“Prepare for battle!” the Princess called softly from behind him. The knights unsheathed their long swords in unison.
……
(PS: Tears flowing profusely, desperately asking for tickets! All sorts of tickets! … What? A summons is fine…)(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please feel free to cast your recommendation tickets and monthly tickets on Qidian (qidian.com). Your support is my greatest motivation.)
