The vibration was very faint.
It was so faint that if it had occurred in the real world, it might not have even been noticed. It didn’t sound like the roar of a collapsing stone wall, nor the clear friction of a turning mechanism, and it certainly didn’t feel like the ground beneath their feet was truly shaking.
Yet, Matthew felt it anyway.
It wasn’t a physical vibration.
Rather, it felt as if certain originally stable lines had suddenly been disrupted by an invisible force.
In that instant, Matthew’s expression didn’t change at all. He remained standing at the edge of the group, eyes downcast like an ordinary and cautious low-level apprentice, showing no sign of anything unusual. However, his mind immediately dove deep into his consciousness.
The tomb map surfaced in his mind.
The originally clear lines were now undergoing a transformation.
The outlines of several passages around the main burial chamber began to blur bit by bit. These lines didn’t simply vanish or dissipate like mist; instead, they seemed to be warped from within by some force. The originally straight paths became unstable, and the fixed boundaries of the walls appeared to be shifting with agonizing slowness.
That sensation made Matthew feel very uneasy.
It was as if this tomb were not a lifeless thing.
It had simply been slumbering all this time.
And now, because the central sarcophagus had been opened, some structure that had slept for many years was restarting.
This was especially true for the location of the central sarcophagus.
On the map, that point had become exceptionally heavy.
It was like a black dot.
A black dot that was slowly devouring the surrounding lines.
A layer of cold sweat broke out silently on Matthew’s back.
He immediately realized one thing.
The opening of the coffin wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning.
The moment this thought arose, Matthew forced himself to suppress the fluctuations in his heart. He couldn’t let anyone see anything unusual, and he certainly couldn’t let Sutton or Herbert discover that he seemed to have sensed something ahead of time.
In a place like this, knowing too much was a danger in itself.
At this time, Herbert also walked forward.
His face had darkened completely.
The somewhat calm expression he had maintained earlier had almost entirely vanished. As the person among them who understood wizardry runes the most, he had clearly sensed something wrong from the changes before him.
“Move aside,” he said to Noel.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable coldness.
Noel seemed to only then snap out of his stiff state, hurriedly backing away. But as he retreated, his steps were noticeably weak; his whole body seemed to have suddenly lost its strength, and he nearly tripped over a piece of rubble at the edge of the sarcophagus.
He scrambled to steady himself, his face already looking terrible.
Sutton glanced at him without saying a word.
That look was very cold.
And very heavy.
Noel seemed to want to explain something, but his lips moved and ultimately not a single word came out.
Herbert walked until he was two steps away from the sarcophagus and stopped.
He didn’t lean over to look deep into the coffin as Noel had. Instead, he raised his hand, and a grayish-white light surfaced at his fingertips once more. The light wasn’t bright; rather, it carried a cold texture, like a faint glimmer shining through bone ash.
This time, Herbert was exceptionally cautious.
He didn’t let the Detection Spell directly contact the depths of the coffin. Instead, he only let that wisp of grayish-white light flow slowly along the outer wall of the sarcophagus.
The light traveled along the edge of the sarcophagus like a tiny snake, crawling bit by bit between those ancient and dim patterns.
A moment later, the originally dormant patterns on the surface of the sarcophagus seemed to be activated for an instant.
A very faint gray luster surfaced from deep within the patterns.
That luster appeared for only a very brief moment.
But in that moment, Herbert’s expression grew increasingly grim.
He understood a part of it.
And because he understood, his heart sank bit by bit.
These patterns were not a simple seal.
If they were a seal, the direction of the runes should be pressing inward, with all power concentrated within the coffin to prevent something from coming out. The structure of the runes should be closed, obstructive, and suppressive.
But the runes before him were different.
Their flow was toward convergence.
Toward traction.
Toward extraction.
They weren’t like chains; they were more like countless fine threads. Those threads extended from the floor and walls of the main burial chamber, and even from the darker passages further in, before finally all merging into the humanoid indentation at the center of the coffin’s bottom.
This wasn’t a structure used to imprison a corpse.
Nor was it a sarcophagus used to protect remains.
Herbert slowly raised his head, his gaze having become extremely heavy.
Sutton stared at him.
“What did you see?”
Herbert didn’t answer immediately.
He took another look at the humanoid indentation at the center of the coffin’s bottom.
That humanoid indentation lay there quietly, with no corpse and no burial goods, yet it was more unsettling than an actual corpse.
Only after a moment did Herbert whisper, “This isn’t a coffin.”
The expressions of several adventurers changed simultaneously.
The young crossbowman instinctively asked, “If it’s not a coffin, then what is it?”
Herbert’s voice was very soft.
But such a soft sentence caused everyone’s heart to turn cold instantly.
“An altar.”
The burial chamber fell into a deathly silence.
An altar.
These two words were far more terrifying than “coffin.”
A coffin implied burial after death, meaning someone had died here and was finally placed inside. Even if that person had once been an Official Wizard, and even if danger was hidden within, it was at least understandable.
But an altar was different.
An altar implied a ritual.
It implied sacrifice.
It meant that the core purpose of this tomb might never have been to bury an Official Wizard, but rather to complete some colder and more complex wizardry.
Sutton’s expression became extremely ugly.
Herbert continued, “These runes aren’t sealing what’s inside. They are pulling what’s outside into it.”
The old adventurer’s voice was somewhat raspy. “Pulling what?”
Herbert fell silent for a moment.
His gaze swept over Noel, then over the rest of the group.
Finally, he spoke slowly.
“Living things.”
After those two words fell, the air in the burial chamber seemed to freeze instantly.
The blood completely drained from Noel’s face.
He instinctively covered his neck, and an undisguisable terror finally surfaced in his eyes.
“I... I only took a look...” his voice trembled. “I didn’t touch it.”
Herbert looked at him, his brow suddenly furrowing.
“Your neck.”
Noel’s body stiffened.
He slowly lowered his hand.
Only then did everyone see that a grayish-white line had surfaced on the side of his neck at some unknown point.
The line was very faint.
It looked like a wisp of ash had fallen on his skin.
It also looked like a crack growing out from deep within his flesh.
It wasn’t bleeding, nor was there an open wound, but looking at it made one instinctively feel uncomfortable.
Noel also realized something was wrong.
He reached out to touch it, but he felt no wound and no blood. Yet that spot was incredibly cold. That coldness wasn’t just on the surface of the skin; it felt as if it were seeping out from deep within his flesh.
It was as if an extremely fine ice needle were slowly piercing into his body from there.
“No...” Noel’s face was deathly pale, and his voice almost changed pitch. “I really didn’t touch it.”
No one answered him.
Because everyone understood that in a place like this, whether one touched it or not sometimes no longer mattered.
He had approached.
He had seen.
Perhaps that was enough.
The shield-bearing adventurer instinctively moved half a step to the side, as if wanting to get further away from Noel. This movement was small, but in the currently silent burial chamber, it was exceptionally conspicuous.
The young crossbowman even directly tilted his mechanical crossbow slightly toward Noel.
Although he quickly realized the movement was inappropriate and immediately lowered the muzzle, this split-second reaction was still seen by everyone.
Noel saw it too.
His expression became even more miserable.
In that moment, a nameless chill suddenly rose in his heart.
He had clearly been ordered there by Sutton.
He had clearly just followed instructions.
But now, simply because an unknown grayish-white line had appeared on his neck, the way the others looked at him had changed.
Those weren’t the looks of companions.
They were the looks one gave to a dangerous object.
Noel’s lips trembled slightly.
He wanted to explain.
But he didn’t know what he should explain.
Was he supposed to say he really hadn’t touched the sarcophagus?
But in a place like this, what use was such an explanation?
Sutton suddenly stepped forward, grabbed Noel by the shoulder, and yanked him back from the sarcophagus.
Noel was pulled into a stumble and nearly fell, but he didn’t resist. He only held his neck, his eyes filled with deep terror and confusion.
Just then, a wisp of gray light lit up on the floor of the burial chamber.
At first, it was just a very faint ring of light beneath the central sarcophagus.
The light was very weak, like a point of dark fire reigniting beneath ashes.
Immediately afterward, those lights followed the patterns on the floor that had long been covered by dust, slowly spreading toward the surroundings.
One line.
Two lines.
Three lines.
Like blood vessels that had slept for years, they regained their flow at a certain moment.
Wherever the gray light passed, the dust on the ground vibrated slightly, and some small pieces of rubble made faint clinking sounds. The sound was very light, yet it made one’s heart turn cold.
Everyone’s shadows were stretched longer and longer in the gray light.
Matthew glanced down and immediately felt his heart tighten.
Everyone’s shadows seemed to be tilting toward the central sarcophagus.
They were like they were being held by some invisible force; their edges elongated, blurred, and twisted, before finally pointing bit by bit toward that empty coffin.
This change was extremely eerie.
Even though everyone was still standing in place, it was as if their shadows had already been dragged into the sarcophagus ahead of them.
Matthew immediately withdrew his gaze, alarm bells ringing in his mind.
They couldn’t stay any longer.
This empty coffin had already begun to affect the entire main burial chamber.
Perhaps the next step wouldn’t just be affecting shadows, but people’s spirits, their bodies, and even their lives.
Herbert clearly realized this as well.
His voice suddenly rose.
“Everyone, get back!”
Several Class holders seemed to only then snap out of their shock, retreating one after another.
The shield-bearing adventurer retreated most steadily, his round shield always held across his chest; though his steps were fast, they weren’t messy.
The female axeman stared deathly at the sarcophagus as she backed away, her axe blade never lowering for a moment.
The young crossbowman retreated somewhat frantically, his boot sole catching on a piece of rubble, nearly causing him to fall.
The old adventurer grabbed him to steady him, cursing in a low voice, “Watch where you’re going!”
The young crossbowman’s face was white, and his throat bobbed, but he didn’t talk back.
Noel should have retreated too.
But he stood in place, motionless.
His gaze became very empty for a moment.
It was as if he had heard something.
Sutton immediately noticed something was wrong. “Noel?”
Noel didn’t look at him.
He only slowly turned his head and looked toward that empty coffin.
There was fear in his eyes.
But there was also a kind of dazedness from being attracted.
His lips moved slightly.
His voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
“It’s... calling me.”
This single sentence made everyone’s scalp crawl.
When Noel said those words, his voice was very soft.
It was so soft it sounded like a whisper squeezed out from the depths of his throat.
Yet, it was precisely such a soft sentence that everyone in the burial chamber heard clearly.
In an instant, everyone’s gaze fell on Noel.
Noel was still standing there.
His face was terrifyingly pale, and there wasn’t a hint of color in his lips. His whole body looked as if it had just been fished out of ice water, his shoulders shivering slightly. But what truly made one’s heart turn cold wasn’t his fear, but his eyes.
His eyes were too empty.
They had clearly been full of panic and helplessness just a moment ago, but now, his pupils seemed to be slowly hollowed out by something, leaving only an indescribable daze.
It wasn’t the dullness of someone who had completely lost consciousness.
It was more like a person who clearly knew they were afraid, yet a part of their body had begun to stop obeying their own control.
Noel realized this himself.
That was why he was even more afraid.
His right hand was deathly tight over his neck, and that grayish-white line flickered in and out between the gaps of his fingers like ash, or like some dried-up insect crawling on his skin.
“No... No...” Noel muttered.
“I didn’t want to go there...”
His voice trembled more and more.
“I really didn’t want to go there...”
But as he spoke, his foot moved forward a bit.
It was only a tiny step.
He didn’t even seem to realize it himself.
But everyone saw it.
Standing behind the stone pillar, Matthew’s eyes narrowed sharply.
He wasn’t looking at Noel’s face, but at Noel’s feet.
When a person is afraid, the expression on their face can lie, and the words in their mouth can be chaotic, but the movements of the body are often the most truthful.
Noel said he didn’t want to go, yet his feet were moving toward the central sarcophagus.
This showed that the influence of that empty coffin on him was no longer as simple as making him hear voices.
It was pulling him.
Or rather, it was through that grayish-white mark that it was dragging Noel bit by bit toward the sarcophagus.
Sutton clearly saw this scene as well.
His expression instantly became incomparably dark.
“Noel!” Sutton barked.
This shout carried a clear note of intimidation.
...
...
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