Pull (2)

In normal times, Noel would have instinctively lowered his head and answered when Sutton called him. But this time, his body only trembled slightly before he slowly turned his head and glanced at Sutton.

That look made Sutton’s lone eye narrow slightly.

For a moment, there was a sense of unfamiliarity in the way Noel looked at him. It was as if the person standing there was no longer the submissive, quiet scout who usually followed him around. Instead, it was a stranger hidden behind a mortal coil.

However, this strangeness only lasted for an instant. In the next moment, pain and fear resurfaced in Noel’s eyes.

“My Lord...” his voice was raspy. “I don’t want to go over there.”

Sutton stepped forward and grabbed Noel’s shoulder. His grip was so forceful it almost crushed Noel’s shoulder blade.

“Then stay right here,” Sutton’s voice was cold. “Don’t let your legs wander.”

Noel’s lips moved, seemingly wanting to say he couldn’t control himself. But the words never came out. He knew all too well that in a place like this, saying he was “out of control” would only make others abandon him faster.

Noel understood his position perfectly. He wasn’t Sutton, nor was he Herbert, and he certainly wasn't Matthew. He was just a scout-type adventurer brought along by Sutton. He didn't have enough value for the entire team to risk their lives for him.

If everyone became certain that he had been influenced by the empty sarcophagus, then what awaited him wouldn't be a rescue, but isolation—or even being dealt with directly. As soon as this thought emerged, a massive chill surged from the depths of Noel’s heart.

He didn’t want to die. Even more, he didn’t want to be discarded like livestock for the sake of others' safety. Yet, he had no way to prove he was still safe. Because that fine grayish-white line was right there on his neck. Because that empty sarcophagus was truly calling to him.

“Return.”

The voice appeared again. This time, it was clearer than before. It didn't ring in his ears, nor did it come from the coffin. It seemed to float up from the deepest part of Noel’s mind, speaking softly against his consciousness.

“Return. You saw it. You should return.”

Noel’s pupils contracted slightly, his face contorting in pain. He suddenly covered his ears, but the voice wasn't heard through them at all. Covering his ears was useless. His body swayed forward once more.

Sutton’s hand tightened, forcibly jerking him back to his original spot. “Wake up!”

Sutton’s voice finally held a hint of anger. This anger wasn't just because Noel wasn't following orders. It was more because things were slipping out of his control. Sutton hated that feeling.

He could accept danger. He could accept casualties. He could even accept using someone else’s life to test a trap. But he could not accept standing there and not knowing what the true rules of this tomb were.

This reminded him of the person who gave him the information. That person had been so certain back then. So certain that looking back now, Sutton felt there was a hidden mockery in it.

Did they know it would be like this? Did they know from the start that the central sarcophagus wasn't a place for treasure, but an altar that was still functioning? Had they intended for him to bring people in to reawaken this tomb from the very beginning?

Killing intent rose in waves within Sutton’s heart. But he forcibly suppressed it. He didn't have the luxury to be angry here. At least not now. If he couldn't make it out alive, no amount of rage would matter.

Herbert walked quickly to Noel’s side. He didn't touch Noel directly, but observed the grayish-white line on his neck from half a step away. The more he looked, the worse Herbert’s expression became.

That line wasn't a normal wound. Nor did it look like spreading toxin. It was more like a brand. A mark left behind by a ritual.

Herbert raised his hand to release a faint light. The light didn't touch Noel’s skin, but merely circled near the grayish-white line. In the next moment, the line contracted slightly like a living thing.

Noel immediately let out a groan of pain, his expression twisting violently. “It hurts!”

Herbert immediately withdrew his hand. Sutton stared at him. “What is it?”

Herbert didn't answer immediately. He looked at the line on Noel’s neck, his brow furrowing deeper. “It’s not poison, nor is it a normal curse.”

“Then what is it?”

Herbert was silent for a moment before speaking slowly. “It looks like a Ritual Marking.”

Those words made everyone’s hearts sink. A Ritual Marking. Just hearing the name sounded ominous.

The young crossbowman couldn't help but ask, “Can it be removed?”

Herbert glanced at him. The young crossbowman’s heart trembled under that gaze, and he immediately shut his mouth. Herbert didn't explicitly say it couldn't be done, but his silence spoke volumes.

Sutton’s voice grew even deeper. “Be clear.”

Herbert looked at Noel, his tone very low. “This mark doesn't exist in isolation. It’s connected to the runes beneath the central sarcophagus. Simply put, when Noel looked into the coffin just now, he might have been selected by that empty sarcophagus.”

Noel’s body jerked violently. “No...” He shook his head instinctively. “I only took one look. I really only took one look.”

His voice was filled with pleading. He looked at Sutton, then at Herbert, and finally even at the companions who rarely spoke to him. But no one dared to meet his gaze.

They were all avoiding him. They weren't afraid of Noel himself, but feared that the mark on him would implicate them. This avoidance was colder than a blade.

A brief moment of despair appeared on Noel’s face. He suddenly realized that he was already different from the others. Just a moment ago, he was just an inconspicuous scout in the team. Cowardly, cautious, and not strong in direct combat, but at least he was a fellow traveler.

But now, he was the one selected by the empty sarcophagus. In the eyes of others, he was no longer a companion. He was danger. He was trouble. He was the thing that might drag everyone into the abyss.

This change was too fast. So fast that he didn't even have time to feel resentment. Only daze and fear remained.

Watching this from a distance, Matthew also felt a chill in his heart. He didn't feel enough sympathy to want to step forward and save Noel. He knew very well that he didn't have the ability. But he still saw something very realistic in Noel’s situation.

In this world, this was often how it was for the weak. They didn't necessarily do anything wrong. They weren't necessarily greedier than others. But when danger needed to be borne by someone, they were often the first to be pushed forward.

Noel had only looked at the coffin because Sutton told him to. But once he was marked, he alone had to bear the consequences. No one would think it was unfair. Because there was no such thing as fairness here.

Matthew exhaled softly, suppressing the fluctuations in his heart. He couldn't focus all his attention on Noel. Noel’s plight was terrifying, but the truly frightening thing was that empty sarcophagus.

It had already started selecting people. What if Noel wasn't the only one? If just one look resulted in being marked, then was everyone who looked inside the coffin earlier at risk?

Matthew suddenly felt glad that he had never looked directly into the sarcophagus. He only watched Noel’s reaction, the edges of the sarcophagus, and the movements of those around him. This level of caution might seem cowardly, but now it seemed that cowardice was sometimes the very reason one survived.

“Then why did it only select Noel?” the young crossbowman finally blurted out. His voice was trembling. “Lord Herbert was close too, and Lord Sutton saw the coffin. Why him?”

As soon as those words were spoken, Noel’s face turned even paler. Herbert fell silent. He shifted his gaze from Noel back to the empty sarcophagus in the center.

“Perhaps because he looked the deepest,” Herbert said slowly. “Perhaps because he stood the closest. Or perhaps...” He paused. “Because it’s easier for it to influence him.”

He didn't say it too directly, yet everyone understood. Easier to influence. In other words, Noel was weak. His spirit was weak, his strength was weak, and his protections were weak. So, he was chosen first.

Noel lowered his head, his body shaking slightly. He didn't argue. He knew Herbert was probably right. In this team, he truly wasn't strong. He was able to follow Sutton in because he was obedient, willing to do the chores others wouldn't, and willing to risk his life to test things when necessary.

But those things couldn't save him.

Sutton looked at Noel, his eyes dark and uncertain. If he followed his usual character, the safest move when encountering someone who was marked and might burden the team would be to deal with them directly. But now, Sutton didn't act immediately.

On one hand, it was because Noel was his man. Killing Noel directly in front of everyone would alienate his other subordinates. On the other hand—and more importantly—the mark on Noel might still be useful.

Since the empty sarcophagus had selected Noel, it meant a connection had been established between Noel and the tomb's ritual. This connection might be dangerous, but it might also be exploitable. Sutton disliked waste. Even a dying man had value as long as he wasn't completely dead.

Herbert seemed to see through Sutton’s thoughts. He said coldly, “Don't think about using the mark on him. You haven't even figured out the full structure of this ritual yet. Recklessly using it will only make it awaken faster.”

Sutton’s lone eye turned cold. “Are you telling me how to do things?”

Herbert looked at him without backing down. “I am reminding you not to get everyone killed.”

The atmosphere between the two suddenly grew tense. The already nervous adventurers didn't even dare to breathe loudly. Although Sutton and Herbert had their differences along the way, they had mostly maintained cooperation. But now, cracks were finally appearing on the surface of that cooperation.

Matthew watched them from behind the stone pillar, without the slightest desire to enjoy the drama. This was exactly the situation he feared most. Internal conflict before the external danger had even fully erupted.

It wouldn't necessarily turn into an immediate physical fight. But as long as their judgments were inconsistent, their actions would slow down. And in an awakening Official Wizard’s tomb, moving slowly was fatal in itself.

Just then, the gray light beneath the central sarcophagus brightened another notch. The runes on the ground seemed to be awakened from their slumber by some force, with the gray light spreading outward in circles.

The light wasn't dazzling; it was actually quite dim. But with every circle that lit up, the chilly aura in the burial chamber deepened. Matthew clearly felt the surrounding air becoming thicker. When he breathed, it felt as if he were inhaling fine dust. His chest felt faintly stifled.

In the distance, the young crossbowman suddenly coughed. As soon as the cough rang out, the shield-bearing adventurer beside him looked at him in terror, as if he had already been infected by something.

The young crossbowman’s expression was grim as he quickly explained, “I’m fine, I just choked on something.”

But no one believed him. Or rather, in a time like this, no one dared to fully believe anyone. Distrust began to spread. It wasn't visible like the gray mist, but it moved faster.

Everyone was wondering if the others had been influenced, and everyone was worried if they themselves had been influenced without realizing it. Matthew saw this change and grew even more alert.

The truly dangerous part had arrived. The empty sarcophagus hadn't directly killed anyone yet, but it had already started to dismantle the team. First, it marked Noel, then it made everyone realize that looking inside could lead to being selected, and finally, it caused everyone to doubt each other.

Once everyone began to fear the people beside them, the team would become fragile. At that point, the sarcophagus wouldn't even need to act; they would descend into chaos on their own.

Herbert clearly realized this as well. He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his dispute with Sutton, and said in a heavy voice, “We must leave the central area first.”

Sutton looked at him. Herbert continued, “This sarcophagus is the ritual core. The closer we are to it, the stronger the influence. Noel is just the first; he might not be the last.”

These words caused everyone’s expressions to change simultaneously. Sutton didn't argue. Although he disliked Herbert’s tone, he knew Herbert was right. Staying here would only become more dangerous.

“Retreat to the edge of the main burial chamber,” Sutton ordered sternly. “Don’t run blindly, and do not look inside the coffin.”

As if they had finally received an order they could execute, everyone immediately began to retreat. But their movements were stiff as they backed away. No one dared to move too fast, and no one dared to stay too close to the person beside them.

Everyone was caught between two kinds of fear. They feared the empty sarcophagus in the center, and they feared the people around them suddenly losing control.

Noel was held by the shoulder by Sutton, practically dragged backward. He didn't struggle, yet his head was still tilted slightly toward the sarcophagus, as if an invisible force there was continuously pulling at him.

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