Pull (4)

The young crossbowman frantically ran toward the nearest exit.

But halfway there, a loud boom echoed from deep within the passage. A heavy stone door slammed down from above, completely sealing the path.

Dust billowed out with a roar. The young crossbowman scrambled back in terror, his face devoid of color.

“The door... the door fell!”

These words were the final straw that broke everyone’s spirit. The tomb was sealing itself.

Sutton whipped his head toward Herbert. “Is there another way?”

Herbert didn't answer immediately. He stared intently at the runes flowing on the ground, trying to judge the changes in the tomb from their direction.

But this time, his expression grew increasingly grim. He realized that the flow of runes around the main burial chamber wasn't simply sealing the entrances.

They were rearranging. Guiding. They were pulling every viable route back toward the center.

Herbert’s voice was lower than ever before. “We can't take the main paths.”

Sutton’s gaze darkened. “Why?”

Herbert looked up at the empty sarcophagus. “Because the main paths will only bring us back here.”

The crowd’s expressions shifted drastically. Someone asked urgently, “What do you mean?”

Herbert didn't look at him, saying each word clearly, “This tomb is herding every living person toward the altar.”

No one spoke. The meaning was clear enough. The tomb wasn't just trying to trap them to death. It wanted to send them back to the empty sarcophagus.

It wanted people. Living people. It wanted something new to fill that empty coffin.

“It wants something new to fill that empty coffin.”

After those words fell, it felt as if all sound had been sucked out of the main burial chamber. No one spoke anymore. Even the sound of breathing became faint. But this silence didn't feel safe; instead, it was like cold water slowly rising over everyone’s noses and mouths, making even a breath feel difficult.

The young crossbowman stood before the fallen stone door, his face deathly pale. He had run too fast just now, his boots dragging messy trails through the dust. Now he stood frozen, his mechanical crossbow raised, but its aim was wild.

He looked at the sealed passage, then back at the central sarcophagus. His lips trembled before he finally couldn't help but whisper a curse. “Damn it...”

It wasn't loud, but in this suffocating environment, it felt like a needle pricking everyone’s taut nerves.

The shield-bearing adventurer immediately glared at him. “Shut up.”

The young crossbowman snapped his head around, eyes filled with irrepressible panic and rage. “Shut up? How can I shut up?”

His voice rose sharply. “The road is blocked! That thing is trying to herd us back! Didn't you hear? It wants people! Living people!”

By the final words, his voice was distorted. Not from anger, but because fear had surged from his chest to his throat. If he didn't let it out, he felt he might suffocate.

The shield-bearing adventurer’s face was equally grim. His round shield was held in front of him, but now he didn't even know which direction to block.

If an enemy lunged from the front, the shield was useful. If it were crossbow bolts, blades, or beast claws, he was confident he could hold out. But they weren't facing those things now.

It was an empty sarcophagus. A tomb that was restarting its operations. It was something invisible and intangible that could crawl into a person’s mind.

What could a shield block? Sound? Hallucinations? Or the runes lighting up beneath their feet? He didn't know. And because he didn't know, he became even more agitated.

“What’s the use of shouting?” the shield-bearer whispered. “Lord Sutton is still here. Lord Herbert is still here. There will be a way.”

The young crossbowman opened his mouth as if to argue. But when his gaze met Sutton’s dark, single eye, he swallowed his words.

Sutton ignored them. Or rather, he didn't have the energy to deal with such minor panic. He stared intently at Herbert, his voice terrifyingly low. “You said the main paths would bring us back.”

Herbert didn't deny it. “Yes.”

“Then find a path that isn't a main path.” Sutton spoke quickly, his tone carrying an irrepressible forcefulness.

“No matter how complex this tomb is, it’s impossible for there not to be a maintenance passage. An Official Wizard wouldn't block off every retreat; he would always leave himself some kind of entrance and exit.”

Herbert glanced at him. This glance made Matthew’s heart stir slightly. Herbert didn't look surprised. In other words, Sutton’s words weren't without merit.

A tomb of this scale, especially one related to a ritual, likely had hidden passages. They might not be for ordinary people, and they might not be safe to use once the tomb was activated, but as long as they existed, they were better than the main paths being guided back to the central altar.

Herbert was silent for a moment before saying, “It’s possible.”

Sutton immediately pressed, “Where is it?”

Herbert’s expression grew even grimmer. “I don't know.”

Sutton’s single eye turned cold. Several adventurers nearby also showed looks of disappointment.

“I don't know.” In this situation, those three words were almost more painful than hopelessness. Herbert had always represented judgment and knowledge—one of the few things they could rely on in this tomb. But now, even he said he didn't know.

“You don't know?” Sutton slowly repeated. He didn't explode immediately, but this suppressed, calm anger made everyone’s hearts tighten.

Herbert didn't back down. He looked up at Sutton, his voice also dropping. “I only recognized that the tomb’s ritual structure is restarting; I am not its builder. If a hidden passage were that easy to find, it wouldn't be called a hidden passage.”

Their gazes clashed in the dim light. The air seemed to grow colder. The female axeman’s grip on her axe tightened. She didn't speak, but her eyes darted between Sutton and Herbert.

Right now, she wasn't afraid of the central sarcophagus attacking. She was afraid that these two, the ones who could still stabilize the situation, would turn on each other first.

Sutton’s men needed Sutton to keep them in line. The tomb’s changes needed Herbert’s judgment. If they clashed now, the team would fall apart immediately.

Then, they would drag themselves into a dead end without the sarcophagus having to do a thing.

Matthew was also watching them. Standing in the shadow of a stone pillar, he made no outward movement, but he was mentally reviewing the situation.

Sutton was anxious. Herbert was anxious too. They were still rational, but that rationality was being squeezed by the tomb’s changes.

This wasn't good. But for Matthew, it wasn't necessarily bad either. Only when their attention was held by a greater crisis would he have the chance to slip away from their sight.

But not yet. Everyone was trapped at the edge of the burial chamber. Any movement would be conspicuous. He had to wait. Wait for the situation to get messier. Wait for someone to break. Wait for the tomb’s changes to draw everyone’s eyes away from him.

Thinking this, Matthew’s consciousness quietly sank into his mind. The map was still there, but it was different now. The once clear lines were now vibrating slightly.

The center of the main burial chamber had become a heavy black dot, with rings of grey patterns spreading outward like ripples or the slowly opening blood vessels of some living thing.

Several main paths leading out had turned dark grey on the map. They hadn't disappeared, but just looking at them gave Matthew an uncomfortable feeling.

They seemed to exist, yet they no longer led to their original destinations. This was likely what Herbert meant by the main paths bringing people back.

The roads were there, but those who entered wouldn't reach the exit. Under the influence of the tomb’s rearrangement, they would likely loop back to the central altar.

This was the most terrifying part. If a door was sealed, one could pry it open, blow it up, or go around. But if the road itself began to deceive, then all judgments of direction became unreliable.

Matthew didn't fully trust his eyes. He trusted the map in his mind more. But even the map was being interfered with now. This gave Matthew a true sense of urgency for the first time.

If even the map was completely affected by the tomb, his greatest advantage would vanish. He had to leave the main burial chamber before the map could no longer distinguish the structure. At least leave the ritual core area.

Matthew’s gaze quickly scanned the map in his mind. The main passage was no good. The right passage was no good either.

The side door near Sutton’s subordinates had gone completely dark, as if locked by some power. The left path he had passed through earlier seemed barely usable, but it was also turning grey—clearly unsafe.

Where else? Matthew’s consciousness moved along the edges of the burial chamber. Suddenly, he saw a very inconspicuous, tiny gap. It wasn't on a main path or any obvious passage.

It was hidden behind a half-collapsed stone wall on the northwest side of the burial chamber, the line so thin it was almost invisible. If the map hadn't been rearranging and the surrounding routes hadn't darkened, this line wouldn't have stood out.

It hadn't turned grey. At least not yet. It was a very narrow dark line extending from behind the collapsed wall, bypassing the outer perimeter of the burial chamber and connecting to a long, narrow area they hadn't explored.

Matthew’s heart leaped. Not a main path. It didn't look like a normal secret room entrance either. It looked more like an interstitial passage left behind during the tomb’s construction.

A maintenance passage? Or a secret tunnel for drainage, ventilation, or moving materials? Matthew couldn't be sure. But he knew this might be the only route not yet fully pulled by the altar’s power.

His breathing grew shallow. He had found a way. At least, he had found a possible way. But he didn't act immediately.

He firmly memorized the position of that dark line while glancing at the northwest corner of the burial chamber in reality. There was indeed a half-collapsed stone wall there.

Rubble and broken pillar fragments were piled in front of it, and the corner was covered in thick dust, looking like a long-blocked ruin. A normal person wouldn't notice it.

Even if they did, they would just think it was a dead end sealed by a cave-in. Matthew had seen it when he entered, but his attention had been on the central sarcophagus and the surrounding rooms. He hadn't checked if there was space behind the rubble.

Now it seemed that place was likely a way out. But the problem was, how to get there? The wall wasn't too far, but it wasn't close either. There was open ground in between.

If he moved directly there, Sutton would notice. Herbert might discover the anomaly too. He wouldn't be able to explain why he suddenly wanted to check a pile of rubble.

Worse, if he revealed he knew a way out, everyone would follow. Whether that tunnel was a way out or a death trap would be hard to say then. Matthew suppressed the urge. He couldn't rush. He had to wait.

“Noel!” Sutton suddenly barked.

Matthew snapped out of his map and looked over. Noel had looked up again at some point. He had been held at Sutton’s side, his body trembling, but now his expression had changed again.

His eyes were open, but his pupils were unfocused. The grayish-white lines on his neck were more obvious than before, spreading from a single line into two or three branches, like dead tree limbs crawling along his skin toward his ear.

Noel’s lips were moving slightly. He made no sound, but the movement was clearly as if he were talking to something. Sutton’s face darkened instantly. “He’s losing it.”

Herbert’s voice came from the side. It wasn't a question; it was a judgment. Hearing this, Noel’s body jerked as if pulled back from a half-dreaming state.

“I can hold on...” His voice was incredibly raspy. “I really can hold on.”

But as soon as he spoke, tears flowed from his eyes. It wasn't weakness; it was the body’s instinctive reaction when fear exceeded its limit.

Noel didn't want to cry. He knew crying in front of Sutton was shameful and dangerous. But he couldn't control it. Just as he couldn't control hearing that voice. Or the growing urge to turn back and look at the empty sarcophagus.

“It says...” Noel whispered. Everyone’s expressions shifted.

Sutton said coldly, “Don't listen.”

Noel seemed not to hear him, his voice continuing to tremble. “It says... this place wasn't a tomb to begin with.”

Herbert whipped his head toward him. Sutton narrowed his single eye. Matthew’s heart sank slightly.

Noel’s voice grew lighter, yet it reached everyone’s ears clearly. “It says... this is the Place of Return.”

“Everyone brought inside eventually returns. The people from before returned. The people now... must also return.”