Chaos erupted completely at that moment.
The instant the gray runes lit up, the entire main burial chamber seemed to suddenly open its eyes from a deep slumber.
The ground shook.
The stone walls vibrated.
The stone pillars that had been standing in silent vigil emitted a low hum amidst the tremors, as if something buried deep within the rock was being forcibly awakened.
Matthew immediately looked down at his shadow.
Sure enough, his shadow had been stretched out.
It was no longer just a normal distortion caused by changing light, but as if it were hooked by an invisible thread, being dragged inch by inch toward the central empty sarcophagus.
The sensation was extremely eerie.
His body was clearly still standing in place, yet the shadow beneath his feet felt like another version of himself, being slowly summoned back by that empty sarcophagus.
A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on Matthew’s back.
He did not hesitate, tapping his short staff sharply against the ground and using the leverage to retreat half a step.
But as he moved, he immediately felt a chill at his ankle.
It wasn't that something in reality had grabbed him.
Rather, as the shadow was pulled, that frigid sensation crawled up from the soles of his feet like a tiny ice snake, slithering directly into the marrow of his bones.
Matthew’s heart sank.
He couldn't let his shadow continue to be dragged.
He didn't know what would happen if his shadow was completely pulled into the empty sarcophagus, and he certainly didn't want to verify it personally.
“Don’t stand on the runes!”
Herbert’s voice rang out sharply.
His voice was no longer lowered as before, but carried a rare sense of urgency.
“Retreat to the rubble piles! Don’t let your shadows touch that gray light!”
These words jolted everyone awake.
The shield-bearing adventurer reacted the fastest.
He stepped onto a nearby fallen stone block and slammed his body into the dazed old adventurer, pushing him off the brightest runes on the floor.
“Get on the rocks!” the shield-bearing adventurer roared. “Everyone, get on the rocks!”
The female axeman also reacted immediately. Instead of retreating, she rushed to the unconscious young crossbowman, grabbed his collar, and forcibly dragged him up from the ground.
The young crossbowman was still out cold, blood from his forehead streaming down his cheek, his body as limp as a bag of soaked burlap.
The female axeman gritted her teeth, dragging him toward the rubble pile.
But after only two steps, the shadow beneath her feet suddenly pulled taut.
In that instant, her body leaned forward noticeably, as if an invisible hand had grabbed her ankle from behind.
“Damn it!” she cursed under her breath, gripping the axe handle with both hands and sweeping the blade harshly along the floor.
The axe blade couldn't actually cut the shadow, but it kicked up a layer of dust and debris covering the runes.
The moment the dust rose, the pull on the shadow seemed to weaken slightly.
Seizing that split-second opportunity, the female axeman exerted her strength and dragged the young crossbowman onto a broken stone slab.
“Don’t touch those lights!” she shouted, gasping for air.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a clear sense of lingering fear.
If she hadn't reacted quickly just now, both she and the young crossbowman might have been dragged even closer to the central empty sarcophagus.
The tall, thin scout’s face had also turned incredibly grim.
He had originally been standing at the edge of the main burial chamber, which should have been a safe distance from the central sarcophagus, but when the gray light spread over, his shadow was still stretched thin and long.
The scout didn't try to resist with brute force.
He moved like a dark blur along the base of the wall, his body almost shrinking into the shadows of the stone wall, his footsteps silent.
However, he soon discovered that the stealth techniques he usually took pride in were almost useless here.
Because that empty sarcophagus wasn't looking for people.
It was looking for shadows.
As long as there was light, and as long as a shadow fell on the ground, that power could find him.
The scout’s eye twitched, and for the first time, an irrepressible fear surfaced in his gaze.
He would rather face a horde of enemies.
Whether it was monsters, traps, or poison arrows, he could rely on his experience to dodge them.
But now, he didn't know how to dodge his own shadow.
The old adventurer was somewhat calmer.
He was the oldest and had seen the most danger, yet his face was equally pale.
He stood on a piece of rubble, still clutching that bottle of dark red fire oil.
He gripped the bottle so tightly that the veins on the back of his hand bulged slightly.
He didn't throw the fire oil immediately.
He wasn't sure if fire would be effective against this kind of thing.
If it wasn't, it might just turn the already chaotic burial chamber into a literal inferno.
More terrifyingly, if the flames illuminated more areas, would it make more shadows distinct, making it easier for the sarcophagus to catch them?
This thought kept the old adventurer from acting rashly.
For the first time, he felt that the experience he had accumulated over many years was pathetically thin in the face of this Official Wizard’s tomb.
Sutton moved as well.
He didn't hide.
He stood at the edge of the gray light, dark mana surging around him like a thin black mist shrouding his feet.
A few black lines extending from his shadow toward the center were forcibly suppressed by that layer of dark mana as soon as they approached.
Even so, Sutton’s expression was not good.
He could feel that the power of those gray runes wasn't truly being suppressed by him.
They were merely testing him.
Like a group of creatures submerged underwater, they were slowly circling him, waiting for him to show a weakness.
Sutton’s lone eye swept across the main burial chamber.
Noel was half-kneeling on the ground.
The shield-bearing adventurer was holding him down firmly.
The young crossbowman was unconscious.
The female axeman and the old adventurer were still able to move for now.
The tall, thin scout was further away, pressed against the corner.
Herbert was still observing the runes.
As for Matthew...
Sutton’s gaze suddenly paused.
He saw Matthew standing near the rubble pile in the northwest corner.
That position happened to be near the collapsed stone wall where the airflow had been discovered earlier.
Matthew’s movements weren't conspicuous.
Like the others, he had retreated onto the rubble, avoiding the places where the ground runes were brightest.
But a sliver of abnormality suddenly rose in Sutton’s heart.
This Matthew... he was far too good at positioning himself.
Since entering the main burial chamber, he hadn't stood in a dangerous position even once.
When the sarcophagus opened, he was behind a stone pillar.
When the runes spread, he had already retreated to the edge.
Now that shadows were being pulled, he just happened to be near the potential hidden passage.
Once was caution.
Twice was luck.
But after several times, it was hard not to overthink it.
Sutton’s eyes narrowed slightly.
He didn't call out to Matthew immediately.
Now was not the time.
But he had truly taken note of this young man in his mind.
This seemingly low-profile little fellow with unremarkable strength might be more dangerous than many others in the team.
Not because of how strong he was.
But because he knew too well when to retreat, when to hide, and when to keep his head down.
In a place like a tomb, this kind of person was often the one who lived to the end.
Herbert’s voice interrupted Sutton’s thoughts.
“Forget about the center!”
Herbert crouched on the ground, his face pale, fine beads of cold sweat seeping from his brow.
He had been trying to analyze the flow of those runes, but the more he looked, the more chilled he felt.
These runes weren't just carved into the main burial chamber.
They were connected to the entire tomb.
Every ray of gray light and every line on the floor was like a tiny blood vessel, connecting the main burial chamber and the deeper structures into a single whole.
Right now, this tomb wasn't just activating a single trap.
The entire tomb was waking up.
“That hidden passage!” Herbert suddenly looked toward the northwest corner. “Clear it immediately! If we delay any longer, every path will be taken over by the ritual!”
Sutton did not hesitate further.
“Clear it!” his voice was cold and sharp. “Clear it now!”
The shield-bearing adventurer glanced at Noel.
Noel was still struggling. Half of his face was already covered in grayish-white lines, and he drifted between clarity and delirium.
The shield-bearing adventurer hesitated. “My lord, what about him?”
Sutton gave Noel a cold look.
That single glance made Noel tremble all over.
Noel realized he was standing on the edge of being abandoned.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but only broken gasps escaped his throat.
He didn't want to die.
Nor did he want to be left behind.
But he knew better than anyone that he was currently a liability.
If Sutton hadn't yet given the final order, someone probably would have already thrown him toward the central empty sarcophagus to see if it could temporarily appease the entity’s movements.
“Bring him,” Sutton finally said.
Noel snapped his head up, a look of disbelief appearing in his eyes.
The shield-bearing adventurer also froze for a moment.
Sutton’s tone was icy. “As long as he isn't dead, he’s still useful.”
The bit of gratitude in Noel’s eyes was crushed by those words before it could even fully surface.
It wasn't that he was being saved.
It was just that he wasn't ready to be discarded yet.
Even so, Noel lowered his head and said in a trembling voice, “Thank you... my lord...”
He said those words with difficulty, and they even carried an unspeakable bitterness.
But he said them nonetheless.
Because in a place like this, being considered “still useful” was better than being immediately abandoned.
The shield-bearing adventurer hauled Noel up. “If you can walk, walk yourself. Don’t hold me back.”
Noel nodded through gritted teeth. He tried his best to control his legs, but the shadow beneath his feet still tilted uncontrollably toward the central empty sarcophagus.
He tried his best not to look at that coffin.
But the more he avoided it, the clearer the voices became.
“Come back.”
“The spot is still there.”
“You shouldn't leave.”
Noel’s eye twitched, his fingernails nearly digging into his palms.
Shouldn't leave?
Why shouldn't he leave?
He didn't belong here.
He didn't want to become whatever was inside that coffin.
He was still alive.
He still had breath.
He still knew how to be afraid.
As long as he still knew fear, it meant he didn't belong to that empty sarcophagus.
This thought allowed Noel to maintain a sliver of clarity. He raised his head and staggered after the shield-bearing adventurer toward the northwest corner.
At the same time, Matthew had already begun clearing the rubble.
His movements weren't fast, but they were precise.
He didn't blindly move the large stones; instead, he first found the load-bearing points and used his short staff and dagger to pry away the smaller stones wedged in the gaps.
After a few small stones were loosened, the pile of rubble above naturally collapsed a bit.
A more distinct cold breeze blew out from within.
The wind carried a heavy smell of dust and a very faint scent of moisture.
When Matthew smelled this, his heart felt slightly more at ease.
There was wind.
There was moisture.
It meant that what lay behind was not a completely sealed dead end. At the very least, it connected to another space.
The female axeman stepped beside him. Without a word, she swung the back of her axe against the outermost stone block.
Thud!
The stone shattered.
Dust billowed into their faces.
Matthew immediately turned to avoid it, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve.
He didn't move too far away.
He had to hold this position.
Once the hidden passage was opened, he needed to be as far forward as possible.
The shield-bearing adventurer arrived dragging Noel. Seeing that Matthew and the female axeman had already cleared a small hole, hope flared in his eyes.
“Can we get in?”
The female axeman took a look.
The opening was too small. She could see a dark space inside, but it wasn't yet large enough for a person to pass through.
“Not yet,” she said through gritted teeth. “Smash it more.”
The shield-bearing adventurer immediately stepped forward, slamming the edge of his round shield violently against the stone wall.
The old adventurer also rushed over. He stuffed the fire oil bottle back into his belt, took out a short pickaxe, and began prying at the wedged stones below.
The tall, thin scout stood nearby, vigilantly watching the central empty sarcophagus and everyone’s shadows.
He didn't participate in moving the stones. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but his strength was insufficient. He was better suited for observation and warning.
Yet at this moment, he wished he had brute strength. Because standing by and watching others clear the escape route was more agonizing than doing it himself.
“Hurry up,” the scout’s voice was tight. “The gray light is coming.”
Matthew looked down.
Sure enough, the gray light from the ground runes was spreading toward the northwest corner.
Initially, the area around this rubble pile was relatively safe. But as the central ritual fully activated, the gray light had begun to bypass the larger stones, crawling inch by inch through the gaps in the rubble.
Like water.
Like insects.
They weren't in a rush, but they never stopped.
Matthew’s gaze darkened, and his hands moved even faster.
Just then, Herbert arrived at the opening.
He didn't help move stones but raised his hand to release a small ball of grayish-white light, pressing it close to the interior of the hole.
The light flickered as if blown by the wind as soon as it entered the hole.
A moment later, a slight change finally appeared on Herbert’s face.
“It’s an interstitial space inside.”
“Can we go through?” Sutton asked.
Herbert said, “It’s very narrow, but a person can squeeze through. It should lead to the maintenance passage on the outer wall of the burial chamber.”
Hearing these words, everyone felt as if they had been given a second wind.
They could leave.
Those words were more important than any treasure at this moment.
The shield-bearing adventurer gritted his teeth and slammed aside the last large stone blocking the opening.
Boom!
The stone rolled away.
A low, narrow hole was finally revealed.
Behind the opening was pitch black. A cold wind blew out, carrying a heavy, stagnant smell of decay.
The smell was unpleasant, even nauseating. But right now, no one cared. Because that was the scent of a way out.
“I’ll check first,” Herbert said immediately.
Sutton stopped him.
“No.”
Herbert’s brow furrowed.
Sutton looked at the tall, thin scout.
“You go in.”
The scout’s expression changed slightly.
But he didn't hesitate as long as Noel had. He was a scout; this was his job. If he didn't go now, who would?
He glanced at the opening, then at the central empty sarcophagus, and said in a low, grim voice, “If there’s a problem inside, I’m coming right back.”
Sutton said coldly, “You’d better be able to come back.”
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