The Grand Illusion

Observing the half-footprint closely, Lynch felt a chill run down his spine.

It wasn't that the footprint itself was particularly terrifying, but rather that he noticed its size; though the fine details of the sole were indiscernible, it was small and dainty, clearly left by a woman.

With Dr. Jenna dead, the only woman left here was Judy... No, wait, there was also him.

Could it be Judy? She didn't seem the type at all. But if it wasn't her, who else could it be? Surely it couldn't be him. He wasn't actually some spy thriller protagonist.

No, he knew he wasn't, but what would Judy think if she saw it? What would the others think?

What a vicious scheme to sow discord. It wasn't just about killing; it was about destroying their trust.

It was clearly targeted at Judy and him. Realizing this, Lynch cast a tense glance at the other two. They didn't seem to have noticed the footprint; Judy was staring blankly beside him, while Rooney was still inspecting the edge of the deep pool.

Lynch quietly calmed his racing heart. Pretending to help, he made his way over to the deep pool, inconspicuously drawing closer to the footprint.

It's fine. As long as I can erase this footprint, everything will be okay.

Using his body to block Judy's line of sight while keeping an eye on Rooney's profile, Lynch slowly approached the footprint.

As long as I can destroy the scene, this scheme to sow discord won't—wait, what am I doing?

Just as he was about to stretch out his leg to scuff the footprint away, Lynch suddenly snapped out of it. Wasn't this the exact trope from detective dramas? In reality, the others were probably watching him in secret. The moment he tried to destroy the evidence, they would all spring out and catch him red-handed, leaving him completely unable to defend himself.

The more he thought about it, the more alarmed he became. Lynch was certain he wasn't just shadowboxing or fighting imaginary enemies.

Vision relied entirely on light, and Rooney had previously shown the ability to bend light. This meant that no matter which way Rooney was facing, it wouldn't necessarily stop him from monitoring Lynch's every move.

The ground was covered in moss, and moss was a type of plant. Karl Jones's authority was related to plants. Since he could use vines to attack Salin from a distance, there was no reason he couldn't use the moss to monitor this place remotely.

And then there were Jack Adams's rats. With so many obstacles around, it would be incredibly easy for a rat to hide, meaning Jack could also be watching.

So, was he actually trying to sneakily destroy evidence right under everyone's noses?

It was a laughable scenario, but Lynch couldn't find it in himself to laugh. He realized that while he was busy observing and guessing others' intentions, they were doing the exact same to him.

The enemy had finally made their move. This divided exploration was actually a trap designed to kill him.

He had been put in check.

Lynch stood by the footprint as if nothing was wrong, making no move to destroy the evidence while his mind raced to analyze the situation.

No, things aren't that bad yet.

First, there was Judy. As a cultist, she had a natural barrier between herself and the others. Moreover, she knew many of his secrets. If she had truly betrayed him, the situation would be far worse than this. At most, she had been swayed by someone else and was wavering, or perhaps she was completely in the dark and merely being used.

That left the three men. Karl Jones had deactivated the central corridor, yet Rooney had inspected it so meticulously, even touching that disgusting filth. Furthermore, Karl had privately exposed Rooney's identity as a church knight, and Jack had also exposed Rooney while keeping his distance from Karl. This suggested that the three of them were likely wary of one another, each acting in their own interest.

Therefore, their sudden collaboration to set up this trap was likely not a meticulously planned alliance, but rather the result of someone pulling the strings from the shadows—much like a detective in a story guiding everyone to watch the suspect leap into a trap. No, the mastermind didn't even need to show their face; simply nudging the others to suspect Lynch was enough.

Now, the mastermind had finally bared their fangs and put him in check.

Lynch exhaled softly. He glanced at Rooney, who was standing to his side, perhaps waiting for the right moment to strike, and then at Judy, who was completely oblivious behind him. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and smiled.

Check was fine. What was the best way to respond to being put in check?

To flip the table, of course. He would smash the chessboard entirely and see how they played then.

Taking a few light steps backward, Lynch moved away from the footprint. Rooney's back stiffened slightly. Although Rooney made no physical movement, Lynch could feel the oppressive tension in the air ease up a fraction.

So you really are watching me. Fine, let me play along.

Having just taken two steps back, Lynch suddenly stepped forward again, returning to the side of the footprint. The moment he felt the oppressive tension spike, he retreated once more, moving far away from the print.

There's no doubt about it. Let's begin, then.

Quickly putting distance between himself and Rooney, Lynch boldly stepped back to Judy's side. He suddenly clapped his hands, the solitary sound echoing with an eerie resonance in the dark, silent cavern.

“You two might as well come out as well. Since everyone has lost their patience, let's lay everything out in the open,” Lynch said, raising his voice. His tone was light and composed. “We all know there's a traitor among us. At this point, only the traitor would be too afraid to have an open conversation. Heh, so, are you two going to keep hiding?”

Rooney spun around, darting a look at Judy. He didn't make any sudden moves, merely stepping a few paces away with a grim expression. As for Judy... she simply tilted her head and glanced at Lynch with a look of utter confusion, as if saying, What are you talking about? I have no idea.

Tsk, stop acting, girl.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of silence, the stone door leading to the central corridor quietly slid open. The handsome Karl Jones and the bearded Jack Adams emerged from the front tomb.

Karl Jones no longer looked as exhausted as before, though his expression was quite familiar. Jack Adams was just as he had been, cradling his wine jug with a drunken air, but his bead-like, rodent-like eyes gleamed sharply as they darted around.

“Hehehe, everyone is finally together. We haven't sat down for a proper chat since we set out. I almost miss the days we spent in the recreation room before we left,” Lynch giggled, hiding his face behind his round fan. “Everyone has their own identity and their own goals. After everything that has happened, shouldn't we have a good, face-to-face chat?”

“What is there to talk about?”

The two strode forward and took up positions in their respective corners, keeping their distance from one another as they faced off. Karl Jones put on a stern face and said in a low voice:

“Mr. Rooney has already recognized your identity. You are a cultist of the Swelling Daughter, an emissary sent by an evil god. Your very appearance is highly suspicious. You were definitely the one who ultimately saved Salin, and you were the last person to contact the doctor before her accident. And now, you've left a footprint here. What else do you have to say for yourself?”

“You used to call me a beautiful lady, but now you call me a cultist,” Lynch smiled and countered. “If that's the case, shouldn't I be doing everything in my power to facilitate this ritual? Why would I murder people for no reason—and two of them at that? Isn't that disrupting the ritual?”

“Though none of us know the specific details of the ritual, Dr. Jenna said that it can proceed even if only one person remains,” Karl Jones said resentfully. “You saw Salin trying to contact the outside, so you killed him first. Then you found out the doctor was connected to the Archaeological Association, so you caused her death. You want to eliminate all unstable factors to ensure the ritual goes smoothly.”

Hiss, that actually makes quite a bit of sense. I'm almost convinced myself.

“And for a cultist like you, the reason doesn't even matter,” Rooney sneered. “You people are inherently twisted. You would kill for any reason at all.”

“Shut up. I don't want to talk to you right now,” Lynch said, raising an eyebrow. His expression darkened as he spoke coldly, “We will settle our score later. I don't have time for you now.”

Rooney opened his mouth, but he was so thoroughly shut down that he couldn't find his words for a long moment.

Lynch turned back to the others, a broad smile returning to his face. “Since everyone is here, why don't I perform a magic trick to liven things up?”

“The Grand Illusion.”