The dark figure came under concentrated fire.
There was no way to capture it alive, no way to interrogate it, and not even room for the slightest hesitation.
First, because the thing was harder to pin down than the slickest loach in the world—with the slightest slip, it might vanish right back into its former hidden state.
Second, because Richard was still spewing blood.
Aside from Richard himself, only Karen and Memphis among those present knew that Richard had swallowed bugs bred by Philias, granting him a self-healing capability far beyond normal people—surpassing even ordinary bloodthirsty aberrant demons. But the others had no idea.
And of the two who did know, one was Richard's father.
Therefore, everyone believed this opportunity for capture had been bought at the cost of a teammate (son) spraying blood. In that instant, their resolve was utterly united.
In moments, the black figure was incinerated.
In its place, a small mound of ashes drifted to the floor.
Karen walked toward the ashes, while Philomena moved toward Richard.
Blanche had instinctively wanted to check the ashes, but immediately realized her role as the team's "doctor." After taking several steps forward, she executed a swift pirouette—being tall, the movement looked almost like a dance.
Then, hurrying toward Richard, she began channeling healing magic in her palm. Philomena had already helped Richard sit up, and Blanche immediately set to treating him.
Karen raised a hand, signaling the others not to approach, as something like this could become a source of contamination.
Everyone stopped in their tracks. Only then did they realize they should first check on their teammate to show concern, so most headed toward Richard.
Beside Karen by the ashes, only Alfred and Memphis remained.
Alfred looked at Memphis, confusion in his eyes.
Memphis murmured, "He won't die."
How much punishment Richard could take, and how much blood he could vomit under extreme conditions, Memphis knew very well. In a way, no one knew a son better than his father.
Karen smiled faintly. He knew Uncle Aisen still wasn't used to expressing concern for his son in front of so many people.
Bending down, Karen squatted. Unlike the others, he wasn't particularly worried about contamination, though the sensation of being contaminated was painful enough.
Reaching out, he gently sifted through the ashes.
Karen quipped, "Even with all the gasoline you could pour into an incinerator, you couldn't burn a person down this purely."
"Young Master?"
"Confirmed. No contamination."
Having received Karen's word, Alfred and Memphis both squatted before the ashes.
Alfred said in wonder, "It's hard to imagine that kind of thing could burn down to bone ash."
Memphis said, "I suspect its body was influenced by some presence, allowing it to shift between states of existence. In essence, it was still a living being, not a mere thought or lingering spirit."
"Young Master suspects it's the Goddess's Pity—well, the Goddess's nightgown. We might very well find fragments of that divine artifact here."
Memphis nodded. "For something this bizarre to appear, the value of this tomb can't be small. The only question is whether more dangers lie ahead."
"How will we know if we don't go forward?" Alfred said. "Now that this thing has been dealt with and Richard isn't badly hurt, how could we turn back? Pure white as these ashes burned, they won't fetch a copper."
"There's something here."
Hearing Karen's voice, both men looked to the bottom of the ash heap Karen had dug into and saw him pull out a wine-red fountain pen.
The pen felt ice-cold in his hand, like holding a block of ice, yet the power of Ancestor Allen inside Karen still sensed the scorching heat within it.
Reaching out, he pulled off the cap. A beam of red light shot out, like solidified magma that nevertheless remained in motion.
"Did they have fountain pens back in that era?" Karen asked.
Memphis pointed at the pen. "Captain, the barrel is made of a special material."
"Oh, so that's it."
Karen aimed the cap at the molten end. The magma began retracting, slowly drawing completely back into the pen until the cap clicked firmly into place.
With a flick of his wrist, Karen tossed the fountain pen to Alfred, who caught it steadily.
"Keep it on you for now. When we get back, get an appraisal on the black market. If you like it, keep it. As for how to distribute the share, work it out yourself."
"Yes, Young Master."
Karen stood up and walked toward Richard, who, after preliminary treatment, was already sitting there drinking water.
"How are you feeling?" Karen asked with concern.
Richard held up his waterskin, giving it a casual swish. "Child's play."
Karen chuckled and said to Memphis, "You'll support him as we move forward."
"I'll do it," Philomena spoke up unexpectedly.
Karen glanced at Philomena.
Memphis said, "All right, you do it."
Since the father himself was comfortable leaving his son in this woman's hands, Karen naturally didn't object. Turning to the rest of the squad, he ordered, "Everyone, rest in place for half an hour."
A half-hour rest followed. Everyone began eating to replenish their strength, though more importantly, they needed a brief window to calm their nerves from the earlier tension.
When the time was up, the team regrouped.
Ahead lay an expanse of "floating" coffins. It remained unknown whether another platform led somewhere else across the abyss.
However, Karen was accustomed to focusing on practical matters.
"Open the coffins!"
They would open a few first to see. If the funerary goods were plentiful, they could simply leave with enough loot, setting aside the deeper secrets for now.
The tomb wasn't going anywhere; once they had time later, they could always come back for more.
If the burial goods weren't plentiful—in case the Congers family favored frugality and sparse burials—they would have no choice but to push deeper in search of things of real value.
Memphis and Muri dissolved into black mist, each carrying a rope as they drifted to the sides of a coffin. Once it was tied securely, Ventura transformed into a giant and, pulling alongside Bart and Alfred with great effort, hauled the coffin onto the platform.
These coffins were supported from beneath by threads, resembling pearls strung along a single cord.
This was also why Karen believed there ought to be a platform on the opposite side—a bridge couldn't just have one end.
*Clang!*
The coffin hit the floor.
Blanche asked, "Captain, should I offer a prayer first?"
This was customary.
"No need. With so many coffins here, if we pray over each one, we'd have to prepare to spend the winter here."
Blanche smiled, turned toward the abyss, and began a collective prayer.
"Mars, is the array ready?"
"Ready, Captain!"
Where the coffin landed was precisely where Mars had laid down a purification array.
Karen stepped forward to examine the coffin up close and found the latches. It was an interlocking mortise-and-tenon style closure, a method still popular today.
Drawing the Sword of Arius, Karen began prying the latches.
On the other side, Alfred and Muri helped pry them loose. With eight latches in total, it took little time to pry them all open.
When opening the lid, Karen gestured for everyone to step back slightly.
"The captain is always on the most dangerous front line," Ashley remarked.
Blanche nodded. "He is."
Karen exerted force with both arms and shoved the lid open. There was no cloud of dust or unbearable stench as one might imagine, nor did any hairy corpse bolt upright, shrieking with outstretched claws...
Because the inside of the coffin was empty.
Karen pressed his lips together, leaned down, and inspected the interior. Near the footboard, he spotted several small dents.
"Are these coffins just decorative?" Muri asked, bewildered.
"No. Corpses were placed inside these coffins when transported here." Karen straightened up, pointing at the foot of the coffin. "There are marks left by shoe soles striking the end—likely caused by collisions during long-distance transport."
"Corpses were brought here in coffins, only to be taken out again?" Memphis ran a hand along the coffin lid. "For what purpose?"
"It's unclear for now, but bringing them here definitely had a purpose. The letter Piston left behind also noted that he discovered this wasn't purely a Congers tomb.
"Memphis, Muri, haul two more coffins over. Let's inspect them."
"Yes, Captain."
Using the same method, two more coffins were soon dragged over.
After opening them, both were empty—no burial goods, no corpses.
Yet both showed clear signs of having once held bodies. In one of them, there was even a smudge of blood near the head end, likely rubbed off when careless carriers bumped the corpse's head during transit.
Three coffins opened in a row, and all three were empty.
"Muri, scout ahead with me."
"Yes, Captain."
Karen and Muri scouted ahead, both dissolving into black mist and floating across.
The distance was considerable, and there were many coffins. In the ancestral mausoleum of Allen Manor, only successive patriarchs and prominent figures of their generation were entitled to be buried. In the Congers family, it seemed that for a long period, any deceased member of the clan could be interred here.
Karen couldn't help grumbling inwardly. No wonder the family had declined. Giving every single person such an elaborate "sea burial" would hollow out even the deepest family fortune.
Finally, a new platform appeared ahead.
Karen and Muri landed on it. Looking back, there was only the abyss and the "floating" coffins; the platform they had come from was completely hidden from view.
Ahead stood a pitch-black entrance, tall, wide, and cavernous. Flanking the entrance were two three-meter-tall sculptures.
One depicted a girl bending down to scoop up the moon, while the other showed a girl with both hands raised, holding the moon aloft.
"What do these two sculptures signify, Captain?"
"In the mythological narratives of *Whispers of the Moon*, it is recorded that Artemis, the Moon Goddess, suffered an accident before ascending to godhood and nearly died. But two girls, her most loyal followers, saved her. One scooped the moon's reflection from a clear stream, and the other raised it high, returning it to the sky.
"Artemis was resurrected as a result.
"As for the two girls, the act exhausted their life force, and they aged and died, smiles lingering on their faces.
"After Artemis attained godhood, she founded the Church of the Moon Goddess. The Church incorporated them into their mythic canon, posthumously honoring them as branch gods."
"So they are symbols of loyalty? Then within this entrance, could it be...?"
Karen shook his head. "Has your grandfather never explained the mythic narratives of various faiths to you at home?"
Muri blinked. "Never."
"Then it's no wonder. In fact, when reading mythic narratives, you need to strip away the filters."
"What are filters?"
"Your own rose-tinted illusions."
"Ah, so that's what it means."
Kevin had personally demonstrated how the God of Order had torn off the Moon Goddess's nightgown back then—it certainly hadn't been gentle. Yet in the records of *Whispers of the Moon*, the relationship between the two gods was portrayed as almost ambiguous.
"I suspect those two girls were Artemis's sacrifices," Karen said. "Perhaps not even willing ones. They were likely forced to make offerings to Artemis—either healing her injuries or simply being used as stepping stones for her ascension.
"Under normal circumstances, branch gods are the closest companions who remain alive after the chief deity's ascension, serving as their capable right hands. Only then do they earn the right to appear alongside the deity in murals, revered and worshiped by believers through endless ages.
"Such posthumous elevation to branch gods is exceptionally rare. I even suspect that among those who actually helped establish the church, there were former companions of those two girls, using the church's authority to make amends to them."
"Is that so?" Muri took a deep breath. "What you're saying, Captain, seems far more aligned with human nature. It feels so real."
"You must learn to look at gods with the mindset of looking at humans. The Church of Principles once studied this: gods have a duality—one aspect mechanical and patterned, the other highly egotistical."
"Captain, how do you know all this? By reading books?"
"Yes. When we get back, I'll give you... No, go find Alfred and have him recommend some books for you."
"Understood, Captain."
Karen opened his palm, condensed a fireball, and hurled it forward. The fireball flew into the tunnel, illuminating the interior brightly, yet the end remained out of sight.
"Muri, do you need to rest?"
"No need. Ever since I absorbed Gaitanbert's soul power, I feel all my physical attributes have improved considerably. Of course, I still can't compare to you, Captain."
"Then head back and tell everyone to come over. I'll stay here."
"Captain, how about you go back to notify them while I stay here?"
Remaining alone here was obviously more dangerous.
Karen shook his head. "I'm worried something might happen to you. I wouldn't feel at ease."
"Captain, I can handle it."
"I'm not showing concern for you. I'm worried that if an accident happens, you won't be able to react as quickly as I would. I'm concerned your ability isn't enough."
"Yes, Captain. I'll go call them."
Muri dissolved into black mist and drifted away.
Karen, shouldering the Sword of Arius, began walking around the platform. His gaze soon landed on the rock piles on either side of the platform. He went to one side first, bent down, and checked the crevices underneath, finding nothing.
He then walked toward the rock pile on the other side. Midway, he paused briefly and glanced at the sculptures flanking the entrance.
Both wore smiles—the kind of smile showing readiness to sacrifice everything for a god. That kind of smile was actually rather unsettling to look at. At least, it made Karen uncomfortable.
Perhaps, endless ages ago when the event occurred, they had wept—wept bitterly.
Perhaps they had cursed, screamed, and resisted hysterically, only to be ruthlessly suppressed and coerced in the end.
Suddenly, Karen thought deeper. He realized his earlier explanation to Muri was still somewhat superficial. Making these two girls branch gods might not have been mourning and compensation from their former companions...
It was very likely a punishment—a form of vengeance.
*Even if you were unwilling, even if you fought back and resented it, I will still make the world believe that the two of you were the Moon Goddess's most devoted believers.*
*Since you dared defy me and refused to sacrifice yourselves willingly, I will make you the textbook martyrs for a god. This is the deity's punishment for you.*
Karen blinked and reached up to touch the corner of his eye. It was actually damp.
Had he empathized?
Karen shook his head and walked toward the pile of stones opposite, bending down. There, he saw a wooden puppet doll.
Taking the puppet doll out, he found it made no sound. It was probably completely broken.
Karen pried open its mouth and saw a letter inside, the sealing wax carrying the fiery aura of Purr.
Truth be told, Karen genuinely hesitated about whether to read this letter now. Piston was truly mischievous. Those who knew thought he was returning to his family tomb to find an empty slot to lie down in; those who didn't would think he came here scouting for material and inspiration.
Last time, reading his letter had invited trouble right in the middle of it.
This time...
Yet there was no reason not to read it.
Breaking the wax seal, he opened the envelope, took out the letter, and unfolded it.
"Dear Miss Purr,
I imagine you should be able to see this second letter of mine. He shouldn't be able to stop you, I think. However, I truly dared not use that pen he lent me, though I believe you will definitely like it, Miss Purr.
Did you see those two sculptures? For some reason, when I first saw them, I felt a sense of grandeur, devotion, dedication, and sacrifice.
I apologize; I know I shouldn't be using parallelism at a time like this, but all of this is just setup.
All right, enough nonsense.
I don't know why, but as I kept looking, I felt an inexplicable sadness again—a sadness like coffee heavily laced with sugar, yet still unable to mask that bitter astringency as it slides down the throat.
I cried. My tears fell upon this stationery, though I imagine by the time you arrive and read this letter, my tears will have long dried.
So I drew circles where my tears landed.
I don't know if you will feel the same way as I did. Probably not. You are so powerful, while I am as insignificant as an ant.
...
...
...
Oh, there is one thing I must remind you, Miss Purr. After you finish reading this letter, move slowly."
Move slowly?
What did that mean?
Karen lowered the letter and looked up.
The sculpture that had originally stood beside the distant entrance was now, at some unknown point, standing right in front of him, smiling.
Chapter 408