ocean-life Chapter 355 The Door That Shouldn't Be Opened
Chapter 355 The Door That Shouldn't Be Opened
"This is bigger than I thought," Cerys muttered, running her gloved fingers over an etching that looked like a curved blade. She was no expert in ancient scripts, but it reminded her of designs she'd once seen in a forbidden library—images rumored to be older than the kingdom itself.
Vyrelda brushed dust from her hands and studied the door. "I've seen references to something like this in old archives. People said it was a myth, a sealed gateway to lost knowledge. Or maybe it's just an old tomb, locked away so no one can disturb the dead."
Cerys tried to force a hint of humor into her voice. "Wouldn't be the first tomb we've broken into." But the dryness of her tone betrayed her tension. She pressed her ear against the door, listening. It felt cold, like it was stealing the warmth from her cheek. The metal vibrated faintly beneath her skin, and she wasn't sure if that was the runes or just her own imagination.
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She stepped back, exhaling slowly. The corridor still felt like it was on the verge of caving in, and every second she spent here was a second the Technomancers could use to catch up. Yet the door called to her, promising secrets or possibly a direct route deeper underground. If Mikhailis and the others were beyond it, she couldn't just walk away. She remembered how often she'd scoffed at him for being reckless, for cracking jokes at the worst times. But now that he wasn't around to do it, the silence felt far more ominous.
Vyrelda, daggers at the ready again, gave her a brief, questioning look. "How do you want to open it?"
Cerys glanced at the damage around the door. The arch above was cracked, small bits of stone occasionally dropping whenever they moved. "We might not even need to force it. These runes might be part of a mechanism."
"You want to risk triggering them?" Vyrelda asked in a hushed tone. Though her question sounded cautious, Cerys could see the flicker of restless energy behind her eyes. She hates the Technomancers so much, Cerys thought. She'd do almost anything to get revenge. But if that revenge made her impatient, they might all end up buried under a thousand tons of stone.
"Then let's open it," Cerys replied. Her words emerged with more confidence than she actually felt, but she had no time to hesitate. Her arms ached from shifting the rubble, and a dull throbbing had started in her temple from the stale air, but none of that mattered. Mikhailis and the others needed answers—answers that might be locked behind this ancient door. She could practically hear him joking in her mind, something about how the door looked like a treasure chest waiting to be popped open, or making some offhand remark about "knock first, then break it down if no one answers." But this time, no one was joking. The catacombs were no place for comedic relief.
As she reached out to push against a rune-etched panel, the symbols on it flickered like the dying embers of a fire, and a deep, grinding noise rumbled through the passage. The sound was so resonant that Cerys felt it in her chest before she heard it with her ears. It vibrated the very stones beneath her boots and caused a few small pebbles to rain down from overhead, dusting her shoulders. Her breath caught, and she looked at Vyrelda, who had tensed like a coiled spring.
A sudden jolt traveled through the metal door, making it shudder as it pulled slowly inward. The motion revealed a sliver of a chamber beyond, lit by the same faint glow from ancient runes. With each creak and shudder, more of the door receded, until a wide gap stood in front of them.
Cerys stepped back to avoid the swirl of disturbed dust, raising an arm to shield her face. The stale air that wafted from inside smelled of old parchment and rusted metal, a scent reminiscent of forgotten archives and disused armories. She coughed lightly. "Whatever's in there hasn't seen daylight in a long time," she muttered, though part of her expected something to spring out of the darkness. Her muscles coiled, ready to fight if necessary, but the emptiness remained still.
When the door finally stopped moving, the passage fell quiet save for Cerys's and Vyrelda's breathing. They exchanged a quick glance—both of them on edge—then Cerys led the way into the newly revealed chamber. The air inside was thick and hard to breathe, but it was also oddly charged, as if threads of dormant magic crackled just out of sight.
Rows of shelving lined the walls, each shelf filled with crumbling scrolls, faded diagrams, and books whose spines had decayed so badly that their titles were unreadable. Cerys ran a gloved hand over one of the shelves, stirring a film of dust that made her cough again. The entire place felt like a tomb dedicated to forgotten knowledge.
In the center stood a strange, half-assembled device. It seemed cobbled together from mismatched metal parts, each bearing runic inscriptions that looked almost forced, as if someone had tried to replicate the original catacomb script but hadn't mastered it. Thick cables ran from the device to a metal plate bolted to the floor. Sparks of arcane energy flickered around the connections, occasionally snapping with tiny pops of light. Cerys narrowed her eyes, alarmed by the haphazard design.
"This isn't good,"