Dense black fog surged forth from the grand hall lined with funerary coffins, billowing from every corner of the tomb like countless fanged and clawed monsters, rolling toward the Sacred Gate at the pinnacle of the tower.
The "Tomb Guardians" in every direction prostrated themselves toward the tower's peak. Those who were normally fierce and reckless now lay as meek as little lambs, pressed flat against the ground, not daring to utter a single word.
The black fog engulfed them, and tiny bursts of radiance like sunlight shimmered over their bodies, warding off the terrifying power of death.
Within the tomb, the gruesome corpses hanging on the walls began to stir, releasing roars filled with savage ferocity.
In the eerie hall, the lids of black coffins were violently thrown open, and dense clusters of bandage-wrapped hands reached out.
The white bandages had taken on a nauseating yellowish-brown hue from the corrosion of corpse oil and the decay of ages. Waves of mindless, malevolent sound rose in concert with the surrounding roars, making the tomb utterly terrifying.
"Lucian" and Inke raised their halberds, holding them vertically toward the black fog, parting the currents like waves so they would sweep around the two of them and pour into the Sacred Gate.
The black fog arrived with ferocity but departed just as swiftly. Within a mere ten-odd seconds, it had vanished without a trace, and the sinister, hideous roars had faded to nothing but ethereal echoes.
Seeing that the "Sacred Gate" had returned to normal, Inke instinctively remarked to the "Asca" beside him, "Finally, it's over."
"I don't speak with low-born scorpion-folk," "Asca" replied coldly.
"You—" Inke turned his head in fury, his gaze as though he wanted to devour "Asca" alive — though, in truth, he ate everything alive.
"Asca" gave a cold snort and said nothing more.
Inke seethed with rage, yet dared not start a brawl before the High Priest. He could only clamp his mouth shut and stare resentfully ahead, never wanting to exchange another word with that wretched Asca!
The High Priest noticed the commotion but paid it little mind, since he was well aware of the source of their conflict. As long as they didn't break any laws, there was no need to worry about such trifles.
So the High Priest lowered his head and resumed his "prayer," seeking further growth in power.
The fifth-rank illusion spell "Persistent Phantom" could create an almost corporeal illusory copy complete with sound, body heat, scent, and movement. Moreover, it could be pre-programmed with conditions, allowing the phantom to respond to simple situations with basic reactions — for instance, raising the halberd when the black fog surged forth; or replying "I don't speak with low-born scorpion-folk" followed by a cold snort and silence when Inke attempted conversation; or lowering the head in greeting when the High Priest approached.
Behind the Sacred Gate, the black fog churned silently, filled with an eerie, oppressive stillness.
Spiraling currents of gas converged and condensed, taking the shape of Lucian — he had returned to his original appearance, a black hood concealing his features.
"This really does feel like the realm of the dead." Lucian looked around and noticed traces of grey diffusing through the black fog, lending the place a deathly, frozen quiet.
It was a circular palace. Sunflower patterns were painted across every wall, and rays of golden light — carved from some unknown material — traced lines across the floor, following an upward gradient toward a half-height altar at the center.
Upon the altar sat a coffin wrought of gold, its surface inlaid with a silver crescent-moon pattern fashioned from some silvery-white special material.
Because the entire hall was filled with roiling black fog that radiated intense waves of death, blocking any outside scrying, Lucian no longer worried that his spellcasting might be detected. He layered one defensive ward after another upon himself.
However, he still didn't dare produce something like the "Solar Crown," a Divine Arts artifact deeply tied to the realm of the dead. That would be like dropping a single drop of blood into waters frequently patrolled by sharks — it could trigger a frenzied reaction and summon a God-blessed Priest.
After confirming that the palace's magical formation layout matched Rhein's description, Lucian followed the arcane path through the black fog, drawing ever closer to the altar.