Around "Saint Ivan," "Alexei," "Uriel," "Felix," and the "Angel of Light" appeared one after another. They had arrived here ahead of the legendary mages like Douglas and Fernando, yet none of them had ventured inside.
"Belkovsky, what shall we do?" "Alexei" addressed "Saint Ivan" by the current Northern Pope's name of Belkovsky, placing himself on an equal footing in the way he spoke.
"Saint Ivan's" golden brows furrowed slightly, his pale-yellow-tinted azure eyes fixed upon the hazy grey passage beyond the Soul Hearth. "I suspect that monster is still inside. Without the coordinate shift patterns left by Maskelyn or Vikan, we'd have no idea which way to go in there—no way to track their final whereabouts. We'd be blundering about on nothing but luck."
He carried a faint undercurrent of fear, as though his earlier exploration of the entrance had left some lasting mark—even with the strength to cast the Divine Grace Art, he dared not push his luck too far.
"Then shall we relocate the 'Holy Spirit Chamber' first?" "Felix's" gaze, too, was locked on the hazy passage, not sparing so much as a glance at the entrance wrapped in illusory ripples—as if it held no curiosity for him whatsoever.
"Saint Ivan" was silent for a moment before speaking. "But I suspect the Arcane Alliance dares to explore the Necromancy Sanctum precisely because they've obtained something Maskelyn or Vikan left behind. After all, Vikan's stronghold sits right on the border of the Holm Kingdom, and Heatherley was present when the Grand Cross Starlock shattered. If they've found the relics of those legendary mages from that era and learned the method to enter the 'Chamber of Immortality,' then the wishes and dreams of every generation of saints will be nearly impossible to fulfill."
As he spoke, his gaze flickered—almost imperceptibly—toward the passage shrouded in illusory ripples.
Before "Uriel" and the others could respond, "Ivan" continued. "So Mikhail and I will enter. You three go relocate the 'Holy Spirit Chamber.' He's projecting himself through Gono's divine artifact—even if he dies in there, it's no great matter. As for me, I have sufficient strength to guarantee my return."
Mikhail referred to the "Angel of Light."
"Very well, Belkovsky. Don't be careless. We still don't know what Maskelyn and Vikan actually encountered—why they never came back out." "Uriel" spoke in a low voice.
He wasn't entirely certain that Maskelyn and the others were dead. After all, the deeper one ventured into the Necromancy Sanctum, the more distorted the flow of time became. At the outer perimeter, one day inside equaled five outside. Near the Soul Hearth, it was closer to seven or eight days. Deeper still, it must be even more terrifying—which meant that Maskelyn, Vikan, and the other legendary mages, who had been missing from the outside world for nearly a millennium, might have experienced only a hundred years inside the "World of the Door."
"Ivan" gave a slight nod. "Whatever they encountered likely exceeds our imagination. Even casting prayer and divination spells through their artifacts couldn't determine whether they're alive or dead. However, this time the Arcane Alliance will be scouting ahead—if anything dangerous happens, I'll be able to withdraw in time."
With the brief discussion concluded, "Ivan" and the "Angel of Light" crossed the Soul Hearth and entered the hazy grey passage, while "Alexei" and the other saints returned to the Holy Spirit Chamber to avoid being tracked by the Arcane Alliance's reinforcements using the coordinate shift patterns.
Silence—frozen and absolute—settled once more over the Soul Hearth. Then the Lich King emerged from the wall, a crown of eerie gems orbiting his head, his two pinpoints of crimson light fixed unblinkingly on the entrance where Lucian and the others had gone in.
After a while, a translucent phantom drifted over. It wore a long black robe adorned with ornate crimson patterns. "You're not going in?"
From its tone and bearing, it was clear this being was the Lich King's equal—one of the sovereign powers of the Necromancy Sanctum's outer reaches. A Phantom Lord.
"Go in and you might never come out." The Lich King's voice was hoarse and grating. The fury from Lucian's earlier intrusion had long since subsided; he no longer felt the young mage had profaned the sanctum.
The Phantom Lord's voice drifted like smoke. "You're not afraid of being punished when the Master awakens?"
Its "Master" clearly referred to the mysterious existence within the Realm of the Dead.
"Hermes and Kronos have tracked them inside. We need to guard the outside and prevent more enemies from breaking into the sanctum." The Lich King's twin needles of crimson light glinted coldly.
The Phantom Lord hovered in place. "True. If Chiapus was killed by the enemy, and we go in as well, the outer defenses will be left completely exposed."
The two legendary undead exchanged a glance, then quietly concealed themselves nearby—waiting for any "survivors" to emerge from within, and guarding against the infiltration of other powerful beings.
……………
The vault above was grey. The floor tiles were grey. The walls were grey. The torches lining both sides and the flames they bore were grey as well. Apart from himself, Lucian could see no other color—as though he had stepped into a world drained of all fidelity.
Without pausing to examine how the flames could burn without fuel, Lucian hurtled down the corridor at full flight. After a few seconds, he spotted a tightly shut black door—strikingly conspicuous against the grey world.
Compared to the grandiose extravagance of the rest of the Necromancy Sanctum, this plain black door—barely two and a half meters tall, without a single pattern—gave Lucian an almost tender sense of familiarity, as though he had returned to the Holm Kingdom.
After a hurried inspection of the door turned up no traps, Lucian simply cast "Door Opening" and pushed it open.