Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 128
Chapter Title: The Secret Chamber
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[Chapter 127 - Mummy]
“Huff... huff...”
Seeing the final puppet collapse to the ground, Arsen tossed aside the axe in his left hand and slumped down right there.
He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down until the very last moment, but the situation made it impossible.
His breath came up to his chin, his right arm was crushed, and his ankle throbbed like a knife stabbing into bone—maybe even sprained.
There was no way he could keep fighting in this state.
Once he caught his breath a little, he finally had the leisure to look around.
The area was littered with shattered and torn-apart corpses, but red blood was hard to find.
Most of the bodies belonged to combat puppets—no blood to spill.
Of course, they weren’t the only ones who’d paid the price.
Their side had taken heavy casualties too.
It was the first battle since leaving Belluan where one of their comrades had died.
From a distance, he could hear Marun sobbing.
“Wito... Juram...”
One had his head ripped off early in the fight, another got grabbed mid-battle and torn clean in half.
The mages, unaccustomed to losing comrades, couldn’t bring themselves to leave the bodies behind and stood there in gloom.
Marun, especially, was bawling his eyes out.
Arsen had grown numb to death through countless battles in Belluan, but he didn’t mock or dismiss their grief.
He knew that while the pain might dull over time, it never truly went away when you lost someone precious.
Out of respect, he averted his gaze and looked down at himself.
The armor, faintly glowing from protective spells, had lost most of its light after taking so many hits, and it was dented in places.
His right arm section was bent so grotesquely it was hard to believe there was an arm inside.
Naturally, Arsen’s arm within was broken too.
He gritted his teeth against the stabbing pain surging even now.
‘Won’t be using my right arm properly until I get a real healing spell...’
It had been a brutal fight—they were all nursing wounds great and small.
Even Marun, weeping by his comrades’ bodies, had a broken left leg and damaged internals; blood occasionally bubbled from his mouth.
The other mages weren’t unscathed either.
They’d grabbed weapons to help Arsen or Marun, only to get swatted away—one clutched his chest with cracked ribs, the other bled profusely from a shattered cheekbone and jaw.
Truth be told, considering the fight, it was a miracle they’d survived at all.
Both Arsen and the mages had brushed death multiple times.
‘Closest call was when my arm snapped.’
Five puppets had rushed him at once; he’d killed three, but the remaining two grabbed him, he dropped his weapon, and they broke his arm.
As a high knight, that’s all it cost him. A regular knight would’ve lost the arm entirely and died to the follow-up attacks.
Regrettably, none of the three surviving mages—including Marun—could cast proper healing spells.
They could ease the pain a bit, but that was it. Real healing meant heading back up.
It stung all the more that Wito, one of the dead mages, had been a skilled healer.
Figuring enough time had passed for mourning and that they needed to move before Marun’s condition worsened, Arsen forced himself to stand.
He winced at the stiff pain in his ankle but masked it with a steady voice as he urged Marun.
“Let’s go now, Sir Marun. We need to scout this ruin quick and find a way out.”
“The bodies...”
“We’ll pack them in the bags. Better to bury them properly outside than leave them here.”
At Arsen’s words, Marun let a few final tears fall before rising.
“...Understood.”
They stripped the armor and gear from their comrades’ bodies, then wrapped them in the green cloth they used as blankets and stowed them in the magic bags.
Before that, they cut locks of hair as keepsakes—a final act of respect.
It was the most dignified farewell they could manage here.
* * *
After the simple burial rites, Arsen began by scouting the arena—or what looked like one.
The first oddity to catch his eye was the stone slabs placed where he’d guessed spectator seats would be.
Like the ones before, these were inscribed with text: “Primitive Combat Puppets.”
Hundreds of slabs lined the seats.
Arsen stared at them, imagining what it must have looked like back then.
Combat puppets in fine attire, standing like ornaments atop the slabs.
People probably gathered in what he took for an arena, admiring the puppets ringing the space.
The eerie part? There were far more slabs than the puppets that had attacked them.
If they’d faced that many, they’d all be buried here.
‘But why?’
Why had these test subjects been loose?
Why had they targeted the mages so blindly?
Where were the rest, minus those dozen or so?
He pushed down the swirling questions and shifted focus.
‘Need more clues first.’
Top priority: finding a way out of this ruin.
The one they’d planned to raid supposedly had an elevator at the end.
Same style ruin—surely there was an escape mechanism here too.
As Marun looked around, he asked,
“Should we spread out and search?”
“No—stay close to me. More puppets might show up.”
Arsen didn’t mention the possibility of hundreds still lurking inside.
No point scaring them into losing the will to move.
Cautiously, they pressed on.
Beyond the room where they’d fought—the so-called display hall—lay another chamber.
A study, or maybe a library. Musty old mold wafted from the dozens of wooden shelves filling it.
“Oh, tons of bo—...not really.”
Marun started excited but trailed off in disappointment.
He was right: the shelves held precious few books.
Maybe one per several shelves, and most were cookbooks or the like—enough to draw sighs.
“Shit.”
One of the surviving mages spat a curse.
It wasn’t just about finding nothing. It was rage at losing comrades and gaining zilch for it.
Arsen shared some of that fury, so he limped around diligently ransacking the library.
Books, books, books... Amid the search, his sharp eyes caught something peculiar.
‘Hm?’
A shelf with four whole books. Arsen awkwardly pried one open with his good hand, checked it, then went to slide it back—but paused to carefully run his fingers over the spot.
A subtle difference, imperceptible without a knight’s keen senses.
He pressed it firm, slid left and right, then up...
Part of the wall slid upward, revealing a small hole.
‘This?’
Just big enough for one finger.
His helmet’s mana detection picked up magic on it.
After a moment’s thought, Arsen stuck in his index finger. Trusting his magic resistance.
“Mm...”
Something swept over the finger—piercing right through his relic armor’s gauntlet.
It felt like being X-rayed; he let out an involuntary groan.
The sensation passed, and with a click like approval, the shelf split wide open.
Revealing the hidden space within.
Marun and the other mages nearby jumped in surprise and hurried over.
“What happened? A secret room?”
“Did you find a hidden chamber?”
Shrugging, Arsen replied,
“Looks like it.”
The secret room was bleak.
A long rectangle, walls rough and unhewn, not a table or chair in sight.
Toward the back, a few items lay scattered.
A fist-sized red orb, a face-sized disc, a boxy thing like a phone—all looking like toys.
But they had no time to wonder what they were.
A neatly laid-out mummy rested right beside them.
“A person...?”
One mage muttered in shock.
Arsen approached cautiously and brushed the mummy lightly.
The corpse—impossible to guess how many years old—was naked and perfectly preserved.
The environment here must have mummified it naturally, or maybe some magic at work.
It looked ordinary.
Hair buzzed short, pelvis suggesting male.
Glancing at the mages, Arsen asked carefully,
“This an ancient human?”
“Seems like it.”
“No way.”
Not just Marun—the others gawked down at it in awe.
“Heard they’d been found a few times before... but first time seeing one.”
“Doesn’t look that different from us.”
The wrinkled face made race or features hard to tell, but at a glance, it resembled modern humans. No pointy elf ears, no horns, average build.
The body laid neat on the floor, items placed by its head like grave goods.
The sight reminded Arsen of ancient Earth customs he’d heard of.
“These might’ve been the ancient’s possessions.”
“Huh?”
“Buried with him... something like that.”
His hypothesis rang true; Marun and the others nodded in agreement.
Hard to tell cause of death visually—probably disease.
One odd thing, though.
This wasn’t a tomb. Why a body in a library secret room? Unless the guy loved books so much he wanted to die with them?
Or maybe a criminal hiding out.
Trapped inside, grown old or sick, and perished.
‘...No way to know.’
Shaking his head, Arsen eyed the items.
No mana at all—just oddly ageless material, otherwise junk.
“We’ll salvage... the ancient’s stuff, at least.”
“Kinda creepy. Doesn’t seem useful.”
One mage voiced unease.
True—no visible mana, nothing special on the surface.
Could hawk them as ancient relics, but how to prove it?
No special powers like true artifacts.
“We’ll take ’em anyway.”
With that, Arsen opened his space bag.
He slotted the ambiguous items into the junk compartment—right next to the mana cores he’d been lugging from past beast kills, too vague to use.
The cores clinked against the red orb.
* * *
Afterward, they kept scouting for an exit.
Along the way, they salvaged the expedition’s lone fruit.
Next room after the library: a few ancient relics sprawled on stone slabs.
Several weapons brimming with strong mana.
Peering at a slab, Marun noted,
“Names and instructions all written here?”
“Convenient. Jot ’em down. We’ll test outside.”
Sure enough, the slabs detailed names, functions, and usage.
Too battered and weary for tests, they swept everything into bags and jotted quick notes on names and abilities.
A few minutes farther.
“Ah...”
“Jackpot—we’re out!”
“We’re saved!”
At last, the escape route.
A fancy elevator with dark blue ornamentation.
Slightly different style from Wigon ruin’s, but similar enough to guess.
Difference: palm authentication, not a code panel.
Arsen stepped up and pressed his left palm down. Green light flashed, a voice confirmed access.
“Works. Let’s go up.”
The ruin’s conquerors—half-dead from pain and exhaustion—boarded.
The elevator rose slowly.
Carrying them back to the surface.