Chương 295: Chapter 290

"Astabazos?" Delefagus asks telepathically as the image on the mirror suddenly disappears again.

"What is happening? Why did the image go out again? Hasn't Jacob Cloud killed that thing?"

"If he knows that we're on his tracks," the high-pitched woman says, "why would he allow you to spy on him, Delefagus? You saw the entity of Primordial Spells he's able to wield. We severely underestimated his ability." Delefagus licks his lips and nods slowly.

"Well, Astabazos might still able to—""He's dead." Delefagus turns to find the Prophet in the room, with a dark void door right behind him. Astabazos is on his knees and looks down at his red skin, with the crystal armor stripped away. There's a sword jutting from his chest, which has destroyed his heart. A wild pulse of Primordial Magic makes the Dark Seed in him roll off the sword and onto the ground.

"How—" Astabazos feels his power slowly draining away but a small pulse of life Mana from Jacob allows him to live a bit longer.

"W—what are you doing?" Jacob looks down at Astabazos, holding the other end of the sword.

"What, do you want to give me a lesson on justice, on what's good and proper in this world like you did with Nimirea?!" Astabazos coughs out some blood, feeling all his power sealed away.

"Who do you think you are?! You are nothing but an idiot who lucked his way into power!" Astabazos's words are feral and savage, like barking from a dying dog." Say something!" Astabazos asks, almost desperately, while life slowly slips away from him. Jacob just looks down on him and it drives Astabazos so crazy that he grabs the hilt of the sword, puts one leg up, and gets closer to Jacob, spearing himself further onto the sword." You're nothing!"

Blood and pieces of viscera come out from the Infernal man's mouth." You will die like a dog one day and everybody will forget about you! All your efforts, all that you've done… you will amount to nothing!"

"You're crying," Jacob says.

"I—" Jacob drives the sword to bisect Astabazos and then turns as the body falls down.

"He was talking to himself," Jacob says slowly, feeling something heavy in his chest.

"Iskara… you were seduced into darkness by this?" Jacob goes onto the steps to the large tomb, now partially crumbled after the battle, and puts his face in his hands.

"Fuck me, this?" Jacob mutters, incredulous.

"You abandoned us for this guy? For what?" Feeling angry, Jacob jumps to his feet.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU ABANDONED US FOR?!" Jacob shouts into the empty hall.

"THIS PATHETIC BASTARD?! THIS?! THIS AND WHAT, A GRUDGE AGAINST YOUR FUCKING MOTHER?!" His aura bellows and expands into the hall, but then he falls to his knee, hitting the ground with his forehead.

"Why?" he says, with a broken voice.

"Why Iskara?" This is the first time Jacob has really grieved since the loss of Iskara. He remains like that for a while, with a few tears coming down his cheeks and hitting the ground so hard with his fist that it splinters. When he gets up, wiping his red eyes, he shakes his head.

"I won't allow this again," he says, clenching his teeth.

"Next time someone wants to destroy their own life like this, I won't stand by. I will never, ever not be strong enough to deal with it." Harvald Ashenvale looks at the set that Jacob has thrown to his feet, incredulous. But most importantly, he looks at a face he recognises. There's no Tutor Cabbage in front of him anymore.

"My cover was blown, Lord Ashenvale, so, I might as well reveal to you who I really am." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Lancelot, with his looks back as well, raises a thumb up toward the man.

"You… You're the Leader of Champions. I've seen your face in the broadcasts…"

"Yeah," Jacob says, still in a bad mood but trying to still be tactful.

"Sir, I would like for you to listen to what I'm going to say… You said your wife wanted to seed your children, right?"

"Yes. I caught her myself," Lord Ashenvale says.

"Why are you asking this? What else have you found?" The man seems already scared of the answer, preceding it with, "my wife loved her children. I'm sure that even after joining the Cult, she wouldn't want them hurt. This is it, right? The set. For my daughter?"

"What I've found in the sixth Dungeon, which was supposed to be entered last, was a Minor Nightmare of Apocalypse. That's a creature at Imperium Rank that feeds on flesh of others to become stronger and nourish itself. I suspect your wife wanted your children to be the sacrifices for it and then, I believe, unleash it over the city."

"W—What? How… are you…"

"I'm very sorry," Jacob says.

"I killed that creature and a Dark Champion who managed to follow me into the Dungeons while in stealth."

"I—I can't… my wife wanted to feed our children to…"

"I am very sorry," Jacob repeats and bows his head, averting his gaze. Lord Ashenvale sits back into the throne. His legs have gone.

"And the children… they would have been…"

"Sacrifices," Jacob says again.

"For the Nightmare. To grow it." There's a long silence.

"Lord Ashenvale," Jacob says, choosing the next question with care, "your mine. The Mithril mine. The output recently." The Lord blinks, as if pulled out of a darker thought.

"Our output? It's been… exceptional. Three months of overproduction. The house accountants thought our previous surveys had been too conservative. We've been celebrating it." Jacob and Lancelot exchange a look that the Lord catches a moment too late.

"Is that—" Harvald Ashenvale's voice tightens.

"Is that bad?"

"I don't know yet," Jacob says.

"But your wife's plan, with the Nightmare. It wasn't about your children only. The set, the Dungeons, the inheritance — that was the preparation. The mine is the meal."

"The mine?"

"I'd like to go down there now. With Lancelot. Don't send anyone with us. Don't tell anyone we've gone. I would prefer to look first and panic after." Lord Ashenvale nods, the motion slow, his eyes still on the cursed set. The Ashenmere Mine is half a mile from the city gates.

It is not a hole in the rock — it is a structure that reminds Jacob of a castle's lower gate, built with reinforced stone and iron, manned by guards who let them through with a single glance at the family signet Lord Ashenvale pressed into Jacob's hand.

"This is… very well built," Jacob says with a frown. He's used to very narrow entrances, while the reinforced structure that leads into the earth here looks more like a castle's gate than a mine.

"Ashenmere is much, much richer than the shitty village you come from, Boss," Lancelot says, almost as if reading his mind.

"Almost makes you miss the slop water at our old tavern, doesn't it?"

"Shut up." They start making their way into the mine, giving long looks to both walls and the few miners coming up. Most have left for the day. The corridor opens into a wide gallery where the air grows colder, then narrows again into a shaft that descends at an angle. Jacob activates Greater Mineral Sense and the walls light up in his mind.

"This place is chock-full of Diamonds and True Diamonds," Jacob marvels.

"This… it's incredible."

"And we are descending into the part the miners don't go into, aren't we?"

"That's the part the miners don't go into, yes."

"Of course it is." They go deeper. The shafts narrow, and the only light comes from the mounted lamps and a small Light Skill Jacob keeps on his shoulder, bobbing along like a moth. He stops.

"It's empty on the other side. There's a few feet of rocks but there's a passage behind this." Lancelot eyes the wall like it has personally offended him.

"Want me to handle it?"

"Try not to bring the ceiling down." Lancelot rolls up his sleeves, channels his aura into his fist, and punches the wall. The rock cracks open with a sound like a tree splitting. He punches again. By the third blow, there's a hole wide enough for them to climb through.

"After you, boss." The duo emerges on the top of a gigantic underground lake with dark waters. Far in the distance, there's a massive portal, possibly hundred of feet wide and tall.

"What the fuck," Jacob mutters. Lancelot, beside him, has gone very still. He is not making jokes anymore.

"Boss."

"Yeah."

"That's bigger than the great hall back at the Academy."

"Yeah."

"That's not supposed to be down here."

"No." The portal doesn't move. Doesn't glow. Just hangs there over the lake, dark and quiet. Jacob's Mana twitches toward it from twenty feet away, like static, right before lightning hits. He activates the Primordial Grimoire on the portal. [Subject: Unknown.] [Rank: Unknown.] [Classification:...] [Classification:...] [Classification: refusal.] [The Grimoire declines to analyse this subject. Further interrogation will produce no result. The reader of this Grimoire is advised to withdraw.] Jacob stares at the readout. The Grimoire has not refused him before.

"What is that?" Lancelot asks, watching Jacob's face. He has seen Jacob read the Grimoire across two books and a hundred fights, and Jacob's face has never gone this still while reading it. Jacob does not answer. The dark water at their feet ripples wrong. There's no wind down here.

"Okay," Lancelot says." Oooookay. We are leaving."

"Yeah."

"Now."

"Yeah." Neither of them moves. The lake is dead quiet against their boots. And then, behind them, in the shaft they came down through, footsteps. Heavy ones. Slow, like whoever it is has walked this corridor a hundred times before. Jacob and Lancelot turn together. A figure steps out of the dark of the shaft clad in dark robes. Rather bookish-looking. He adjusts a pair of round spectacles with one robed sleeve, and smiles.