Chapter 519 - 481: Artificial Gods! Son of Divine Remains

Chapter 519: Chapter 481: Artificial Gods! Son of Divine Remains

Galvis leaned close to the hole and sniffed carefully.

He then brushed his fingers over some faint scratch and bite marks on the edge of the hole, a look of understanding appearing on his face.

"Ratmen did this."

He said with certainty.

"The spacing and angle of these claw marks, plus the habit of gnawing the edges smooth—it’s classic Ratman style."

Bronson also squatted down to examine the soil and the material of the tunnel walls, pushing up his glasses.

"The tunnel continues downward. The structure seems... quite stable."

Roland looked at Morne. The boy nodded vigorously, confirming that this was indeed the entrance to the "tunnel" from his dream.

’Ratmen...’

Roland’s brow furrowed even tighter as he recalled the short, hunched figures with furtive eyes he had glimpsed on the streets of the Lower City District before.

’Why would Ratmen dig a tunnel to a top-secret facility like the Deep Well?’

’And how did Morne’s uncle, Kirk, a seemingly ordinary tinkerer, learn about and use this path?’

’Why would he take Morne there in a "dream"?’

’Could Kirk be the mysterious gray-robed figure who stood before the distorted structure in the underground space, triggering the spatial collapse?’

But Roland immediately dismissed that idea.

Following the normal timeline, Kirk should have died in the fire long ago.

At least, in the last loop, he was already on the verge of death when Roland found him.

’How could a dead man be the key to triggering this incident?’

’No, now is not the time to get bogged down in these minor details.’

Roland quickly suppressed these chaotic questions.

The most pressing goal right now was to break the time loop.

This unexpectedly discovered tunnel was their best chance to avoid the Guards and Cleaners of Silver Radiance City and reach the core area directly.

He turned to Morne, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Thank you, Morne. You’ve been a huge help."

The boy looked up. Though sadness still lingered in his eyes, his expression was earnest.

He didn’t know exactly what Roland and his group were planning to do, but he could sense it was extremely important, perhaps even filled with danger.

He didn’t ask any questions. Instead, relying on his memories from the "dream," he urged them anxiously.

"Sir, please be careful... The path in the dream is very dark and long. Some parts are very narrow, and you have to walk close to the wall."

"Somewhere in the middle... I think you’ll pass a place that’s especially cold, with the sound of dripping water. Uncle Kirk said you can’t stay there for too long."

"Also... when you get close to the ’Deep Well,’ you’ll hear a very deep HUMMING sound. Uncle said that’s a ’big thing’ ’breathing,’ and you have to tread lightly when you hear it..."

He poured out every detail he could remember, his small face filled with worry.

Roland listened intently and nodded.

"We’ll remember that."

Morne pressed his lips together. He took one last look at Roland and his companions, then glanced in the direction where his parents were laid to rest. Only then did he turn and, looking back with every few steps, slowly walk toward the dim alleyway from which he came.

His small, thin back looked exceptionally lonely against the dilapidated streetscape.

Seeing the unconcealed, sincere concern in the boy’s eyes, Roland sighed softly to himself.

He raised his voice and called out to the figure about to disappear around the corner.

"Kid, take care of yourself. Don’t... let yourself get too lost in grief."

He paused, his voice carrying an indescribable depth of meaning.

"You never know what the future holds. Perhaps... at some unexpected moment, things will take a turn for the better."

The words were vague, yet they were like a tiny spark, silently dropping into the desperate lake of Morne’s heart.

The boy’s steps clearly faltered for a moment, but he didn’t turn back. His shoulders seemed to straighten slightly, and then he quickened his pace, disappearing into the Shadow.

Roland withdrew his gaze, his eyes now filled with clarity and resolve.

"Let’s go."

He said to his companions.

"Let’s go meet the ’thing’ hidden inside the ’Deep Well.’"

He was the first to bend down, diving into the narrow passage without hesitation.

Avril, Galvis, Duraga, and Bronson followed close behind, their figures swallowed one by one by the Darkness.

The tunnel stretched downward, damp and cold. The air was filled with the smell of earth and the distinct odor of rodents.

Aside from their breathing and footsteps, there was only a faint pulsation from deep within, as if from the very bowels of the earth, faintly matching the HUMMING sound Morne had described.

The inside of the tunnel was far more winding and complex than it appeared from the entrance.

At first, they could proceed by bending over, but as they delved deeper, the space quickly became cramped.

Rough rock walls and soil mixed with gravel pressed in on the passage, and many sections required them to turn sideways or even crawl to get through.

The earthy smell in the air grew stronger, mixed with a faint, almost imperceptible scent of old Magic Dust.

"Damn it, was this path made for mice?"

Duraga grumbled under his breath. His broad shoulders got stuck the worst at several corners.

However, complaints aside, the Gray Dwarf’s natural underground instincts and craftsman’s experience quickly made him the group’s point man.

He often stopped, touching the texture of the rock walls with his rough fingers and pressing his ear against them to listen for faint sounds deep within the earth, judging the structure’s stability and the difficulty of excavation.

"This part collapsed and was dug out again... Looking at these marks, more than once."

Duraga pointed to a section of the side wall that had clearly been reinforced.

"Ratmen dig tunnels to survive and smuggle things. They wouldn’t go to the trouble of maintaining a path on the verge of collapse... unless this path is especially important to them, too."

Just as the tunnel became so narrow that even Avril felt it was hard to breathe and Galvis had to clutch his Lute tightly to his chest, the path ahead was completely blocked by a dense layer of rock and soil that looked natural but bore faint traces of being artificially worked.