Chapter 132: Crimson Seal, Forgotten Name

The heavy iron-stamped parchment felt unusually heavy in Miss Kate’s hands as she descended the creaking wooden stairs to the main guild hall. The unnatural hush of the afternoon still hung in the air, the dust motes lazily drifting across the empty tables. With deliberate steps, she walked to the area of the grand quest board. She pulled down the weathered, grease-stained C-rank notice for the "Dark Cathedral" and tossed it into a nearby waste bin. In its place, she pinned the new decree. The deep crimson wax of the Guild Master’s official seal gleamed like wet ink against the parchment. At the top, bold black ink declared; RECLASSIFIED: A-RANK THREAT. STRICTLY OFF-LIMITS TO LOWER TIERS.

Kate smoothed down the edges, her face an unreadable mask of professional stoicism. She knew this would spark a firestorm, but it was the only way to stem the bleeding. Turning on her heel, she marched back to her office, the sharp click-clack of her boots the only sound echoing through the hall. She closed her door with a firm, final click, shutting out the quiet before the storm. Moments later, the late-afternoon lull broke. A wave of adventurers returning from minor herb-gathering and beast-extermination tasks flooded through the heavy oak entrance. They swarmed the quest board, eager to log their completions, but stopped dead in their tracks.

The new crimson seal practically screamed at them from the center of the board. Within minutes, the guild hall erupted into a cacophony of overlapping voices. The reclassification of the Dark Cathedral instantly became a raging wildfire of gossip, debate and uneasy laughter. "An A-rank? You've got to be pulling my leg!" shouted a burly, axe-wielding D-ranker, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "Yesterday it was a routine trap-run for rookies! Did a dragon suddenly decide to move into a dusty old church overnight?"

"Hey, maybe the ghosts finally got tired of people stealing their candlesticks," a rogue jeered from a corner table, tossing a copper coin in the air. "More silver for the veterans, less walking targets for the rest of us." But near the hearth, a group of seasoned B-rank veterans stood in tense, hushed consultation, their expressions grim. "It’s no joke," one of them, a scarred mercenary, muttered, his hand resting heavily on the pommel of his broadsword. "Think about it. Have you seen the Miller brothers lately? Or that C-rank vanguard crew from the western branch? They went into those woods three weeks ago. Not a whisper since. The guild isn't hiding a dragon; that place more of a cemetery that kills adventurers."

"Rumor has it the place is cursed," a nearby mage whispered, leaning into the huddle. "They say it's a haunted dungeon. Some travelers passing the eastern border swear they heard strange sounds at night. Like hollow cries, deep underground. No traps makes a sound like that."

"A trap dungeon doesn't just swallow three dozen capable swordsmen without someone tripping a wire and coming back to complain," another chimed in, shivering despite the warmth of the hearth. "Something else is down there. Something or someone, it has to be either." The casual jokes slowly withered away, replaced by a suffocating blanket of suspense. The true nature of the Dark Cathedral hung over the guild hall like an invisible executioner's blade. Amidst the rising tide of speculation and heated arguments, the heavy entrance doors creaked open once more. Two young adventurer teens stepped into the guild hall. They were panting, their clothes slightly disheveled from a hurried trek, and their faces were pale with an anxiety that completely clashed with the rowdy atmosphere around them. They didn't look at the quest board; their eyes darted frantically around the room, searching the crowd.

The boy, holding a basic iron shortsword, grabbed the arm of a passing junior receptionist. "Excuse me! Sorry, have you seen Ewan?" he asked, his voice cracking with urgency. "He was supposed to meet us at the eastern crossroads two hours ago."Beside him, a young girl clutching a half-empty herb satchel bit her lip, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We checked their lodging, and Lira's magic books are still there. They said they were just going to do a quick perimeter scout near the eastern border this morning. Did they... did they come back here to log a report?" The receptionist winced, looking from the terrified teens to the massive, crimson-sealed A-rank decree looming on the board behind them. The rowdy chatter in their immediate vicinity suddenly died down, a chilling silence spreading outward as the weight of the teens' questions began to sink in.

At the Dark Cathedral, deep within the sixth floor, the sterile, mechanical hum of the mecha constructs faded beneath an oppressive, gathering static. Evelyn moved with practiced grace across the summoning chamber, her emerald dress rustling against the cold flagstones. Guided by the complex magical diagram, she meticulously traced the outer perimeter of a colossal demonic summoning circle. The air grew progressively heavy, vibrating with a low, unnatural resonance that made the hairs on her arms stand up. As she approached the final interlocking rune, a sudden wave of deep, instinctual wariness washed over her. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, staring down at the jagged geometry of the design. Swallowing her dread, she forced her hand steady and finalized the stroke, completing the circuit.

 The lines dull-glowed a faint, ominous crimson. Evelyn retreated to Seth’s side, letting the remaining marking materials rest to the floor. She scooped her small wooden box back into her arms, holding it against her chest like a shield. "It is complete, Boss," she murmured, her voice tight. Seth stepped forward, his posture was perfectly composed, his movements unbothered by the heavy blindfold covering his eyes. Stopping at the very edge of the ring, he drew a specialized karambit from his belt, the curved blade catching the dim light of the chamber. With a swift, practiced motion, he dragged the edge across his palm. Well-ing blood welled immediately, dripping down to strike the center of the geometric array. He recites immediately;

"Sanguis fluit, sed fons latet.

Caro patet, sed nomen deletur.

I offer the salt of the vein, but deny the lineage.

I open the gate, but shroud the master.

Drink of the crimson, but blind your eyes to the hand that poured it.

By this vital spark, I command you: Arise.

By this faceless pact, I command you: Forget.

In umbra, nexum fractum est.

Venite."

 Seth chanted, his voice dropping into a resonant, rhythmic cadence. The moment his blood met the stone, the circle bloomed violently hot. The crimson lines ignited into a blistering, searing white. As the final syllables of the incantation left his lips, a pillar of roaring hellfire erupted toward the ceiling. The column of flame ascended in a blazing fury, but instead of pushing outward, it generated a terrifying, localized gravitational pull. A violent vortex tore through the chamber, threatening to tear everything from the floor. Across the room, heavy mecha constructs hissed and locked their hydraulic joints, throwing their metallic weight over the piled stacks of preserved adventurers' corpses to keep them from being sucked into the storm.

The updraft was relentless, Evelyn gasped as the sheer force broke her footing, lifting her off the ground. She lunged forward, locking her arms around Seth. Reacting instantly, Seth anchored his weight, caught her by the waist, and pulled her back down to the stone floor. He shielded her body with his own, using his stance to weather the howling gale. This has never happened before, Seth thought, his teeth gritted as the ambient mana fractured and spiked wildly around them. A standard evocation shouldn't possess this kind of mass. What did I just pull through?The swirling hell-storm reached its apex, then abruptly compressed. The roaring pillar collapsed inward, descending back toward the floor like a dying star. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the crushing gravitational pull vanished, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. In the dead center of the intensely glowing circle, dense, sulfurous smoke curled around a tall, emerging silhouette.

Seth stood up smoothly, adjusting his blindfold as he turned his face fully toward the center of the array. Even without sight, his hyper-acute senses stretched out, mapping the displacement of air, the staggering magical pressure, and the specific, chilling aura radiating from the entity. Evelyn peeked out from behind his shoulder, her knuckles turning stark white as she clamped the wooden box against her ribs. The smoke finally billowed away, completely clearing to reveal the being inside. The summon was entirely humanoid, clad in dark, exquisitely tailored attire that seemed to absorb the ambient light of the chamber. There were no monstrous horns, no jagged scales, just an impeccable, terrifyingly calm aristocracy. Who... who is that? Evelyn thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. But as her sensation traveled up to the entity's magical waves, the force slammed into her like a physical blow. Her expression fractured, and her gaze grew utterly grim with terror.