Chapter 322: Releaser of Embers

Chapter 322: Chapter 322: Releaser of Embers

’What we need to determine now is what kind of monster is inside.’

’If it’s like the monsters below, then even if the door opens, as long as we don’t go in and trigger it, the monster poses no threat.’

’But if it’s a different kind of monster...’

The crack in the door widened.

One inch, two inches...

Darkness, thick as ink, flowed out from within, devouring the flashlight’s beam.

Then, a foot stepped out from the darkness behind the door.

It was a miner’s boot, caked with dried mud and dark red stains. The toe was even a little damaged.

It landed on the cold concrete floor of the corridor with a soft TAP.

It was followed by a second leg, a torso, an arm...

A humanoid silhouette slowly emerged from the shadows behind the door, fully exposed in the beam of the flashlight.

It wore a tattered miner’s uniform. The cloth was so saturated with some unknown filth that its original color was unrecognizable. On its head was an equally dilapidated yellow hard hat.

The brim of the hat was pulled low, obscuring most of its face and revealing only a shriveled, cracked chin.

Its movements were slow and stiff, as if its joints were rusted, like a marionette on strings.

It stood there, facing the four of them, its head slightly bowed, completely motionless.

There was no attack, no roar, not even the presence you’d expect from a living thing.

Only a nauseating, metallic stench, so thick it was almost tangible, emanated from its body.

"Wh-what is that?" Fayestar’s voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear.

The tip of Lyra Lowell’s Short Spear trembled slightly. "It’s not like the ones below... It looks... more human."

Alaric Hawthorn directly pulled up the Insight panel and displayed it for everyone to see.

[Spreader of Embers (D-level)]

[Description: In life, he may have been one of the miners, or perhaps a researcher who infiltrated this place with other motives. When the forbidden Embers were deliberately ignited, he became the first and most tragic vessel and source of its spread. The Embers did not consume his flesh and blood; instead, they formed a twisted symbiosis with his life and consciousness. His body became a mobile host and medium for the Embers. His residual will is adrift in eternal agony and madness, with only one remaining instinct: to sow this soul-searing gift upon every living thing that sets foot in this place.]

[Weakness: ???]

"It’s a different kind of monster!" Lyra Lowell’s voice was filled with suppressed horror. "It doesn’t attack directly, but it’s... a source of pollution itself!"

"Don’t look back! Don’t stop! Keep moving forward!" Seraphina Sinclair shouted sharply. At the same time, she pushed off, abandoning her cautious steps and accelerating into a near-sprint down the corridor.

Almost at the same moment the Insight information appeared, the Spreader in the dilapidated hard hat made a new move.

Its bowed head began to rise with excruciating slowness.

Beneath the brim, a nearly melted face was revealed.

Its skin was a waxy, dark red, as if it had been burned by high heat and then cooled and solidified. It was covered in twisted cracks and uneven lumps.

Its features were indistinct. In place of eyes were two holes that continuously oozed a viscous, dark red liquid. It had no nose, and its mouth was a crooked slit that opened and closed slightly without making a sound.

The four of them ran with all their might down the long, dim corridor.

The sounds of footsteps, gasps for air, and the occasional CLANG of a mining lamp’s metal casing against the wall were amplified in the dead silence.

The flashlight beams shook wildly as they ran, cutting through the seemingly endless darkness ahead.

And with every door they ran past, a new CLICK would sound. The doorknob would slowly turn, and another Spreader of Embers would step out to join the silent pursuit.

One, two, three...

More and more Spreaders appeared from the doors on either side behind them.

Their movements were stiff and uniform, like programmed puppets, all of them releasing that suffocating field of pollution.

The dark red fields merged into one in the corridor, like an ever-expanding miasma, devouring what little normal space remained.

The air grew so thick it was almost impossible to breathe. Every inhalation brought a searing pain to the lungs and a wave of Spiritual Pollution that assaulted the mind.

"I can’t... There are too many... at this rate..." Lyra Lowell gasped, feeling the hand gripping his spear tremble. His vision blurred in and out, and he even began to wonder if the distorted, wavering shadows of his teammates were real.

At some point, he had fallen to the very back of the group.

Seraphina Sinclair was leading the charge, with Fayestar right behind her. The two men who had been at the front before were now lagging behind when it came time to actually run for their lives.

Seraphina Sinclair hadn’t expected Fayestar to have such good stamina. ’She’s clearly been hiding her true abilities.’

Alaric Hawthorn’s vision was also blurring, but he could just barely keep up with Seraphina Sinclair and Fayestar. ’If this corridor is really this long, if it just keeps winding on like this, my end isn’t far off.’

"This isn’t working," Alaric Hawthorn panted, his voice hoarse. "We have to... have to find a place to rest for a bit, or... go back and fight them!"

’Fight them?’

Seraphina Sinclair had the confidence to fight one monster, ’but how many are back there?!’

’How are we supposed to fight that?’

Turning back meant death. Everyone knew that.

"Up ahead! There’s light!" Fayestar suddenly shouted, her voice laced with incredulous surprise and ragged breaths.

Seraphina Sinclair snapped her head up.

The light ahead wasn’t the piercing white of a flashlight, nor the swaying, dim yellow of a mining lamp.

It was a soft, yellowish glow, like a common household warm light, spilling out from the right side at the far end of the corridor and outlining an open doorway.

’A... room?’

’In a corridor that seems to lead into the depths of hell, there’s an open door with a light on inside?’

Instead of reassuring Seraphina Sinclair, this set alarm bells ringing in her head.

It was the same old story: there were no truly safe places in a dungeon. A place that looked safe often concealed an even more terrifying trap.

But right now, there was no other way to go.

"In there!" Seraphina Sinclair made a split-second decision, her voice firm and decisive.

The four of them used the last of their strength to sprint toward the soft glow.

The distance closed quickly, and the scene inside the door became vaguely visible.

It seemed to be a small room with mottled walls. Some indistinct clutter was placed against the walls. The light source appeared to be some kind of old-fashioned mining lamp hanging on the wall; its lampshade was covered in dust, but its dim yellow light was steady.

Just as they were about to rush through the doorway, Lyra Lowell, who had fallen to the rear, suddenly let out a muffled grunt and stumbled.

His vision was already doubling, and his ears were ringing. The foul, scorching stench seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of his bones, making his limbs go weak.

A hand reached out from a newly opened door to his side and rear, about to touch Lyra Lowell’s shoulder in the next second.