Chapter 334: The Truth

Chapter 334: Chapter 334: The Truth

They had only taken a few steps before the group’s formation changed again.

Alaric Hawthorn and Lyra Lowell walked in front, while Seraphina Sinclair and Fayestar followed behind them, one after the other.

The formation was the same as before, but while Alaric and Lyra had previously led willingly, now it felt more like they were being used. They were pawns scouting the path ahead—expendable assets that could be sacrificed at any moment.

The most significant change was the atmosphere among the four as they explored.

Before finding the notebook, they had been like friends on an outing, boisterous and full of chatter.

Now, it was as deathly silent as a funeral procession.

The air in the corridor seemed to have solidified. All that remained were their footsteps echoing through the empty space, the cloying reverberations striking at their frayed nerves.

The light from the wall sconces was even dimmer than before, flickering like a candle in the wind. It stretched and twisted their shadows, casting them onto the peeling walls like a host of phantom figures.

The yellow safety helmet lay quietly not far ahead, jarringly out of place amidst the surrounding decay.

Alaric Hawthorn’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Gripping his long spear, he was the first to walk over to the helmet.

He hesitated, then carefully lifted it with the tip of his spear.

The helmet was old, its surface unchanged. He flipped it over. Inside was still the same word—Forward.

Seeing the word, Alaric Hawthorn actually relaxed. He picked up the helmet with his bare hands and showed the word to the others.

"Looks like your guess was right."

Fayestar’s voice, devoid of much emotion, came from behind him.

She was acknowledging Seraphina Sinclair’s earlier speculation.

Alaric Hawthorn followed Fayestar’s gaze to Seraphina Sinclair. The woman’s expression was as blank as ever, her eyes fixed on the word, seemingly lost in thought.

He straightened up and casually handed the helmet to Lyra Lowell, instructing, "Hold on to this. It might be useful."

Lyra Lowell hurriedly took it, clutching it like a hot potato. She didn’t dare drop it, so she could only hold it tightly. "So, which way do we go now?"

That was a question that indeed required careful consideration.

Fayestar subconsciously glanced at Seraphina Sinclair. Realizing how much reliance that simple gesture revealed, she forced herself to look away.

"How about... we go back this time?"

She said this softly, her gaze once again falling on the safety helmet cradled in Lyra Lowell’s arms.

Fayestar’s reasoning was simple. There were only two ways to go in this corridor: forward or backward. They had already gone forward, so it was only natural to try going back.

The writing on the helmets being the same proved that Seraphina Sinclair’s theory about a "loop" was correct.

If they kept going forward, they would just be treading the same path, which was a complete waste of time.

This thought bolstered Fayestar’s confidence considerably.

She turned to look at Seraphina Sinclair, only to find her expression grim, her eyes fixed intently on... the safety helmet in Lyra Lowell’s arms.

No, not the helmet itself.

Seraphina Sinclair’s gaze seemed to pierce through the old, yellowed plastic shell, locking onto the spot inside where the word "Forward" was written.

Her lips pressed into a thin, pale line, her right thumb unconsciously rubbing the hilt of her long blade over and over.

This subtle action did not escape Fayestar’s notice, and her heart sank.

"What is it?" Fayestar asked in a hushed voice.

Seraphina Sinclair didn’t answer immediately. She walked slowly over to Lyra Lowell and held out her hand. "Let me see the helmet."

Startled by her expression, Lyra Lowell quickly handed it over.

Seraphina Sinclair took the helmet, her fingertips lightly tracing the single, crookedly written word "Forward" on the inside.

Her movements were slow; she was clearly deep in thought about something.

Fayestar stared intently as well, carefully examining the word, but she couldn’t see anything unusual.

After a long moment, Seraphina Sinclair murmured, her voice so soft it was nearly swallowed by the corridor’s dead silence, "Something’s wrong..."

"What’s wrong?" Alaric Hawthorn stared intently at Seraphina Sinclair, his brow furrowed.

Seraphina Sinclair looked up, her gaze sweeping over the faces of the other three before finally landing on Fayestar.

Her voice was calm again, but it carried an almost cruel clarity. "There’s a problem with the handwriting."

"What?" Fayestar froze, then it hit her, and she immediately looked at the word.

At first glance, it didn’t seem any different from the one they’d seen before—just as sloppy, the same dark red, like dried blood. But on closer inspection, the difference became clear.

The inscription on the previous helmet had been much messier; it had taken them quite a while to make out the word. This one, however, was far clearer.

It was like the difference between someone’s first attempt at writing a word and their tenth.

"So you’re saying..." Fayestar didn’t even realize her thoughts were already following Seraphina Sinclair’s line of reasoning. "This helmet is a new one, not the same one from before."

"New?" Lyra Lowell’s face went white. "Are you saying... something just recently did this to the helmet, carved the word, and left it here? Who wrote it? Is there something else here besides us and the monsters?!"

Alaric Hawthorn grew tense as well, glancing around with his spear at the ready, his body tightening involuntarily.

Seraphina Sinclair said nothing, her thoughts drifting back to the notebook.

She had an excellent memory; she could still recite its first sentence: "They have come... from the depths of the mine tunnels... bearing the curse of the Embers..."

"What?" Lyra Lowell instinctively looked at Seraphina Sinclair.

Alaric Hawthorn did the same.

The two of them had completely lost the ability to think for themselves, simply doing whatever Seraphina Sinclair and Fayestar told them to.

Fayestar, however, tapped the floor with her weapon as realization dawned. "I thought that sentence was strange when we first read it."

She looked at the bewildered pair of Alaric Hawthorn and Lyra Lowell, a corner of her mouth twitching as she explained:

"The subject of that sentence is ’they,’ which we can assume refers to some kind of monster. But the information we got from the records room, and from the Insight pages on those creatures, all said that Embers is a type of ore that was released by a group of foolhardy people."

"But the meaning of this sentence is clearly that the Embers were *brought* by something. And..." A sharp glint flashed in Fayestar’s eyes as she continued, "Judging by the phrasing, this must be recording the earliest timeline."

"This place was originally just an ordinary mine. Some kind of monster brought the Embers, and together, the monsters and the Embers caused the mining disaster. That’s the answer to this instance’s bonus objective."

At this point, Fayestar glanced at Seraphina Sinclair again. Even now, she still couldn’t figure out how Seraphina had been so certain that the door could be opened.

She averted her gaze and went on, "What happened afterward is also clear. Researchers and people curious about the Embers came here, got infected, and became both victims and spreaders."

"As for what happened in between, and where the monsters that brought the Embers went—that’s what we have to find out now."