Chapter 140 — Byron's Great Adventure, and a New Guest
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 3
The ancient ruins lay dormant in the darkness. A thousand years had failed to erode those sturdy man-made structures, yet it had worn away the human breath that had once lingered here. A cold, damp air had taken up residence in those timeworn corridors and chambers—an air that held neither life nor death.
That atmosphere had endured for so long, until outsiders broke it.
The glow of magic crystals lit the way forward. A fully armed squad of Cecil combat soldiers moved deep along the corridor under Sir Byron's lead, cautious and utterly focused, as though ready at any moment to meet monsters lunging out of the dark—though from the time they had entered the ruins until now, the largest creature they had seen was a few rats.
Sir Byron walked at the very front of the column, and behind him a soldier carried an oil lamp. With bright magic crystals at hand, the lamp's illumination served little purpose; its chief function was to give warning when the air grew thin, and to react when shadows or unclean things appeared nearby.
Following the orders Gao Yang had given, they had pushed deep into this ancient mountain ruin. This was now their second day of activity inside, and the sights along the way remained much the same—nothing but neatly planned corridors astonishingly broad, and empty room after empty room. At first the structure within the mountain had seemed hopelessly complex, but after some exploration its pattern became clear: this facility had evidently not been designed with the goal of making people lose their way.
Yet however tedious the sights along the route, Byron carried out his duty faithfully, mapping the place and labeling each chamber.
The light of the magic crystals shone into yet another deep chamber. Byron and his men had reached the end of the corridor temporarily designated "the Third Long Gallery." The soldiers advanced in a guard formation, and once they confirmed the room was safe they set a sentry at the door: they meant to rest here briefly.
Exploring in a dark ancient ruin was a considerable drain on one's strength. The physical exertion of walking was nothing much, but groping through the dark was a severe trial for the spirit. The soldiers brought along this time were already seasoned veterans of formidable will, yet even they needed timely rest to keep going.
After checking for hazards, the soldiers made camp on an open patch in one corner of the room. They set magic crystals around the perimeter for light, then pulled out their rations and water and hurried to eat and restore their strength. Byron sat beside one of the crystals, using its light to study the map in his hand.
The hand-drawn map marked the areas explored so far. Since the corridors and chambers followed a regular pattern, the map was quite simple and easy to read; the facility's three-dimensional interior did cause some trouble in drawing it, but so long as each level was drawn separately on its own sheet, the problem was solved.
Byron, a mercenary by background, was thoroughly at home with this.
"Sir, there seems to be nothing on this level," an old veteran said beside him. "Anything useful has been carted away."
"Things of value are usually deeper in," Byron replied, pointing to a spot on the map. "By the pattern so far, this should be the great staircase leading down to the next level. We'll head that way shortly."
"Yes, sir."
Byron turned his attention back to the map and casually glanced at the oil lamp whose shade had just been lifted. The bright flame was still burning steadily, trembling faintly in the breeze.
Wait... breeze?
Where would a breeze come from in a completely sealed mountain ruin? Even ventilation shafts would not produce a draft this strong, would they?
The vigilance bred in him during his mercenary years kept Byron from overlooking this detail. He shut the map at once, wetted a finger with spit, and carefully tested the air—there really was a draft.