Book 8: Chapter 75: Immortal Monument |
After walking through the downward corridor, the group found themselves facing a gigantic underground hall. This hall was vast, not one bit smaller than Ironstar Fortress’s plaza they’d seen before.
In the hall’s center stood a pure white obelisk over ten meters tall. Its base was square, with each side roughly two meters, tapering upward into a four-sided pyramid, ending in a sharp, pyramid-shaped point.
Behind the obelisk sat a long stone platform half a person tall and two meters long. It resembled an altar, but reminded them more of an evenly-sized sarcophagus.
Other than these two structures, the underground hall was utterly empty. The Uvaeren stone slab they’d imagined wasn’t in sight. Yet the scene before them still filled the group with profound awe from within.
The ceiling above seemed like a single, smooth sheet of obsidian rock, completely untouched by tools, giving off a deep, intense darkness. Against this night-sky canopy dotted countless glittering stars that looked like luminous stones, yet their light shone brighter and clearer than any glow rock.
This starlight clustered without scattering, much like moonbeams through forest branches. It filled the entire underground hall with gentle, holy filaments of light, making everyone feel as if they stood within heaven, bathed in sacred radiance.
This obsidian nightscape likely mirrored the universe thousands of years ago. Many constellations and cosmic bands familiar to the group sailed within the starry river. Due to clever design and special angles, some starlight gathered upon the obelisk’s tip, illuminating it so brightly it seemed as if a massive stardust gem was embedded there.
The obelisk surface appeared smooth and plain, lacking any carved writing, almost like an unfinished monument. Yet under the starlight’s touch, countless colorful and dreamy rainbow runes kept flashing and swirling across its surface.
These non-physical magical runes flowed like water over the obelisk. Perhaps they were embedded into it in a way beyond understanding, only revealing themselves under this specific starlight.
The group watched breathlessly for a long time before the runes began to repeat. Secretly using his Death Notice to calculate the obelisk’s surface size and the runic change rate, Qin Lun found this monument held the written content of over ten thousand volumes.
Among them were magical tomes, historical records, artistic treasures, alchemy and medicine studies, forging and building techniques, and some precious legacies recorded in ancient elven script. Without doubt, though the imagined Uvaeren slab was missing, this obelisk surpassed it entirely.
Dullerg’s spirits hadn’t failed their past identities. These former Uvaeren scholars—once elves—had immortalized the finest parts of Uvaeren’s culture in their own special way, resting alongside it within this ancient library.
“Firal, do I still have a choice to back out?” Milleras turned back with a forced bitter smile.
“No. This treasure belongs to Faerûn’s Elven Race—it showcases over twenty thousand years of their history on Faerûn. Placing it in Evermeet’s Sun Court? Wouldn’t that be an insult?” Qin Lun firmly refused. Even as an Apostle, he marveled at such cultural refinement. Before this, he’d secretly considered taking Uvaeren’s slab back to the Shattered Starry Sky. Now that idea vanished.
Such things only held value in Toril World. Taken to the Shattered Starry Sky, it’d just be an ordinary magic stone pillar. For starters, Apostles wouldn’t grasp its worth. Even if he could sell it for a sky-high price, Qin Lun wouldn’t steal it from its world. Cold-blooded killers like him and Joey still had artistic appreciation.
Milleras fell silent, reluctantly accepting Qin Lun’s truth. Among elves, Sun Elves were said to be most ambitious and controlling. Still, they weren’t shameless enough to claim another’s civilization as their own—unlike a certain Earth Federation nation.
“Eh, look! Isn’t that the ghost that ran off earlier?” Just as everyone was captivated, a jarring voice echoed from the party.
Lorlin, who struggled to appreciate elven artistry, snapped out of it first. The Dwarf sensed beauty here but couldn’t pinpoint exactly where. The moment boredom crept in, he noticed a transparent figure hovering near the sarcophagus behind the obelisk.
“He’s pushing the stone slab atop the altar!” Idria’s eyes flashed coldly. She slid her Double-bladed Battleaxe off her back and charged toward it. A ghost’s form could shift between solid and incorporeal. While solid weakened its offensive power, pushing the altar’s slab was easily done.
“That altar gives me a very dangerous feeling. There’s definitely something terrible inside!” Iristin shook her head slightly, discomforted.
“Pale-Forest” was actually a pseudo-Legendary magic spell—a low-tier Forbidden Spell from the Nature school. She shouldn’t have been able to cast it at all. Only after burning her life-force and triggering her Elven Song had she barely managed it within Valley of the Undead. That version of Pale Forest was just a simplified form. Otherwise, the entire valley would have been consumed, and Iristin would have died immediately.
Even now, after all this time, Iristin remained alarmingly weak. Qin Lun had given her some High Rank recovery items, but lacking a Law Body, these Apostle supplies barely affected her soul’s injury.
Cold light flared sharply in Qin Lun’s eyes. He flipped his hands, and Burial of Light and Darkness appeared instantly. His Apostle identity was out now—no need to hide with bows. Burial of Light and Darkness was also a Legendary weapon, comparable in power to World Tree Longbow. Plus, guns shot far faster than any bow, making them better for stopping the ghost here.
Toril World did have firearms. Not human or elven technology, but the work of another race—barely taller than Dwarves but fanatical about machinery—the Dwarf Clan.
Faerûn had two main machine systems. One was steam-based, powered by burning things. Materials burned weren’t natural oil like Earth Federation once used, but timber and animal-extracted oils. Such machines were bulky: militarized versions included several models of steam cannons and rifles. Though scaled down, these weren’t portable firearms, needing several soldiers to operate—much like Earth’s historic “swivel guns.”
The second, more widespread system was Magic Crystal technology. This merged steel with magic. Powered by Magic Crystals and enchantments carved onto steel machines, they harnessed Magic Element energy.
Crystal weaponry came in endless types. Qin Lun’s Serthel Elven Blade was one such item. Its unique material absorbed ambient Magic Element naturally, sustaining itself.
Mature Magic Crystal guns existed too. Most adventurers without much combat spirit or magic talent carried them, providing self-defense against wildlife.
“Bang! Bang!” Qin Lun raised both pistols. Angel’s Praise and Demon’s Song spat a bullet each almost simultaneously, held together oddly close. The twin rounds shot in near-parallel paths like a binary star pair.
The instant bullets left their barrels, they became strangely linked. Sparks crackled where black and white metal nearly touched, magnet snapping to magnet.
With a sharp snap, the bullets fused into one large striped bullet spinning terrifyingly fast. A dazzling burst of light accompanied it; a spiraling trail blazed like teleportation. It covered dozens of meters instantly—slamming into the ghost.
Idria, rushing toward the ghost, felt every hair stand on end and skidded to a stop. The bullet scorching past her radiated terror—shattering anything it touched.
The ghost reacted fast. Its semi-solid form blurred into transparency. Facing the incoming bullet, it sneered—such physical attacks ignored it. Yet the moment the fused shot struck its misty form, it simply vanished. Like water dissolving into a sea.
The ghost’s expression changed—contempt to horrified disbelief. A tiny round hole appeared where the bullet struck. From that hole, cracks spread like a great spiderweb. Its entire form began shattering like glass.
Qin Lun’s lips curled coldly—his first use of this dual-legendary’s core skill: “Burial of Light and Darkness.” Ghosts resisted most physical attacks, true. But a Legendary weapon’s namesake skill? No trivial blow to endure.
He’d known Angel’s Praise’s enchantment—Unicorn Strike—could hurt undead badly. But that sarcophagus-stone platform exuded too much danger, forcing Qin Lun to bare his trump card first.
“Aaaaaah!” The ghost howled. Crack-spun fragments rained from its glassy soul body like falling stars. That single shot had dealt a fatal blow.
Pop! Barely a twitch later, the ghost’s entire right arm exploded into shimmering dust that scattered over stone. Staring at its vanished limb, the ghost’s face twisted into eerie human sorrow… and relief.
Ignoring its crumbling form, the ghost shot the group one glare filled with resentment and refusal. Then it shrieked again—its translucent form erupting into a dazzling shower of glittering scraps.
“Careful—!” Qin Lun showed no joy watching the ghost die. His pupils contracted sharply into a yell.
Because those shimmering shreds seemed infused by the ghost’s last willpower. They gathered into one intense beam, shooting straight at the altar’s slab—slamming it sideways by nearly a half meter.
HHHUUUUUMMMMMMM— With the stone slab shifting, an immense pressure abruptly filled the underground hall—pressing on everyone’s hearts like a crushing boulder.