As the massive stone door slowly closed under the influence of ancient spells, magical energy coursed through grooves along the walls and floor, creating a sealed energy loop. The nightmare of the outside world seemed completely shut out.
There were no more sounds of the captain's angry shouts, nor the groans of the wounded and dying, and certainly none of the roars and shrieks of those monstrous creatures. All sounds were muffled by layers of heavy stone and steel.
Everyone knew this was only a temporary reprieve, but in that fleeting moment of peace, Rebecca couldn't help but let out a long sigh. If only the hellscape outside was just a bad dream.
But the next second, she shook her head vigorously, casting off such weak thoughts. The thick walls and iron doors could not bring true, lasting safety. Instead, they might weaken her resolve, tempting her to take comfort in this illusion of safety.
The young heiress of the Cecil family gripped her dimly glowing staff tightly, hoping it would give her more courage.
Behind her, the voice of Byron Kirk, a family knight, called out, "My Lady Viscount, the passage is sealed. Those creatures shouldn't break in anytime soon."
Rebecca turned to look at the loyal knight. His steel armor was battered and scarred, with a small dent in his breastplate. His short, graying hair bore the charred mark from when Aunt Hetty had nearly singed his head with a fireball trying to save him from a monster. That fireball had practically exploded on his scalp, and if not for sheer luck, this knight, who'd served the family for over twenty years, might already be a corpse.
Rebecca, of course, wasn't sure if this "luck" wasn't just her aunt's infamous "magic-never-hits-the-target" tendency in action.
"Thank you, Sir Byron…" Rebecca lowered her gaze, hiding the exhaustion in her eyes. "At least we can catch our breath."
She glanced around at the few remaining companions: three soldiers holding torches, on guard; Aunt Hetty examining the far wall with a fireball hovering in her hand; and Betty, the skittish maid, clutching a frying pan and hiding behind the soldiers, her wide eyes taking in the surroundings with curiosity.
Including herself and Sir Byron, there were only seven of them left—the last survivors. The people left on the surface had no chance.
After checking on everyone's condition, Rebecca turned her attention to the stone hall around them. This ancient place, a long rectangular stone hall, was covered in cobwebs and thick dust, with decayed items piled up in one corner. Though worn and faded, the remnants of once-fine items hinted at their former elegance.
The walls bore well-preserved murals and carvings, though faded and worn. Aunt Hetty had been studying them closely for some time.
Compared to the frivolous style of recent northern nations, the decorations here were solemn and unadorned, clearly influenced by the "First Dynasty." The murals depicted heroic figures and scenes from everyday life, while the carvings portrayed mythical beings and abstract symbols of gods. As a learned spellcaster, Hetty could interpret these ancient images with ease.
She placed a hand over her chest, murmuring softly, "May the ancestors forgive us…"
"Aunt Hetty…" Rebecca approached, staff in hand, a hint of nervousness on her face. She was only now fully realizing what kind of place they had entered. "This…?"
"This is the resting place of our Cecil ancestors," Hetty said solemnly. "Do not act disrespectfully here."
Rebecca swallowed, glancing around. "It looks like no one has been here for ages…"
"Since the rebellion a century ago, when Marquis Grumman desecrated this tomb and nearly brought ruin to the family, this place has been sealed. Every Cecil descendant knows how to open it, but by family order, no one dares to enter except in mortal peril…"
Hetty cast Rebecca a deep look. "We are the first in a hundred years to set foot here."
"And it truly is a matter of life or death now…" Rebecca took a deep breath. "The ancestors will forgive us, right?"
Hetty forced a stiff smile, unable to answer, and resumed her search for the mechanism to unlock the deeper chamber.
She soon found a particular stone pillar and pressed down on it. With a soft rumble, the stone door began to rise.
But as the door opened, Rebecca heard something strange on the other side—a clattering noise followed by a stifled cry.
"There's someone inside?!" Hetty reacted instantly, shouting, "Byron!"
Without waiting for further orders, Sir Byron drew his sword and rushed forward, with the other three soldiers close behind. Rebecca quickly followed, calling out to the skittish maid, "Betty! Find somewhere to hide!"
As they burst into the tomb, they saw Byron swinging his sword at a small, nimble figure. The agile intruder darted around him like a shadow, occasionally slipping into the tomb's shadows as if they could meld with darkness itself. Her mastery of shadow manipulation and swift footwork amazed Rebecca—there weren't many stealthy rogues who could hold off Byron like this.
But as the soldiers completed their encirclement and Hetty, her hand wreathed in fire, blocked the doorway, the intruder lost all avenues of escape and fell to the ground.
Now that she had stopped moving, Rebecca saw the intruder clearly: a young girl, not much younger than herself, but shorter, with short-cropped hair, a pretty face, and dirt smudges. Despite the grime, her beauty was unmistakable.
Most striking were her ears: pointed, but not as elongated as those of a pure elf. She was clearly a half-elf, though her other half was harder to place.
As soon as the half-elf girl fell, Byron pressed his sword to her neck, with the other soldiers closing in.
"What are you doing here, desecrating the Cecil ancestral tomb?!" Hetty's voice dripped with rage. For someone like her, descended from nobility, a tomb raider in their family's crypt was a dire insult. Such a scandal would ruin the Cecil family's already fragile reputation.
Rebecca glared at the half-elf, though still a bit bewildered. But the mere fact that a stranger was here in this sacred tomb was enough to stoke her anger.
The half-elf, trembling under the press of Byron's sword and the glare of Rebecca and Hetty, stammered, "W-Wait a second! I haven't stolen anything yet!"
Byron's sword pressed even closer. "Such nerve!"
At that moment, a strange rattling came from the central black steel coffin in the tomb, instantly silencing everyone.
Moments later, Rebecca was the first to react, a small fireball flaring atop her staff. She pointed it at the kneeling half-elf, demanding, "What have you done to our ancestor?!"
The half-elf girl nearly burst into tears. "D-Don't kill me! Forget about me—your ancestor's coffin lid is coming loose!"
As she spoke, the noise from within the steel coffin grew louder, and the lid visibly shook.
"A-Ancestor!" Hetty gasped, her normally composed face ashen. For the first time, the usually graceful noblewoman was losing her composure. "Please, rest in peace! Those who disturbed you will be punished…"
The half-elf cried out, "What good is all this talk now? Quick, press down the coffin lid!"
The soldiers exchanged glances, and even Byron looked perplexed. But Rebecca, snapping back to her senses, sprinted to the platform.
The coffin lid flew off with a clang, and a hand reached out from within.
Without thinking, Rebecca swung her staff and slammed it down on the hand. "Ancestor! Rest in peace!"
The hand retreated with a pained yelp, and a voice inside the coffin shouted, "Ow! Who hit me?!"
Rebecca froze, staring at her family's knights, aunt, and soldiers, all wide-eyed in shock.
Looking at her staff, Rebecca felt on the verge of tears herself. "Aunt… did I disrespect our ancestor…?"
But Hetty shouted, "Rebecca! Get away from there!"
"Huh? Aunt?"
"It could be an undead! Maybe the creatures on the surface corrupted the sacred remains!"
A chill ran down Rebecca's spine, and she moved to jump off the platform. But just as she prepared to flee, the coffin lid shot up, crashing to the ground as a figure sat up inside.
A man with short, light-brown hair, a stern and noble face, and garb from ancient nobility rose from within.
The half-elf girl, glancing back at the sight, sighed, "See? I told you—your ancestor's really back from the dead."