Chapter 441

Chapter 441

Arnold stayed close to Norton's side, as if he had regressed to a fragile childhood, instinct and reason alike driving him to seek the protection of a stronger father or elder brother.

Back then, his mental power had been weak but stable, unlike now, where merely sensing another Grath from afar would ignite a blazing desire to devour his own kind, scorching his reason like wildfire.

That fire had rarely flared up again in recent times.

Arnold loathed the feeling, so he spent long stretches beside Ye Mo, where peace returned to him.

Now, he could no longer afford to heed the blaze.

Even against the Grath instinct to shun one another, he closed the gap between himself and Norton to a closeness never before achieved.

Norton, for his part, was visibly growing more agitated, yet his steps grew slower and slower, but they were already not far from the rift valley, and Arnold felt that in the blink of an eye, the bottomless chasm loomed before them.

It seemed a hatching had just occurred; eggshells of various colors and shapes were scattered around the rift, along with the broken remains of insectoid creatures.

There were no traces of humans. Little could survive where the insectoids had ravaged the land; the old ground had been completely overrun, and the insectoids had devoured everything they could swallow.

Norton stood at the edge of the rift for a long time, the wind howling across the land, wailing from the chasm like ghosts and spirits.

Arnold stared fixedly at Norton's shoulders and back until Norton moved, his pupils contracting from a pain he himself had not even recognized.

Norton leaped lightly upward, brushing against the rift wall as he descended vertically. He adjusted his posture midair, spread his arms, and plunged into the depths.

Arnold followed without a moment's hesitation, never letting Norton get more than three meters ahead of him.

Norton had been unhurried before, but now he seemed abnormally impatient, as if he couldn't wait a single second.

He twisted his waist, drew his sword, turned his body midair with his back to the rift floor, Arnold directly above him, who likewise did not pause, unsparingly using his just-recovered mental power to release one Psychic Blade after another. These blades grazed past Arnold's body and hair, launching into the sky and propelling Norton toward the rift floor at even greater speed.

Norton then flipped again, diving deeper into the rift.

Arnold did not move either; those psychic blades skimmed past his body toward the sky, and he didn't even blink, but somewhat clumsily imitated his elder brother's manner, likewise accelerating his own fall into the rift.

They reached the rift floor faster than ever before.

When Arnold landed, he even felt the subtle ache of bones pressing against each other, a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time.

He rose quickly, then silently came to a halt at Norton's side.

Norton had arrived before him and was now tilting his head slightly, gazing at something.

Arnold followed his gaze and saw a King Insect lurking in a crevice, small in stature, seemingly underdeveloped, likely a straggler that had failed to seize an advantage in the first wave of hatching and was barely surviving.

After a moment, it stirred, as if trying to quietly slink back into the deeper darkness.

But faster than its movement was Norton's Psychic Blade, which didn't touch the rock at all, precisely piercing its skull, the size overly exact, with no waste whatsoever.

For Graths, these were more irritating than the normally hatched King Insects; they would instinctively avoid Grath burial grounds, but they might damage the underground rock structure, turning the once-clean depths into a mess that required heavy cleanup on the next visit.

Moreover, allowing them to run rampant at the rift floor showed too little respect for the Graths who had long since fallen into slumber.

Arnold had undertaken such tasks as a child himself.

Not permitted to enter the burial chambers, he and the others were sent by Baide to clear away these little creatures.

Arnold treated it like tending graves, doing the work earnestly each time, though his motives weren't entirely pure—he hoped that when he himself lay down here, someone would keep the place clean; he couldn't stand a mess.

But Baide didn't really care either; he would only give a perfunctory glance and consider the task done, paying little attention to how the young Graths completed their duties. Arnold thought that even if the Grath graves were used as insect nests on the next visit, Baide would find it more amusing than offensive.

Grath relationships weren't close.

Norton especially would never do such a thing, not even after sending Baide here; in Arnold's memory, this was the first time.

This made Arnold even more uneasy.

At such a moment, every move Norton made could send Arnold spiraling into wild speculation.

What was his elder brother thinking? Why do something so superfluous? Especially at a time when his mental power needed recovery.

Arnold felt the air grow unbearably cold, each breath a torture.

The rift was dim and cold, the only light source coming from naturally fluorescent eggs and semi-adult insects clinging to crevices in the surrounding stone walls, their cold bioluminescence making the place feel like hell.

But even so, Arnold had never felt anything particular when coming here before—no grief, no fear; he even felt at ease.

This was Baide's resting place, and in the future, it would be his own burial ground, along with his siblings'.

In life, they kept far apart, barely meeting, but after death, they would reunite in the rift, long companions, never to be separated again.

Back then, the pain of living made Arnold look forward to death with fervor, and by extension, he felt a certain fondness for the rift. Every time he came here, he would quietly plan his own spot—not next to Baide, but beside his elder brother.

But now, he found the place utterly terrifying.

He could accept his own death, and the deaths of his parents and siblings.

But Ye Mo—Arnold had never considered it, and so when that possibility was laid before him, he felt fear for the first time.

He didn't like this place; Ye Mo would be afraid, he wouldn't like it here.

Norton was already advancing toward the entrance, and Arnold followed, gripping his sword hilt tightly, his gaze no longer unsettled but resolute, like a cornered beast determined to fight to the end.

Wherever Ye Mo was, he would bring him home; they would still be together, never to be parted.

Norton continued forward at his unhurried pace, eyes straight ahead, occasionally tossing out a Psychic Blade, as if that were the very purpose of his visit—all the King Insects along the way were silently dispatched in this manner.

His earlier hesitation and agitation seemed to have been Arnold's illusion.

Until they reached the entrance.

Arnold couldn't quite remember what this place had looked like on his last visit, but it certainly hadn't been this chaotic.

Even if the Graths didn't care, the Grath legions would regularly inspect the area, doing their best to keep it clean and orderly, and would steer well clear when dropping feed.

Now, chunks of feed were scattered across the ground, stones piled haphazardly, some still stained with the blood of some creature, an eyesore, with the stench of decay seeping from the crevices.

He frowned. "How dare King Insects come to disturb the slumber of Graths?"

"Haven't you noticed yet?"

Norton stopped where the entrance should have been.

Stones were piled messily there. Norton drew his sword and, with a single strike, blasted them apart, revealing a passage tall enough for two people.

In his era, this had been a towering stone wall, and the door hadn't been so crude or narrow. Countless master craftsmen had contributed their exquisite skills, spending centuries building a grand underground palace for the Graths, and it had been continuously refined.

But now, it barely qualified as a stone grotto.

Norton sheathed his sword, his arm resting against the stone wall at the entrance. "Right now, Grath's walls haven't been built yet."

The wall, built from countless Grath tombstones, was still just a rough outline.

Arnold turned to Norton in surprise. He'd had his suspicions, but having them confirmed still shook him.

But Norton clearly didn't feel like saying more. Arnold bit his lip and stubbornly declared, "Cyril doesn't like it here. There's nothing good about this place—"

He wanted to take Ye Mo home, but he couldn't finish the sentence.

The instant his words trailed off, Norton whipped his head around and stared at him, as if he'd swallow him whole at any second. "Quiet."

...

Ambrose suddenly opened his eyes. He was alone in the hall.

The artificial sun, following its set trajectory, was already peeking over the horizon, spilling dim yellow light across the floor through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

His eyes blazed with a fury that had ignited in an instant, spreading through his mental power into every corner of his domain.

Two words, barely audible, echoed through the hall.

"Who is it?"

Who dares disturb the Graths' slumber?

...

Yisang stood on the windowsill, idly standing on his tiptoes, deliberately turning around so he was only barely holding onto the edge.

Ye Mo sat at his feet, eyes closed, enjoying the unobstructed wind up here. Theodore was curled up comfortably against Ye Mo too, one arm wrapped around him.

Yisang kept glancing down at Ye Mo, as if a height like this could ever pose a threat to a Grath.

Ye Mo suddenly opened his eyes, and he and Yisang looked toward the sky at the same time.

They exchanged a glance.

"Ambrose is angry."

Yisang clicked his tongue. That fury-laden mental power stirred his own mental energy and emotions too.

Luckily, Ye Mo was here, so he only furrowed his brow briefly before pushing them down, curiosity taking their place.

"Who could make him that angry?"

Lately, Ambrose's mental power had grown increasingly unstable, so he kept his emotions more controlled and level, since the Graths were all crammed onto a single planet after all.

...

On the other side, past the long passage, the cavern lay almost completely exposed. Arnold didn't see the familiar figure.

Half overjoyed, half in disbelief, he scanned the cavern again, afraid it was all an illusion. After confirming it several times, he let out a long breath and turned to Norton, beaming. "Big bro, he's not here! He's not here!"

Norton hesitated for a moment before letting out a quiet "Mm." He tilted his head back for a long while, gazing at the figure frozen in the crystal.

Then he turned aside, seemingly about to leave, but barely took a step before he had to reach out and brace himself against the stone wall. Even so, he nearly collapsed, slowly sliding downward.

Norton dropped to one knee, bracing himself, and murmured the two words softly, as if he'd just been spared from death. "Not here."

Arnold watched him, slowly letting his smile fade. He observed Norton with a hint of unfamiliarity, catching a glimpse through the cracks of the vulnerability of the big brother who had always seemed invincible to him.

Norton's expression remained unchanged, but with his excellent night vision, Arnold could see his eyes were far too bright, and the hair at his temples was damp.

And so he understood—Norton's fear was no less than his own.