Chapter 36: Exploring the Tunnel Again

Chapter 36: Exploring the Tunnel Again

"Lyman, that sister of yours is really something, huh?"

No sooner had Lyman returned to the black cell than he heard thumping on the wall. He pressed himself against the stone wall, and Lunast's teasing voice drifted in from the next cell.

"You already know?" Lyman said, then realized it was a dumb question. There was little that went on in Cape Prison that Lunast didn't know about.

"Your sister's plan's not bad—you sure you don't wanna give it a shot?" Luna said with interest.

"Oh, so my sister and I escape and leave you behind, is that it?"

Luna smacked his lips thoughtfully. "I'd almost forgotten about that if you hadn't brought it up. Alright, dear neighbor, please don't leave me behind."

His flat, deadpan delivery made Lyman roll his eyes so hard they nearly stuck. Getting this guy out of prison too was going to take a whole lot more work.

"My sister said she planted a pawn in the prison who'd help me. Do you know who that is?"

"That one, I really don't know," Luna replied. "Your sister's something else—sometimes even I can't figure her out."

Lyman's brow knitted. Livia's power was far beyond his imagination. So that cult wasn't just some superstitious group or scam outfit—it was a genuine cult with real supernatural power!

Lyman wanted nothing more than to keep as far away from them as possible. Compared to that, staying in prison might be the safer bet. Between a corrupt church and a man-eating cult, he'd pick the former. At least the church had a few decent folks in it; with the cult, who knew?

"My sister mentioned a term—Stellar Conjunction. What's that mean?"

Actually, this was the second time Lyman had heard that term. The first was when he met the dwarf girl Tove. She'd asked whether the Lord of the Abyss was a god who'd come to this world via a Stellar Conjunction, or an ancient deity who'd awakened.

Luna mused, "Do you believe there are other worlds besides our own?"

"'Course I do," Lyman said without hesitation. He was from another world himself.

Luna said, "According to ancient scholars, each world has its own orbit, traveling through an infinitely vast universe. This orbit isn't like a physical track—it's more of an abstract concept."

"So this orbit is the 'stellar trajectory'?" Lyman asked.

"Exactly. The stellar trajectories of different worlds often cross each other. When that happens, the barriers between worlds thin out or even vanish, making it easy to travel from one world to another."

"Do Stellar Conjunctions last long?" Lyman asked. Livia was in a hurry to hold her ritual during the Conjunction—did that mean the window was short?

"Depends on the scale of the conjunction," Luna explained. "A small one lasts only a few hours, or even just minutes—so brief you wouldn't even notice the change. A big one can last several days. And if it's a once-in-a-millennium grand conjunction, lasting several months is totally normal."

Livia was planning to summon something during this Stellar Conjunction. The last ritual had failed, so she couldn't wait to try again.

Wait—did the ritual really fail?

A Stellar Conjunction lasts a long time. So was it possible the cultists really had summoned some entity from another world, and that entity had taken over the body of the ritual's host?

—And that body was mine!

When he'd first gotten the Book of the Evil God, it said, "You were summoned to this world as a deity, but lost your divine power due to unknown circumstances."

Lyman was certain he was just an ordinary guy from Earth—he'd never shown any supernatural ability his whole life. Could it be that because the ritual was interrupted by the knights' raid, the summoned evil god's power had taken up residence in him in the form of the Book of the Evil God?

An icy chill rose from the soles of his feet and crept up his spine. It felt like a vast net of fate had opened up before Lyman. Just catching a glimpse of one corner of its intricate weave made him tremble, afraid to think any deeper.

"So... do creatures actually come to this world through Stellar Conjunctions?" Lyman asked in a low voice.

"Of course. Elves, dwarves, dragons... some even say this world was originally barren, with no intelligent life whatsoever—even humans came from other worlds."

Lyman picked his words carefully. "And gods?"

Luna suddenly burst out laughing. "Yeah! Gods too! Lots of gods came to this world from elsewhere, and some gods left this world for others. Now some believers think the gods they worship are native gods, and dismiss gods from other worlds as evil spirits or demons. It's a joke!"

His wild laughter pierced through the walls, reaching all the way to the heavens. Lyman felt the world spin—for a moment, even the ground seemed to shake. The whole world trembled in Lunast's laughter, the very stars shaken and teetering on the brink. Countless beings woke from sleep, and countless others fell into nightmares.

The laughter cut off abruptly. Space stabilized, and time resumed its flow. Lyman blinked, as if waking from a dream—something seemed to have just happened, yet it might have all been in his head.

Lunast spoke, a little out of breath. "I've said a bit too much today."

Lyman was eager. "Wait—tell me more. What gods are you talking about? Which ones came from other worlds?"

"That's enough for today. Say too much and I'll get discovered. Since I can see others, others can naturally see me too."

Leaving that typically cryptic riddle behind, Lunast fell silent. A profound helplessness gripped Lyman. Since they could only talk through the wall, Lunast could end the conversation whenever he felt like it. Some of his questions had been answered, but his doubts only seemed to have multiplied.

Lyman sighed. There wasn't much he could do about it.

He took a blanket out of the Divine Casket, spread it on the floor, lay down comfortably, and summoned the Book of the Evil God.

Staring at the closed eye on the cover, Lyman felt a swirl of complicated emotions. Was this really the evil god's power the cult had summoned? Why had it picked him? What was this "great undertaking" the Book of the Evil God talked about? The book seemed to have been guiding him subtly all along—did it have a mind of its own? And what was its purpose?

Too many questions were still unanswered. But since this power had chosen him, he'd make good use of it. At least someone had genuinely benefited from it, right?

Sylen and the others were making their move the day after tomorrow. Hopefully everything goes smoothly.

***

The pale afternoon sun fell on the prison tower. Carlos showed up at the stables with his three big brothers, right on time during the groom's break.

The three brothers went off to stand guard as usual. Carlos pulled the Message Conch out of his pocket and handed it to Lyman.

"I won't ask what you're up to. But don't lose it."

"'Course." Lyman weighed the conch in his hand.

He noticed Carlos carrying a glass storm lantern and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"After what you said yesterday, I went and got this," Carlos said, swinging the lantern with a smug look. "Brighter than torches or candles, and it won't go out in a strong wind. That should work, right?"

"You came prepared, huh?" Lyman said with a smile.

He followed Carlos into the stable cellar and down underground.

"Once we dig through the collapsed section, we can get from the first-floor cells into the tunnel," Carlos said, brushing away cobwebs. "The 'demolition expert' has been working around the clock without rest. Even with your map, though—seven days, I'm not so sure."

"Getting it dug sooner helps you too," Lyman said.

Carlos glanced back at him. "Why does it have to be seven days? Something gonna happen on the full moon? People say the moon represents Sorcery and that weird stuff happens on full moon nights, but that's just superstition, right?"

Lyman lowered his head. "I can't say for sure, but something's definitely gonna happen that night."

Livia said the "pawn" would help him, but how exactly? The prison was heavily guarded—to escape from here, was the "pawn" also some hidden superhuman?

No new prisoners had been brought in since Lyman arrived, so the "pawn" had to be an old inmate. Why had he been hiding out in Cape Prison for so long? Livia couldn't have predicted the attack on the cult branch or Lyman's imprisonment, so she must have sent the "pawn" here for some other purpose.

Lyman racked his brain but couldn't figure out who the "pawn" might be. Seeing Carlos climbing down into the hole, he called into the tunnel, "Are there any other prisoners in here for cult stuff?"

Carlos's laugh echoed up from below, full of amusement. "Buddy, you think cultists are just everywhere, waiting to get caught? Spreading heresy and forming secret societies in the Holy Nation is a serious crime. Even if there were cultists, they'd rather die as martyrs than get caught. Since I've been locked up, you're the first cultist I've met."

"I was set up!" Lyman shouted.

"Come on, everyone in here says that. I might as well claim I'm a law-abiding citizen." Carlos replied.

Lyman pursed his lips, not buying it. "So what are you in for?"

He too slowly climbed down the tunnel wall, Carlos lighting the way from below. Once he landed, the two headed toward where the tunnel had collapsed before.

Carlos walked ahead, his voice muffled: "I used to be a pirate captain."

Lyman was instantly impressed. At the mention of pirates, a flood of familiar names popped into his head—Luffy, Captain Jack Sparrow—and that familiar "dun dun dun dun dun" tune started playing on loop in his brain!

Seeing the look on Lyman's face, Carlos gave a wry smile.

"Ah, here we go again. Every time I tell someone I'm a pirate, this is the reaction I get." He shrugged. "Blame those bards for painting pirates as noble outlaws who robbed the rich to feed the poor, free-spirited men of the sea. They've got everyone thinking pirates are some kind of big deal."

"Aren't they?!" Lyman was horrified, the sound of his childhood dreams shattering in his ears.

"Of course not! If being a pirate were that fun, everyone would be one." Carlos sighed, exasperated. "I used to think just like you, that being a pirate was all romance. You ever hear the legend of the Pirate Lord Federico?"

Lyman shook his head like a bobblehead.

"Federico was a legendary pirate for decades on end. They say he rode the waves, robbed the rich to feed the poor, and was the hero of every sailor worth his salt. His most famous stunt was knocking over a gold ship belonging to the Holy Nation. Except it wasn't actually carrying gold—it was hauling spices from the Holy Nation's southern colonies. Those spices were worth their weight in gold—literally priceless. So the Holy Nation's transport ships were always heavily armed, with escort frigates tagging along for protection. Anyone who dared to go after them has already gone to confess their sins before the God of Dawn.

"But the Pirate Lord Federico actually pulled it off—robbed a gold ship, then hung up his hat and vanished without a trace. Some say he became a rich old man and lived out the rest of his days in comfort. Others say he stashed his treasure on some uncharted island."

Lyman caught on: "So that's how the Great Pirate Era started, huh?"

"Something like that. Countless fools set sail hunting for that treasure. But decades went by, and not a single soul ever found it." Carlos let out a bitter laugh. "I was one of those fools. I idolized that legendary pirate lord, dreamed of getting rich overnight, so I turned a deaf ear to my wife's begging and went to sea.

"Turns out pirate life was nothing like what I'd pictured. Rob the rich to feed the poor? Free and easy on the high seas? Not even close! Life at sea was brutally hard, and you could lose your head at any moment. After years of grinding, I found zero treasure—just my bounty on wanted posters climbing higher and higher. One day, I'm having a drink in a tavern, and a bounty hunter cold-cocks me from behind. Next thing I know, I'm in the clink."

Carlos spoke with a faraway look: "I did my wife wrong. The only reason I busted out of here is to find her."

Lyman said: "But if you escape, you'll be a wanted man. Won't showing up at her door just bring trouble down on her?"

The six-foot-something giant suddenly froze, his face going blank.

"...You seriously never thought about that?!"

Carlos suddenly sagged: "You just opened my eyes. I just figured... catching a glimpse of her from a distance would be enough. Maybe pass her some money. I won't drag her into this."

Up ahead, they heard the sound of loose gravel clattering to the ground. Lyman realized they'd already passed the collapsed section and were now in the tunnel that had been blocked off and was being dug out.

A torch blazed in the darkness. A hunched-over man was hammering and chiseling away at the rock. A bucket of water sat at his feet.

Hearing footsteps, the man spun around warily, clutching his tools like a weapon. Seeing it was Carlos, he relaxed and flashed a grin. He was short, with a weaselly face, and when he grinned, two big front teeth poked out, making him look even more like a rat.

"Yo, Carlos, why the long face? Your old lady kick the bucket?"

"Pah! My wife'll outlive your parents, you jackass!" Carlos shot back.

"How'd you know my folks are already dead?"

Carlos kicked at the man, who dodged with a shit-eating grin.

The big man turned to Lyman and said, "This old scoundrel here's our 'demolition expert,' Ugo. Used to be a crewman of mine."

"At your service, Captain." Ugo gave a goofy bow.

"How's it going?" Carlos asked.

Ugo held up the bucket: "Not bad. Feels like there's a hollow spot behind this rock. Figured I'd try chipping through—might be another passage."

"Another passage?" Lyman repeated.

Carlos explained: "I told you before, there's a lot of hand-dug tunnels under this prison. We figure someone tried to dig their way out before."

"These old tunnels are centuries old, all blocked up with rocks and rubble," Ugo said. "My job's to dig 'em open—otherwise we wouldn't be making this kind of time."

He poured water into a crack in the rock. The next second, white frost rose slowly, and the water instantly froze into ice.

The ice expanded, prying the crack open. Ugo repeated this several times until, with a clatter, the rock shattered layer by layer, revealing a fist-sized black hole.

The air that had been stagnant for centuries began to flow, rushing through the tunnel. The torch on the wall swayed violently, its flame flickering.

"Careful," Carlos warned. "My friend here instructed that the flame must never go out while digging."

"No kidding. It's not like I have night vision." Ugo scoffed, his expression saying: Do I need a greenhorn like you to teach me?

Ugo repeated his Supernatural Ability several more times, gradually expanding the hole until it was large enough for one person to pass through.

He took the torch from the wall and tried to squeeze through to the other side. Carlos grabbed him and handed him the lantern instead.

"This one's better quality." The big man grinned, showing his teeth.

Ugo unceremoniously traded the torch for the lantern. "Next time, you'd better get me a canary."

"Canary?" Carlos was puzzled.

Lyman said: "Miners bring canaries into the shafts. If there's toxic gas, the canary dies first."

Carlos understood: "I see. Where the hell am I supposed to find a canary? I might as well get you a chicken feather."

Ugo cursed with a laugh and crawled through the hole with the lantern.

His voice soon came from the other side: "Just as I thought—another hand-carved passage. Let me see where it leads."

The light from the hole gradually dimmed, indicating Ugo was moving deeper. His footsteps were clear at first, but soon faded along with the light.

Lyman and Carlos both stuck their heads into the hole, straining to peer inside.

"Ugo! Does it lead outside the prison?" Carlos shouted.

A muffled cry mixed with echoes came from the end of the passage: "I'm looking, aren't I?! Ah!"

A scream. Then the crack of shattering glass.

"What's wrong?" Carlos tensed up instantly.

Silence.

A sense of dread rose in Lyman's chest.

"The light!" He grabbed Carlos's clothes.

Carlos froze for a moment, then quickly understood. That glass-shattering sound must have been the lantern breaking. Ugo might have lost his light!

He immediately grabbed a shovel from Ugo's discarded tool bag, while Lyman searched around and found an unlit torch. He lit it from Carlos's flame, and the two crawled through the hole one after the other.

The passage curved, and the torch only illuminated a short stretch. The darkness beyond was like thick tar, swallowing everything.

The two hurried forward. Suddenly, Lyman's foot hit something with a "clatter." He stopped and lowered the torch to look.

A skull rolled a few times before coming to a stop, its hollow eye sockets staring straight at Lyman.

Lyman gasped, wailing in anguish, "Ugo! How did you die!"

This tunnel was seriously messed up—what kind of beast could've eaten Ugo down to bones in an instant!

"Screw you! I'm perfectly fine!"

Ugo's angry shout echoed from off in the distance.

Carlos shot Lyman a wordless look. Lyman whistled, looking guilty.

They kept going and soon spotted Ugo. He sat cross-legged, rubbing his ankle with one hand, the other soaked in blood. A broken lantern lay at his feet, the flame out. He must've sliced his hand on the glass.

"Tripped on something and twisted my ankle," Ugo said, sticking out his tongue, pissed at himself for screwing up. "Yeah, that damn thing over there's to blame."

Lyman followed his gaze and saw a headless skeleton lying on the ground behind Ugo!

The body had been dead for who knows how long, completely reduced to bone, clothes rotted to rags by time. That skull Lyman kicked earlier must've been this poor guy's.

Carlos poked the bones with his shovel, musing, "Been dead a long while—at least a hundred years."

He carefully flipped the skeleton over, revealing a bag-like thing underneath. The bag had rotted to rags, exposing something metallic glinting inside.

Curious, Carlos pulled them out—a pile of digging tools: shovels, hammers, pickaxes... all rusted to hell and useless.

"Could this guy be the prisoner who dug these tunnels?" Carlos exclaimed in surprise.

Ugo shot the bones a disgusted look. "Why'd he die in the tunnel?"

Carlos said matter-of-factly, "Could've been a sudden illness while digging, or his partners turned on him, or rocks blocked the passage and trapped him here to starve."

Ugo shuddered and muttered, "Good thing I've got my Supernatural Ability—not scared of any falling rocks..."

"Without water, that ability's useless," Carlos teased.

Lyman frowned, feeling something was off. "But if a prisoner died here, wouldn't the guards notice a missing man? Their first thought'd be that someone escaped. Yet Cape Prison claims nobody's ever escaped."

"Pfft, just cover it up and say the guy died of sickness," Carlos shrugged. "As long as it's not in the official records, who'd remember some missing prisoner centuries later?"

"True," Lyman agreed. "If that's the case, Cape Prison's had more than one escape attempt in its history, just covered up by the officials. Cape Prison isn't airtight—there are holes in its defenses!"

The other two perked up hearing that. If someone pulled it off before, they could too!

Ugo crawled over to the skeleton and, ignoring his bloody hands, dug through the bag. Blood dripped onto the bones.

"What are you looking for?" Carlos asked.

"Checking if anything's still good." Ugo tossed aside some tools too rusted to use, then pulled a metal cylinder from the bottom of the bag.

He waved them over, signaling for the other two to bring the torch near.

Lyman and Carlos crouched down to light the way. Ugo carefully opened the cylinder and pulled out a thin rolled-up paper.

He let out a "Whoa!" his eyes lighting up as he unrolled the paper and devoured it.

The paper was covered in writing Lyman didn't recognize. Ugo went through every sheet, clicking his tongue in amazement.

Carlos got impatient. "What is it? Spit it out! You know I can't read!"

Ugo said, all mysterious, "I've got good news, bad news, and worse news. Which do you want first?"

Lyman and Carlos exchanged glances.

"Bad news first," Carlos said.

Ugo held up the paper roll. "This is written in ancient script—not only can you, illiterate, not read it, even I can't."

Lyman picked up the paper and glanced at it—yep, he couldn't read it either. It wasn't the standard script used nowadays. He could sort of make out a few words, but most of it was gibberish.

Carlos looked let down. "And the good news?"

Ugo grinned, flashing his huge front teeth. "Even though I can't read the words, I figure this is an escape plan. Some of the drawings match up with the map you gave me. This old-timer from a hundred years back was truly something!"

The three of them stood in awe, silently paying respects to the skeleton. Carlos even ran back to grab the skull and carefully put it back on the bones. This great pioneer of escape attempts, who died before finishing the job, was a real tragedy! His precious legacy and unyielding spirit would be carried on by them, the next generation!

"If we make it out, I'll give this old-timer a proper burial," Carlos said solemnly, one hand on his chest.

Lyman paid his respects for a second, then asked, "So what's the worse news?"

Ugo's face darkened. "As far as I know, only one prisoner can read ancient script."

"Who?"

"Four-Eyes the Cockroach."

"..." Lyman facepalmed. "So it's Nikola after all! You really hate him that much?"

Ugo burst out, "That bastard isn't evil enough? I'm just a pirate robbing folks, but he spreads heresy! If I say even one more word to him, I feel like my eternal soul's tainted!"

"Calm down, Ugo," Carlos soothed. "He won't get what you're saying anyway. He's in here for running a cult."

Lyman: "...?"

Wait, how am I lumped in with the scholar?

"I'll go have a word with Nikola," Carlos said, stuffing the paper roll back into the metal cylinder and helping Ugo to his feet.

The three said goodbye to the predecessor who'd failed at the last step and headed for the tunnel exit.

The torchlight faded into the distance, and the skeleton was swallowed up by the dark.

Clatter. Clatter.

The sound of bones knocking came from behind them.

All three stopped at once, exchanging wary looks.

Lyman nodded at Carlos, and they both turned around.

At the edge of the firelight and darkness stood a pale white figure.

The skeleton had gotten to its feet.