Azure Scepter

Page 24

Without saying a word, Trier strode into the passageway with his longsword in hand.

After turning the corner, you return to the entrance of the building—where the cultist's body initially stood, a hole about the width of a hand appears in the wall.

Trier cautiously approached and then looked towards the cave entrance.

Inside the cave hidden beneath the stone bricks, there is a mechanical construct with a rather complex structure.

It was a metal cube resembling a Rubik's Cube, with rusted bearings and levers coupled together in a dizzying way, dark red gears peeking out from among the dense bearings. At the top of this complex mechanical contraption, several fine needles engraved with angelic images gently held a green gemstone.

This is yet another mystery.

“Trier, I know this mechanism!” Noy’s excited voice came from behind. “It’s the Jhwa-man’s puzzle lock. This structure requires a very complex formula to solve, and I happen to know it!”

Trier did not answer; he calmly observed the mechanical structure: "This structure is unsolvable because it has at least three weld points, so the answer is clearly not to decrypt the lock."

"Think about it from another angle. The green gemstone represents solid emotions, and this house has no windows. Solid emotions are also photosensitive. Add to that the hint of the relief's gaze—therefore, the answer is light."

Trier took a mirror out of his backpack, walked slowly to a spot where the firelight could illuminate it, and then slowly adjusted the angle of the mirror clockwise.

A moment later—the emerald green crystal sheet on the device trembled slightly, and the fine needle that was holding it vibrated rapidly with an extremely subtle amplitude. Amplified by a clock-like mechanical transmission device, the tiny vibration was magnified into the rotation of gears.

The gears meshed together, and the bearings began to rotate with a harsh, dull sound.

"Click!"

A crisp sound came from the left, followed by a sudden, deep rumble.

The wall on the left side slowly opened to both sides like an open book, and the clever mechanical force generated by the hinges and mechanical components hidden behind the wall unfolded the floor on the left side of the paladin with just the right amount of force.

A dark passage leading underground slowly appeared before Trier.

—The location of the darkroom was exactly as Trier had predicted.

"It's exactly the same as the secret room in the shrine. The architect of the Radiant Church must have been the same person," the paladin thought to himself.

A malty aroma wafted from inside, and the rich sweet and sour scent even overpowered the pungent black smoke.

Trier frowned. Instead of rushing in, he slowly retreated to Fythia and Noy's side.

At this moment, the nun fell completely silent. She seemed to have fallen into the same state as Futia a few hours earlier. Her scarlet eyes seemed to have lost focus, and she just stared blankly at everything in front of her.

"Aren't you going in?" Futia blinked eagerly.

Trier said unhurriedly, "No rush, let's ventilate first."

Time ticked by, and soon the sweet and sour smell of malt dissipated, while thick smoke billowed out of the morgue.

"It's about time," the paladin thought, raising his longsword and slowly walking toward the entrance.

“Trier, what is it like to receive divine revelation?” Noy’s slightly trembling and hesitant voice suddenly came from behind. “By the radiance above, please tell me!”

“It feels almost exactly like the descriptions in the classic texts.” Trier continued walking, slowly ascending the steps.

At that moment, Fythia stood at the entrance of the steps, holding a torch. Trier's shadow stretched very long, falling straight into the dark room.

Suddenly, Trier stopped in his tracks, raised his longsword, and aimed at his own shadow.

The length of the shadow is wrong!

Judging from the angle between Futia and his own position, the shadow would at most be projected onto the third-to-last step, and could not possibly fall directly into the dark room—the shadow had already arrived.

"Shadow's usual tactic," the paladin thought, "hiding in the shadows."

He took a deep breath and slowly walked towards his own shadow.

With the sound of footsteps echoing, the shadowy figure, like a leech clinging to a bone, slowly turned in the same direction as his shadow.

Closer, closer.

Trier's fingers gripped the hilt of the sword tightly.

The next moment, two slits suddenly tore open at the top of Trier's shadow, and two eyes flashing with an unclean red light snapped open and stared at the paladin.

"Hehehe..." A cold and deep laugh echoed in the dark room.

Suddenly, the sword hummed past, the sword light flashed, and the cold, pure white holy flames slashed fiercely at the laughing shadow. The cold, low laughter stopped abruptly, and the shrill, unwilling scream turned to ashes amidst the hissing sound of burning.

The white flames burned silently on the ashes, which were slowly scattered to the ground by the wind stirred up by the swing of the sword.

[xp+150]

Trier took out the holy emblem, and this time, the emblem of Cord finally stopped shining.

“It’s completely safe now.” Trier breathed a sigh of relief and looked around, observing the well-hidden dark room.

The secret chamber's layout was quite similar to Cod's tomb, with a coffin-like box at the far end. He suppressed his excitement at discovering the treasure and patiently searched the area around the box for any possible triggers.

To his surprise, the area around the box was very clean and there were no traps.

The paladin cautiously approached the box and immediately noticed a very complex-looking lock hanging on it...

“I don’t know how to pick locks or break traps, and smashing it would definitely damage the box itself,” Trier’s eyes flickered. “Luckily, I have teammates.”

He turned his head and gestured to Feudia that the dark room was safe. The elf nodded and then quickly walked down.

Upon seeing the lock, the ranger raised an eyebrow slightly, then smiled after a moment: "Trill, do you know what the happiest thing about an adventure is?"

The paladin remained silent; he knew the answer to the question was definitely "open the chest."

“It’s to open the box!” Futia smiled and pulled out a large bunch of highly professional lock-picking tools from her waist bag.

She leaned closer, then crouched down, her slender, pale fingers picking up something that looked like a small hammer and deftly placing it on the lock cylinder. She pressed her ear against the lock and then gently tapped the end of the hammer with her thumb.

"dong dong dong..."

“No, Trier—something’s wrong.” Fythia’s voice was serious. “This sound is too empty; there’s likely more space underneath the box! Don’t move anything; it might be a series of trigger traps!”

PS: I made some minor adjustments to Chapter 42, modifying certain expressions. Specifically, I emphasized the reasons for remaining vigilant towards Noy and ceasing probing.

Thank you all for your generous donations, comments, monthly tickets, recommendations, and requests for more updates.

Hey everyone, I'm taking a few days off per chapter.

As the title says, my fever hasn't subsided, and I have some backlogged administrative work that will require about two days of concentrated work to handle, so I need to take two days off. I currently owe three chapters, but I'll make up for them when I have a chance. I'll resume updating on the 27th.

...

Chapter 45 Growing Cold

The firelight shining from the steps flickered, and the crackling sound of burning corpses outside the dark room sounded particularly jarring in the silence. Futia felt as if she could hear the bones of the victims of the blood plague shattering into bone fragments under the scorching heat.

She took a deep breath, slowly shifted her weight to the heel of her left foot, and then used her chest and abdomen to slowly and lightly change from a squatting position to a standing position. She slightly turned her eyes to observe the possible layout of a series of traps.

Not far away, Trier still stood in the shadows, looking extremely calm, as if the hidden danger did not exist at all. His breathing remained steady, and his eyes, which were constantly observing his surroundings, seemed to be covered with a layer of dust, revealing no emotional fluctuations whatsoever.

His composed demeanor reminded Futia of her own mother—the same calmness, the same rationality. At this thought, she suddenly felt the tension of the unexpected event vanish silently like a shadow, replaced by a sense of calm and certainty.

Fythia quickly examined the structure of the dark room, noticing a row of tiny holes hidden at the top of the left wall—presumably the firing ports for the crossbow bolts. She tried to concentrate, imagining the mechanical structure of the trap.

A moment later, the elf entered a special state. With the help of his imagination, the thick stone wall seemed to transform into a structural diagram composed of dots and lines. Bright orange lines were hidden behind the stone wall, intricate and complex, like the intertwined roots of an ancient tree in a forest.

One end of the line connects to the crossbow's firing port, while the other end connects to the box in front of them.

Futia struggled to start from the box in front of her, trying to discern the lines that would trigger the trap amidst the tangled mess, and soon she had an idea.

Her gaze swept quickly across the dark box and the wall behind it, her mind racing: "To open the box without triggering the trap, two conditions need to be met: apply force at the end of the thread, and pry open the lock shortly after applying the force—the next step is to use the echo location method to verify my hypothesis."

With her index and middle fingers gently pinching the front of the hammer-shaped lock pick, Futia then tapped the suspected thread end with a gentle touch, as soft as stroking a baby.

A faint but muffled echo came, layer upon layer, and Fythia knew she had guessed correctly.

"Trier, are you all alright?" Noy's voice came from above.

Trier replied succinctly, "There might be a trap, but Fythia is already dealing with it."

She bent down again, her free left hand gently reaching for the protrusion on the left side of the box, while the lock pick pressed against the lock head with just the right amount of force.

“I only have one chance. I have to unlock this lock within two seconds of applying pressure to the left side,” Faldia thought. “If I’m too slow, it will cause unpredictable chain reactions.”

The next moment, her left hand touched the box, and a chilling coldness came from her fingertips. Futia suddenly inserted the lock pick into the lock, then squinted her eyes and carefully felt the fine vibration from the lock pick, like the wings of an aphid in the long summer.

“It’s a combination lock, consisting of two parts: a multi-row pin tumbler lock and a rotary lock,” Futia concluded immediately.

Almost as soon as the thought formed in her mind, her slender fingers swiftly flicked the end of the lock pick. The hammer-shaped lock pick moved up and down with an elegant and rapid speed, like the hammer striking a glockenspiel.

At this moment, time seemed to slow down, and everything around her became blurred in Fytia's perception. The lock pick she sensed seemed to be detached from the whole world. Every subtle tremor of the metal rod, the beads of sweat sticking to it, were incredibly clear. Even the slight deformation of her skin when her index finger was on the end of the lock pick was clearly visible.

This is a supernatural experience.

The next moment, a crisp, pleasant clicking sound came, followed by a second and a third. The nested structures of the complex mechanical components snapped together as precisely as the second hand of a clock.

"Click, click, click."

The first multi-row pin tumbler lock has been opened; at this moment, half of the time has already passed.

The second type of rotary lock is the most difficult mechanical lock to open besides the magic lock, because it is extremely difficult for the lock picker to get feedback from the lock pick mechanism. Opening a rotary lock is like piecing together a broken picture in a black box; if even one piece is put together incorrectly, all the previous efforts will be in vain.

Fine beads of sweat seeped from her forehead without her noticing, gathering at the tip of her nose. The heat and the smell of sweat filled Futia's nostrils, but she didn't notice. She closed her eyes completely, her slender fingers adjusting the position of the lock pick at a dazzling speed.

The cold, heavy, and complex lock pick seemed to come alive in Fythia's hands.

"Click!"

It felt like an eternity had passed, yet also like only a moment, when the ear-piercing sound of mechanical fastening rang out, shattering the elf's supernatural experience like a sledgehammer smashing a mirror.

For a strange sense of loss, Faucia knew that she had just grasped something.

“Trill, back off. There might be additional traps besides the lock,” Fythia said, pressing the end of her lock pick against the edge of the box lid.

With a slight exertion of the fingers, the lock pick pried open the heavy box like a lever.

The elf peered inside curiously—

The anticipated trigger trap did not appear. The large box looked empty, containing only a thin robe that emitted a cobalt blue magical light, with a hazy, mottled shadow covering the translucent robe.

The robe was so exquisite and alluring that Futia couldn't help but think of the city walls of her hometown, which were carved entirely from mithril. Every sunrise, the warm yellow sunlight would bathe the silver walls, which were as smooth as mirrors, and the edges of the high silver walls were always adorned with a dazzling gold by the sun.

She's so beautiful, just like my own sister.

She instinctively reached out, wanting to touch the robe.

"Watch out!" she suddenly heard a warning. "There's a magic array under the robe."

Fythia jolted awake, as if she had just woken from a nightmare. Her once incredibly beautiful robe now looked eerily sinister.

"Don't come any closer, the robes have a bewitching effect," Futia said quickly. "I see that magic circle, is it... for measuring weight?"

Trier's voice came from behind: "Yes, there's a trap behind the trap—there's another magical trap inside the box. If you trigger that weighted magic circle, two or three fireballs will fall directly down on our heads."

Three fireballs?

Fatiah couldn't help but glance at the ceiling of the dark room.

"Don't move either. From what I've observed, there's a similar structure beneath your feet. If you move around, it will trigger the execution of the ritual," the paladin's voice continued.

"What should I do?" Futia asked instinctively.

The words had barely left her mouth when she suddenly realized something—when had she developed this strange habit of "asking Trier directly when she encountered difficulties"?

So she changed her mind and said, "No, I mean, do you have any good suggestions?"

“It’s a two-step process,” Trier’s voice remained steady. “First, I’ll hand you a bandage. Before the ritual response, you need to place the bandage in the robe’s position, and then remove the robe. This spell trap uses a hook-and-trigger mechanism, which means it’s very sensitive to weight reduction but relatively insensitive to weight increase.”

"There is about half a second between when you put down the bandage and when you take away the robe. There is plenty of time, no need to rush."

"And the second step?" Futia asked.

Trier didn't answer, and Noe's voice came from upstairs: "The second step is that I'll go and drag a few corpses that weigh about your weight, and then we'll put them where you're standing now—Trier, am I right?"

“It couldn’t be more precise,” the paladin said.

The plan went incredibly smoothly; when Futia took the robe and left the box, she even felt a sense of unreality.

The robe had a very unique feel; the delicate tulle felt like a dream enveloped in silver moonlight, light and hazy. She brought the robe close to her nose, and it seemed to exude a faint fragrance of gardenias.

Fythia turned her head and noticed that Noi also seemed quite curious about the robes; her ruby-like eyes were fixed on them.

"What is this?" the nun asked Trier curiously.

Trill remained silent, scanning the item panel.

—A deep blue light curtain emerged from near the robes like mercury spilling onto the ground.

[Item Name: Gradually Cooling]

[Item Level: Cursed Cursed Artifact]

[Item Description 1: A robe made of sheer fabric, shrouded in a hazy, mottled shadow. Legend has it that a priestess of the Church of Radiance was once consumed by darkness itself while dispelling an unknown darkness from the southern swamp. Under the influence of necromancy, she gradually transformed into a vampire.]