It was a massive stone slab, roughly as wide as a person and as tall as two. Most of the relief carvings on its surface had been eroded away. The mages swarmed around it, with their apprentices close behind, filling the space around the slab until there was no room to move.
"It's probably a stone tablet that was left behind here," said the guide, not daring to push through the crowd of enthusiastic mages but standing to the side as he speculated. "Since it's so close to the Tower of Division, it might have been moved from there. For some reason, it was left behind here and eventually buried in the dirt."
He made it sound quite plausible, and with his clear, articulate tour-guide tone, he was as credible as the host of the TV show *Exploring Eryan*.
"It looks a lot like a manhole cover," one of the guards muttered.
"Impossible," a local soldier retorted. "There's no underground drainage system around here at all. The ground is solid."
The guard had merely been making a comparison. Tashan had pinpointed the general area using coordinates provided by the Hall of True Knowledge; the entire area was flat, leaving only the underground as a possible direction to explore. They dug three feet deep, excavating two or three meters before hitting a stone slab. As the slab was unearthed, other areas nearby had already dug deeper, but the deeper layers were also just soil—no secret passages in the hollow spaces.
A group of mages found it awkward to examine the slab while lying on their stomachs, so they attempted to stand it upright, but failed.
Whether soldiers tried lifting it by hand or tying a rope to one end and hoisting it with a cart, no matter how they attempted it, the slab would not budge from the ground, as if it weighed a thousand catties. The mages managed to chip off a tiny fragment from the slab; the density of the debris separated from the slab was the same as that of ordinary stone. Some suspected the slab was glued to the ground by some substance, but digging away the soil beneath it proved surprisingly easy.
They dug along the edges, hollowing out four-fifths of the support points in concentric circles. The excavation proceeded without hindrance; they encountered only soil and gravel. When only the final, tiny central support point remained, the remaining pillar of soil collapsed under the slab's own weight. The slab dropped another short distance, unimpeded, its surface remaining perfectly parallel to the horizontal plane.
"I get it!" the alchemist Gloria suddenly exclaimed. "Who here has a lineage in dark magic?"
"Who else do you think there is here?" the black-robed mage Miranda retorted impatiently.
"I mean ancient dark magic," Gloria said apologetically. "The kind of ancient dark magic more closely tied to the Abyss."
So-called ancient dark magic predates even the era of the War of the Heavens and Earth. As early as the signing of the Erian Declaration, the magic used by most mages was already a refined version, very similar to the spells of today. To go back even further—who knows how many centuries—to a time when mages were still viewed with suspicion by all other professions, and when the relationship between magic and the Abyss was still very close, only then could the term "ancient" be prefixed to dark magic.
Among all the mages in Eryan today, the one with the deepest understanding of this is the Abyss researcher, the elderly Mr. Webster. But he is far too old—a human elder of near-legendary stature. Tasa trembles with fear every time she sees him step out of his study, and everyone has desperately tried to dissuade him from joining this expedition that requires a long trek; he, too, deeply regrets it.
"I have no formal lineage in ancient black magic." " Miranda hesitated. "But I do have some understanding of it—at least I can recite ancient magical runes."
"That should suffice. The things here appear to be forgeries by modern mages; they wouldn't be arranged entirely according to the mindset of ancient mages." Gloria pointed at the relief, tracing an odd path with her finger. "Try reciting them once in this order, using the pronunciation of the ancient magical runes."
Tasha heard a strange pronunciation.
It wasn't any language she had studied; it bore some resemblance to the Language of the Abyss, yet there was a fundamental difference. It felt like someone from the Wu-Yue language group listening to Japanese—occasionally catching familiar phrases and stumbling through to guess a bit of the meaning.
For example, "Open."
The stone slab opened.
Nothing was lifted from beneath it, and nothing suddenly fell. The relatively flat, blank stone surface in the center of the relief carvings suddenly vanished without a trace. It seemed to turn black in an instant, and only after staring at it for a while did people realize that it wasn't a black hole, but a passageway that had suddenly appeared.
This wasn't a slab of stone; it was a door.
It was so strange. There had clearly been nothing there just a moment ago, yet now, crouching down to peer into the gap, they could see the space between the stone slab and the earth. It was as if someone had casually tossed a dismantled doorframe somewhere, only to discover a room had appeared behind it.
"Wonderful, it really works," Gloria breathed a sigh of relief. "This thing is still in an unfinished state; otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to activate it."
"Is this a hidden passage?" Tasha asked.
"To be precise, it's a teleportation portal—and an unfinished one at that," Gloria said. "Since it wasn't fully completed, it wasn't considered a magical artifact yet; it was just a pile of half-finished materials—which is why it didn't fail under the influence of the declining magical environment. It was only officially completed after we cast a spell on it."
"Could this lead to the White Tower's main tower?" Tasha asked.
"Impossible," Gloria shook her head. "The sub-space where the White Tower's main tower resides has a very formal spatial gate, used to maintain a stable connection between the White Tower and the Prime Material Plane. A sub-space gate would vanish after the magical environment deteriorates, just like the flour used to prevent sticky hands eventually blends into the pastry."
Gloria was a mage with a good sense of common sense and a touch of whimsy; her metaphor was immediately clear.
"Besides," Gloria added, "if this were the White Tower's entrance, why would the White Tower mages use ancient dark magic runes as the activation key?"
The ancient magical system—more brutal and closer to the Abyss—was viewed as entirely black magic by the standards of modern and contemporary magical systems. Though the White Tower was ancient, it represented an advanced and open-minded new school of ancient magic, much like the Academy of Athens in the pre-Christian era. Mages from both the old and new schools held no regard for one another; it was absolutely impossible to open the doors of one's own school using the techniques of the other.
"I'm a bit confused," the wild mage Rudolf shook his head. "Why would an unfinished portal connected to ancient mages appear near the White Tower?"
"Spoils of war," Miranda snorted coldly. "The Grand Mages of the White Tower don't have time to study it—they're too busy killing people."
Bruno, a descendant of the White Tower mages, gave a wry smile and didn't argue.
In a way, Miranda wasn't wrong.
Tashan had already figured out what was going on.
The White Tower's influence flourished for a time between the dragons' departure and the extinction of all legendary mages. They waged war across the world, eliminating threats while bringing back the spoils of war from their enemies to their headquarters. Many treasures were hastily piled within the White Tower; some were sent to create sources of magic, some vanished forever into the sub-space as the magical environment declined, and others—the tough nuts they couldn't digest all at once, like fruits that were hard to peel—were cracked open halfway and hastily tossed aside nearby.
For instance, the hidden location this passage leads to.
The mages' adversaries were no less extraordinary, and the spoils obtained from them surpassed the imagination of ordinary people. After the Anti-Magic Campaign, those non-casters would never realize that, aside from the books and magical artifacts they had taken, such vast wealth lay buried deep underground.
The passage to this unknown location had been opened, and its destination was linked to an ancient mage. The term "ancient mage" is invariably associated with two adjectives: "dangerous" and "filthy rich."
Mages are dangerous because of their spells, but after several centuries of a declining magical environment, all magical traps and highly dangerous magical creatures have been rendered obsolete by time.
Tasha realized for the first time that the decline of the magical environment had its benefits.
The mages' intense gazes fixed on the entrance. They exchanged brief words and quickly agreed on a course of action. Bruno, the white-robed mage, stepped forward, pulled spellcasting materials from his bag, and began to cast.
A string of unrecognizable, round dried fruits rolled in Bruno's palm. He muttered incantations, flipped his hand, and the fruits fell. The tiny dried fruits and some powder drifted down into the passageway, and mid-air, they began to grow rapidly.
This scene resembled a Druid casting a spell, but what happened next was distinctly mage-like. The withered fruits did not plump up; they remained shriveled, yet their numbers kept increasing as vine-like tendrils, resembling barbed wire, spread out into the underground space. The red fruits gradually glowed with a light like tiny bulbs, illuminating the path ahead as if a circuit had just been connected. The light wasn't particularly bright, but it was enough to illuminate the space below. Those above could see the bottom of the passage not far from them, as well as a long, seemingly endless passage stretching out ahead.
There was water at the bottom of the passage; it really did look like a sewer.
"This is the 'Leander Lantern Vine,' a spell invented by my White Tower ancestor," Brono explained. "The magical vines not only provide light but also scan the environment; only air suitable for human survival can make the lantern vines glow."
When the White Tower resolved to eliminate the threat, some mages within the tower rejected this stance and managed to escape—Leander was one of them. That legendary mage fled with his family, taking with him one-fifth of the White Tower Library's secret treasures. Afterward, he lived a relatively quiet life under an assumed name. In his final days, he vanished without a trace—perhaps like an ancient dragon journeying to the Dragon's Rest, leaving behind his homeland and family, leaving only legends for his descendants.
He left behind many things, such as the tortoiseshell spatial bracelet containing the White Tower's library, as well as some highly practical spells. "Lander's Lantern Vine" has only reappeared in the world in recent years, as the magical plant it requires—the Ghost Lantern—had long been extinct until it resurfaced in Eryan a few years ago.
This spell is incredibly useful; the detection revealed that the space below is well-oxygenated and free of toxic gases, eliminating the need to encase those entering within a magical bubble. Consequently, many more people can now enter, freeing up the mages to prepare additional spells.
The necromancer's apprentices unloaded skeletal remains from the wagons. Under the spell of the necromancer Dolores, these bones were guided by invisible threads, mended, and stitched together into tiny bodies. These were modified Dwarven skeletons. The diminutive skeleton soldiers appeared far more valiant and battle-hardened than they had in life—agile and powerful, more akin to the warlike pure-blooded Dwarves of legend. A small squad of skeleton soldiers, wielding bone blades, marched in formation at the front; their height was perfectly suited to the passage ahead.
The underground passage was quite cramped, less than two meters high, rendering all the giant skeletons the necromancer had prepared earlier useless. The particularly tall members of the guard were forced to wait obediently outside, while the other guards followed behind the small skeletons, shielding the mage.
The small skeletons were the first to jump in. They splashed through the water, appearing perfectly unharmed. The water here was deep enough to cover an adult's ankles; it had no foul odor, and when scooped up, it wasn't particularly murky—just the typical state of an underground stream. To be on the safe side, the wild mage Rudolf cast a Area Part Waters spell.
The underground river parted in the middle, revealing the shallow layer of silt beneath. Something darted away or burrowed into the mud as the water receded—it was too blurry to make out, but it was enough to send a chill down their spines.
The soldiers decided to have those with polearms lead the way, poking at the mud to avoid stepping on anything nasty.
One by one, they leaped down into the passage.
The underground passage was relatively low but surprisingly wide; disregarding the height, two horse-drawn carriages could easily pass side by side here. This width made it easy to form a line: the small skeleton soldiers led the way, with the guards following closely behind and flanking the mage in the center.
They had no idea where on the map of Eryan the other end of the teleportation passage lay. The surroundings exuded a chilling atmosphere, and the temperature was lower than in the inland regions during this season—though it was also possible that, being deep underground, temperature alone was an unreliable indicator of their location. The long underground passageway stretched endlessly into the distance. Bruno, the caster of the Lantern Vine spell, couldn't say where the vines ultimately led; he was only certain that a path lay ahead and that wherever there was a path, ordinary humans could breathe.
After walking for over ten minutes, the light filtering in from the entrance had completely vanished, and so had the sounds from outside. It was deathly quiet, broken only by the constant squelching of their footsteps in the mud. The walls were not natural cave formations but man-made structures, making the scenery all the more monotonous. Time seemed to stretch endlessly here; after another ten minutes or so, Tasa had already begun to feel bored.
The first attacker made its entrance at that very moment.
The Water-Parting Spell lacked the power of Moses parting the Red Sea; it could only create a circular dry zone with a four-meter radius. They had grown numb to the various creatures wriggling and writhing their way out as they advanced through the dry zone. This stretch of water must be connected to the outside world somewhere—that was the only explanation for all these random little creatures. As the circle moved forward a bit further, the group encountered a large creature for the first time.
It might have been a two-meter-long crocodile.
The word "possibly" was used because Tasha wasn't entirely sure if the creature was actually a crocodile. Although its outer skin was hard, it wasn't covered in scales but rather in wrinkled, tough hide. This layer of skin was very light in color, almost a creamy yellow, and clearly looked like it hadn't gotten enough sun. The crocodile-like creature had a massive mouth that took up a third of its body length, and it had no eyes.
It was well-camouflaged, resembling a piece of rotten wood; even the sharpest-eyed veteran, in this dim light, would likely not spot it until a meter or two away. But it was not the soldiers who charged first, but the necromancer's minions. Their eye sockets, ablaze with soulfire, could not perceive the distinct shapes and colors of objects, but the scent of the living was unmistakable to them.
The dwarves in the front row charged the "crocodile" in unison. Their bone knives were small enough to be almost cute, but when swung, they were anything but. Three bone blades struck simultaneously, and the giant beast lurking in the water thrashed violently, sending a huge splash into the air. Only then did the living realize just how massive the creature hiding nearby was, and the guards hurriedly drew their weapons.
"Stay where you are!" Dolores barked.
The guards froze in their tracks, scanning their surroundings warily, assuming she was warning them of another threat. Tasa, however, understood the necromancer's command perfectly. She hadn't shouted because she'd spotted anything; she simply had absolute confidence that the skeleton dwarves were more than capable of handling the situation—no outside help was needed.
And indeed, that was the case.
"The Crocodile" opened its gaping maw; its upper and lower jaws, lined with sharp teeth, swept forward and snapped shut. The skeleton soldier in the front was crushed in a single bite; the sound of snapping bones echoed through the air. The monster shook its head, and the shattered bones scattered across the ground, clearly demonstrating what would happen if anyone let "Crocodile" get within a meter or two. But the skeleton soldier who charged wasn't the only one; two others had already reached the "Crocodile," one slashing at its head, the other at its tail.
The bone blades sliced into the tough, hard hide; at first glance, it looked like a fruit knife stabbing at leather armor, seemingly having little effect. But one strike was followed by another, and one attacker was followed by another. The dwarf skeletons swarmed forward like a swarm of wasps, making a clattering sound as they all rushed onto the "Crocodile."
The skeleton soldiers in the Tarsha Graveyard are slow, low-level troops; those modified and controlled by necromancers, however, are far more agile and powerful, resembling a special forces unit—though even a special forces unit among basic undead troops couldn't be all that impressive. This battle was nothing to write home about—it was simply a case of the many defeating the few. The swarming skeleton soldiers took turns swinging their bone blades, sacrificing a few of their own to chop that "crocodile" into mincemeat.
The sewer blind crocodile's bloody debut was thwarted, turning instead into an opening act for the dwarf skeletons.
The guards, witnessing this scene for the first time, hissed and drew in sharp breaths. They looked thoroughly unaccustomed to it, some with expressions of sheer horror, likely shaken to the core by the sight of "our own allies looking more like villains." The necromancer and her apprentices stepped out from the parting crowd, walked over to the mangled, blood-soaked corpse of the "crocodile," crouched down, and began stripping the bones.
"Do you really have to do this at a time like this…" muttered a soldier. An apprentice, holding a blood-dripping organ from the crocodile, glanced back at him, and he fell silent immediately.
The black-robed mage and the wild mage also went to gather some spell ingredients. Soon after, they set off again, accompanied by several new, oddly shaped skeletons.
It feels a bit like a mage running a dungeon, Tasa thought. Enemies in this world don't drop loot, but adventuring with a mage—especially a necromancer—and being able to instantly convert battle spoils into combat power after defeating enemies is a truly satisfying feeling.
The journey proceeded smoothly.
The skeleton soldiers at the forefront cleared the path ahead. While they couldn't yet form a sea of skeletons, a single Dolores and a few necromancy apprentices capable of controlling one or two skeletons were already enough to form a vanguard. In the sewers, devoid of magical traps and constructs, the most fearsome enemies were nothing more than bizarre-looking creatures. Later on, they encountered a blind crocodile (which dropped several bones, a heart, and half a piece of intact hide) and some cat-sized rats (which dropped several bones and eyeballs). When the latter appeared alone, they met the same fate as the crocodile; should they appear in swarms, the mage had prepared Fireballs for area-of-effect attacks.
After the Fireballs lit up the sewers twice, no more giant rats came to trouble them.
The guards' journey grew increasingly easy; were it not for their professional discipline, they would likely have complained of having nothing to do. They had descended expecting a grueling battle, but once they reached the depths, the skeletons handled all the fighting. What gave the soldiers headaches was the low ceiling; it wasn't any giant monsters that drew their blood, but insects.
There were leeches here.
Leech-like insects lurked right above their heads—dark green bodies with several yellow stripes across their abdomens. Their suction cups didn't hurt when they bit, but they caused the blood to flow uncontrollably. The ceiling was too low, and moss grew in many places, occasionally brushing against the heads of the taller men. The damp, slimy feel of the leaking water and moss was almost indistinguishable from that of the leeches. They waited for their chance to drop into the space between the soldiers' helmets and collars, and when they did, few noticed. By the time they're noticed, these plump bloodsuckers have already gorged themselves.
The soldiers are the unluckiest of all; skeleton soldiers have no blood or flesh, so they serve as the vanguard—walking blood bags. As the soldiers marched ahead, they swept up the leeches like mine-sweeping machines, so the mages following behind rarely encountered them—especially since most mages weren't tall enough to brush against the walls, and their robes, complete with hoods, offered some protection.
Tasha walked in the front row, positioned between the soldiers and the mages. This allowed her to provide protection for others while ensuring the ace wouldn't be harmed by the deadly traps. Tasha had considered many possibilities and made extensive preparations before coming down, but so far, she'd had nothing to do.
The skeleton soldiers handled all the fighting, while the mages and mage apprentices remained fully focused throughout, watching for any potential oversights. The guards, who had previously fought off a few large rats that had breached the lines and retreated to the rear, were now busy sizing each other up and searching everywhere to swat away the pesky leeches. As for Tasa, she walked among them all—neither rats nor leeches had disturbed her the entire time.
A dark green worm lay motionless on a nearby branch. Tasa reached out toward it, but before it could touch her, the worm wriggled and scurried away.