Chapter 78: Agith Door
Raven rolled his shoulder as Rapid Regeneration mended the lingering damage from the corpse explosions.
"I never thought fighting a Necromancer would be this troublesome," he muttered.
Marcellus exhaled. "We were fortunate, My Lord. In the Viser Kingdom, some Necromancers can command thousands of undead. Against them… we would've lasted a minute at best."
"Then thank the gods for Aether Weapons," Raven said just as a familiar figure strolled over the broken cobblestones—rifle slung over his shoulder.
Jacob.
Ten silver-armored cavalry riders followed behind him.
"It seems the outer battle is finished," Marcellus noted.
"Expected," Raven replied.
He walked toward Jared's headless corpse. "Dispose of this one. And the skeletons. I don't need reporters learning the wrong things."
"Yes, My Lord."
Marcellus didn't need explanation. If rumors spread that House Holmes had crushed two Expert-Rank Walkers, the Empire would start asking dangerous questions.
Quincy and the cavalry halted nearby, boots grinding on shattered stone.
"My Lord," Quincy reported, "the outskirts are clear. No survivors remain."
"Good," Raven said. "Clean the battlefield. Burn everything. I don't want outsiders wandering in."
"Yes, My Lord."
Raven nodded toward Marcellus.
"Let's finish off the remaining rats."
The mansion rose from the ruins like the last intact skeleton in a graveyard. The stone façade was polished, but the land around it was dead—charred homes leaning like corpses, cracked paths stretching from the gates like dried veins.
Inside the compound walls—half collapsed—stood withered garden beds. Dead shrubs. Trees turned to brittle husks.
Raven walked through the silence, boots crunching dead leaves.
Marcellus shadowed him quietly.
They stepped up the porch stairs, crossed the cracked portico, and pushed open the heavy doors.
The mansion's main hall greeted them with cold air and five startled occupants.
Two middle-aged scholars.
One young woman in a white robe—ink-stained, parchment in hand.
One young man—robes trimmed with runes.
And an old woman with lifeless white eyes.
Raven's eyes narrowed—not at the humans.
At the small creature perched on the old woman's shoulder.
At first glance, a mouse.
But the killing intent from its bead-like eyes screamed otherwise.
His monocle flicked.
[Status Identified]
Name: Nok'Varin (Molly)
Race: Dread Mimic
Rank: Demon Minion (Rank-2)
Title: Pet of Trelkazar
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Abilities: Shapeshift, Consume Identity, Nightmare Maw, Dark Imitation, Whisper of Madness
'A demon minion,' Raven thought. 'In a research team? Wonderful.'
All five individuals had risen, tense.
The young rune wizard swallowed. "W-Who are you?"
Raven smiled lightly. "Thomas Holmes. Owner of this land."
Shock rippled across their faces.
"I know Jared Duskbane hired you to uncover the secrets of this estate. Unfortunately, your employer died a few minutes ago."
The demon minion twitched.
Even the old woman flinched.
Evelyne—the blonde scholar—clutched her parchment.
The rune wizard stepped back.
The other linguists exchanged panicked glances.
"We even killed an Expert-Rank Necromancer," Raven added casually. "So don't try anything clever."
"W-What do you want from us?" Evelyne asked, voice steady despite the fear.
"You illegally occupied a noble's territory," Raven said coldly. "And attempted to kill the heir of House Holmes. If this reaches the Imperial Court, you'll rot in prison for the rest of your lives."
Their faces paled.
"But," Raven continued, "I'm not here to kill you. As long as you hand over every document related to your research, you're free to walk out of here."
Silence.
A long, trembling silence.
Finally, the young rune wizard found his voice.
"We—we've been studying the Agith Door for ten years. If you give us a little time, we can—"
"I don't care about your research." Raven waved him off. "From this moment onward, this land is mine."
He glanced at Marcellus. "Shall we arrest them and send them to the Court?"
"Yes, My Lord," Marcellus said. "And we should file charges against Crest Merchandise for illegal occupation under the guise of archaeological research."
Evelyne tensed… then exhaled slowly.
"We… will hand over everything. All our documentation on the Door of the Agith Age."
Her voice steadied. "But you must keep your end of the deal."
"I will," Raven said. His gaze sharpened. "Evelyne, correct? Take me to the Agith Door."
Her eyes widened.
"H-How do you know my na—"
"I don't like being questioned," Raven cut in. "Lead."
Evelyne swallowed and nodded.
The others stayed frozen—until Marcellus gestured.
"Stay. We'll deal with you after."
As Raven followed Evelyne… he noticed something.
The demon mouse was gone.
Not moved.
Gone.
Raven didn't comment. But his eyes scanned the corners.
"Proceed," he said softly.
Evelyne led them through a narrow hallway lit by weak blue flames flickering inside brass sconces. Dust thickened the air. The deeper they went, the more stagnant the smell became.
"We discovered the sealed entrance ten years ago," Evelyne said, voice echoing faintly. "It was behind a false cellar wall. Sir Jared tried to bypass the rune locks, but… they're unlike any known system."
"Agith-era runes," Raven said. "Self-triggering inscriptions. Bloodline-reactive glyphs."
Evelyne jerked. "Y-Yes… exactly. How did you—?"
Raven didn't answer.
Bloodline. Hidden chamber. Repeated extraction of Thomas Holmes's blood.
The entire puzzle slotted neatly together.
They descended a spiral staircase into a large underground research hall.
Tables cluttered with scrolls, cracked stone tablets, bottles of reagents, broken brushes, rune-etched copper plates. Bookshelves sagging under the weight of texts.
But none of it mattered.
Not compared to the monolith at the far end.
A massive black stone door—ten feet tall, carved into a perfect arch. Golden and red runes pulsed faintly across the frame like a sleeping heartbeat.
At its center, an eight-pointed star-shaped indentation waited.
Raven stepped closer.
A metallic scent reached him.
Blood.
Fresh blood?
Old blood?
Hard to tell. But it coated the runes.
He wiped at the red rune lines with his thumb.
The red pigment peeled back—revealing golden glyphs beneath.
Evelyne gasped softly.
"It was blood…!" she whispered.
A chill crawled through Raven's heart.
His eyes drifted upward.
Above the arch, an inscription stretched across the stone—etched in strange, curling characters.
Raven's eyes narrowed.
Lark Language… just like in Runeth's memories.
He stepped closer, brushing dust from the groove with his thumb.
Then he read aloud:
"Thou divine's children may have stolen the Mother's World,
but only the blood of Mother's child may open the seal.
Seek the descendant of Coileán, my bloodkin—
for only they shall show the way."
The chamber fell still.
Evelyne's jaw dropped.
"You… you can read Agith script?" she whispered in disbelief.
Raven didn't even glance at her.
"I told you not to question me."
Marcellus finally spoke, voice low.
"My Lord… this might be a legacy vault."
Raven hummed thoughtfully. "Possibly."
Then he looked at Evelyne.
"Marcellus, take her back."
"Yes, My Lord."
"And once she and her team hand over every document related to this door, escort them out of Holmes Territory."
Evelyne stared at Raven—shock, awe, and suspicion warring in her eyes—but obeyed and walked away.
Behind her, the scholars exchanged whispers.
We studied it for a decade… and he deciphered it in seconds…
She kept glancing over her shoulder at Raven, as though trying to decide whether he was mortal at all.
When they were gone, the silence settled again.
Raven stared at the runes, exhaled sharply.
"Even though we deciphered the text… we're still back to square one."
[Perhaps once you reach Rank-4 or Rank-5 as a Warlock, you'll glimpse its past,] Zera suggested.
Raven chuckled softly.
'I can barely see thirty days into the past. To read something this ancient… I'd need to reach Legendary Rank. Maybe higher.'
He rubbed his forehead.
"But that's not the real issue here."
A faint sense of rot gnawed at him.
Not physical rot—something deeper, darker.
Something soaked into the very stones.
He scanned the chamber again.
It was barren—save for tables, scrolls, research tools.
Nothing that could explain the nausea twisting in his stomach.
No… it's coming from somewhere else.
Raven narrowed his eyes, turning toward the eastern wall.
No draft.
No visible cracks.
But the foul smell oozing from that direction was unmistakable—iron, bile, something rotten left far too long.
He pressed his palm against the wall.
Stone trembled.
Groaned.
Then split apart, revealing a narrow stairway drowning in darkness.
Raven pulled out an Aether lamp and descended.
Each step worsened the smell—thick, suffocating, rancid.
By the time he reached the bottom, his eyes widened.
A dome-shaped dungeon.
A nightmare carved in flesh and stone.
Bodies—no, remains—hung from hooks embedded in the ceiling.
Some flayed, skin hanging like parchment.
Others dissected meticulously, organs removed and preserved in murky jars.
Blood coated the walls.
Bones littered the ground.
Chains lay tangled like dead serpents.
An operating table sat in the center, stained completely black.
Raven's stomach heaved.
"Psychopath…"
He staggered back, leaned against the wall, and vomited.
Breathing hard, he wiped his mouth and stumbled back toward the exit.
He didn't want to know how many people had died down here.
He didn't want to imagine what experiments Jared had attempted.
He simply climbed out.
When he emerged into the main hall, sunlight slanted through broken windows.
It was already past 10 A.M.
The Sepoy Mercenaries and young knights had returned, gathered in small groups, murmuring quietly.
Evelyne and her research team stood near the entrance, belongings packed.
Only one of their members was missing.
Raven looked around.
"Where is your companion?"
Evelyne hesitated.
"The dark wizard… Madam Bailey. Her pet disappeared. She went upstairs to look for it."
Raven's gaze hardened slightly.
"Her pet… you mean the mouse?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Was it truly a pet?"
Madam Bailey returned from the second floor, wringing her hands.
"I couldn't find Molly…" Her voice trembled. "I've raised her for eight years. She would vanish sometimes, but she always returned."
Evelyne stepped to her side, offering comfort. "Madam Bailey… she'll come back. Let's just leave first."
Before they could move, Evelyne suddenly froze.
She finally noticed.
Every Sepoy Mercenary.
Every Knight.
All lined along the walls and stairs.
Blocking every exit.
Weapons sheathed—but ready.
The air grew heavy.
Evelyne swallowed.
"What… is the meaning of this, Mr. Holmes?"
Raven didn't respond to Evelyne's fear-stricken question.
He simply looked at Marcellus, pulled a spear from his inventory, and said quietly:
"Strike."
The word hadn't even faded when Marcellus's sword flashed.
The blade ripped from its sheath and blazed with a deep reddish aura—an executioner's arc slicing straight toward Raven's neck.
"Shadow Swift."
Raven dissolved into darkness and slid across the room like living ink.
He reformed—right behind Evelyne.
Before she even registered his presence, a terrible pressure fell over her.
She tried to turn.
Too late.
A razor-sharp pain grazed her nape—
—then her vision spun violently.
The world turned sideways, then upside down.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Her head fell to the floor without understanding how she died.
Where she had been standing, Raven reappeared in an instant.
He stepped back and, without hesitation, drove his spear straight into the old woman's chest.
"W–Why…?" she gasped, staring at the spear protruding from her as she staggered backward.
Raven ripped the weapon free. The woman collapsed.
Reginald froze—first in confusion, then terror. His lips trembled with a spell, ready to teleport—
But chains of shadow burst from the floor, coiling around him like living serpents.
"Shall we kill him too, My Lord?" Rebecca asked as she walked forward.
She never got the chance.
Quincy lunged in from the side, her spear blazing with yellow aura.
She thrust.
Reginald's chest caved under the impact.
"When you ambush someone, always go for the kill," Quincy said as she withdrew her spear.
Her gaze snapped to the two middle-aged scholars.
"P-Please spare us!" one screamed.
The other turned and bolted.
Quincy didn't even blink.
She swept her spear in a smooth arc—swift, brutal.
Two heads flew cleanly into the air, bodies collapsing seconds later. Blood pooled across the dusty marble.
Silence swept the hall.
Raven exhaled slowly and looked at Rebecca.
"If the enemy had stayed calm and calculative, he could've escaped—or killed you. Never lower your guard."
He glanced at the corpses.
"Clean this up as well."