The aftermath of battle echoed before the desolate mausoleum, leaving only the sound of two quickened breaths and that inescapable, ever-sharpening chorus of venomous whispers.
The air reeked of bone dust and corroded metal, mingled with the stench of the mire beneath their boots—enough to churn the stomach.
Kiriya flicked his obsidian blade, shaking off stains that were never truly there, before sliding it back into its scabbard.
His eyes, however, never left the mausoleum's entrance—a gaping maw of stone, like the jaws of a demon waiting to devour intruders whole.
Lina let out a measured exhale, the frost that swirled around her body ebbing at last.
She examined the fresh dent carved into her shield by the skeletal captain's strike.
Her fingers brushed across it, leaving behind a thin layer of rime that sealed the wound, if only for now.
"These guardians… they fought with the skill they held in life, not like common elites," Lina murmured, her voice cold but weighted with a subtle gravity.
"Whatever lies inside is bound to be worse."
"Ah, without a doubt."
Kiriya's reply came easily as he weighed the fragment of memory glowing faintly in his palm.
The shard's sickly green light danced across his features, casting fleeting shadows across his face.
"But 'surprises' often come with 'rewards,' don't they?"
His tone strove for lightness, though the edge of steel in his gaze betrayed his true focus.
Lina cast him a sidelong glance but said nothing. Instead, she tightened her grip on her sword. "Stay close. Keep sharp. Inside may not leave much room to dodge."
One after the other, they stepped through the gates of the Monteil family mausoleum.
The instant they crossed the threshold, the suffocating fog outside dissipated as if struck against an invisible barrier.
Yet the lifting of the mist did not bring clarity or relief—only a crushing, cloying pressure, the weight of countless souls bearing down.
The air bit with a chill that went beyond mere cold; it was the chill of something sinking its claws into the soul itself.
The whispers that had hounded them outside now gathered and swelled, no longer fragmented murmurs but a chorus of overlapping laments, curses, and wails. A tide of anguish surged straight into their minds.
Lina's frost barrier shimmered faintly, fending off the psychic erosion, while Kiriya's brow furrowed.
In his eyes flickered streams of data-light, as though he were forcefully filtering and dissecting the noise into something survivable.
The mausoleum was grander within than its exterior betrayed—and far more ruined.
They stood at the heart of a vast circular hall, its towering dome cracked and webbed with cobwebs.
Pale green light of uncertain origin bled weakly across the chamber, warping every shadow and lending the place an uncanny, malignant air.
The walls, once adorned with murals and reliefs celebrating the Monteil family's triumphs and faith, were now grotesquely defiled.
The faces of holy angels had been slashed open, twisted into weeping ghouls.
Glorious scenes of battle were smeared with stains the color of dried blood.
Murals of peace and prosperity were gouged by deep claw marks, as if someone in despair had tried to scrape away even the memory of happiness.
Kiriya's gaze lingered on these scars until his steps halted before one relief left almost intact.
It depicted a solemn ritual—a family patriarch receiving a ceremonial sword.
Yet a jagged crack split the carving in two, severing the patriarch's head from his body. Dark violet residue clung to the wound like a festering infection, exuding a malignant aura.
His fingers brushed the fissure, cold to the touch.
[System Message: Historical Scene Residue Detected. Activate "Memory Recall"? (Consumes [Memory Fragment] ×1)]
Kiriya froze.
"Lina," he called softly, his voice cutting sharply through the tomb's silence, "come look at this."
She approached with shield raised, scanning the shadows before resting her gaze on the relief. "What did you find?"
"A system prompt… It can replay this place's memory." He lifted the shard, its green glow pulsing faintly. "But it'll consume this."
Lina fell quiet, her eyes drawn to the tortured relief, then to the fragment—taken from that loyal yet broken guardian they'd slain only moments ago.
The connection felt both cruelly coincidental and disturbingly inevitable.
"…Is there risk?" she asked at last, voice cautious.
"Unknown. But it may be the fastest way to learn the truth." His eyes met hers. "To understand why they hate… why they linger. Know the enemy, know yourself."
Lina's gaze hardened. "Do it. I'll keep watch."
She stepped back half a pace, shield slightly raised, sword angled low, her frost swelling outward until both of them stood within its cocoon. Every sense attuned to the hall around them.
Kiriya drew a steady breath of icy air and focused his will.
[Activation Confirmed.]
The fragment in his hand blazed suddenly, flooding the relief's crack with mournful white light.
At once, the whispers snapped away—yanked from the air like strings cut from a puppet.
Silence fell, absolute and suffocating. Then the relief came alive, fissures bursting with blinding brilliance—
—The world shifted.
Kiriya, and Lina watching warily by his side, now stood centuries past, within the very same hall.
Yet here the walls gleamed unbroken, the murals radiant, the chamber awash in firelight and sanctity.
Dozens in Monteil finery gathered in reverence, enacting some great rite.
At their center stood a stern man in a crown—his likeness identical to the patriarch carved into the relief. He bore the ceremonial sword.
The air was solemn, devout.
Until the doors crashed open.
A tide of soldiers in black armor poured in, each plate branded with a snarling wolf's head. Their leader, eyes sharp with cruelty, strode forward.
"Valeriu Monteil!" he thundered, voice dripping with false grief and righteousness. "You have trafficked with darkness, betrayed the crown, defiled our faith! By the king's decree, the name Monteil is struck from this land!"
"Absurd!" Valeriu's voice cracked between fury and disbelief. "Our house has served with loyalty for generations! This is slander!"
"Slander?" The general sneered, raising a hand.
Soldiers dragged forth a trembling servant in Monteil livery. The man quaked, unable to meet his master's eyes, and croaked, "Y-yes… the lord… he practiced forbidden arts… summoned things not of this world…"
"You—!" Valeriu's face contorted, veins straining. Recognition flickered; betrayal seared deeper than steel.
No trial followed. The general's smile curved into cruelty. "Kill them all. Leave no one alive."
The sanctified hall erupted into carnage. Steel clashed, screams tore the air. Faithful retainers fell one by one, outnumbered and overwhelmed.
The hymns of devotion warped into shrieks of terror, cries of children, the wet rip of blades through flesh.
Kiriya and Lina watched unseen, spectral witnesses to the slaughter, the agony and betrayal seeping into their very bones.
The vision fixed on Valeriu. His eyes burned red as he watched kin and children butchered before him.
With a howl of anguish, he raised the ceremonial sword—only to drive it into the ground at his feet.
"By my blood! By my soul! By the name of Monteil!" His roar was a cry of blood and tears. "I curse you! I curse this false crown! I curse the traitor who betrayed me! I curse all the living who dare set foot here! My family shall never rest—this land shall be death's domain eternal! All who disturb our slumber shall suffer our torment forevermore!"
Dark, viscous energy burst from his body and blade, drowning the hall in writhing shadow—
The vision ended.
Kiriya staggered back, ripping his hand from the relief as if burned by that centuries-old hatred.
The whispers flooded back at once, sharper now, steeped in Valeriu's last malediction.
Lina's breath quickened. She had seen it too. Her knuckles whitened around her shield. "…So that's it. It wasn't darkness that consumed them—they embraced it. They became the curse itself."
Kiriya's voice rasped, quiet after a long pause. "Betrayal. Agony. It twisted their faith into venom. They were victims… but also executioners, binding their torment here without end."
His eyes swept the chamber anew. The scratches, the stains, the shattered murals—they no longer spoke of simple ruin, but of lives steeped in grief, etched into every stone.
The whispers rose around them, no longer meaningless noise but voices full of context:
"…Cold… so cold…" (the final chill of death)
"…Why… betrayal…" (the servant, the king)
"…No rest… never…" (the curse's vow)
"…Stay… with us…" (the hatred of all living who enter)
The truth weighed heavier than the unknown.
And then—
From deep below, down the spiral stairs into the lower crypt, came a sound heavier, darker, than any skeleton's before:
Clang… Clang… Clang…
Massive, dragging footsteps. The grinding of armor is like a tomb's scream.
A voice thundered up, fused with despair, madness, and sovereign wrath, rolling like storm clouds:
"Who… dares peer… into our torment…"
"Who… disturbs the Monteil's eternal rest…"
Lina snapped into her highest guard, shield high, frost radiating outward in jagged sheets. "Prepare yourself! The true master approaches!"
Kiriya drew in a breath, steadying the storm Valeriu's tragedy had left within him. His obsidian blade slid free once more, eyes kindled with a warrior's flame, sharp and cold.
"Ah… Looks like the 'surprise' has arrived."