Bishop Mehn ascended the spiral staircase step by step, descending into the depths of the underground.
This natural sinkhole is so deep it could submerge four Heavenly Towers, with a diameter of over twenty zhang (about 60 meters) – enough to fit an entire Lordcastle. The cave was never dark at first. Its towering dome had skylights, through which light filtered into the depths, casting winding patterns of light on the ice-cold stone walls.
As the altitude continues to drop, the light spot gradually dims and soon merges with the stone wall. However, the center of the pit reflects a faint blue light, which becomes more pronounced as one descends. Even without a torch, one would not find themselves in a pitch-black predicament.
The staircase beneath us, like a small snake winding around the pit, clings to the rock face.
The stairway slab, carved from granite, is rectangular in shape and three finger-widths thick, allowing two people to walk side by side. One end is embedded in the rock wall, while the other end hangs freely. To prevent accidental falls, wooden railings are installed at the suspended end, interconnected by ropes.
He had never counted the exact number of steps in the staircase, but he knew each stone slab required immense effort to lay. The Church's stonemasons descended using suspended ropes, chiseling deep grooves into the hard rock before inserting the slabs. Every movement demanded extreme caution, as a single slip or rope break could send up to three hundred people plummeting into the pit.
If the Church of Hermes atop the head symbolizes the unyielding spirit of God, then the hidden mechanism of Hermes at the cave's deepest level is the true core of the Church.
The stone walls along the steps are inlaid with God's Punishment Stones. Every hundred steps, a member of the Inquisition Army stands guard, while inside the mechanism, a contingent of God's Punishment troops remains on standby to repel invaders. Between the dome and the cathedral floor lies a layer of sandbags and rubble. Should the Holy City's defenses fail and evacuation becomes necessary, the Pope will activate the trap, burying the area completely under sand and debris.
Although this was not his first visit to the Hermes mechanism, the sensation of walking through mid-air still left him dizzy. Particularly when he looked around, he would always have the illusion of being in a falling state.
He breathed a little easier when his feet touched the solid ground.
At the base of the sinkhole lies a massive circular white grinding stone, its mirror-like surface so smooth that one can clearly see their reflection standing on it. Through the artisans' ingenious design, light from the dome-shaped skylight refracts multiple times within the pit walls, converging precisely on this stone at the bottom. Even without a fire, the sinkhole floor remains not pitch-black.
Only at the pit's bottom does one realize sunlight isn't colorless. The polished stone reflects a faint blue glow, and when you look up, the entire sinkhole is bathed in this cool blue light. Upon closer inspection, countless dust particles flutter in the brighter areas, resembling tiny creatures described in ancient texts.
The Church utilized naturally formed cavities in the cave's base and walls, connecting and expanding them to create the Hercules mechanism. These interconnected passages also ensured excellent air circulation, eliminating the oppressive and decaying atmosphere typically found in deep underground environments.
As Mehn stepped through the gate of the facility, the security tightened abruptly. The Inquisition Army, organized in five-person squads, guarded every checkpoint—these were the Church's most devoted warriors. Once assigned to this duty, they would spend their entire lives within the facility, never to return to the surface.
In reality, only he and the Pope had access to the facility, while even the two senior bishops, Heather and Tavren, were barred from entering.
Yet Maine remained uncertain about the labyrinth of paths within the mechanism. Beyond the main thoroughfare running due south, numerous side passages branched off on both sides. Tracing these branches often revealed more forks, some exploited by the Church while others remained sealed. He had heard tales of craftsmen who, during construction, mistakenly entered unmarked passages and became lost forever, never finding their way back.
The straight main road winds deep into the mountain, with checkpoints set every thirty zhang (approximately 100 meters). Main knew the mechanisms between each checkpoint served distinct purposes. The outermost section was a living quarters for the warriors stationed at the cave's base. The second section functioned as an archive, storing documents, fragments, and ancient texts. The third section was a prison area housing prisoners who couldn't be exposed to light... and the innocent.
After clearing three checkpoints, Main halted. The next step was the Secretariat of the Church, the heart of all its research and inventions—a place he couldn't enter without the Pope's permission. In his three years as Archbishop, he had only ventured in once.
Meen turned left and entered a fork in the road.
The forked path was short, and he soon reached its end. When Bishop appeared, the gatekeeper of the Inquisition Army immediately clenched his fist and struck his chest. "Sir!" Meen nodded. "Open the gate." Inside, a corridor stretched to the end, its walls adorned with burning tar torches that shimmered like countless flickering lights in the darkness. Along the corridor stood rows of thick wooden doors, each with a numbered plate hanging in the center.
The judge raised his torch and led the way. As he walked, Main kept his eyes on the changing numbers on the signboard. When he spotted the weathered doorplate bearing the number thirty-five, he stopped, took out the key, and inserted it into the lock, turning it gently. The creak of the lock opening rang out sharply in the silent depths of the cave, with faint echoes echoing from the corridor's end. Like a signal, wails of distress rose from behind the doors—men's and women's. Listening closely, the cries were mostly pleas: "Let me out!" "Save me!" "Please, kill me!"
Unmoved, Maine ordered his warriors to guard the entrance. He entered the room, shut the wooden door, and cut off the chaotic sounds from the outside.
Through the iron railing, Bishop saw an elderly man leaning against the bed—perhaps not old in years, but now with graying hair and a forehead lined with wrinkles. His beard, long unshaven, hung nearly to his neck. Having not seen sunlight for too long, his skin had turned a ghastly pallor, and his limbs were as withered as bamboo poles.
Mein glanced at the lunchbox by the iron railing—the food inside had barely been touched. He sighed, "You should treat yourself better. The Church has no shortage of such provisions. Your meals are prepared to the King's standards, except for the absence of wine. Even the fish comes from the finest cod in Port of Clearwater. You must be familiar with its taste, Lord Wimbledon."