novelraw Chapter 248 : Chapter 248
Chapter 248 : Chapter 248
Volume 4, Chapter 36 – A Call from the Soul
There was one thing I hadn’t told anyone else. Ever since I entered this city, I had felt a faint, familiar presence—something that seemed both nostalgic and yet completely foreign—quietly drawing me in, as though extending an unseen hand in invitation.
The pull of that presence was so strong that the very first thing I did after passing through the gate was head straight for the clock tower. When I saw the inscriptions carved upon it, I froze in place, overcome by a wave of dizziness, as though I had seen those words somewhere before.
It was as if something long sealed within the depths of my mind had been slightly pried open, shaking my understanding of who I was.
That door—beyond that door lay something important. Something that belonged to me. Something waiting for me to reclaim it.
The call grew stronger and stronger, heavier and heavier, as if it intended to pull my soul out of my body entirely.
Behind the door, the faint outline of a human form began to take shape. It was a girl—a girl with long, pale silver hair flowing to her ankles, crowned by a strange pair of elongated horns sprouting from her head. Her hair was the same color as mine, yet dimmer, as if covered by the dust of ages.
Who... was she?
A sharp pain surged through my head. I pressed a hand to my forehead and staggered. The light radiating from that silhouette made me feel incomplete, broken—like countless fragments of myself were reuniting elsewhere, finding their rightful home.
I didn’t want to accept it, yet what surprised me most was that I felt no resistance within. Somehow, it all felt natural—reasonable, even.
When I met Teresa, I had wanted to tell her about this strange sensation, but when I opened my mouth, no words came out.
It was as though my own instincts were trying to hide this secret.
From deep within, a powerful yearning took root—a cry from my very soul urging me to step through that door and uncover what lay beyond.
So, I pretended nothing was wrong and simply told Teresa about the clock tower.
Even now, though we were trapped in dire straits and one of our companions was dying, I found myself strangely indifferent.
My attention was wholly fixed upon that door of the clock tower. Before that silent call, everything else felt meaningless.
When they heard that I had found something resembling a “door,” Teresa and the others—Brilliant Sun and Clear Moon—didn’t hesitate. Teresa carried Yimi on her back, while Felicia guarded her flank with her greatsword, clearing away every roaming corpse and obstacle as they charged toward the tower.
As I’d said, strange inscriptions were etched upon the tower, but the most striking feature was not the writing—it was the six grooves embedded into the wall.
Beneath them was a carved mural—people of every kind, all bearing the same expression of sorrow and despair upon their faces.
The mural wasn’t realistic but expressive, its eerie strokes capturing the wretched souls of the refugees trudging through the mountain path.
A woman lay collapsed by the roadside, exhausted beyond measure. Her child wept beside her, clutching her lifeless form. Yet no one stopped to help. The others all wore different faces, but every one of them carried the same dull anguish. The little compassion that remained in them had been crushed by reality and the struggle for survival.
When Teresa touched the mural, a faint sound cracked the air—clack!—a brick tile fell from its surface.
She picked it up. The fallen piece depicted that same collapsed woman.
“Teresa! Yimi—Yimi’s in trouble!”
At Wenfu’s cry, we all turned to look. A fine layer of green fur had begun sprouting on Yimi’s face, and her complexion was growing darker and more painful.
After checking her condition, Teresa’s expression tightened. There were only two minutes left before Yimi’s complete demonization.
Time was running out.
“Teresa...” Felicia’s voice trembled as she looked at her. But Teresa’s eyes, jade-green and calm, held not a flicker of panic. Her composed presence alone brought a strange comfort.
After a brief pause, Teresa began to act. Thoughtfully, she took the fallen brick and fit it into one of the six grooves.
As she expected, the grooves were designed to hold these pieces of the mural.
She had seen many such mechanisms before. From experience, she knew they required inserting specific pieces of the mural into the slots in the correct order.
The inscription on the mural read: “The one who tied the bell must untie it. Only through utter ruin comes rebirth.”
The one who tied the bell must untie it...
Time slipped away. Yimi’s body was darkening further, her once radiant golden-elf complexion turning deathly pale.
No one dared interrupt Teresa. All our hopes rested on her.
If she failed, Yimi would not be the only one lost. We would all follow, one by one, transformed into monsters.
This journey through Ruglian had always been a gamble with death. Without Teresa blazing the trail ahead, none of us would have made it this far.
With only a minute remaining, Teresa ran her hand across the mural and suddenly opened her clear eyes.
She understood.
Scanning the mural, she quickly located the pieces she needed—first removing one brick, then rearranging them.
The first piece showed a man in chains, crippled and branded—a slave.
The second depicted the woman collapsed by the roadside.
The third was of a man trapped in a cage, bound hand and foot, crying for help.
The fourth—an unclothed girl slamming the cage in desperation to free him, copper coins scattered at her feet.
The fifth—a sickly man abandoned by his family, lying on the ground awaiting death.
The pattern was clear.
Each piece represented a form of suffering—reflections of the tragedies they had seen along the way. These were not random miseries; they were the very sins that had turned once-radiant races into demons.
The first—slavery, symbolized by the orc lands’ rebellion and oppression. The Coleman Forest, at its border, was a one-way passage—outsiders could enter, but orcs could never leave.
The second—famine, as seen in the werewolf lands where hunger drove them to cannibalism.
The third—imprisonment, embodied by the flame demons who lived trapped in molten rock, unable to leave their burning cradle.
The fourth—greed and taxation. The faceless men’s ruin had been caused not by theft, but by oppression. Starving, poor, and powerless, they turned on one another under the nobles’ manipulation, fighting to the death for mere scraps of gold.
And the fifth—plague, symbolized by the dying man abandoned by his kin, much like Yimi’s current state.
But...
When Teresa placed all the pieces, she froze. There were six grooves, yet only five realms of suffering.
Why six?
Had she missed something? Or was her entire assumption wrong?
Only thirty seconds remained.
Yimi’s skin cracked, her hair turning brittle and dry like straw. She looked like a mummified corpse.
Teresa clenched her fist and shut her eyes.
What had she missed? Why six grooves for five trials?
Then Wenfu’s faint self-reproach reached her ears.
“If only I’d found everyone sooner... none of this would’ve happened...”
Teresa’s eyes opened.
Not together...
That was it.
Every realm they had entered, they’d faced together—except this one. This time, they’d been separated the moment they entered.
“Wenfu, good job. Thank you for the reminder.”
“Hu–mya?” Wenfu blinked, confused.
Teresa quickly swapped the fifth and sixth tiles—placing the piece of the dying man in the final slot, and replacing the fifth with the tile showing the farmer whose wife had been taken by a noble’s carriage.
Yes—forced separation. That was the missing piece.
In order:
Slavery, famine, imprisonment, taxation, separation, plague.
Six fragments—complete.
Boom!
As the final brick slid into place, the clock tower walls trembled.
Dong... Dong…
The great bell tolled on its own. The deep, echoing sound reverberated through the lifeless city, pure and cleansing.
The vibrations pierced our ears, washing through our minds like a bright tide, stripping away the filth that clung to our souls.
When I blinked, time seemed to fold upon itself. One moment hazy, the next lucid, then hazy again.
And then—silence.
When we opened our eyes, sunlight streamed down upon a ruined city, old and scarred by time. Moss covered the clock tower’s face. The darkness had vanished, replaced by the melancholy stillness of history.
It felt as though we had been returned to the day this city had died.
“Yimi! Yimi!”
Wenfu’s joyful cry drew our attention—Yimi had returned to normal, though still unconscious.
“Did... did we succeed?” Felicia asked, scanning the surroundings. The oppressive gloom was gone, replaced by quiet decay.
“The corpses... they’re gone,” she murmured. Indeed, not a single demon corpse remained. Perhaps they had all been illusions.
Teresa looked toward the rusted bronze bell.
Clack. A stone fell from the wall, and the mural crumbled away, revealing a staircase descending underground.
“Does this mean... we cleared the trial?” Felicia asked hesitantly.
Teresa cast Divine Appraisal. The corruption debuff was gone.
“It should be.”
Silence settled upon us.
We all understood—beyond that staircase lay the true heart of Ruglian, its final ruler.
There was no turning back.
As we hesitated, one figure stepped forward without a word and descended first.
“Astrid?”
The silver-haired elf girl turned to glance at Wenfu, her eyes cold and distant.
Startled, Wenfu hid behind Teresa’s leg.
Astrid said nothing more and continued downward.
“Wenfu? What’s wrong?”
“U-um... nya?” Wenfu tilted her head, unsure.
Maybe it was just her imagination... but Astrid’s eyes had looked emptier than ever—cold, and nothing else.
Even Teresa’s gaze shifted slightly as she watched her go.
...Was it just her imagination?