Deep in the sewer, the darkness was thick enough to drip ink.

  Far away from the hustle and bustle and neon of the surface, there was only the smell of rotting organic matter, the iron smell of rusty metal, and the dull sound of water flow from unknown pipes in the distance. That was the intestine of the city, digesting the filth and sin of the upper world.

  Clatter, clatter, clatter...

  Messy and rapid footsteps broke the dead silence, stirring up layers of echoes in the narrow concrete pipe, sounding like countless ghosts chasing behind.

  "Stop!"

  Carlisle suddenly raised his charred left hand, voice hoarse as if polished on sandpaper. He leaned back against the damp pipe wall, chest heaving violently; every breath was like stuffing a handful of broken glass into his lungs.

  "Something's wrong ahead."

  Savage stopped immediately; that thick mechanical arm raised rapidly, the shotgun in hand loaded with a click, muzzle locking dead on the dark corner ahead. Lyria slid into the shadow silently; three throwing knives thin as cicada wings were held between slender fingers; amber pupils constricted into needle points in the darkness.

  At the corner ahead, a swaying, dim light column hit dead on the only way. That light was unstable, dancing wildly on the mossy wall with the lamp holder's trembling, accompanied by a burst of heavy and flustered panting, sounding like a startled consumptive beast.

  "Search team of Purge Paratroopers?" Savage lowered his voice, letting out a beast-like low growl in his throat. "Did they get around to the front so fast?"

  "No... the rhythm is wrong." Carlisle narrowed his eyes; although the Truth Vision was blurred, he could still distinguish that there was no ether hum unique to magitech armor on the opponent. "That light source is an old-fashioned carbon mine lamp."

  Just then, that beam of light shook violently, seeming that the lamp holder heard the movement on their side, flinging the light column over abruptly, shining directly on Carlisle's face pale as a ghost and full of bloodstains.

  Dead silence lasted for half a second.

  Immediately after—

  "Wahhh! Ghost! Don't eat me!!"

  A pig-killing scream came from that end, shrill enough to pierce eardrums. followed by a clang crisp sound; that mine lamp fell to the ground, rolling around, light column rotating and jumping madly between the ceiling and sewage.

  A green short figure squatted holding his head, shrinking into a meat ball, shivering there, mouth still muttering madly:

  "Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I have no meat, all gutter oil! Eating me will cause diarrhea! I have no money either, money all used to buy lubricant..."

  The lethal mandate originally accumulated at Carlisle's fingertips dissipated instantly; corner of mouth twitched uncontrollably.

  "...Val?"

  That trembling green meat ball froze abruptly.

  "Uh?" The goblin carefully moved the big hand covering his head a slit, revealing a rolling beady eye. By the light of the rolling mine lamp on the ground, he saw those three wretched figures clearly.

  In that instant, on that green face full of cross-flesh and wrinkles, the change of expression was wonderful enough to be written into a drama textbook—from extreme horror, to disbelief, finally erupting into ecstasy.

  "Ma... Master?! Is it really you?!"

  Val Goldtooth scrambled over, not even caring about the sewage on the ground splashing all over himself. "Praise the God of Gold Coins! Praise the God of All Machines! Scared me to death! I heard the explosion above, thought those tin cans killed down! thought my investment was all gone!"

  "I also almost thought you were a lurking sentry, preparing to blast you into slag." Savage put away the gun grumpily, stepped forward to lift the goblin up like lifting a chick, making his feet leave the ground. "You bastard, you ran faster than a rabbit just now."

  "That's called strategic transfer! I'm a technician, not a combatant!" Val kicked his short legs righteously. "Besides, didn't I come back to meet you? This place is like a maze; without me leading the way, you can only circle in the cesspit!"

  "Enough, reminiscence ends here."

  Carlisle interrupted the two's dispute. He supported himself against the wall, forcing himself not to fall, eyes terrifyingly sharp:

  "Pursuers are right behind, five minutes at most. Val, are you familiar with this area?"

  "Familiar! Too familiar!" Val patted his chest; those beady eyes flashed shrewdly in the darkness. "This old drainage area is my back garden; I know exactly where every rat path leads! I know several dead ends not even marked on municipal drawings!"

  "Very good."

  Carlisle nodded, then made a move unexpected by everyone.

  He snatched that heavy metal suitcase from Lyria's arms, placed it on his knees; fingertips tapped rapidly on the lock buckle.

  Click.

  The lid popped open.

  That palpitating red light illuminated the dim sewer again.

  Inside the box, that "Truth Core" fixed by layers of rune locks was pulsating at low frequency, emitting faint and dangerous silver light.

  Carlisle didn't hesitate at all, not even wearing protective gloves. He extended his blood-stained right hand, five fingers forming a claw, grabbing the edge of the core fiercely; a blue dissociation rune lit up in his palm.

  "Bear with it, little guy."

  He whispered, wrist exerting force abruptly.

  Shhh-lick!

  Accompanied by a harsh noise like current short circuit, that not-so-big dodecahedron core along with the energy transmission base at the bottom was forcibly "Gouged" out of the box by him!

  Lyria gasped: "What are you doing? Without the box's shielding, its signal will be exposed immediately!"

  "It's meant to be exposed."

  Carlisle quickly stuffed that hot core into the inside pocket of his close-fitting coat, where there was a simple shielding bag made of magical beast leather he pre-sewn.

  At this time, in that expensive alloy suitcase, only an empty groove and a few residual connection contacts remained.

  "Watch closely; this is a 'Big Gift' prepared for the Order."

  Carlisle bit his fingertip; fresh blood gushed out. Using blood as ink, at the bottom of that empty groove, he wrote a line of scarlet twisted runes quickly.

  His left eye pupil constricted abruptly; silver gear phantom rotated madly, forcibly pouring his will into these blood characters.

  [Inject Mandate: Deceptive Script]

  [Logic Rewrite: Target Attribute -> Fusion-Class High Energy Reaction]

  [Signal Simulation: Truth-Class Ether Wavelength]

  Hummmm!!!

  The originally dead silent empty box suddenly vibrated violently!

  Although nothing in that empty groove, in everyone's perception, a miniature sun seemed to be born there suddenly! A burst of violent, chaotic, extremely unstable false energy fluctuation shot up to the sky, even causing visible heat distortion in the surrounding air.

  Although no entity, in the scan of ether radar, the energy reading emitted by it at this moment was ten times more violent than the real core!

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  "This... is this an illusion?" Savage widened his eyes, retreating a half step subconsciously.

  "No, this is 'Deception.' I am modifying reality parameters." Carlisle's face was paler; a blood trail flowed from his nostril; that was the backlash of excessive use of True Word Spell. "For those machine scanners, the temptation of this empty box now is greater than a succubus stripped naked."

  He snapped the box shut with a snap, handing this hot potato sending false signals madly to Savage.

  "Now, it is the brightest light bulb in the entire city."

  Carlisle turned to the goblin, tone unquestionable:

  "Val, I want you to take Savage to that 'Echo Pipe'—that abandoned cistern you bragged about before that can amplify fart sound a hundred times."

  "Ah? There?" Val was stunned, then those beady eyes lit up abruptly, revealing those uneven gold teeth. "Hehehe... Master, you are really bad. That place is a dead end, and biogas deposited for hundreds of years underneath, just a little spark..."

  "Yes, exactly there." Carlisle said coldly. "Throw the box into the deepest part of the cistern. This signal will suck all paratroopers over like moths to a flame. As long as they dare to open fire, or try to violently demolish the box..."

  "Boom! Blow them to the sky!" Val rubbed his hands excitedly, as if already seeing that magnificent scene.

  "Move fast. Throw the box and turn back immediately; we meet at the 'Mirror Hall' entrance coordinate."

  "Leave it to me!" Val grabbed Savage's heavy mechanical arm. "Big guy, follow me! Let those idiots see what sewer horror is!"

  Savage carried that box actually empty but alarming madly, looked back at Carlisle deeply, said deeply: "Don't die there."

  "Get lost." Carlisle waved his hand weakly.

  Savage talked no more nonsense, following the goblin into another narrow fork; heavy footsteps accompanied by the goblin's sharp laughter went away rapidly.

  ...

  In the main channel, only Carlisle and Lyria remained.

  Surroundings returned to dead silence again, only occasional dripping sounds from distance.

  "Can you still walk?" Lyria reached out to support Carlisle's arm, letting most of his body weight press on her slender shoulder.

  "Can't die." Carlisle gritted his teeth; leg muscles spasmed with every step. "Just ahead, around that bend."

  Two minutes later.

  They arrived at the dead end at the end of the sewer according to the scheduled coordinates.

  This looked like the end of the world. The camouflage door originally leading to the underground ruin maintenance channel had long vanished without a trace, replaced by a heavy brick wall covered with glowing moss and wet. Thick filth and yellow-brown water stains condensed on the wall surface; only the dizzying static smell permeating the air indicated the unusualness here.

  "Arrived."

  Carlisle let go of Lyria's hand; body slid down slowly along the wall, sitting on the cold wet ground.

  The continuous burst just now, thermodynamic shielding, plus forcibly writing "Deceptive Script" just now, had completely drained his last trace of energy. Current him felt like lifting a thousand-jun heavy burden even moving a finger.

  He raised that charred left hand; fingertips drew in the air, trying to outline the inverse operation mandate to unlock spatial folding.

  However, in his Truth Vision, the data stream that should have been clear as a stream was now like a tangled mess of hemp. They flickered, broke, disintegrated constantly, simply unable to form a complete logic loop.

  [Warning: Low Mental Capacity]

  [Warning: Logic Core Overheating, Unable to Construct Complex Geometric Model]

  That red warning box jumped madly on his retina, mocking his incompetence.

  "Damn..."

  Carlisle gritted his teeth; knuckles turned white due to force; fingers trembled violently in the air, finally drooped weakly, smashing heavily on the muddy ground.

  "I encrypted it too well... truly ironic."

  He let out a self-mocking bitter laugh, voice full of despair: "I put the world's most complex lock on my own door, result now I locked myself out. The key is in my brain, but my hands shake so much I can't even find the keyhole."

  This was a fatal mistake.

  He calculated everything, but only overestimated his state under limit conditions.

  "Need me to smash the wall open?" Lyria stood quietly beside, playing with the throwing knife in hand, tone calm as if asking what for dinner.

  "Useless." Carlisle shook his head; sweat dripped down pale cheeks. "This is high-order spatial folding algorithm; physical attacks will only be bounced off by spatial curvature, or trigger collapse to shred us all. This needs mathematics, needs precise calculation..."

  "That's your mages' way of unlocking."

  Lyria interrupted him.

  She put away the throwing knife, walking slowly to that filthy dead wall.

  As an elf with severe mysophobia, usually frowning even if skirt corner stained with dust, at this moment she didn't hesitate at all. She extended those white jade-like hands, gently pressing on that brick wall covered with slippery moss and stinking filth.

  Not only that, she also turned her head, pressing that pointed ear on the cold wet wall surface, closing eyes.

  "Carlisle, you kept saying you 'Folded' this space."

  Lyria's voice became ethereal, as if carrying some echo: "But in my perception, this wall is not an entity, but a forcibly twisted ripple. It is vibrating, struggling, like a tightened string, just frequency very messy."

  "That is spatial turbulence..." Carlisle explained weakly; vision began to blur. "If not calmed according to specific mathematical model..."

  "No need for mathematical model."

  Lyria opened her eyes abruptly; those amber eyes shone in the darkness, as if burning with golden flame:

  "Since it's a 'String,' then just need... Tuning."

  She turned to look at Carlisle: "Tell me the coordinate and core frequency. Since you call it 'Mirror Hall,' it must be waiting for some specific reflection."

  Carlisle was stunned. In that instant, he seemed to understand Lyria's intention.

  This was a crazy attempt, using perceptual intuition to crack rational logic. But at this moment, this might be the only way to live.

  He closed his eyes, forcibly extracting that group of core data originally used for mathematical modeling from deep within the chaotic mind palace:

  "Phase Coordinate X-27, Y-Alpha... Base Frequency Hertz: Deep Blue Fluctuation, and... Third-Order Overtone."

  "Received."

  Lyria took a deep breath; chest heaved slightly.

  She began to hum.

  That wasn't human language, nor spell chanted by mages. That was an extremely low, extremely pure single note, echoing in the narrow sewer pipe. At first, the sound was small, like the rustling of wind passing through leaves, but soon, that sound began to become stable, tough, carrying a power penetrating the soul.

  That was the ancient ballad of Primordial Contractors. Elves don't analyze the world; they resonate with the world.

  Hummmm—

  A miracle happened.

  As Lyria's pitch gradually approached the "Third-Order Overtone" given by Carlisle, the surrounding air began to tremble.

  Crack—Rustle rustle rustle.

  That heavy brick wall covered with moss and stained with filth in front actually began to peel off like paint skin curled after exposure to sun.

  Large pieces of dark green humus layer, camouflaged brick skin began to dry, crack, then fall profusely, like gray snowflakes.

  And under that layer of filthy skin, the hidden real material was revealed.

  That wasn't stone, nor metal.

  That was a layer of slowly flowing, silvery-white liquid Mercury.

  With the resonance of Lyria's voice, this layer of vertical mercury seemed to have life. It was no longer dead matter, but with the frequency of singing, perfect silvery ripples began to ripple out from the center.

  The originally turbid, dirty, dark sewer was washed clean in that silvery ripple.

  The mercury mirror surface gradually stabilized, becoming smooth as new, clearly reflecting the figures of the two—Carlisle sitting paralyzed on the ground full of shock, and Lyria with hands pressed on the mirror surface, expression focused and sacred.

  But this reflection was so clear, even more real, more vivid than the person. As if that bizarre world in the mirror was real, and they standing here were illusory shadows.

  "Entrance to Mirror Hall..."

  Carlisle looked at that perfect fluid mirror surface, murmuring to himself, eyes full of obsession: "Is this my original design... too beautiful. I actually built a liquid valve with sound waves..."

  Just then—

  BOOM——!!!

  In the distance, from the direction of that so-called "Cistern," an earth-shattering loud noise suddenly came!

  Dull explosion sound transmitted along the complex pipe network, shaking the entire sewer trembling, dust overhead falling rustlingly. Immediately after, a scorching heat wave mixed with burnt smell blew on the face, messing up Lyria's golden long hair.

  The bait worked.

  "Run ahhh! I can't make it! My butt is on fire!!"

  At the end of the dark passage, Val's sharp scream came from far to near.

  Saw that green figure rushing out of darkness like installing rocket thrusters, followed by Savage with dirty face and smoke still rising from body. Behind the two, fire shot up to the sky; obviously the serial explosion of biogas tank triggered chain reaction, swallowing everything along the pipe.

  "This... what is this thing?!"

  Val rushed over, saw that weirdly wriggling mercury wall in front, scared to brake abruptly in front of the mirror surface; soles ground out a trail of sparks on the slippery ground. "No way?! We will crash to death!"

  "Don't stop! That's fluid!"

  Carlisle didn't know where the strength came from, propped up his body fiercely to stand up, shouting loudly: "Crash in directly! That's the only way!"

  Pursuers' footsteps mixed in explosion sound approaching; no time to hesitate.

  Lyria grabbed weak Carlisle; no trace of fear in those amber eyes. She crashed head-on toward that clear, beautiful reflection in the mirror!

  "Go!"

  No severe pain of colliding with hard object as imagined.

  The moment touching the mirror surface, Carlisle felt like passing through a layer of cold, viscous waterfall. That feeling was both strange and comfortable, as if the soul was washed in this instant.

  Immediately after, Savage carrying the still screaming Val, hardened his heart, closed eyes diving into the mercury like a cannonball.

  Gulp.

  The moment the last heel submerged into the mirror surface.

  Crash!

  Lyria's chanting stopped abruptly.

  Losing the maintenance of specific sound wave frequency, that perfect mercury mirror surface lost surface tension instantly.

  It was no longer liquid, but solidified and disintegrated instantly.

  The originally smooth-as-mirror surface was covered with spider-web-like cracks in an instant, then—

  Rumble!

  The entire wall collapsed completely.

  Countless gravels, bricks, and "Mercury" already solidified into gray-black slag crashed down, filling this dead end completely, stirring up sky-filling dust.

  Seconds later.

  A team of fully armed Purge Paratroopers wearing heavy power armor broke through the smoke and rushed here.

  The leading captain looked at this dead end already completely collapsed and piled with rocks, then looked at the scanner in hand already showing "Signal Source Annihilated," trembling with anger.

  "Damn it!"

  He smashed a fist on the wall beside fiercely, smashing a deep pit in the concrete: "Tricked! That was a fake signal! They evaporated!"

  ...

  And on the other side of the wall.

  Or rather, on the other side of the mirror surface.

  Carlisle opened his eyes slowly.

  No turbid air, no rotten garbage, nor ear-piercing explosion sound.

  What came into view was familiar, soft gloomy blue backup lighting. The air was filled with a reassuring, dry engine oil smell and ozone smell.

  Huge obsidian trestle bridge extended underfoot; that magnificent blue crystal statue in the distance stood quietly, like a silent watcher.

  This was the sealed underground base, the starting point of his former glory, and now the last haven. Everything as before, as if waiting quietly for the master's return.

  Carlisle reached out to touch the inside of his coat.

  That real, warm core lay quietly there, beating against his heart.

  He turned his head, looking at Savage and Val beside still in shock and gasping on the ground, then looked at Lyria who although pale, still stood straight.

  Everyone alive.

  Carlisle exhaled a long breath of turbid air; a real, relaxed smile finally raised on the corner of his mouth.

  "Welcome home."

  Sorry for the late update, everyone! ???♂?

  [The Sketchbook of Sins].

  Arcane Syntax, my new book dives into pure psychological horror. It features a jaded exorcist and a rookie paparazzi girl uncovering secrets that bleed (literally) from a cursed sketchbook.

  ?? Check it out here: []

  Read Later / Favorites would mean the world to me. Now, enjoy today’s chapter of Carlisle's journey!