Chapter 73: Secret Cult
Aaron arrived at the forested cliffs before noon. The last scout transmission had come from this region four days ago
It was a short, panicked message fragmented by interference.
Two other operatives had been dispatched to follow up. Both failed to report back.
The final briefing listed weak mana fluctuations, rising predator activity, and something labeled only as "chanting, inconsistent, low-frequency," and it wasn’t enough for a large-scale deployment; it was enough for him.
A trail was barely visible with only faint scorch marks on the stone. There were boot indentations but they were distorted by returning moss.
It led toward a shrine built into the cliff face. Its age was unclear, but the weathering on the pillars suggested centuries. Roots curled through the cracks like veins.
At the center of the shrine lay a circular altar, sunken slightly into the ground.
Etched into the stone was a strange sigil: a serpent with three eyes, its eyes vertical and sharp, coiled around an orb surrounded by lines of runes he didn’t recognize. He crouched and pressed his hand to it.
His mana touched the carving and pulled back immediately.
It rejected his mana immediately.
The stone shifted beneath him. Dust escaped from ancient seams as the central slab groaned open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.
Aaron straightened, adjusted his windbreaker, and stepped down without hesitation.