The soldiers behind him filed into the stone chamber. When they saw the branching passages, some immediately began shouting, and a few even called for a retreat. Unas was at a loss for what to do when Hans stepped forward and roared, "No shouting!"
An angry Hans was a rather imposing sight, and the company immediately fell silent.
Unas gave him a grateful look. Hans had played the bad cop, so it was time for Unas to play the good cop. "Everyone, stay calm. Our compatriots are waiting for us to rescue them. Every hardship is a test from the Holy Light. As long as our hearts remain steadfast, the Holy Light will bless us and help us overcome every difficulty. Holy Light be praised!"
It was a load of empty platitudes worthy of a leader, but with the Holy Light thrown in and his status as a Paladin, it did help calm the men. Most of the company quietly repeated after him, "Holy Light be praised."
With the unrest suppressed for the time being, they returned to the old question: which way should they go?
Stonebrow led two of his men back and forth between the five cave entrances, inspecting them. Unas had given up hope on the dwarf "experts." He walked past each entrance in turn, planning to pick whichever one looked right and try his luck.
Just then, Stonebrow came bouncing over on his short little legs, brimming with excitement. "Lord Unas, we've made a major discovery!"
"You found a clue?" Unas was overjoyed.
"No!"
Unas nearly choked on the answer. Oblivious, the dwarf grabbed him and pulled him toward the left.
The soldiers' attention had been caught as well, but Unas had already ordered them to remain on guard where they were. None came over to see what was happening, though they all craned their necks to look.
The two came to the second cave entrance on the left, where the other two dwarves were squatting on the ground, fiddling with a purple plant. Unas leaned in for a closer look and found that it was a purple mushroom the size of his palm.
Was there something wrong with the way these dwarves' brains worked?
Unas couldn't help asking, "This is your major discovery? What use is this mushroom? Can you eat it?"
"Yes! This mushroom is called a Purple Lilac Mushroom. It's not poisonous, so it's perfectly safe to eat," Stonebrow said with a perfectly serious expression. "But that's not the major discovery. We just watched it grow out of the ground with our own eyes."
As it turned out, when the dwarves had been examining this entrance, they had suddenly noticed a rock shaking on the ground. They thought it was a mouse or something, but when they turned the rock over, the mushroom had shot up just like that.
"It grew that big in an instant?"
Seeing the disbelief on Unas's face, Stonebrow grew anxious. He hurriedly pointed at his thick gray eyebrows and swore an oath. "I swear on my eyebrows, I saw it grow that big in an instant with my own eyes!"
The other two dwarves nodded repeatedly, both saying they had seen it too.
All right, Unas believed them a little. These dwarves probably wouldn't tell a lie like that, and in a world of magic, anything was possible. But even if it was true, what the hell was the use? Was this the time to be studying botany?
Stonebrow continued, "According to dwarven custom, finding edible food in a cave means something good is going to happen. It's a sign of good luck, Captain."
A thought struck Unas. Hadn't he just been thinking of trying his luck?
Sometimes you had to believe in things like that. Having found a reason for his choice, he said, "Very well, we'll take this passage. Perhaps this mushroom is a sign from the goddess of luck."
"Which goddess is the goddess of luck? How come I've never heard of her?"
The company pressed on. After passing through a fairly long tunnel, another much-the-same stone chamber appeared before Unas. He stared blankly at the entrances in its walls, at a loss for what to do.
Was Bessarius a rat's son? Why had he dug so many holes?
Unas looked anxiously around at the entrances. Could the goddess of luck give me another sign?
As luck would have it, a green glow suddenly appeared at the edge of his vision. He looked closely and saw that it came from an entrance on the left.
Unas hurried over to investigate. It was a small patch of moss on the stone wall. A faint green light flickered across it, then quickly went out.
Stonebrow, who had followed him, stroked his bushy beard and said, "That's glowing moss. It's quite common underground."
"It was glowing just now. What do your dwarven customs say about that?"
"Nothing. This moss glows whenever it feels like it."
Unas checked the other entrances one by one. Some had glowing moss too, but none of it was glowing.
Was it really a coincidence? First the mushroom that grew at incredible speed, and now glowing moss. Unas didn't believe there could be so many coincidences. When something strange happened, there had to be a reason.
Was someone secretly showing them the way?
When it came to controlling plants like this, Unas could think of only one profession: Druids, who worshipped nature.
This was the entrance! Unas made up his mind. It wasn't that he was naive enough to believe all Druids were good people who would kindly show them the way. Rather, the subtlety of the method made him think it was more likely a plea for help.
Who would be asking for help? Naturally, the people imprisoned by the Dreadlord.
The deduction strengthened his resolve. He waved to the company and led the way into the entrance beside the glowing moss.
Deep within the dark caves, Allen the necromancer suddenly felt uneasy. He had been an orphan, living on the streets and surviving by begging and stealing until he met his "mentor."
His mentor was a mage, and a great benefactor besides. He had taken in many homeless people, and Allen had become his apprentice.
When Allen first learned that he had a talent for magic, he was overjoyed. Noble, mysterious, powerful—that was everything he knew of mages. Could he become a mage like that too?
He couldn't help recalling the hatred buried in his heart, and that greedy lord. After his father died fighting in the Orc Wars, the lord had pocketed his compensation, and his mother had never come home after going to demand it.
Allen had fled into the wilderness and hidden there for several days. When he finally sneaked back into the city, the house his father had built with his own hands had been reduced to ashes.
The hatred that had never died burned in his heart. Now, at last, a chance for revenge had come!
He threw himself into studying magic, eager to grow strong enough to take revenge as soon as possible.
But his mentor had many apprentices, nearly all of them orphans. Allen soon discovered that his talent was nothing special, and the magic his mentor taught did not seem to be "good" magic. The magical experiments they conducted also grew more and more horrifying.
At first, the test subjects were only dead rats, dead rabbits, and the like. Then the corpses grew larger and larger, until one day, a human corpse was laid out before everyone.
Allen knew the man. He was a vagrant their mentor had taken in. Was this why their mentor had taken them in? After all, no one cared whether a vagrant lived or died.
Allen did not flinch. So what if it was evil magic? As long as it gave him the power to take revenge, he was willing to do anything.
Not every apprentice could accept it as he did. Several children fled that very night, but the next day, their bodies appeared on the experiment table.
Fear of death and a thirst for power drew the apprentices ever deeper into the darkness, but Allen took to it like a fish to water. Before long, he gained his mentor's favor and was introduced to a mysterious sect—the Cult of the Damned.
Under his mentor's direction, he contacted people everywhere who bore grudges against the lord, drawing them into the cult in the name of overthrowing him. In this way, the Cult of the Damned gradually spread through the city and amassed its strength.
The day of their uprising finally arrived. Allen would always remember that glorious day: half the residents were transformed into Undead by the plague they had spread, while the other half were slaughtered by those who had once been their loved ones, neighbors, and friends.
When Allen stormed his enemy's castle with the Undead and ground the lord's fat head beneath his foot, he felt a pleasure beyond compare. But what followed was endless emptiness.
Having lost his purpose, he drifted with the tide. After a series of journeys, wars, and surrenders, he fell into the hands of the Dreadlord Bessarius and became its cook and mess hall manager.
The cages beneath him held fresh humans his demonic master had gathered, and his job was to use fear, hatred, and pain to prepare one delicious soul after another for his master to enjoy.
The dried corpses and skeletons left after his master had feasted were his payment.
He found this life quite comfortable. The prisoners' fates were entirely in his hands. He held power over their lives and deaths and could satisfy his every desire.
But those days might be coming to an end. Constant tremors had been coming from the surface earlier. They were deep underground, so one could imagine the earth-shaking battle taking place above. Could his demonic master win?
Fortunately, he had prepared long ago. When the alarm spells he had set in the tunnels were triggered one after another, he knew enemies were coming for him.
He had already hidden in a secret cave where no one could possibly find him, remotely directing his Undead subordinates to lie in ambush at several locations, ready to give the enemies a surprise.
Whether he fled or stood his ground would depend on what the enemies were made of.
Reports came in from all directions through his Undead subordinates. The enemies were slowly entering the trap, and Allen gave a faint, sinister smile. But at that very moment, they suddenly stopped, then rapidly retreated.
Allen went pale with shock. Had his trap been discovered?