Who was humming? And what were they humming?
For now, no one could say.
As the humming grew clearer and clearer, Dojibil slowed instead, placing every step with great caution.
At this moment, Angel too heard that hum, tinged with a trace of lingering yearning.
If he temporarily set aside the suffocating atmosphere of the church and listened to the hum without any preconceived notions, Angel found that it was actually very beautiful.
It was faintly seductive, enough to make one's heart itch.
Yet beneath that outward tenderness surged an unsettled sorrow, rising and sinking beneath the surface.
Angel's own musical ability might only have been middling, but the ability to appreciate music was a necessary skill for any descendant of nobility.
"Beneath the tenderness, hidden grief." Angel gave a soft sound of surprise. What exactly was the humming trying to express?
—It seemed to be mourning someone?
While Angel was still analyzing the emotional tides carried by the humming, Dojibil had already arrived before a stone stele.
"Strange. This stele wasn't here when I came before." Dojibil lowered its voice and spoke to everyone in the church.
The others also turned their gazes toward the stele. Its shape was irregular, and it looked like nothing more than a rotten chunk of stone. Yet Dojibil had called it a stele because an inscription had been carved upon it.
The language of the inscription was one Angel had never encountered before. Yet for some reason, merely looking at those strangely formed lines filled him with an overwhelming sorrow, as well as a thread of unwillingness.
"This is Abyssal," Madeleine said softly.
On the surface layer of the abyss, there were currently three languages known to wizards: Demon Tongue, Ancient Demon Tongue, and Abyssal.
Demon Tongue and Ancient Demon Tongue were self-explanatory—they