The moment Ian stepped into the square burial chamber, the stone slab beneath his feet let out a faint crack.
"Ah, classic." He raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the sunken stone brick, then looked around—countless holes covered the walls, enough to make anyone with trypophobia break out in goosebumps.
It was as if countless eyes were peering out from the darkness.
Inside them—
They were all scarabs.
"Good stuff!"
Naturally, Ian was thrilled.
He was neither an archaeologist nor a tomb raider, but a Potions Master. To him, these holes were not a terrifying sight that made one's scalp crawl, but a treasure vault brimming with potion ingredients.
That was precisely why Ian, as a Potions Master, felt no fear at all. On the contrary, he was delighted. Ancient resources truly were abundant; scarabs were an exceptionally rare species in later generations.
They were ingredients for advanced potions.
"Quick! Come here, my darlings!"
Ian knew exactly what to do. He headed toward the coffin near the center. Since it was inlaid with turquoise, the deceased lying within was clearly either wealthy or noble.
The scarabs were a tomb-guarding trap.
And sure enough—
Ian had barely begun to move.
Rumble—!
A chilling rustling came from the holes in the walls, as though countless tiny metal claws were scraping against the stone. The next moment, a black tide of insects erupted outward!
The bronze-colored scarabs were each the size of a fist. Their shells glinted with a cold metallic sheen, their mouthparts were sharp as blades, and their six legs clicked across the ground with a teeth-grating sound.
"Bzz, bzz, bzz~" The scarabs cried out as they surged in from every direction like a tidal wave, instantly carpeting the floor of the burial chamber and crazily crawling toward Ian!
Yet faced