On one side of the circular hall was a separate room.
It was not large, roughly ten paces square. The ceiling was very low, forming a stark contrast with the circular hall's thirty-meter dome. It looked more like a secret chamber stuffed inside the wall.
The four walls were inlaid with copper pipes that stretched from floor to ceiling and converged at the corners, densely packed like a network of blood vessels.
Inscriptions were dimly carved across the surfaces of the pipes. They had yet to activate, and only the faintest copper glow flowed along the pipe walls.
In the middle of the room stood a humanoid Sarcophagus.
It was slightly taller than an ordinary person, with an iron-colored shell and a surface densely covered in rivets.
Its overall shape resembled a standing person—the outlines of its head, shoulders, torso, and legs were all distinct. There was a palm-shaped recess on each side of its shoulders, and metal teeth could vaguely be seen within them.
Calvin walked to the front of the Sarcophagus and reached out to open the cover over its eye area.
The cover was only palm-sized and secured with copper hinges.
Through the narrow observation window revealed by the cover, he saw a face.
It belonged to a girl. Her complexion was so pale it was nearly transparent, and her lips were bloodless. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her expression was almost blank.
Looking lower, countless silver-glinting needles extended from the inner walls of the Sarcophagus and pierced her body—her shoulders, between her ribs, her forearms. Every needle was as fine as a strand of hair, yet faint light gleamed where they entered her skin, like stars scattered over pale flesh.
The students on the external frames at least still breathed on their own, but this