The footsteps in the darkness had become almost inaudible. Before he knew it, the place had fallen utterly silent.
Ruger held his stone tablet in both hands and kept walking. According to the Old Wizard, the tablet was not merely there to protect them.
It was also an intermediary for this incident. Since they had been asked to read the tablet, there had to be something new on it first. That meant they were heading somewhere that could leave traces on it. In theory, however, simply leaving traces would not be enough. Those would be traces of the present, and the Divine Object Art read what had happened at the moment a trace was left. To learn more, they needed traces of the past as well. So, making a bold guess, this tablet could somehow take impressions of past traces for them to read with the art.
Ruger walked on. It had been a long time since he had heard any footsteps but his own. In this pitch-black world, the smooth, hard ground beneath his feet remained familiar, accompanying him from the very beginning.
The portly Old Wizard had said one other thing: just keep walking forward. Whatever they saw, they should simply go inside.
Ruger raised his eyebrows, his steps growing steadier. At the same time, he could not help wondering and guessing what he might see.
Suddenly, his steps slowed to a crawl.
He saw a wooden stick as thick as a wrist, standing straight up from the ground in the darkness. It reached roughly to his chin, with a wooden board the size of a chessboard on top. On the board sat an exquisite little house. It looked like a four-story building, but the whole structure seemed somewhat misshapen and cramped. It could easily have been built