935
An hour earlier, Mausoleum No. 1.
Bang!
After the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, a narrow, irregular tunnel opening appeared at the edge of the underground chamber. Then came the rustle of fabric scraping against grit on the ground, drawing closer and closer, until a ragged man covered in blood crawled out on his knees.
He entered the vast underground chamber, a crazed light flickering in his eyes.
He was none other than the MI9 Beyonder captain who had led the team to the mausoleum. He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead in clumps, as though he had just climbed out of the water. The epaulets denoting his rank had also gone missing at some point.
At the same time, a large hole had been torn in the fabric over his knees, exposing skin scraped bloody by the rough ground. The powerful self-healing abilities of a Mid-Sequence Beyonder seemed to be under some sort of restriction. His wounds sometimes healed at tremendous speed, then abruptly slowed, even splitting open scabs that had already formed and making them bleed again, keeping his condition neither good nor bad.
After struggling out of the narrow tunnel, he haphazardly brushed the dust off himself and wiped the blood from his face.
The officer barely managed to stand in the darkness, supporting himself against the wall. He looked somewhat nervous, so he straightened his appearance once again, though he already looked a mess no matter how much he tidied himself up.
Then he reached inside his clothes, feeling for the peculiar bottle that could answer his wishes.
His fingertips touched the bottle inside his clothes, but first registered a sticky, cold texture that did not belong to a glass bottle.
Everything around him was pitch-black, but the officer seemed