Chapter Forty: The Eerie Air-Raid Shelter
There was no time to think further, for he had already landed.
A dull thud echoed again and again through the silent surroundings.
He drew a sharp breath. “That nearly killed me.”
Groping in the dark, Morning Mu pushed himself up from the ground, relieved to find he could still move—at least his legs weren’t broken.
He was surrounded by pitch-blackness, and for a moment, confusion overwhelmed him.
“Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to do?”
“...”
“Did I fall into a well? Where the hell is the cover? There isn’t even a well in the territory...”
[Not long ago, a certain young man had dug here with all his might, eventually leaving a hole about the size of a well mouth. Fortunately, the opening had existed for some time, allowing air to circulate below; otherwise, the hydrogen sulfide, carbon monoxide, and other toxic gases inside would have killed you the moment you hit the ground.]
“A certain young man... sigh...”
He didn’t immediately call for help.
Because—
He was too embarrassed.
A grown man, falling into a hole—an obvious one, at that.
Well...
Hard to explain...
Fumbling in the darkness, he walked about three or four meters in one direction and felt a damp wall beneath his hand.
The slick, clammy sensation unsettled him. With his vision hindered, it was difficult to move about down here.
He tried activating his Black Eyes.
As expected, the darkness receded.
On either side of the empty passageway, waist-high alcoves appeared, though some were blocked by rotting wooden boards.
Looking up, he saw the opening above him—nearly three meters away. Accounting for his own height, the corridor must be four meters tall.
Click... click...
His footsteps echoed loudly in the passage.
Since he was down here, he might as well take a look around. If he truly couldn’t get out, then he’d message Mu Jiu’er for help...
...
Morning Mu quickly surveyed his surroundings. The passage to the left was boarded up, but the way forward and to the right was clear.
Given that, he chose to turn down the right corridor.
The first thing he saw was an inner chamber. Its walls were badly damaged; save for a dust-caked ceiling lamp, the room was empty.
It seemed to have been ransacked—perhaps before it was abandoned.
He left the room and pressed deeper—twenty meters or so. The passage ended, with three rooms along its length, all in much the same state.
“If this is all there is, then there’s nothing worth exploring in this underground shelter,” he thought, shaking his head.
The dim surroundings felt like a room shrouded in heavy black curtains.
This time, he advanced straight ahead.
The walls bore many carvings and inscriptions, and a broad walkway ran down the middle.
On either side stood rusted iron candelabras—though the candles had long since been taken.
Surveying the place, steeped in age, he walked nearly fifty meters and still saw no end—but the air now carried the faint stench of rotten eggs.
He remembered reading about hydrogen sulfide: at low concentrations, it stank; at high concentrations, it was odorless, for it could numb the olfactory nerves.
Clearly, the toxic gases hadn’t fully dissipated.
He retreated to the alcove blocked by wooden boards.
He pulled out an iron pickaxe.
Bang! Bang!
The sudden hammering shattered the quiet, making him uneasy.
Still, it only took a few strikes before the rotted wood gave way.
“Why would someone board this up in the first place?” he wondered, just as an iron door appeared to his left.
[You realize that behind the iron door lies a material you currently need, but entering will not be easy.]
“Heh, how hard can it be?”
He took tissue and cloth from his pack to muffle his ears as best he could, then walked twenty meters back, braced himself, and set up his Barrett on the ground.
Crouching, mouth slightly open, he took aim at the lock.
Bang!
The lock was blasted apart, and the door, hit by the bullet’s force, slammed against the wall with a screech.
The deafening noise left his head ringing; he stood dazed for ten seconds before staggering to his feet.
“Nothing in this world is too hard—brute force makes miracles.”
“Break down an iron door with a pickaxe? Impossible. Judging by its design, it’s at least five centimeters thick.”
He stowed his weapon and entered.
A long table, four chairs, and on the far wall a set of green metal lockers five tiers high.
But as he stepped forward for a closer look, he suddenly noticed three skeletons slumped in the corner.
He drew a sharp breath. “That posture...”
Even the skeletons were arranged so boldly? How to describe it... The one in the middle actually had its arms around both others.
[He loved her, and she loved him, but he did not love her—he loved him. A tragic web of mistaken love led to their undoing.]
“If I’m not mistaken, that’s two men and a woman...”
Morning Mu shook his head, reined in his wandering thoughts, and began checking the lockers one by one.
The padlocks were so corroded they snapped off with a gentle tug.
He opened the first locker.
Jackpot!
His eyes lit up—inside were several rare minerals.
“Obtained [Mithril Ore] x6, transferred to backpack.”
“If they mined and stored these back then, why didn’t they take them when they left?”
And—
Why had the alcove been boarded up?
[You vaguely sense the real reason the shelter was sealed, but before you can uncover the truth, ‘it’ has already noticed your presence.]
Without a word, Morning Mu pulled a silenced gun from his pack.
[You are under illusion attack—automatically immune!]
“!!!”
The enemy had struck!
“Should I feign being caught in the illusion, lure it out?”
But he immediately rejected the idea—too risky, with so many unknowns.
[You are under illusion attack—automatically immune!]
“...”
“Is that all you can do?”
He remained alert, pressing his back to the wall, eyes sweeping the room.
Minutes passed—he saw nothing, and nothing attacked him again.
Morning Mu narrowed his eyes, mind racing.
It had been no more than three minutes from his entry to the attack. If the enemy had noticed him beforehand, why not strike immediately, but wait two minutes?
What had he been doing two minutes earlier...?
...
His gaze flicked to the lockers.
Clearly, it was when he opened the first locker that the attack was triggered.