Lorne, wearing the monocle, walked straight forward.
One step, two steps, three steps—his movements never faltered, maintaining a constant, eerie rhythm. Within a few steps, he ascended the high platform.
Then, he slightly bent his knees and back, reaching out with both hands to flip the heavy picture frame over.
As the frame was flipped, an invisible gale seemed to rise within the tomb that had been sealed for thousands of years, blowing away the stagnation and silence frozen in time.
One by one, the white candles on the iron lampstands were instantly ignited. Their flames grew exceptionally bright, illuminating the entire main burial chamber as if it were broad daylight.
But soon, the candle wax melted rapidly, turning into puddles of liquid and extinguishing completely. On the ground, the corpses that had been shriveled and white-haired began to rot and decay at a visible speed, turning into skeletal remains and emitting a nauseating stench.
In just a few seconds, the once bright main burial chamber became dim again, with only the hurricane lamp on the ground still emitting a faint glow.
"This—" Sharon was somewhat dazed, looking at everything happening around her in disbelief.
She looked around and saw that everything had returned to normal, and the sluggish feeling of being stuck in a swamp had also dissipated.
She did not hesitate and hurriedly floated to Lorne's side.
"How are you?"
"Are you alright?"
Lorne did not reply; he just kept his head down, standing motionless on the spot like a statue without any movement.
"You—" Seeing this, Sharon's heart sank abruptly. She recalled the terrifying effect of that 'Ghost Picture Frame' from moments ago, and her body trembled slightly.
Could it be—his soul was—
"You haven't been—"
"No—impossible—"
Her voice carried a hint of a tremor, no longer able to maintain the calm indifference characteristic of a Wraith.
"Lorne—"
"Hmm—"
This trembling call caused Lorne to react slightly. He slowly raised his head, looking at Sharon's exquisite face which was filled with panic. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly, revealing a joyful smile as if a prank had succeeded.
"Are you worried about me? Sharon~"
"I—" Sharon was stunned by this sudden change, and her entire being suddenly froze.
Seeing that Lorne seemed fine, she indeed breathed a sigh of relief. But following closely behind was an extremely strange feeling—
The feeling of being toyed with.
He's—fine? Should I be happy?
But—what did he mean by that sentence just now? Was he—intentionally faking it earlier?!
Sharon could no longer maintain her usual cold and indifferent demeanor. The expression on her face changed rapidly within a few seconds, from shock to embarrassment and anger, and then to an imperceptible hint of—grievance. It took more than ten seconds for her to barely calm down.
Even so, an unusual flush, completely unlike that of a Wraith, appeared on her pale face.
What a—cute expression—Lorne looked at her in this state and was momentarily stunned as well.
Teacher Sharon—actually made such an expression!
"You—" Sharon wanted to say something but didn't know how to start. Finally, she stared at Lorne's face, gritted her teeth, and asked the question she cared about most: "Are you—alright?"
"Of—I should be." Lorne originally wanted to give a definitive answer, but after thinking about it, he swallowed his words back down.
He felt that his current state was very subtle. If he were to say something was wrong, it didn't feel like it; at least his Premonition of Disaster had no reaction. But to say there were no problems, this state of being accepted by the entire tomb and even feeling a sense of intimacy was very abnormal in itself.
"Sigh—look at this." Lorne displayed the picture frame in his hand, trying to shift the awkward topic.
It was a portrait of a smiling young man.
He had a broad forehead, thin cheeks, and short, slightly curly black hair. He wore a pointed black soft hat, and on his right eye hung a crystal monocle.
"He must be Amon—" Lorne spoke slowly, "An ancestor of the Amon Family."
"The one I'm wearing on my eye should be the same style as his."
"Of course, it's also possible—it's the very one he once wore. Although I don't think that probability is high."
Lorne reached out and gently touched the monocle on his right eye.
"What is certain is that because of this monocle, I have been 'recognized' by this tomb."
"It might have mistaken me for a descendant of the Amon Family, or something else—anyway, it no longer views me as a threat."
"But this is somewhat eerie," Sharon spoke in a low voice.
"It is a bit." Lorne squeezed out a helpless smile.
"But looking at it from another angle, it's not entirely a bad thing. At least I can be one hundred percent certain that this monocle is indeed related to the Amon Family and the Marauder Pathway."
Then, he turned his gaze toward the deep black coffin on the high platform, placed his palm on the lid, and applied a bit of force.
"Be careful!" Sharon subconsciously cried out softly.
"Mm," Lorne curled his lips, giving her a reassuring smile.
"It's fine."
As he exerted force, a creaking friction sound rang out, and the heavy coffin lid was slowly pushed open, revealing a gap.
"I'm guessing there's no one inside at all—" Before he could finish his sentence, he and Sharon looked into the coffin simultaneously.
The interior of the coffin was empty, with only a layer of soft, pale gold padding at the bottom. In the very center of the padding, a twisted worm with twelve rings was embroidered.
Worm of Time!
"Interesting, truly interesting." Lorne suddenly started laughing.
"Using a worm as a symbol, or perhaps—"
"That Amon—was a worm himself?"
"Judging by the power displayed by this tomb, this Amon was definitely a high-Sequence existence—"
"Could it be—that high-Sequence beyonders of the Marauder Pathway all turn into worms in the end? Or perhaps these worms are actually just a part of their bodies?"
"That's why they are used to represent the corpse."
Lorne stood there, lost in thought. This time, Sharon did not disturb him. After a moment, he slightly turned his head, "Let's explore around some more."
"Mm." Seeing Lorne's serious look, Sharon did not refuse, and the bit of dissatisfaction in her heart was temporarily suppressed.
Lorne held up the hurricane lamp and walked toward the wall on the other side of the coffin.
Due to the rapid weathering just now, the wall had developed many mottled marks. Many murals originally painted on it were severely damaged and could no longer be restored to their previous appearance.
However, not all murals were unrecognizable.
Among them, one was relatively well-preserved.
"A Cross!"
The background of the mural before them was a giant, ancient Cross!
Lorne was somewhat surprised; this was the second time he had seen such a thing. The last time was on a mural on a primitive island thousands of miles away!
"Calm down—" He forced himself to settle his mind and carefully examined the content of the mural.
The mural seemed to tell a story of creation. Under the radiance of a giant Cross, two twelve-winged angels with obscured faces each held an infant.
The infant on the left had curly black hair; the one on the right had pale gold hair.
"The black-haired one—could it be Amon?"
"Then—who is this gold-haired one?"
Lorne froze on the spot.
Sharon also floated closer to observe the mural for a while, then shook her head slightly, indicating she did not recognize the specific allusions or symbolic meanings depicted in the mural.
She looked down at Lorne, only to find that he had taken out a small camera from his coat at some point.
This was the same one he had used to catch Hazel red-handed back then.
"Click, click."
He was continuously taking photos of the mural on the wall.
"What are you doing?" Sharon asked.
"Recording, of course." Lorne explained as a matter of course without looking up, "The things recorded on this mural are definitely extraordinary. I'll take photos and send them back to the Captain to see if she can figure something out."
"Captain? Your other teacher—" Sharon lowered her head, a trace of complex emotion flashing through her eyes.