Chapter 257

Chapter 257: “Politeness”.

The Swift Bell kept ringing urgently: seven short peals in a row, then after a few seconds’ pause, another seven, three rounds in total.

Tyrian listened hard to the sounds outside the window. He heard voices talking in the corridor and hurried footsteps in the yard outside.

The intermediate and higher-ranking priests were answering the bell. They were setting up defenses at all key locations and preparing for Nightwatch, while the highest-ranking people in the great Cathedral should already have gone to some hidden sanctuary, ready to take part in the Saints’ gathering.

Tyrian was not of the Church, but he had lived for half a century and knew these rules well enough. From the bell’s rhythm and repetition, he could pick out the key information—this was the bell that summoned a Listening Rite, a gathering invitation sent directly from the Nameless King’s Tomb, and it sounded quite urgent.

“Is there another Anomaly or Vision acting up? A new discovery? Or a major change in an old one?” Lucretia muttered thoughtfully. “It feels like it hasn’t been that long since the last ‘summons’…”

Tyrian listened to the commotion outside for a while, then pulled his attention back and shook his head. “This is the Deep Sea Church’s own business. We don’t need to get involved.”

“Mm.” Lucretia nodded lightly, then looked at her elder brother. “Do you have anything else you want to ask about Anomaly 099?”

Tyrian thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing more—and with the Swift Bell ringing at night, the Cathedral will soon enter Nightwatch. We’d better not keep talking about anything related to Anomalies.”

“All right, then I’ll get back to my own work,” Lucretia said at once. The scrying crystal on the table began to flicker, and her figure started to fade. But just before the link broke completely, she seemed to think of something and suddenly spoke again. “Oh, one more thing. It’s about Father.”

Tyrian hesitated a little. “…Go on.”

“When Father met you this time… did he seem in his right mind as well?”

“He was very lucid, his logic clear. He even seemed…” Tyrian hesitated noticeably at this point, but finally said it anyway. “I can’t be sure, but he was almost… kind.”

“Ah. That’s really good.”

…

Vanna rushed into the great cathedral and saw Bishop Valentine already waiting for her before the Goddess’s statue. She hurried a few steps forward. “Why is there another summons so soon…? This has never happened before.”

“No idea. This time the bell was rung directly under the Storm Cathedral’s control. It would never sound without a reason.” Valentine nodded to Vanna, then turned and walked quickly toward the passage leading to the “Flooded Cavern” as he spoke. “It may be the same as last time. There was a direct change in the list of Anomalies and Visions, and the Tomb’s Gravekeeper is sending out a summons.”

Vanna followed the old bishop’s steps. As she passed the Goddess’s statue, she stopped out of habit and seemed to hesitate for a moment, but soon bowed devoutly as she always did, then turned and continued toward the passage entrance.

It did not take long for them to reach the chamber at the end of the passage—the Flooded Cavern used to build the psychic channel.

The scene in the chamber was as it always was. The stone-block walls were old and perpetually damp. In the center of the room, phantom flames burned in a brazier, and the fine trickle of water and the layered sound of waves filled the air, bringing a strange, quiet atmosphere.

The chamber’s heavy door closed.

Vanna drew a slow breath and stopped before the brazier, lowering her head to fix her gaze on the flames that burned fiercely without any fuel.

She let her thoughts settle little by little, letting her Spiritual Insight slowly synchronize with the Goddess’s guidance. The dancing flames became an anchor that steadied her humanity, filling her field of vision.

This should have been a familiar process, but this time Vanna found it rather difficult.

She tried her best not to picture the flames suddenly turning ghostly green, not to picture a pair of Captain Duncan’s eyes hidden behind them. She turned her head slightly to look at Bishop Valentine beside her and saw that the old man’s gaze was already utterly calm, his breathing even. He had clearly entered the gathering place ahead of her.

Vanna had no choice but to pull her gaze back, take another light breath, and try again to focus her mind, letting her Spiritual Insight align with the Goddess’s guidance.

Fortunately, this time she succeeded.

Illusory seawater surged up and gently wrapped around her. Her senses pulled free from her mortal body and reassembled in another dimension. Vanna felt a brief daze, and then she was already standing in that mysterious, ancient meeting place—the familiar boundless plaza, the broken, age-old pillars standing around it, and the vague human-shaped shadows gathered between those pillars.

One of the shadows quickly drifted toward her. It was Bishop Valentine. “Vanna, trouble getting in? You took quite a long time this time.”

“Couldn’t focus,” Vanna replied casually. Right after that, she noticed a striking figure standing at the edge of the plaza—that figure was solid and clear, completely different from the Saints around her, who were nothing but blurry shadows. It was plainly a beautiful lady in splendid robes.

Of course Vanna recognized that figure.

“The Pope is already here in person?” she asked in some surprise. “Ah, I really… chose the worst time to be late.”

“It’s fine. After you’re late enough times, you get used to it,” Valentine said in an easy tone. “The Pope was already here when I arrived. She might even have been the first one. I imagine she has some special arrangements in mind…”

Vanna listened half-heartedly. For some reason, she kept feeling that solid, elegant figure was glancing in this direction from time to time, and that gaze made her feel rather awkward, even… nervous.

Just then, Pope Helena suddenly turned her head.

She truly looked straight at Vanna for a moment. Then a faint smile seemed to appear on her face, and she gave a small nod.

Vanna froze for a second. She had just started to return the greeting when a deep rumble suddenly cut her off.

She looked toward the sound and saw the flagstone ground at the center of the plaza heave upward. The broken slabs rippled like water, and in moments an ancient, gloomy palace built from pale giant stones rose into the Saints’ view.

The Nameless King’s Tomb had appeared.

The Saints who had been murmuring to one another fell silent at once. A quiet, solemn mood settled over the plaza. Vanna hurriedly reined in her thoughts, stopped paying attention to the Pope’s gaze on her, and fixed her eyes on the palace’s pyramid-like main structure, staring at its entrance.

The doors at the entrance opened, and the towering Gravekeeper stepped out.

Wrapped head to toe in the shroud, one side of his body charred and the other side bound in chains, he looked just as he had last time. This terrifying being, a mix of mortal flesh, iron shackles, and the curse of death, walked straight toward the Saints gathered in the plaza.

The choice had already been made.

In the next moment, he strode without hesitation past every other shadow in the plaza and stopped right in front of Vanna.

The Gravekeeper lowered his head, his single eye calmly turning its gaze on the Saint before him:

“You may enter the tomb chamber.”

He raised his hand and passed over a quill and a sheet of parchment, waiting for Vanna’s response.

Vanna, however, froze for a moment—and almost all the Saints did the same.

The Gravekeeper had chosen the same Saint to enter the tomb twice in a row.

This had never happened in the past countless years.

Of course, there was no explicit “rule” that the Gravekeeper could not choose the same Saint twice in a row. But over all these years, he had always picked different Saints in two neighboring summons. It had almost become an unwritten rule. Even if a Saint who had entered the tomb last time came again to the gathering, it was only to obey orders and make sure the Listening rite ritual was complete.

No one had expected Vanna to be chosen again.

Vanna stood there stunned for several seconds while the Gravekeeper patiently held out his hand and waited. At that moment, the feeling of being watched came over her again. She instinctively followed it and looked up—right into Pope Helena’s deep gaze.

Vanna’s heart tightened, and she guiltily shifted her eyes away. Only then did she notice that the Gravekeeper was still waiting. The ancient caretaker, terrifying as he looked, lowered his head without joy or sorrow and held the parchment and quill out a little farther.

“Me again?”

Vanna asked without thinking, and regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth—how could the Gravekeeper bother answering such pointless questions?

But right after that, she heard a hoarse, low voice speak from in front of her. “Yes. You again.”

Vanna could not help being a little shocked. She looked up at the Gravekeeper’s somewhat savage face and finally reached out to take the parchment and quill.

The Gravekeeper seemed to give a tiny nod as he straightened up and said:

“Please write down what you hear on it.”

Vanna nodded without thinking, but suddenly felt that something was off.

She couldn’t shake the feeling… that this Gravekeeper had grown a lot more polite?