Chapter 419

Chapter 419: No Way Through?

The fog had already begun to seep into the second waterway. The hazy, dim mist floated near the ceiling of the sewer corridor like thin gauze. It felt as if the heavy roof above had vanished, and the second waterway was being slowly swallowed by the “sky.”

A short old man wrapped in a worn coat walked quickly through the strange, silent sewer corridor. Decades had worn down his body. For many years he had not been able to move this fast. Yet somehow, today, in this moment, he felt light again. It was as if youth had returned to this old shell. The ache in his joints and the weakness in his muscles were gone.

He walked faster and faster. The Heavy Wrench in his hand no longer felt as heavy as when he started. He rushed through corridors and forks from his memories, running toward a place he could no longer clearly remember, but that felt deeply familiar.

He had to catch up with the main force, because the time to assemble was almost here.

Suddenly, a pile of collapsed rubble blocked his way.

“No road… no road?” The old man stopped. He stared in confusion at the fallen stones in front of him and whispered to himself. His muddled memories scrambled in his mind, trying to explain the collapse. He seemed to recall something—

Oh, it was explosives. The Guard Corps had blown up charges in the corridor after they withdrew through the shaft to block the rebels who broke into the sewers…

But that was not right. Not all of it. This collapsed spot was not just to stop the rebels. Many years ago, when that young soldier lit the fuse… the corridor came down and blocked something else…

The Old Ghost stood blankly before the blocked passage. Then he bent over and tapped the stones with his Heavy Wrench, mumbling under his breath.

This road should be open. It had to be open, or he would never reach the assembly point. But it had collapsed. What should he do? A wrench could not fix a cave-in…

A patch of hazy fog suddenly appeared in his sight. The Old Ghost stopped tapping the stones and slowly lifted his head. He instinctively took half a step back. He saw wisps of mist leaking from the gaps in the rubble and spreading out, filling the whole corridor and covering his view.

He heard distant whispers and roars in the fog. Then it seemed like a hoarse voice shouted: “Is this reasonable?!”

But no one appeared in the mist. As the fog drifted, the Old Ghost only saw that the pile of rubble blocking the passage had vanished.

The corridor that had been sealed off was open again. The gas lamp on the wall opposite glowed dimly. In the murky depths of the corridor, he could faintly see black sludge that looked as if it had dried up decades ago, lying still in an equally dried drainage channel.

“The road is open… good, the road is open…”

The Old Ghost’s mind blurred for a moment. He seemed to want to think about why the collapsed rocks had suddenly vanished, but the question soon drowned in his tangled memories. Without any hesitation, he stepped forward into the corridor wrapped in gloom.

…

Agatha suddenly lifted her head. The guardians, priests, and nuns following at her side all stopped at once. Everyone tensed up, ready for anything that might emerge from the fog.

“Did you hear footsteps?” After two or three seconds, Agatha finally broke the silence. “Footsteps other than ours.”

“Yes,” a nun answered with a small nod. “Just for a moment. Very faint, but very close, as if…”

“As if they overlapped with ours,” Agatha said, her face serious. At the same time, her gaze slowly swept over the nearby mine tunnel.

They were already in the depths of the Boiling Gold mine. Following the direction that “Sergeant Brad” had pointed out, Agatha and the team she led had reached this tunnel through the only passage on this side. Even this deep underground, the fog was still everywhere.

The lighting system still worked. Dim yellow light shone on the supports in the tunnel and on the tracks underfoot. Yet in the shifting shadows, there seemed to be something wrong.

Agatha saw two identical support pillars on the opposite wall. From the grain of the wood to the stain marks, every detail on the pillars was like a mirror world.

In another direction, she saw several overhead beams crisscrossed in a heap. Where they crossed, they seemed to melt into one another.

One of the priests raised a consecrated lantern and stepped up to one of the strange supports. After watching it closely for a moment, he spoke in a low voice: “Gatekeeper…”

“I see it,” Agatha cut him off. Her tone was still calm. “It’s obvious that the space where the replicas exist is overlapping with our Mortal Realm.”

“The space where the replicas exist?” a guardian repeated without thinking.

Agatha fell silent for a moment, and that annoying haze seemed to touch her again. She raised a hand to rub her forehead. “Yes. All the replicas should come from the time and space of one Anomaly. The evidence we have now shows that this Anomaly’s time and space is slowly drawing close to our Mortal Realm. Maybe… maybe we can call it a ‘mirror world’…”

She spoke with a trace of doubt. It felt as if certain pieces of knowledge just rose naturally in her mind. She said these things without thinking, then suddenly felt something odd in her body—

Cold. Boundless cold. It was as if she stood in a bitter, icy corridor, and the blood in her veins had lost all warmth.

The next second, the strange feeling vanished. The illusion of standing in some lonely, freezing passage faded away. She blinked and saw her loyal subordinates still gathered around her. The glow of the consecrated lanterns and gas lamps quickly chased away the chill that lingered in her mind.

“…Is it because there’s not enough time… or because it’s too close…” Agatha muttered under her breath.

The nearby subordinates did not hear her whisper.

One guardian warrior was holding up a consecrated lantern and checking the surroundings. Suddenly, he seemed to notice something: “Gatekeeper, there’s someone lying here!”

Agatha snapped back to herself. Her expression hardened, and she strode to the spot the warrior had found.

A warrior in the elite Guard Corps gear of the city-state lay in the tunnel. He looked like he had been dead for a long time.

He wore a black combat coat with a metal breastplate over it, and power bracers driven by a steam engine on his arms. A steam backpack was strapped to his back, and a thick breathing mask covered his face.

Agatha bent down and wiped the blood from the nameplate on the warrior’s chest with her fingers. She stared at the name for a few seconds.

“It’s Sergeant Brad,” she said softly.

“The blood is red. The body didn’t break apart or melt,” a priest said beside her. “This is the ‘original’.”

Agatha did not answer right away.

The situation matched her judgment. The real Sergeant Brad had fallen here in the tunnel, while his replica had appeared to the church troops going down into the mine under the influence of the fog. The replica was false, but the information was true.

“There’s another body here!”

Soon, another guardian warrior at the front of the team raised his consecrated lantern high and called out.

More bodies appeared in the tunnels ahead.

Agatha quickly led the group forward. Deeper in the mine, they found more and more of the dead—warriors from the city-state’s elite Guard Corps, the trusted warriors of Governor Winston.

They had died in many ways. Some bodies were torn by blades. Some had crushed injuries from heavy blows. Some had gunshot wounds.

Near these bodies, Agatha and her subordinates also found dried black sludge. If that sludge were pieced back into human form, their numbers would likely be far greater than those of the fallen Guard Corps soldiers.

“…A hard battle that lasted a long time. This unit met an enemy far larger than itself in the tunnels. Yet they still fought their way forward for hundreds of meters… Most of the warriors ran out of bullets. In the end, they fought with bayonets and steam gauntlets.”

Agatha studied the nearest bodies, reading the marks left on them and the traces in the tunnel as she spoke. At the same time, a heavy unease grew in her heart.

Many warriors had fallen. Governor Winston’s group was clearly in a bad situation. This battle might have broken out several hours ago—after so much time, was the governor still alive?

As if to answer her worry, a guardian warrior clearing the way ahead suddenly stopped.

“Gatekeeper, there’s no road ahead!”

“No road ahead?” Agatha was shocked and strode forward at once.

It was just as the guardian said.

The team had reached the end of the tunnel, and in front of them was a smooth, solid wall. The path ended here.

But this clearly was not normal.

Agatha quickly turned to look back the way they had come. She saw the fallen Guard Corps soldiers lying still in the dark. Among those bodies, she did not see Governor Winston.

“Maybe the governor realized this way was blocked and took his men in another direction…” the priest guessed aloud.

“There was only one path,” Agatha shook her head at once. “And judging by the signs left here, I don’t think Governor Winston had any chance to lead the remaining guards to another route.”

The priest frowned. “But this way is blocked…”

Agatha did not answer him. Instead, she turned again and slowly walked up to the smooth wall.

After a brief hesitation, she reached out and tried to touch it.

Her fingers sank straight into the wall.