The last tremors gradually subsided, and between the layers of rubble, a passage appeared that only allowed people to bow over, and a dull and corrupt aura poured out of the space that had been closed for too long, and none of the people standing outside the passage took a step back.

Without hesitation, Scott slipped in, and Copas had to follow closely, but carefully kept a little distance. In the dwarven mines, some of the passages are as grand as palaces, while others are as cramped as ditches – the latter often harbor traps of all sorts of traps that may not fail even after thousands of years.

The darkness that the magic flame could not dispel made it seem deep and long, but the passage was actually very short. When he was finally able to straighten up, Copas involuntarily exhaled, but the next moment, he held his breath.

A huge darkness pressed against him, and in a trance, he felt as if he was standing on the edge of the abyss, and beyond a step, there was nothing but endless darkness, and the faint white light that enveloped him was as fragile as an eggshell.

Standing on the edge of the white light, Scott looked unusually tall and unrealistic. Half of him remained in the light, and the other half seemed to melt into the darkness.

But soon, a bright fire ignited from his palm. The torches on the walls were lit one after another, the flames pale and stretched long in the air that had begun to flow again, and floated ghostly like ghosts, illuminating the hall that had been ruled by darkness for thousands of years.

The space carved out of the rock is far less than hallucinatory. The ground was not very square in shape, and the thick stone pillars supported the unpolished dome, and the gemstone mines left by the dwarves for decoration shimmered like stars.

However, the blood red on the face is definitely not a dwarf's hobby.

Copas closed his eyes before he could accept the suffocatingly intense red.

The whole hall seemed to be spilled with blood. The floor, the walls, and even the stone pillars were painted with strange marks one after another, and the lines were so rough and frantic that it was impossible to tell whether they were paintings or words, and they danced faintly when people tried to look closely, like long snakes that bared their fangs and attacked directly.

Under the protection of the spell, Copas still felt dizzy, something crazy in the depths of his consciousness came up, and he was pressed down again, and his robe was already soaked with cold sweat.

In front of him, Scott still stood straight, seemingly unaffected.

Copas withdrew his gaze, an indescribable anger calming him down, finally able to see beyond the crimson-distorted symbols.

The ground and walls were strewn with white bones, tall and stout, fangs exposed, and the huge dust-covered weapons around them were still terrifying—they were orcs.

The Anktanns remembered their victory in driving out the orcs here, and did not hesitate to describe its splendor in the warmest of words. But in fact, the details of that battle have not been handed down.

At that time, although the orcs were at the end of their crossbows, they were not something that humans could defeat, not to mention that the elves were far away from the Northlands, and the dwarves preferred to stick to their own mines. How did the isolated, poorly armed human warriors breached an impregnable orc fortress and forced the powerful and proud orcs to flee into the dwarven mines they used as warehouses and tunnels, and even trapped there?

Countless secrets are lost in time, no one remembers, no one cares. And when they came here, they didn't look for the "truth".

His gaze fell on the dark stone box between the bones, and Copas couldn't help but take a few steps forward, trying to see more clearly, but shrank back as his toes touched the blood-red symbol on the ground.

There was silence all around, but in his soul, an angry roar suddenly sounded, shaking him almost in an instant.

As he stepped back, Scott stepped forward.

He reached out, his outstretched fingers as if grasping something, and then jerked back.

The whole space seems to be touched. The fine and dazzling light flickered before their eyes, like a short, silent thunderstorm, and the dull air seemed to be swept by a hurricane, sweeping away the anger and unwillingness, despair and curse that had been silent here for thousands of years.

The low murmur between the rocks was like a threat, and it was like a whimper. The ground trembled again, and the destroyed runes triggered the last defenses, but they had been prepared.

Copas and the two priests who had been silently following them spoke at the same time, and the three staff made of white bone were thrown in different directions, the soft white light spreading, gently holding up the hall before it had time to collapse, filling every crack that had just begun to crack.

The shaking stopped in the blink of an eye. The runes drawn with blood quickly dimmed at a speed visible to the naked eye, turning into black shadows like ashes, still a little hideous, but they had lost their power.

Copas couldn't help but look at Scott again. Another anger and unwillingness burned in his heart, but at this moment, he could only calmly lower his eyes.

Scott didn't seem to notice anything unusual about him—and even if he did, he probably didn't care.

He strode over to the stone box, brushed aside the skeleton lying on it, and lifted the lid with a little force.

His fingers twitched, and Copas could only tell that there was magic attached to the stone chest. The magic of the orcs has always been as violent and cruel as this race, but it has not done much harm to Scott.

- What has become of this person?

The priest buried his doubts, fears, and jealousies in his heart, walked over to Scott, and looked down at the dark, stone-like mass in the stone box.

It looked like some kind of strange stone sculpture - a huge skull, a bulging forehead, a thick jaw, curved fangs protruding beyond the dentition, with very obvious orc features, only far larger than a normal orc, where the eyes should be, but not two deep black holes, and no nicks that attempt to show the eyes...... It's a piece of smoothness.

“...... Bartlett. The priest murmured, his voice trembling slightly from excitement and fear.

Scott looked down at it, remembering the crumbling stone statue in the Windy Fortress that had finally been buried under rubble. The statue was as tall as a barbarian, its head took up nearly half of its entire body, its wide mouth was intimidating, but even more terrifying were its non-existent eyes...... Just like the one in front of you.

A god who can see everything without eyes, including the past and the future, and can devour the whole world with one big mouth...... The eyeless god worshipped by the orcs, the demon that the elves and dwarves said in vain to become a god, Bartlet.

The only difference is that the one in front of me is not a statue.

.