“A family crypt beneath the chapel, huh…” Sitting on the seat inside the carriage, Dorothy looked at the information Misha had written in the Literary Sea Logbook, gently touching her chin in thought. “I didn’t expect Ampere to be buried directly in the Devonshire family crypt, not in some remote and strange place. And the key thing is—it’s nearby, just outside Tivian. No need for a long detour again…” That was what Dorothy thought. Ever since her trip to North Ufiga, she had associated cemeteries with distant and perilous places. Whether the Devonshire crypt was perilous remained to be seen—but at least it wasn’t remote. “Could you tell me in detail about your family’s crypt?” Dorothy wrote this on the communication page of the Literary Sea Logbook, and shortly afterward, Misha responded. “Why are you suddenly asking this? Don’t tell me our family crypt has something to do with the Eight-Spired Nest?” “I don’t know yet whether it’s related to them, but I can confirm that it’s connected to what Duke Barrett was researching. I’ve already found his research partner, and an important lead in their research is now tied to your ancestor...” Dorothy wrote this while briefly summarizing the intel John had provided, being careful to avoid triggering any cognitive poison. Not long after, Misha replied. “I see... It’s true that Duke Barrett’s research must be clarified. If what you say is true and someone among the Devonshire ancestors is involved, then it’s necessary to look into it... But I must remind you—aside from gathering intel, don’t get any other funny ideas about our family crypt...” After that warning, Misha began providing a more detailed description of the crypt. Line by line, the words appeared on the page before Dorothy’s eyes. “Our family crypt is located in the Loyal Guardian Cemetery. It’s divided into two sections: the Hall of Honor beneath the Loyal Guardian Chapel, and the ordinary cemetery surrounding the church. “Regular family members are buried in the outer cemetery, while distinguished ones are interred in the Hall of Honor. “The Hall of Honor is partially constructed with rare Frost Netherstone, which can block off spirits and certain mystical effects. The hall is completely sealed under normal circumstances—no one can get in. “The outer walls of the Hall of Honor are made of extremely solid monolithic stone. It’s very difficult to tunnel through them. Though not indestructible, breaking them would cause a loud noise, which would alarm the cemetery’s caretaker. If the caretaker detects anything unusual, they will intervene and immediately contact the Serenity Bureau and our family. “Inside the Hall of Honor, there is an ancient ritual in place for protection. It uses the remains of many strong family members buried together as a medium to form a bloodline-based ward. Non-family members who enter will suffer severe discomfort and weakness, to the point of being unable to move. “This is a Silence ritual. It’s said to have been commissioned at great cost by a Devonshire ancestor from a powerful Silence Beyonder from North Ufiga. Many old noble families across Pritt and the main continent use similar rituals to protect their family crypts. The foundation of such power lies in the concentration of family remains.” Important pieces of information appeared before Dorothy’s eyes. After reading them, she rubbed her chin in thought and wrote again. “So, in other words, to enter Devonshire’s underground crypt, one has to be a member of the family?” “That’s generally the case. Anyone who’s not of the Devonshire bloodline would feel very uncomfortable. That said, people from other families with blood ties to Devonshire can also enter, though the closer the relation, the less affected they are, and vice versa. “Since Devonshire is one of the old noble houses of Pritt, we’ve had many intermarriages with other major families. For example, the Ivensen and Clont families are longtime marital allies. Even the royal family has had many important members marry Devonshire women. People from these families can enter the Hall of Honor too, but they’ll still be somewhat affected.” Misha’s responses continued appearing before Dorothy. After reading them, she quickly wrote another question. “Then, Lady Misha, since you’re a member of the Devonshire family, you should be able to enter, right?” “I probably can, yes. But the problem is—how would I get in? The Hall of Honor is only opened with great effort when holding funerals for distinguished family members. At other times, it’s nearly impossible to enter quietly.” Dorothy paused slightly after reading Misha’s reply, then wrote. “Lady Misha, as a Royal Knight and a White Ash-rank Beyonder yourself... would you be considered a distinguished member of the Devonshire family?” Dorothy posed the question and sat quietly waiting in her seat. After quite a while, Misha’s hesitant reply finally appeared on the page. “I suppose... I probably count too...” … Daytime, in the outskirts of Tivian—on a vast forested meadow—lay a noble cemetery. Long black iron fences stretched outward, enclosing a broad expanse of verdant grassland. Rows of tombstones stood neatly upon the lush greenery, each recording the passing of a noble family member. At the center of this large graveyard stood a modest-sized church, surrounded by countless gravestones—it was the core of the family’s legacy. This was the Loyal Guardian Cemetery, the family tomb of the old noble Devonshire house of the Pritt Kingdom. Ever since the era of the Hyacinth Dynasty, the Devonshires had long accompanied the Despenser royal line. Over hundreds of years, many of their kin rendered distinguished service to the Crown, earning vast wealth, land, and honors in return. The high standards of this cemetery, along with its prime location, served as one of the symbols of that honor. At this moment, a solemn funeral was taking place within the cemetery. In front of the church at the cemetery’s heart, many figures had gathered. Upright soldiers stood guard at key entrances and along major paths throughout the grounds. On the plaza before the church, numerous men and women dressed in formal black attire stood in orderly formation. Among them were representatives from many prestigious noble families of Tivian, all watching the proceedings with grave and solemn expressions. In the center of the plaza, a plain black coffin lay. An elderly priest from the Church stood beside it, cradling a holy scripture and reciting a eulogy in a steady, aged voice. He praised the deceased’s virtues and contributions while mourning the loss. Beside the coffin, an old woman wept into her hands, supported by a young man. Nearby stood a slightly stout, balding old man with a sorrowful look. This was the funeral of an important member of the Devonshire family—the eldest daughter of Duke Devonshire, Lady Misha. A proud figure of the new generation of the Devonshire line, she had tragically perished in an accident during secretive work. Her premature death grieved the entire family. After careful arrangements, the funeral was finally held. As a White Ash-rank Royal Knight and a rising star of the Devonshires, she was entitled to rest eternally among her illustrious ancestors. When the elderly priest finished the eulogy and performed the final rites, the attendees removed their hats in silent mourning. The priest then announced that Misha would now be laid to rest among her ancestors in eternal slumber. At that, a few guards who had been waiting stepped forward and hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders, carrying it into the church. Since Misha’s body had not been recovered from the covert incident, the coffin contained only her former clothing and favorite belongings. It was extremely light. Yet despite the light weight, the guards moved slowly and steadily, to honor the deceased. The empty coffin was slowly carried into the church. After circling around the altar, it was taken down a staircase into the basement. There, a massive stone door that was usually sealed had already been opened. The funeral procession entered, moving down a long sloping corridor into the underground tomb. It was a spacious underground chamber, with four thick stone pillars supporting the broad space. Along the walls stood towering knight statues, while the floor was lined with rows of heavy stone coffins. From the ceiling hung a large glowing gemstone, casting faint illumination over the dark chamber. The funeral party made its way to a corner where one of the stone coffins had already been opened. The black coffin was empty. Upon reaching it, they placed the small wooden coffin inside the larger stone one. After arranging the coffin, the elderly priest performed a final short ritual. Then the same guards who had carried the coffin lifted the heavy stone lid and sealed the coffin. With a muffled thud, the wooden coffin was entombed in eternal darkness. With the final part of the funeral complete, the procession exited the crypt, retracing their path up to the church above. As mechanisms rumbled, the giant stone door slammed shut once again, plunging the underground crypt back into silence. But within the newly sealed stone coffin—inside what should have been an empty wooden box—a pair of eyes slowly opened. Within the coffin’s darkness, a strange translucent radiance shimmered. Gradually, the phantasmal glow solidified, the shimmering fading away, replaced by a tangible body. Before long, a real human form had seemingly manifested from nothing inside the coffin, followed by the sound of breathing. “Phew…” Then, the lid of the wooden coffin was pushed open from within, and a black figure sat up inside what should have been an unoccupied coffin. The figure wore tight black clothing and a hood. Beneath that hood—was Misha’s face. The most update n0vels are published on novel(ꜰ)ire.net “Never thought I’d get to experience something like this in my life…” Sitting in her own coffin, Misha gazed at the familiar garments inside with her night vision and murmured softly. Just then, a calm male voice echoed in her mind. “How does it feel to experience your own funeral, Lady Misha?” Hearing the voice in her head, Misha blinked and mentally replied. “It feels bizarre... I could hear my mother crying the whole time, and I nearly couldn’t resist opening the lid to give her a hug. I thought playing dead once was already rare enough—but now I get to attend my own funeral? That’s on another level…” After replying, Misha lifted her hand and examined it in front of her face. After feeling the vivid reality of her own body, she sighed in her heart. “But seriously, you people always manage to surprise me, Rose Cross Order. A secret name that allows efficient, secure long-distance communication with just a prayer… And this method of turning someone from dream-form to physical substance from such a distance... How many secrets do you still have up your sleeve? No wonder you can toy with the Eight-Spired Nest…” “Thank you for the praise, dear knight. We merely took this chance to test a few techniques...” In a hidden room far away, Dorothy was using the system’s voice modulator to speak with Misha through the information channel. In her hand was a small, finely carved layered orb—the Shadow divine artifact, the Dreamscale Censer, which she had borrowed from the little fox not long ago. This divine artifact possessed the powerful ability to transform the user’s body from a physical state into a dream state. Just moments ago, Dorothy had used spiritual threads to transmit the censer’s effect to Misha from afar, turning her entire body into a dream form. Then, Misha’s dreamform was hidden in her own empty coffin in advance. Because the Hall of Honor’s tomb included a quantity of Frost Netherstone, it was impossible to pass through its walls using a phantom form. The only method was to hide Misha’s dreamform inside the coffin, then have the funeral procession carry her into the Hall of Honor. From the very beginning of the ceremony, Misha’s dreamform had already been lying within the coffin. Since there was no real corpse, the coffin couldn’t bear extra weight—otherwise, it would arouse suspicion. “No matter what, I’m finally inside. Now, I just have to get this stone lid open…” Sitting in the coffin, Misha looked up at the stone lid above and murmured to herself. But just as Dorothy was about to reply, the small corpse marionette that had snuck into the crypt with the funeral party suddenly detected something unusual. “Wait… Hold on. Don’t come out yet.” “Huh?” Amid Dorothy’s words and Misha’s confusion, something strange began to stir in the dark tomb. A shadow—pure black—slithered out from the darkness in a corner of the tomb. Like a snake, it writhed across the floor, creeping forward rapidly. “A shadow...? A shadow moving without a body?” There was only the shadow moving—no matching physical body. The eerie shadow moved like a living creature and slithered to the center of the tomb. There, it coiled into a tight spiral. Then, from within that shadow, something slowly rose perpendicular from the floor. It was—undeniably—a person. As if emerging from a hole in the shadow, or perhaps shaped directly from shadow into form, a small hooded figure cloaked in robes, their entire body concealed, appeared in the crypt. After scanning the many coffins around them, the figure slowly walked toward the nearest one, coming to its side—and looked down at the inscriptions on its lid.