72: Chapter 72 Entering the Capital

"These fish-men are not right."

Scholar Gray walked over to a fish-man corpse and crouched down, using the tip of his longsword to carefully lift the scales on its arm.

The bumps on the skin beneath the scales had become even more pronounced after death, resembling greyish-white cysts the size of rice grains.

Some had already ruptured, and what flowed out was not pus, but a dark grey, fine, sand-like substance.

He used the tip of his sword to pick up a bit of the sand-like substance and sniffed it, his brow furrowing, a flash of alertness appearing in his eyes behind his lenses.

"There are traces of demonic corruption beneath the skin, as if eroded by some kind of dark magic."

"Their eyes were not gouged out; the eyeballs are still there, but the irises and pupils have been devoured by something from within."

"This explains why they didn't try to flee; their self-awareness has been wiped away, leaving only the instinct to obey commands."

"Who is commanding them?" Selan walked over from the side, his longsword not yet sheathed. There were a few streaks of fish-man blood on his half-elf face, but his expression remained calm.

His sister, Vera, followed behind him with a cold expression, though the scale armor on her body was spotlessly clean.

Gray was silent for a few seconds, then carefully shook the sand-like substance from his sword tip into a small glass vial he carried, sealed it with a cork, and tucked it back into the inner pocket of his scholar's robe.

When he stood up, his knees were covered in mud, but he didn't pay it any mind, saying:

"Currently, there is no direct evidence to draw a definitive conclusion."

"I can only speculate... if the Orians once enslaved demons, could some residual power of a contract still be operating on the island?"

"Or is something utilizing this power? The answers to these questions might be found in the core area of the island."

Richard did not participate in their discussion.

He stood at the edge of the pile of fish-man corpses, wiped the bloodstains off the shaft of his halberd, and then looked up towards an area in the distance.

That area was near their path forward, and one could vaguely see more fish-man corpses strewn about on the ground, having been dead for a long time.

Upon approaching, they saw that the wounds on these corpses were clean and precise, mostly sword and axe wounds.

Some had been split directly in half, while others had been scorched to charcoal by some kind of high-temperature magic.

Scattered around the corpses were numerous crater-like scorch marks and shattered armor fragments.

"Those who arrived before us have already encountered these fish-men. Once we've finished resting, let's continue moving forward."

Richard shouldered his halberd again and instructed his teammates.

The group continued on, crossing the mudflats and climbing over a low ridge made of rubble, and the city came into view.

Richard stood at the highest point of the rubble pile and looked down.

The city of Orian spread out beneath his feet like the massive, eviscerated remains of a living creature.

This city did not have a single city wall.

The builders of the city clearly did not believe anything was worthy enough to warrant them constructing fortifications.

The city's layout was a perfect circle, divided from outside to inside into five concentric zones, each separated by broad circular avenues.

Those avenues were still paved with neat stone slabs, and black veins radiating from the inside out permeated the surface of the stones.

They were like capillaries spreading beneath skin, diffusing outward from the heart of the city, becoming denser the further one went into the inner rings.

Viewed from above, the five rings looked like some kind of massive magic circle, with the innermost layer being a giant, pyramid-like structure.

"The first ring, according to legend, is known as the Ring of Enslavement." Gray's voice came from behind Richard.

The scholar had already spread out his notebook on a relatively flat rock, drawing sketches and annotations rapidly with a charcoal pencil, his eyes behind his lenses filled with pleasure and excitement.

"Commoners, merchants, and low-level laborers lived here, but the true function of this place should be more than just housing."

His charcoal pencil pointed to the stone pillars that stood every twenty paces along both sides of the streets in the first ring.

Those stone pillars were not tall, reaching only to a person's chest, and the tops were carved with a tightly clenched fist.

The fist was clenched so tightly that the knuckles protruded and the fingernails dug into the palm.

Even across a distance of a thousand years, one could still feel that force, strained to the point of distortion.

"These stone pillars are not decorations; they are unique nodes for a magic circle."

"They form a complete energy extraction system, suppressing the low-level demons imprisoned beneath the city, squeezing out their magic to serve as energy for daily use."

Morpheus was already crouching next to the nearest stone pillar, carefully cleaning the dust off the fist sculpture with a small brush, his purple pupils moving slowly over the runes.

After hearing Gray's analysis, he replied without lifting his head:

"The rune arrangement is a suppression-type contract array, which shares some common origins with the dwarven suppression runes I've seen in diagrams before, but it is more complex."

"The Orians were truly a bunch of madmen, actually using demon souls as firewood."

He tucked the brush into his sleeve, stood up, and brushed the dust off his robe. "This has high academic value for me. Captain, give me some time to make rubbings of these runes; it won't take long."

"Fine, just don't wander off." Richard responded.

Richard did not linger by the stone pillar; he was not a scholar and did not have much interest in the academic value of these runes.

But he trusted Morpheus's judgment; these runes were the core technology of the Orians.

Even if he only made rubbings of a portion of them, taking them back could be sold to the Adventurers' Guild or certain mages for a considerable sum.

He stood on the circular avenue and scanned the houses of the first ring.

Most were low, small buildings with walls built of dark grey tuff, their doorframes so low that one had to stoop to enter.

Some doors were still half-open, the iron hinges on the door panels rusted beyond recognition, but the tuff walls themselves remained almost unchanged.

Through the half-open doorways, one could vaguely see the simple furnishings inside.

Stone beds, stone tables, a few broken pottery jars—all items of value had long since been eroded away by the sea over the millennium.

There was nothing worth looting in the first ring.

"Hurry up with the rubbings, then let's continue exploring forward."

He stood in the center of the circular avenue with his halberd on his shoulder, his gaze passing over the low roofs of the first ring, looking towards the towering, square shadows of the second ring.

Once Morpheus was finished, the group picked up their pace.

The terrain of the second ring began to rise slightly.

The buildings on both sides of the circular avenue were no longer short and uniform; instead, they were towering and square, their walls covered in smoke stains.

Workshops, furnaces, and Enchantment workshops were all located here.

Here, the Orians injected the demonic energy extracted from the first ring into objects, creating those cursed artifacts that were later scattered across the world.

As they walked, Morpheus carefully tucked the completed rune rubbings into a waterproof notebook, saying in a cautious tone:

"Remind everyone, do not touch anything here casually."

"Many of the objects created by the Orians carry demonic curses. Some curses can attach to you the moment you pick them up, while others are more insidious and will wait until you leave the island to take effect."

"Especially those things that are still glowing or radiating heat; it is best not to touch them directly with your hands."