Chapter 30: Tunnel Tour

Chapter 30: Tunnel Tour

"So, I'm packing my bags right now!" Tove said enthusiastically.

After hearing the dwarven girl's story full of unexpected twists and turns, Lyman was genuinely happy for her. But at the same time, he felt a lingering worry.

"Are you sure that dwarf isn't tricking you?"

"We went to the master to confirm it ourselves." Tove grinned smugly. "Xiaoqi, I owe you one! The master praised the slime tires highly, saying they showed real ingenuity, and more importantly, the materials were easy to obtain. If mass-produced, costs could be lowered. If I were allowed to reveal your identity, I would have introduced you to the master. How do you know all this stuff, anyway?"

Lyman chuckled. "Because I serve the god. Become a believer, and you'll reap plenty of benefits. So, have you found what you truly desire?"

Tove faltered, then gave an awkward laugh. "So I really have to become a believer after all..."

"That was the deal from the start. You know what happens when you break a pact with a god, right?"

Ha, what a joke. As if the evil god even cared. Lyman thought to himself.

"I-I'll of course keep my promise." Tove said quickly. "I've thought long and hard, and I finally figured it out. You see, I wanted to win the competition to become an apprentice, and I wanted to become an apprentice to learn more knowledge. But then, what's the point of knowledge?"

Lyman played along. "What's the point?"

The dwarven girl clapped her hands together with conviction. "For creation! Creating something from nothing is a joy in itself. That is my ultimate pursuit!"

She ventured quietly, "This time it's right, isn't it?"

Lyman took out the Apostle Card.

Light streamed from the card's surface, countless lines converging like serpents coiling together, outlining a vague figure—first short, stubby feet, then a stocky waist. But just as the lines reached the dwarf's upper body, they halted abruptly. The card was only half-finished, and then went silent.

Tove watched Xiaoqi nervously. When it stayed silent, she knew something was off.

"...Still wrong?"

"Closer than last time, but still not quite right."

Tove was dumbfounded. Right was right, wrong was wrong—there was no such thing as "a little right" or "a bit wrong."

"So I don't have to become a believer today either?" she asked.

Lyman shot her a glare. "What? You're glad about that?"

"Absolutely not! Of course I'm totally willing to become a believer! I'm disappointed it didn't work out this time either!" Tove swore to the heavens, feeling guilty, terrified that a bolt of fire might strike her down and burn her to ashes.

Luckily, the nightmare never came to pass. Whether the god was merciful and spared her, or the heavenly fire was blocked by the thick rock, she'd never know.

Tove hunched her shoulders and asked sheepishly, "So what do we do now?"

The dwarven girl hadn't found her true desire, and Lyman couldn't force her to become his Apostle—the Book of the Evil God had no such function.

Seeing that the task was still incomplete and the reward was still out of reach, Lyman could only say dejectedly, "It seems you still have a long way to go on your path of self-discovery. Maybe this trip will bring you some insight."

"I think so too! I've never left the Volcanic Mountains in my whole life—this trip is bound to broaden my horizons!" Tove said happily. "And traveling with a dwarven master, just think how much I'll learn!"

"Sometimes I admire how simple you are..." Lyman muttered. "So, where are you headed?"

"It's a colony of the Holy Nation on the southern continent, on the coast north of the Volcanic Mountains." Tove said. "The Holy Nation posted a governor there. That governor is the one who invited Master Bjorn to come work there."

The Book of the Evil God did indeed mention that the Holy Nation had established many colonies in the south. Lyman couldn't help but marvel at the strange twists of fate that tied Tove to the Holy Nation.

"Well, get yourself ready." Lyman said. "You can pray to me anytime on the road. My master and I will keep an eye on you."

Even though he still hadn't recruited a second Apostle, it was good that Tove could apprentice under a dwarven master. Her knowledge would deepen, and her strength would grow along with it. When she eventually became a new Apostle, it would benefit Lyman even more.

He hoped the dwarven girl would find her true calling on this journey.

***

The next afternoon.

When the time came, the stable boy went to slack off on the city wall as usual, as punctual as a well-wound clock. Lyman had just finished cleaning the stable when Carlos and his three burly friends came striding over with an arrogant swagger.

"Don't any of you have to work?" Lyman couldn't help asking.

Carlos chuckled, the tattoos on his face twisting into a comical shape. "I've been here longer than the guards. I've got a few privileges."

Hmph, so even in this world, there were people who didn't have to work. Lyman was envious and resentful.

Carlos sent his three underlings to keep watch, then walked to the cellar door, pulled open the wooden door, and made a "please" gesture.

A few rats scurried past his feet, and he didn't even notice.

Lyman walked past him casually. Carlos produced a torch from somewhere, handed it to Lyman, and lit it with a flint. He closed the door, plunging the cellar into darkness, leaving the torch as the only source of light.

The cellar was cluttered with sandbags, barrels, and crates, a kingdom of cobwebs and dust, as if no one had entered for centuries. The only sign of life was a trail of rat footprints.

"These are for flood control." Carlos explained, seeing Lyman's confusion. "When big storms come, the prison often floods, especially underground. But big storms don't come often, and ordinary rainstorms don't require them. So most of the time, no one pays them any mind."

Carlos brushed aside a cobweb (the spider cursed loudly), moved to a corner of the cellar, and pushed aside a pile of moldy crates. Lyman stepped forward with the torch and saw a hole in the ground just big enough for one person to enter!

"There were already cavities beneath the prison island. This hole was discovered by Jonathan by accident. Thanks to him, we found this labor-saving method—just connect the cavities, and we can dig a tunnel."

Lyman nodded. It was indeed labor-saving, but the natural caves had already made the prison island's foundation unstable, which was why it had collapsed. It was a miracle Carlos and his crew hadn't been buried alive.

Carlos took the lead, crawling into the hole. "Careful, this hole is pretty deep!"

Lyman tossed the torch to him and carefully climbed down himself. Thanks to the powerful muscle control from Masterful Acting, he could grip the rocks.

After descending three or four meters, Lyman's feet finally touched the ground. Carlos held the torch high to light his way. By the firelight, Lyman saw this was a rocky cavern, with stalactites hanging overhead and puddles of water scattered across the uneven floor.

The damp rock walls reflected the light, and in one corner near the ground, an irregular dark shape lurked. It was only when Lyman approached that he realized it was a rough, man-made cave entrance that required bending down to enter.

Carlos led the way again. The big man had to curl his body into a shrimp shape to squeeze through. Lyman had a much easier time. The horizontal tunnel varied in height—sometimes tall enough to walk upright, sometimes requiring crawling on all fours.

"How... did you guys... dig such a long tunnel..." Lyman asked with difficulty.

Carlos laughed proudly. "Since we're 'co-conspirators' now, I'll be honest with you. One of us is actually a superhuman."

"What? Another one?" Lyman was surprised. "I thought superhumans were rare creatures. How many are there in this tiny Cape Prison already?"

Carlos smiled. "They are indeed rare, but you've probably heard that people are more likely to awaken when facing crisis and desperation. Cape Prison is full of desperate outlaws who live on the edge of death, so the awakening rate is naturally a bit higher than average."

"That... makes sense." Lyman had to agree. "Is that superhuman's ability digging?"

"No, it's freezing." Carlos said. "We first crack the rock, pour water in, then freeze it, and the cracks expand. Repeat a few times, and the rock naturally splits."

Surprisingly scientific!

"Of course, the more important reason is that there were already many caves here. This tunnel is the same—we just modified it slightly. Strangely enough, these caves clearly show signs of artificial excavation. Maybe hundreds of years ago, someone tried to dig an escape tunnel like us, but failed in the end."

Hearing this, Lyman felt a chill run through his body. If those before them had failed, could they succeed? Why had the ancients failed? Had they been discovered? Or had they died for other reasons before the tunnel was completed?

After crawling for who knows how long, the space suddenly opened up before them, revealing another cavern—lower and narrower than the one they had come down through, with half of it buried under rubble.

Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow and thumped his aching lower back a couple of times.

"This is the spot where the collapse happened," he said. "This place is more or less directly beneath the square. With your map, we can pinpoint it more precisely."

Lyman brought the torch closer. The rubble blocked the cavern completely, leaving gaps that only the smallest rats could squeeze through.

"So you plan to use that freezing power to 'blast' this open?" Lyman asked.

"There's no other way," Carlos said a bit helplessly.

Lyman asked skeptically, "Wouldn't that be really loud?"

"That's why I'm planning to start work tomorrow," Carlos said. "Tomorrow everyone has to go to the chapel for the service. But we can come up with excuses to skip it. The chapel's in a remote location, so even if there's a ruckus, they'd have a hard time hearing it over there."

"What if it collapses again?"

Carlos's face grew grave: "I've considered that too, so I've planted some men at the chapel. If there are signs of an impending collapse, the brothers over there will stir up some chaos to make the guards think the noise was coming from them."

"Like Jonathan pulled off once," Lyman recalled. "But how do you stay in contact in real time from that far away?"

Carlos gave a mysterious smile: "You're so smart—why don't you take a guess?"

—How many times do I have to say it? Riddle-me-this clowns, get the hell out of Cape Prison already!

Lyman held back the scream inside and said patiently, "Don't tell me you've got some superhuman who can communicate remotely too?"

Carlos's smile became even more smug. He pulled two matching seashells from his pocket and handed one to Lyman, gesturing for him to hold it to his ear.

Lyman did so. Carlos stepped back a few paces and whispered into his own shell: "Now you know?"

Immediately, the exact same voice came out of Lyman's shell: "Now you know?"

—What the hell! Now they've got phones too?!

"Is this a relic or a wonder item?" Lyman asked, incredulous.

"Oh? You even know about relics and wonders? Looks like you're not just some ordinary guy," Carlos said with a hint of admiration.

A regular person would never come into contact with supernatural forces in their whole life, let alone know the subtle differences between them. Just being able to say the words "relic" and "wonder" was a big deal in itself.

"Listen, Carlos," Lyman said, feeling conflicted, "you've got superhumans and relics—are you guys building a freaking arsenal in Cape Prison? Wait, how did you even get this thing into prison? Don't they strip-search you when you come in?"

Lyman had the Divine Casket, which could hide things without anyone knowing, but how had Carlos managed it?

He recalled from TV shows he watched in his past life that prisoners who wanted to smuggle stuff usually stuffed it...

He glanced at the shell's size, then looked at Carlos's crotch area, and said in horror, "Dude, you really are 'bottomless'!"

Carlos's expression shifted instantly: "It's not what you're thinking!"

"Hey, I'm not judging, really."

Lyman carefully handed the shell back to Carlos and furiously wiped his hands on his clothes. Ugh, this shirt's done for. Ugh, I don't really want these hands anymore either.

"You so do! Damn it, I told you it's not that!" Carlos sputtered. "This thing wasn't brought in from outside—it was created inside the prison!"

Lyman stopped wiping his hands: "Created in prison?"

Carlos, panting from all the crawling and yelling, said, "When I first came in, there was an old inmate who looked after me. Later, he fell gravely ill. Before he died, he was out of his mind, muttering to himself, talking to his family far away. Hell, his family had actually all died over a decade ago.

"No one could have guessed that in his final moment, he awakened a Supernatural Ability. When he died, this 'relic' was born from his corpse. The guards and doctors didn't notice—only I noticed, so I secretly kept it."

It suddenly clicked for Lyman. No wonder they were called "relics." He'd always thought "relic" just meant a higher-level supernatural item than a "wonder," but now he realized it was exactly what the name implied—something left behind after a person died.

"So it's clean!" Carlos glared at him.

"Fine, I'll take your word for it."

"What do you mean 'take my word'! Believe me with all your heart!"

The two of them bickered all the way back to the surface. After getting used to the dimness underground, Lyman found the sunlight stabbing his eyes, almost making him tear up.

"You've toured the tunnel, you know the plan—are you happy now?" Carlos said sourly, still hung up on what happened earlier.

"Come on, Carlos, a real man shouldn't have such a small heart," Lyman said seriously. "I'll help you. Get me some paper and a pen, and I'll draw the map for you."

Carlos's face relaxed a bit: "You're going to the chapel tomorrow too, right? If something really goes down, can you back up my brothers?"

Lyman thought for a moment and figured it was doable. After all, he just needed to cause a big scene to keep the guards distracted, right?

In that case, he didn't even need to act personally—he could just have the animals put on another wild, crazy show. Red Lightning would definitely be all over it; it was obsessed with acting now. The stage wasn't even up yet, and it was already itching to perform.

"I'll see what I can do," Lyman replied noncommittally.

Carlos didn't say much more. He just set a time to come by and left with his three big burly brothers.

Just then, a shadowy figure crept furtively toward the stable.

"Lyman!" The scholar Nikola crouched behind a partition, waving at him secretively. "I saw Carlos coming to see you again. Are you okay?"

"What could possibly happen to me?" Lyman said helplessly.

"But I just heard Carlos saying something like 'that kid actually thought' 'seashell' 'shoved up my ass'..." Nikola scratched his chin, thinking hard, then suddenly gasped, "Could it be that it wasn't him doing something to you, but you doing something to him instead..."

"No!" Lyman yelped.

"You really can't judge a book by its cover!" the scholar sighed.

"I said it's not that! Don't let your imagination run wild!"

"Fine, I'll take your word for it."

"What do you mean 'take my word'! Believe me with all your heart!"

The scholar thought for a bit, then asked earnestly, "Can I use this as material for my report?"

"What the hell have you been reporting to the Inquisitor every day?! No!"

***

Night fell. The black cell.

Lyman flopped onto the straw, letting out a tired sigh.

Between mucking out the stable and crawling through the tunnel with Carlos, he was really worn out.

But the most exhausting part was still having to argue with the scholar. Now Lyman understood a bit why the scholar, despite not doing anything wrong, was disliked by everyone in prison. Having too much imagination wasn't always a good thing.

Of course, being back in the cell didn't mean Lyman could rest. Based on past experience, his nights were usually more eventful than his days.

He summoned the *Book of the Evil God*, laid the paper Carlos had sent him on top of it, and traced the prison map.

He had only traced half of it when Luna from the next cell started pounding on the wall again with a rhythmic "thump, thump, thump."

Lyman let out a groan straight from the depths of hell, rolled around a few times on the straw, and only then reluctantly got up.

"What is it?" he pressed himself against the stone wall, speaking in that flat, dead-inside tone of a burnt-out office drone.

"Why do you sound so drained, Lyman? Did the underground trip not go well?" Luna's voice, on the other hand, was practically dripping with amusement.

Lyman was increasingly convinced his neighbor was an enigma. Did Luna have some kind of supernatural ability, like clairvoyance?

"You knew about Carlos's plan from the start, didn't you? That's why you told me to find the map and the stable job."

"Exactly. Once you took that position, it was only a matter of time before Carlos approached you."

"You could have told me about Carlos earlier. Instead of being such a cryptic jerk."

"I thought it added a little mystique."

Lyman sighed and changed the subject: "I heard from Carlos today that relics are born from superhuman corpses?"

"Born? That's an interesting word—very philosophical, all about life and death, but not quite accurate," Luna said. "Relics aren't created out of nothing. They're what happens when a dead superhuman's power spills out and fuses with the items they had on them. Carlos's shell is the same deal. He thinks it just popped out of the corpse, but in fact, the shell was always the old prisoner's possession. He loved collecting such things, and the guards let him be. When he was on his deathbed, he missed his family so much his ability awakened, and that ability fused with the shell he cherished, and that's how the message-relaying relic came to be."

Lyman suddenly got it—so that's the real mechanism behind relic creation.

"So, does every superhuman leave behind a relic when they die?"

"Not necessarily. It's actually pretty rare. Some say you need three things: a strong desire at the moment of death, a treasured item you've carried for years, and an ability that matches that item. Others say it's completely random, beyond anyone's control, because some folks die peacefully with no regrets, and relics still form from them. Either way, it's exactly because relics are so rare that they're so valuable."

Lyman's mind drifted to his Blade of Revelation.

"Was the Blade of Revelation also born from someone's corpse? What's its story?" he asked.

Luna let out a low, rumbling chuckle: "Ah, the Blade of Revelation... it's a bit special... Maybe one day I'll tell you."

"Luna, if you don't want to say it, just don't. But leaving me hanging like that—you're really asking for a beating."

"I'm afraid you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Luna said flatly. "Some things you just have to see with your own eyes to believe."

Lyman was about to press further when Dandelion suddenly popped out from the corner of the wall, poking his head around cautiously.

"Wow, it really connects to here!" he squeaked in delight.

"Huh? How'd you get here?"

Lyman figured the little mouse had come scrounging for food, so he deftly pulled the leftover black bread out of the Divine Casket and broke off a piece to hand over.

Dandelion hugged the bread chunk—which was bigger than his head—and said happily, "Mr. Lehman, didn't you send us to scout the tunnels? We're done!"

Earlier that afternoon, before he and Carlos went into the cellar, the rats had already snuck in ahead of them. Lyman suspected hidden doors or traps in the tunnels and was worried Carlos might stab him in the back, so he'd sent the rats down first as backup. As it turned out, Carlos was quite straightforward, and no backup was needed. So he'd had the rats explore the tunnels to see where they led.

"Mr. Lehman, I had all the little ones check thoroughly—there are no traps in the tunnels," Dandelion said. "There are two exits: one in the stable cellar, and another leading to the first-floor cells, but it's blocked by fallen rocks."

Lyman nodded. So Carlos and his men usually entered the tunnels from the first-floor cell entrance to dig, but a collapse had blocked that route, forcing them to come in from the stable side and clear the rocks.

"Is there more tunnel behind the rocks?"

"Yes! But it's not finished yet!" the little mouse said excitedly. "We squeezed through the rocks and went all the way to the end. Guess what's above it?"

Lyman gestured for him to continue.

"It's the black cell! Isn't that a coincidence! Too bad only mice can fit through those cracks—no human could ever squeeze in."

So the tunnel was directly beneath the black cell! If Lyman hadn't gone to his trial that day, he might have heard the sound of the collapse and discovered sooner that someone was digging for freedom right beneath his feet.

Lyman looked at the prison map. The black cell wasn't directly under the main prison building but near the square. The tunnel ran beneath the black cell. Carlos and his men had dug all the way there, and with a bit more effort, they could break through to the outside of the prison walls.

"So close to victory!"

Well, actually, still quite far. But seeing how smoothly things were progressing, Lyman felt a surge of excitement, wishing they'd dig through the prison tomorrow and escape to freedom.

"Lyman," Luna called from the next cell, "could you pass a message to Carlos? If they're going to keep digging, they can't go a single moment without light."

Lyman was puzzled: "You mean torches?"

"Torches, lanterns, fireflies—anything works. Not a second without light."