A Gorgeous White

Chapter 324: Falling Underground

"Jagra?"

At the sound of his name, Jagra flinched. A hair-raising feeling electrocuted his whole body. He snapped a guarded gaze at Moulin while inching backwards. When he met the man's worry-filled eyes, Jagra calmed his breathing and felt his body drown in relief.

Moulin furrowed his brows in concern. He approached his friend carefully, mindful of the other's heavy breathing. "Jagra, are you alright?"

"..."

The man gazed at Moulin in silence. Only when he felt himself relax did he speak, "I-I'm fine."

Moulin didn't look convinced. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I... think." Jagra muttered. A few seconds later, pain pierced in his mind, and he winced with a groan. It was gone before Jagra could even question it. "Ah..."

Moulin's expression grew serious. "Are you really alright? I can have someone check on you. Wait for me-"

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking out of the door. Jagra's grip on him was tight in an almost desperate way. When Moulin looked back at him, it felt as if Jagra was pleading for him not to leave him alone. How could Moulin ignore such a silent call?

"Alright." Moulin turned back and held Jagra's arm. "I won't go, but you must tell me what bothers you."

For a moment, Moulin was tempted to utilize his new ability to see through this person's fears. However, he wouldn't do so without consent. It felt like a crime since people usually keep secrets to themselves.

Jagra hesitated. Noticing the sweat on his brows, he wiped them with his sleeve. Afterwards, he peeked at Moulin with a nod.

Moulin nodded and let Jagra tidy himself up before the man gestured him to the flaps of the tent. Jagra said, "I need some air. I'll tell you in the walk."

It seems he just needed someone to listen to his troubles. Even if it was a nightmare or dream, nothing was too simple to have the man wake up sweating drastically and pale as if he had just seen a ghost. Moulin agreed and followed his friend out of the tent.

Beyond the tent, people streamed through the pathways. The people were busy and too distracted by what was in front of them to listen to strangers' thoughts. While finding a more open path, Moulin noticed some people carrying out numerous palace furniture. They must started cleaning up the place before the palace collapses.

As the two were walking into the arched entrance of the East hallways of the palace, their steps echoed throughout, bouncing off the painted walls. The people within were lesser than in the courtyard, too afraid to step foot into the building.

"It was just a nightmare..." Jagra started, feeling as if he shouldn't tell the truth to anyone.

"It doesn't look as simple as that, I see." said Moulin, keeping his eyes ahead. "Are you dreaming about that person again?"

This time Jagra couldn't conceal the truth. He had forgotten that he had told Moulin about his dreams before the expedition. Conflicted yet relieved, Jagra sighed. "Yes... The dreams have been coming again. However..."

"However?" Moulin turned to look at him as they kept walking.

"However, there was blood... this time." Jagra kneaded his temples. Confusion and frustration filled his eyes. "I don't understand any of it. I saw him but... he was bleeding? Is he dead? A ghost? Pestering me in my sleep?"

Moulin gave Jagra a worried look. "Don't push yourself to remember it. You're already tired as it is."

"I know." Jagra nodded. "But I just can't stop thinking about it. It's frustrating."

His steps ceased, and Moulin reached out and patted his friend's shoulder. Jagra also stopped, feeling a sense of comfort from Moulin's actions. He muttered a "Thanks" before they kept walking in the now silent hallways. It was only the sound of their steps that filled their ears and their surroundings. The silence was a sort of soothing calm to relieve chaotic minds. It was just what Jagra needed.

BANG!

Moulin and Jagra abruptly stopped as the deafening sound almost scared their souls out. Afterwards, the sound of yelling and scolding came. Both maeruthans exchange looks before they head towards the origin of the sound.

Turning to one corner. They spotted a group of people struggling to carry out a massive clay vase, stuck in a narrow hallway. Obstructed from the incident, a line of people carrying furniture from behind the giant vase were trapped, unable to move back or forward.

Moulin and Jagra hurried to their aid, hauling the vase out of the hallway with ease. The people around thanked them. One after the other, furniture was being moved out of the passageway.

"Thank you for your help." The man leading the group said with grateful eyes. "Some of these things were too big to fit through here. If there were another entrance, we would've finished quickly. Unfortunately, the other hallways weren't safe enough."

Moulin nodded. "Let us help."

The man's eyes brightened, but suddenly he felt but guilty. "But we don't want to waste your time for such trivial things- "

"We'll help." Jagra stepped forward with a smile. "Our hands are empty, and it would bother us very much to have nothing to do. "

"I-I see! Then thank you!"

"Don't mention it," Jagra replied.

From the side, Moulin calmly observed Jagra's expression. It seems he cheered up. A smile graced the youth's face, and he went to follow Jagra to the back of the line.

There was so much furniture and things to be transferred from small stools to giant bookcases. It looked as if it would take them A day to finish the work. Moulin felt a little troubled. After all, he had agreed that he would return to Hadrian after he was done visiting his friends. Imagining the calm yet impatient expression of the Lord's face had him chuckling. Well, it wouldn't hurt to have him wait for a few minutes.

As Jagra went to help lift a big wagon filled with sacks of flour and potatoes, Moulin went to a struggling man and assisted in raising a big closet. His hands slipped under the edges, and he pushed his weight on his knees and began lifting the furniture. The line started moving. Clangs sounded within the closet as they moved. It must have been full of pots and pans.

At the corner of his eyes, Moulin noticed a man carrying a statue of a goddess. Moulin recognized the Lady as the goddess Naithalauna. His eyes squinted, and he turned to the bulky man who was holding the furniture with him.

"Where did they find that?" He asked.

The man looked at him in surprise. He grew embarrassed that a pretty maeruthan was talking to him. "I heard the people from the basements found it, Milad- Milord."

Moulin turned deaf-eared at his address and nodded. There were basements?

As they made their way through the narrow path, Moulin leaned against the walls, pressing his back against the surface. He watched as the people were exciting the hallway, one pair after the other. Patiently, Moulin assessed the statue of the goddess before him.

Suddenly, the pair before them stopped abruptly causing the Moulin and the others behind him to bump to a stop. Confused, Moulin raised his head and looked forward. It seems another pair was stuck. Unfortunately, the other people behind them who were unaware of the accident bumped forward. Moulin drew his eyebrows together and glanced behind him. In doing so, his shoulder pressed harder on the wall beside him.

Click!

A brush of wind.

Gravity suddenly pulled Moulin to the side. He reacted poorly to the sudden loss of pressure from his shoulder. In the next second, he was falling into the darkness.

The light before him was extinguished, and shouts deafened.

Moulin gasped as he slid down the steep slope. Dust covered his face as he fell deeper into the darkness. What the hell is happening?!

Suddenly, the thought of falling into a trap made him shudder. A hole of spikes could await him below, or it could be a giant axe slicing him as he fell. Moulin felt chills run down his spine.

He quickly raised his hands to stop his fall. However, before he could conjure his mana, the ground disappeared, and he face-planted on a cold, dusty floor.

Moulin groaned. The sting made him realize that scratches had covered his elbows and knees. He didn't care if he was dirty anymore.

Moulin stood up from the ground, surrounded by pitch-black darkness. It was cold and ominous.

'Where am I?'

Shrugging, Moulin raised his hand, and opened his palm. An ice crystal materialized at the center of his hand and illuminated the place. However, the crystal could only illuminate a portion of the room. Moulin didn't mind.

Moulin froze in shock when the light suddenly revealed a monstrous face of a bull. It was a statue to his relief.

"Honestly..." Moulin shakes his head.

Then another torch was lit, filling the room with more light. It continued until all four corners of the room were lit.

The details of the room became more defined to his eyes. Stone tables are placed at either sides against the walls, as well as intricate carvings of animals, stars, and the moon. Columns also stood against the walls. The more Moulin looked, the more the room appeared as some sort of secret shrine.

But where was the altar?

Moulin turned around. He had forgotten he hadn't faced the northern part of the room yet.

He gazed at the wall ahead of him.

Moulin froze.

His breath stopped.

...

An eerie feeling settled deep inside his heart. He felt his fingers tremble and his heart pounding as if it was next to his ears.

A carved wall.

Two rings of runes and within it... a three-headed serpent.

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